Star Elite Traveller

I’ve always been a regular Joe when it comes to travelling. I jejely buy my economy tickets, go through the awful queues at MMA1 and moan and gripe along with everyone else about how crappy our dearest airport is. After going through the whole palava of checking in and all, I sit patiently and wait while they call the different categories to board and I’m almost always with the last group to board. I’m used to it. I hardly even think about it anymore. I guess it’s one of those things your mind just blocks out as part of its coping mechanism.

Then recently, I had the opportunity to travel with a couple of friends who had what is called the Star Elite Traveller status. You know, all those times that you go online to look for the cheapest tickets, and you see things like Air Miles blah, blah, someone like me just goes straight to sites like Opodo to go and look for the best deals. Who cares about buying from KLM just to get some Air Miles? So these guys have not only been jetting around the world like boomerangs, they’ve been accumulating these points and now they’re Star Elite Travellers. I feel like saying it one more time, just to…okay, I digress. So these guys are like the VVVVIPs of travelling. I guess somewhere in the periphery of my mind, I knew there were such things as Lounges at Airports but when you’re a gbogbo ero like me, you don’t allow yourself ponder such things too much. But because I was travelling with these guys, I was allowed a sneak peek into the Elite life.  At Heathrow, we just breezed through the whole check-in process, no long queues, no waiting around. My friends just flashed their cards and the airline staff simply opened up the retractable barriers and we waltzed through while the other passengers on the queue eyed us with jealous eyes. Even our luggage trolley was wheeled in for us and we were all checked in in a matter of minutes. Ah, this is the life! Then we were ushered into the Elite Lounge. I saw places I never even imagined existed within Heathrow’s Terminal 2! There was a never-ending buffet, free drinks, seats big enough to swallow me up, it was lit! Then when it was time to board, there was no walking through those zig-zagging tunnels (which get me claustrophobic). It was like they parked the plane right at our backyard and we just strolled on. No squeezing through miniature aisles, looking for your seat number and then trying to shove your carry-on into the tiny cubicles while the person already sitting on the aisle seat gives you the stink eye. We strolled onto the plane, sat in out mini-flats, stretched our legs (no annoying passenger in front of you pushing their seats in your face) and the drinks were on the ready from smiling hostesses (even those smiles were different from the ones you get in Economy, true!).

You know, by the time they asked the gbogbo ero to start boarding, I was probably half way through a movie already! And through the partly opened curtains that separated we the Elites from them, I could see them lumber onto the plane, looking really bleurgh with their tired grumpy faces, squalling toddlers and their gbogbo ero Economy tickets gripped in their hands as they started the weary task of settling in for a seven-hour flight in cramped quarters. That was them and this was me. I wasn’t one of them anymore, I was an Elite Traveller. I’d been invited into ‘The Club’ and it was oh so easy to see all that was wrong with those gbogbo ero. It wasn’t hard at all to point (and maybe even smirk) at how crappy and razz it was back there and to say to myself, thank God I’m not with that bunch. I couldn’t help my nose crinking up in distaste thinking of how messy the toilets get or how two people have conversations at the tops of their voices while everyone else is trying to sleep or how people would be taking silly selfies (okay, I’ll confess, I did take a photo or two in Business class, but who wouldn’t, eh?). It was really easy to distance myself from the common people.

This whole experience brings me, in a kinda weird, not-necessarily-logical way (I’ve come to realize that my mind doesn’t always work in a conventionally logical way) to the Pharisees of Jesus’ day. The Pharisees are probably some of the most un-liked people in Christendom. We talk about them and their shallow lives and I bet they’ve had their fair share of sermons preached about them. They’ve got a Rap sheet more than a mile long and it is really easy to dislike them, in fact, that’s the default setting. The thing however is that, after my one stint at Elite status, I’ve started to kinda find it hard to point the accusing finger at them. I don’t know about everyone else but I’ve realized (the Elite way no doubt) that once we get invited to the inner circles, it’s so easy to turn around and see what’s wrong with everyone else on the outside. It’s easy to forget how unpleasant the feeling of being the outcast is that we start to ostracize other people who we deem not up to our status. I can stand here and say with all the indignation in the world that the Pharisees were the ones who accused Jesus falsely, cooked up stupid lies and bribed false witnesses to have Him condemned. I can shout all I want that they were the ones who stirred up the crowd to demand for Barabbas’ release and all, but the truth is when Jesus hung on that hideous cross, just as much as the Pharisees, I put Him there. One bitter truth I’ve been having to chew and swallow lately is that I probably spend more time being a Pharisee than I’ll like to admit. And that picture I’m seeing of me ain’t pretty at all. What am I trying to say here? (Hey, I have absolutely nothing against being an Elite Traveller! In fact ehn, I’ve been hinting at those friends to you know, let us take another trip). My point is I constantly need to search my heart so that even when I stand and point fingers at the hypocrisy of the Pharisees, I’m not being a finger pointing Pharisee myself. I need God to put me in line so that if given even half the chance, I don’t become worse than the Pharisees I so easily condemn (you know, that thing about the speck and the log?). In my own little way, am I judging others or placing unfair burdens and standards (yeah, the Ten Commandments according to Yours Truly Tipsy) on them? Do I try to replace God’s grace and mercy with my own sense of right and wrong and judge others by my self-righteousness? This is just a heart-check for me so that as I go through this life-journey, whether I’m lounging in the Lounge (hehehe see rhymes!) with a Pina Colada or shuffling through those tiny aisles to the nightmare that the toilets become after about five hours into the flight, the only banner I want to be blazing through life is one that screams in capital letters: GRACE, GRACE! AMAZING GRACE!

The Persecutor Preachers

I have a feeling this title sounds a tad confusing. Bear with me a moment while I attempt to explain to you what I had in my head when I came up with it. Hopefully then, it starts to make a bit of sense and you’ll see the picture I see. Hopefully.

It’s Easter time again and I was in Church for Easter Sunday service and there was one thing  that jumped out at me this year that I’ve probably never ever thought of or considered the uncountable times I’ve read or been preached to about the crucifixion.

When Jesus was crucified, two robbers were crucified with Him, one on the left and one on the right (Matt 27:38, Mark 15:27, Luke 23:33, John 19:18). As Jesus hung on the cross, the crowd hurled insults at Him, including the thieves that were crucified with Him (Matt 27:44, Mark 15:32). However, Luke’s account adds a little more detail. In Luke 23:39-42, we see that there seems to have been a shift of some sort. One thief goes “Oga, how far nah? If you’re really this amazing guy who’s supposed to be the Messiah and all, do your thing biko and get us out of here.” The second thief on the other hand rebuked the first (vs 40-41). Now, I have no idea how much time had elapsed between their being strung up on their crosses and this particular bit of conversation. I don’t have all the details of everything that might have transpired between this thief’s joining his partner and the crowd in insulting and mocking Jesus, and his suddenly defending Jesus to his partner and then taking what is probably one of the biggest leaps of faith ever, and asking Jesus to remember him (vs 42). Was it minutes? Hours? What did he see or hear that changed his entire perspective? Was it the stark realization of his dire situation, like omo, na kpai I go kpai today oh! Was it a last moment of terror or was it resignation at his fate? Or  was it that his cross was at an angle to Jesus’ and he saw the inscription ‘King of the Jews’ and had an Eureka moment that wow, I’m dying right beside royalty! (If the guy had been Nigerian, he would probably have been pissed he couldn’t get a selfie with the celeb beside him!) Maybe it was hearing Jesus forgive the ones who had wrongfully nailed Him to a cross that did it for him, like Say what? How can you even forgive the people who put you in such excruciating pain? Or maybe the guy heard all the insults hurled at Jesus and all the mockery coming His way and he was blown away by the tidbits of info:

He saved others, let Him save Himself if He’s truly the Christ…He trusted in God, let God deliver Him now…He healed so many others, why can’t He heal His own wounds now…He claimed He would destroy the temple and build it in three days…the insurgent claimed to be the Bread of Life, imagine…He called Himself God, greater than even Abraham…He had the audacity to forgive sins, the nerve of the man….He claimed live-giving waters flowed from Him…He said anyone who believed in Him would have eternal life, now He’s dying like a common criminal! Oh the irony…

The crowd of mockers must have rehashed the many sermons and parables and sayings of Jesus over and over, having a good laugh at Jesus’ expense, throwing His words in His face, literally rubbing salt to injury. But in all of that, maybe, just maybe, that thief heard the words that changed his life. Maybe hearing about Jesus’ life-changing miracles, His audacious claims, His words on the cross, shifted something inside of him and he came to realize what the mocking crowd had missed. And in that moment when his eyes were opened (I guess he did have an Eureka moment after all) and he cried “Lord remember me when You come in Your kingdom”, the unbelieving crowd (which ironically included the Pharisees, scribes, chief priests and elders, who were Jesus’ greatest persecutors) had inadvertently become very effective propagators of His gospel. They had indirectly preached the word (preach it preacher!) with outstanding results!

So, hope you now understand the title? If you still don’t, remember that I tend to get a little crazy inspired sometimes and even I don’t always understand how my mind works! Hopefully though, you got the gist of the story ;)

Faith Like A Pharisee

Mark chapter 3 is probably one of those chapters that we’ve all built pictures around. Okay, that is if you’re weird like me and watch too many action movies and have a cuh-ray-zay imagination. Just indulge me for a moment.

The stage is set. The crowd is gathered. Enter left: Jesus and His crew. Enter right: the Pharisees with their flowing robes and chins in the air. They take their seats at the front of the synagogue, set apart from the common people.

Flash back to the sitting room of one of the Pharisees, say his name is Phineas. Three of four other top Pharisees are at this coded meeting:

PHINEAS:         That insurgent won’t be able to resist, it’s in his nature.

        AMOS:              I’m sure he won’t. He just can’t help himself.

CAIPHAS:          Yes he can’t help himself. (Gives an evil chuckle). He will help us wrap the noose around his own neck!

Back to the present scene. Jesus is doing His thing, probably reading from a scroll or teaching. All the extras are taking their cues from the director off the cameras and nodding and scratching their chins, as if discerning for the first time, the secrets of the universe.

Enter centre: the man with the shrivelled hand.

Flash back to Phineas’ living room again:

STEPHANUS:     We know that dude with the freakish hand likes to hang behind the crowds outside the synagogue.

AMOS:              Yes, he never goes in but he never misses Sabbath either.

PHINEAS:         I’ll make sure to rebuke him sternly on my way in for not ever dropping an offering in the bowls. He’ll be forced to go in. Guilt-tripping works like magic all the time!

STEPHANUS:     Even though God knows he’ll have nothing worth putting in the bowl. (Wrinkles his nose in distaste).

        PHINEAS:         And our dear little healer will be there to see him.

AMOS:              And everything will fall neatly into place! (Rubs his hands together as an evil smile steals across his face).

Back to the present scene. Jesus looks up from the scroll and stops mid-sentence. He looks at the man shuffling up the aisle, head down, withered hand hidden under his cloak. The poor dude looks like he wishes the floor would open up and swallow him. The crowd now turns with Jesus to stare at this man. Everyone goes quiet as if on cue. The only sounds in the synagogue are from the man’s shuffling feet. Some high-tension sound track starts playing. Camera zooms in on Jesus’ intent face. Then it picks out Phineas’ gloating, triumphant one from the front of the synagogue. It goes back to Jesus, then zooms in on the man as he comes closer and closer. We get a shot of Amos’ clenched fist in his lap, like he’s trying to use some Jedi mind trick on Jesus to make Him perform the miracle. The tension builds and the volume of the ominous sound track increases…..

…You know, sometimes, we need to have faith like the Pharisees. Yup. Those guys had such unshakeable faith in Jesus’ ability to heal the man with the shrivelled hand. Their entire plot to trap Jesus in a faux pas was hinged on this one fact. I wonder how many of us believe half as much as they did that Jesus can meet our every need, move our every mountain. Just food for thought. Sorry guys that I took you through all that drama just to tell you what I could have said in about four sentences. E ma binu! #okbye