SHE NEEDS HELP!
When I and Florence became friends in children church, I had a positive impact in my life because she was a Christian indeed and out of deed.
Florence was a native of Osun state but we both lived in Ibadan with our parents. She was the only child of her parents and was intelligent and godly, often used as example by other parents to their kids. "Jerry, you don't see your friend, Florence?, that's how a good child should behave", my mom do say to me.
When I and my parents relocated from Ibadan to Delta state in the year 2001, I lost contact with Florence.
But by 2012 we had reunion when we met in a Christian program at Gboko, Benue state. The joy I felt when I saw her was as though Nigerians heard the news that the nation was finally free from corruption. She wasn't any different too, as she was dressed with so much excitement that day.
When we reunited, Florence was in her final year in University of Calabar. I was so happy to know that she had been a Christian all the while, even through her university years.
After the program, we left but exchanged contacts, and we got in touch with each other as time travelled.
Prior to the commencement of her final exams in the university, Florence received an earthquaking news on the demise of her mother. When I saw her updates on social media platforms, I knew she needed help. This was a crack on her.
By manipulations, the father couldn't contain the shock of his wife passing on, and so he fell sick and passed on three days after.
The sudden orphaned Florence was broken by this, so she backslided from the faith.
Don't be quick to blame her.
She needs help!
Few years later, in 2015, I was somewhere in Port Harcourt when I saw a group of girls which you wouldn't be far from fact should you call them prostitutes. "Jerry!", one of them called while I was agonising within me for their souls.
"No way!, a prostitute can't possibly be mentioning my name", I said to myself, not even daring to look at the girls (their nudity was at the peak), and with the fellowship brothers that were with me. How can I explain to them that a prostitute knows me and calls with such excitement?
The voice increased the more, "Bro Jerry!", she shouted this time with all her energy I suspect. As I wondered how that she even added "Bro", it became clear that it wasn't someone else that was being called by a prostitute, but this pastor🤦♂️
One of the brothers with me touched me and said, "Bro Jerry, I think someone is calling you". This time I summoned courage and turned around to see, behold it was Florence waving at me almost completely naked and yet with so much joy like when we met at Benue.
Before that day I always thought I was so much a strong man and never imagined I could ever shed tears for anything except in my hours of prayer and supplication with Jesus. Florence was someone in the centre of my heart because the sound of her impact in my Christian walk was very loud.
As she walked towards me and I towards her, I struggled with my tears even though my eyes was clouded by them already. I stared at her and couldn't mention her name. I was so scared of calling the Jezebel demon before me "Florence". It was as though God would strike me down for referring to such a person with the name of His daughter.
Florence ignored my almost weeping eyes. She continued in her excitement and asked me, "how have you been Jerry?", then she smiled.
I quickly perceived in my spirit that she needs help. My weeping won't solve anything but would rather worsen the wounds on ground. This was someone already at top speed to hell fire, and I needed to force myself into believing that fact so I can be open to God, perhaps a rescue mission for an about-to-perish soul had just begun....
Watch out for Part Two (final part).
#Fiction
#TheBigPen
Good article