My close shave with ritualists and God’s intervention
Psalm 124: 7-8 says, “Our soul is escaped as a bird out of the snare of the fowlers: the snare is broken, and we are escaped. 8 Our help is in the name of the LORD, who made heaven and earth.”
Our soul is like a bird, which could be trapped easily by the enemy, the devil. And most times, the soul cannot discern the enemy’s trap. So, every soul that has a strong and mighty deliver, and who is willing to deliver in the moment of peril should be happy. Whosoever is delivered from the devil’s hand is delivered, not by his own skill or cunning, but only by the grace and power of God.
My name is Ekene Igwenagu, and I am here to thank God for finding me worthy to be among the living today, in that He delivered me from the cruel hand of ritualists.
It happened that on the second Thursday of February, I took a bus to Oshodi from where I was supposed to board another bus to Ijesha and from there to the Church for Thursday deliverance service. So, when we got to Oshodi, I followed a lady and joined a Volkswagen bus, popularly known as Danfo to Ijesha and both of us occupied the only two vacant seats at the rear. Not quite long after the motor moved, I reached into my pocket to bring out earpiece, so I could listen to the radio. But while fixing the earpiece, I noticed a facial communication between one of the commuters in the front and another sitting beside me.
Immediately, I noticed that, something ministered to me that there was danger. I became uncomfortable and quickly told the driver that I had forgotten something at home and needed to abort the journey. I pleaded with him to stop, so that I could alight at Charity Bus Stop, which was the next bus stop. The conductor sarcastically asked how much was my fare that would make him to stop at a non-designated bus stop and incur the wrath of the traffic police, whose penalty would be more than 100 per cent my fare. He averred he would only stop at Iyana Isolo Bus Stop, if I insisted on getting off. And since Iyana-Isolo Bus Stop was close by, I decided to hold my peace.
As I put back my earpiece and was getting ready to alight at Iyana-Isolo Bus-stop, I didn’t know what happened again. The only thing I remembered was that I was preparing to disembark. And after that, the next thing was that I was being trans-loaded into another white bus, which eventually took us to an uncompleted building in a thick forest. There, we met fearful hefty armed men, who commanded us to get off the bus. I was perplexed and couldn’t imagine how I got to the forest, instead of Isolo Bus Stop. It was like I was dreaming or hallucinating and at the same time conscious of my situation.
As we were being marched into the uncompleted building like sheep going to the slaughterhouse, I was pondering if indeed my end has come. Somehow, I managed to mumble that I am the Son of Baba Ijesha and a Chosen, but in truth I didn’t actually believe in the efficacy of making such declaration, as instructed by the General Overseer any time we have encounter with danger.
So, when I eventually uttered that I am the son of Baba Ijesha and a Chosen, one of the ritualists retorted that nobody knew any Baba Ijesha, neither were they taking instructions from any Baba Ijesha. He advised that I kept quiet; otherwise I would get what I never bargained for. He added that the law prevailing in their enclave had nothing to do with Baba Ijesha. At this point, the lady close to me started praying in tongue, just like every other person. I couldn’t pray because I was overwhelmed by the situation. Later, they took us into the building and kept us in a corner. While there, I discovered there were other batches of victims brought separately. As we entered the building, a huge short man appeared from the blues and in deep Yoruba language enquired about the ownership of the different batches, including ours. One of the people that brought us told him who owned each of the groups, and he nodded his head and went inside. Immediately after that, they blindfolded us with our clothes.
Although I am a member of the Lord’s Chosen, I was never keen on flaunting that identity like other members. I didn’t believe that declaring ‘I am a Chosen’ could make one escape from danger. I used to consider it unwise whenever members are testifying of mysterious escape from danger through mere declaration that they were Chosen. There was a day someone was testifying in church of how he was screaming the blood of Jesus, while being attacked by robbers, and the moderator interjected and queried why he didn’t declare he was a Chosen. When I heard the remark, I was flabbergasted and pondered which is more potent: the blood of Jesus or I am a Chosen. Although many testimonies of escaping from dangers abound by those who obeyed the pastor’s instruction and made such declaration, but I never subscribed to it.
But after we were tied, I managed with a faint voice to declare to my captors that I am a Chosen, not because I believe it would save me, but because I was ready to try everything I considered could influence my release. When I made that declaration, there was no reaction from them, but about an hour later, their boss asked that the boy that declared he was a Chosen and son of Baba Ijesha should be brought to witness the killings of victims to let him know “we are not joking here.” Immediately, I was pulled out and forced to watch the slaughtering of victims. It was indeed a gory sight. They would lay each victim on a slaughter slab and dissect him or her into pieces
One of the people they killed that touched my heart was a young girl that was crying profusely and calling her mother to come to her rescue. Despite that lamentation, she was hacked to death. But her death jolted me and it dawned on me that what I was watching was not fiction, but a reality. Immediately, I changed my prayer points from asking for God’s intervention to His mercy, to enable me make heaven when I die, as I had no hope of survival again. Though it never reached the turn of our group to be killed, but I had concluded that it would soon be our batch’s turn.
After they finished killing the first group and gathering their heads and other parts separately, I was returned to my group. At this time, the owners of the human parts had arrived to collect them and were quarreling among themselves. When the argument was about to degenerate to fisticuffs, the dwarf came again and adjudicated the issue.
After that, the killing resumed, and it was our group’s turn. We were brought out and I was number four on the line. So, they killed the first, second and third person, but surprisingly when it was my turn, the executors were summoned by the dwarf for a short meeting. Their meeting took a long time and when they resumed, I was directed to stand at a corner, where I would be witnessing the killing of others.
While sitting in that corner, I fell asleep and had a dream, where my GO was scolding me for being an old member of the Lord’s Chosen but acknowledged not the wonderful works of God in our midst or obey his instructions in declaring that I am a Chosen, when confronted by danger. He mentioned great men in the Bible that called the Almighty God the God of Abraham and became co-partakers of Abraham’s blessings. He asserted that He was known by the old prophets as the God of that prophet or another, but has come to be known in the present generation as God of Chosen. Continuing, He said by not making bold declaration as instructed, I was not qualified for a miracle, but would be forgiven because of His servant, our General Pastor, who has prayed for all members of Chosen to be granted miracle whether qualified or not.
Immediately, He made that statement, I felt somebody tapped me on the shoulder and the dream was interrupted and I woke up. It happened that the person who woke me was sent to fetch me for slaughter. So, I reluctantly stood up and followed him but recalled vividly the conversation I had in the dream with the Angel of God of Chosen. That encounter brought the grace of boldness upon me and as I was walking with him, I declared boldly that I AM A CHOSEN. When the executor heard it, he shouted to my captor to bring me quickly for slaughter and let him see who would take away the prey from his hand. When I got to him, I screamed loudly at the executor thrice declaring that I am a Chosen, and in addition shouted, “Where’s the God of my Pastor?”
Brethren, the moment I made that declaration and asked for the intervention of my pastor’s God, the whole compound started quaking. There was confusion all-over. Then the dwarf, who showed off as the high priest dashed out to know the cause of the quakes and was repeatedly lifted and threw on the ground by unseen power. On the third time, the man couldn’t withstand what was confronting him, and thus ran inside and started shouting that I should be taken outside. With immediate effect, his order was carried out and I was taken outside. As I stood outside alone and still afraid of what next might befall me, the commotion continued until about some minutes after which it abated. When normalcy returned, someone came and told me that their boss has ordered that I should go. I enquired if he meant I should go home, and he affirmed it.
Then I requested for my clothes and he brought them. When I collected the clothes, my next problem was where I would go from there, because the whole environment looked very strange and instilled fear. I pleaded with him to direct me on how I would go, and he said that I should follow him. After about 15 minutes walk, we got to a junction and he pointed at another road and said I should follow it until I would get to the major road, where I would get a vehicle to wherever I wanted.
However, when he left, I couldn’t continue the walk because I felt so weak, being under serious stress and not having eaten for three days. I decided to rest a little at the spot where he left me. As I was there, one man approached and asked what my problem was. I told him, I was weak and would like to go home. He again asked where my home was, I told him it is very close to Oshodi Bus Stop. He replied that there was no bus stop known as Oshodi. I told him Oshodi Bus Stop is popular in Lagos. Then the people that converged around me exclaimed that I was in Kwara State and not Lagos.
Brethren, agents of Satan picked me at Lagos, but God Who is everywhere and sees everything, delivered me in Kwara State. My sympathisers expressed surprise and thereafter contributed money for my return fare to Lagos. Now, I can boldly refer to the God Almighty, the Creator of heaven and earth, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, as the GOD OF CHOSEN and I AM A CHOSEN.
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