the musings of this nigerian gal

“…then some of the Pharisees who were with Him heard these words, and said to Him, “Are we blind also?”

Recently, I had to eat the humble pie.

It was not as dramatic as you’re probably imagining it to be. 🌚

I met someone a few days ago. We got talking and I was so surprised by his well of knowledge that I had to ask what denomination of church he attends. When he told me, well, I might have almost fallen off my chair.

The reason? I have always perceived that denomination as a strict, religious denomination. By strict and religious, I mean those kind of people who will hold you to a thick tome of laws, who will not allow you to breathe freely because they are busy breathing down your neck.

Those kind of people whose Rhema level does not get to half of a regular Christocentric believer, yet their shoulder pad is wider than the other, more knowledgeable person.

And most especially, those kind of people who do not know the heart and love of the father because they never got close to learn of it.

How did I get my assumptions?

Simple, because the women tie scarf and wear less than flattering clothes — at least the ones I had seen. And because each member have to go through something similar to the Catholic church catechism — in my opinion — and while I respect the Catholic church, my experience there was not something I wanted to continue. And lastly, because I was told that they always gift a newly wedded couple a bible — outrageous, because what could be more unromantic and sanctimonious than handing a newly wedded couple a bible, right? (Yes, I am being sarcastic, just in case you’re wondering. 🌚)

Knowledge puffs up…if anyone thinks that he knows anything, he knows nothing yet as he ought to know.

Anyway, those were my arguments against this denomination. And because I was set in my belief that this denomination was part of those denominations who are yet to come into the light of the truth of God’s grace, I opened my big mouth and unashamedly asked the guy how in God’s name could he have so much knowledge when he belongs to that denomination.

With a kindness I’m sure most of you won’t bother showing — I know I wouldn’t — the guy gently but firmly set me back in my place.

That conversation that day made me question for the very first time the way I have been seeing things, people and the like.

You see, the thing with people like me — rather, the me I used to be before the conversation — is that we know so much that we get lulled into a false sense of security.

I am the one that knows God the most.

I am not like the other people.

E fun mi ni Bible, kin sha word.

We get so convinced that we know the whole picture, when all we have is nothing but a small piece of the jigsaw puzzle.

A piece that we came into possession of by mercy.

A fact that our arrogance and pride has washed off our memory.

There’s something about being puffed up with knowledge, and it is that it doesn’t leave space for more.

Therefore let him who thinks he stands take heed lest he fall.

Because in the kingdom, to have more you have to acknowledge that you are empty. That what you have is paltry, compared to the infinte revelation God longs to bring us into. And pride will never let you see that.

Instead of pursuing more revelation, you are content to reign in your faux kingdom, where you are the regulatory body for every other person’s relationship with God.

You become the determiner of just how far the grace of God ought to go. This is what I mean; few days after that incident, I was served another heaping of that humble pie.

My friends and I have a group chat — it makes gisting easier. On this day, one of us sent a link to a twitter video and asked our take on the content.

In the video, a man of God was talking  about how we should stop judging people’s Christianity by their physical appearance. He used an example of this man — something the barber, I can’t remember the exact name — who preaches Jesus on the streets and cast out demons. When I saw the man’s picture, my eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets.

The man was tatted and pierced everywhere. By everywhere, I mean everywhere. But that is not even what got me. It was that the man did not only paint his hair but also his face. He legit looks like a clown, or rather more like the joker.

When I saw the picture, I was like, “you mean to tell me this man casts out demons? Hell!”

Sometimes it is us who claim to see that are the most blind.

The funny thing is that before that video, I considered myself open minded. I thought that I believed that God cannot be boxed up and that he sure as hell does as he wish, using anybody anyhow as he desires.

Yet, when I saw the video, I still struggled.

I knew that God and the angels were having a field day with my reaction. Even I did later. 😹

So what’s the moral of this story?

That there’s more depth to God than you can ever imagine to know.

That the spirit of religion can easily creep into your heart if you don’t submit your thoughts and theology back to him.

That God enjoys rattling our understanding of his ways, and you cannot go far with God if you’re busy getting offended on his behalf.

That you’ll enjoy more of the fullness of God when you’re less rigid and more malleable to the master’s touch.