D Devil I Called “MY BEST FRIEND” (Part 1)

D Devil I Called “MY BEST FRIEND”

…as cunny as a tortoise…

I heard a knock on my door. I knew who it was. As a matter of fact, the sound of the knock lit up my face with such a big smile. It’s Tara at the door. She had called me earlier in the morning to tell me she got saved. That was one of the greatest news I’d ever heard all my life because Tara was simply put—an impossible unbeliever—impossible to convert her…but all that is past now. The impossible had just been done. God just did it.
As I approached the door, I discovered my heart skipped beats like twice. A sudden coldness came over me—with some touch of anxiety and worry. But this is not the first time I will have that kind of feeling. I knew what it’s called as soon as I felt it. And more interestingly, I knew how to deal with it now. The feeling is G-U-I-L-T! And Pastor Creflo Dollar had thought me to starve my guilt to death not just by mere thinking about my justification, but by actually speaking convincingly from the Word of God about my justification and righteousness—the more reason he said I should be familiar with the Word of God. And thank God I’d just finished meditating on Rom 8:1 when the knock broke the silence in my apartment. So I opened my mouth and I spoke: Joe, you are no longer condemned…God has blessed you with a gift of righteousness—you never had to work for it—He just gave you! It’s a gift!…so approach that door with the confidence of a Son in the house of his father…alright? Yeah. Alright.
So I opened the door for Tara to come in. Now I’m sure you will want to wonder why I had that feeling at first. I will tell you.
I had a friend—my best friend actually. I call him Ray—from Raymond. I met Tara through Ray. But the pathetic thing about the whole story is the devilish role my so-called best friend played in my relationship with Tara.
It was a Saturday. We had been together in the room for the most part of the day. We were transferring files between our mobile phones—via Bluetooth! All of a sudden, a notification popped up on my phone. It read: accept file from MOG. Immediately I saw that, I knew it was not coming from Ray’s phone—his phone bears another name. Not MOG. So I told him of the alert and he said I should just click on accept and let’s just see what’s in the file. Obviously, one of the other blockmates must have been trying to send a file to someone else, but perhaps because our Bluetooth had been on, he mistook my phone for the person he wanted to send the file to. I explained thus to Ray and he seemed to understand. So I cancelled the notification; rejecting the alert.
Few seconds later, the same notification popped up again. Ray was becoming interested in this unfolding drama. He told me to accept the file and let’s just see what it’s all about. “A file coming from one M-O-G shouldn’t be a bad file to have on your phone”—Ray said. Of course, on campus, MOG simply means Man-of-God ceteris paribus. Giving it some more thought, I said to myself “what if it’s actually a virus?” Ray sharply responded “Ah ah…you are thinking too far…like you said, someone is simply mistaking your phone for another person’s phone! Accept this thing and let’s see!”
To cut the long story short, I accepted the file and it started downloading to my phone. 4 eyes were glued to the screen of my cell phone as we watch the file download bar move from 0% to 100%. Then this notification came up: “Download complete. Would you like to view the file now?” You can be sure of the option we went for…we chose to view the file immediately. And guess what was in the file? A very rough s*x clip. A p*rn*graphic clip!
Immediately I saw that, I clicked STOP and deleted the file. Good thing to do—right? But I noticed that my friend just switched to silent mode afterwards. He wasn’t as lively as he was before the Bluetooth drama came up. I couldn’t link it all up until he voiced out and spoke to me—he said “Joe, do you know that I respect you a lot?” “Why?”—I asked. “Because, if I were to be the one who got such a file on my phone, I wouldn’t have deleted it immediately…I would have saved it in my passworded memory card…” “So what will you do with it? It’s of no use keeping a video clip you can’t allow everybody that scans through your phone to see”—I said. I then went on to speak to Ray about the dangers of pornography and such stuffs. I sat him down and then spoke to him brother-to-brother. Afterwards, I opened the video-folder on my laptop and played him a message video preached by Pastor Jentezen Franklin titled “The Python Spirit”. The message which was a perfect blend of drama and revelations from God’s Word brought much light to practical issues that youths struggle with—ranging from worldly music to pornography and pre-marital sex and the likes.
I was beginning to sound like the “saint” here, not knowing what my friend—my so-called best friend—was planning for me.
I was only going to get to know in 7 days time!
So what did Ray do? How did Tara come in to this whole scene?
Watch out for the “MY BEST-FRIEND-DEVIL….Part 2”.

Ola Joseph Kolawole.



Sister Rahab Meets Freedom…

Tuesday, May 13, 2008.
A3, Angola Hall.
8:35 pm

Demola is the Follow-Up Secretary of The Ambassadors Christian Students’ Fellowship of Nigeria (TACSFON). He stays in A3, Angola Hall. He was just coming from a meeting. He had a very stressful day. He was hoping to get back to his room and have a sound sleep. He needed that so badly.

As he approached the room, he heard a loud music playing…it was one “Tu Face” song – African queen. (You know the song – don’t you? Are you still born again? Kidding.) So Demola approached the room hoping to know what the loud music was all about. He later discovered that the room was locked and the lights were off…but the music was on…still very loud.

He banged on the door. Bang! Bang! Bang! No response. Bang! Bang! Bang! again…yet no response. Demola went to the back door and banged louder than before. Then the window blind was partially dragged open. Right behind the louver blades was this roommate of Demola – Tunde by name. Tunde asked with a who-is-interrupting-me look on his face “Who’s that?” and Demola replied with a frown “It’s me. Demola. Could you please open this door!?” “Alright. Give us 3 minutes…you can go back to the front door” “3 minutes? Us? You and who?” Tunde released the window blind to veil the room again. Demola continued, now speaking with a lot more fury in his voice “Tunde, I hope this is not what I’m thinking?…believe you me, if that be the case, we will throw you out of this room finally…after all, you were never a legitimate occupant.”

Demola went to the front door, fuming with rage. In a couple of minutes, the music was off, the door was opened and a shameless girl came out of the front door, followed closely by Tunde. Demola was so enraged but what could he do? Slap the girl? That won’t be Jesusly – will it? Strangulate Tunde? That’s murder! Demola just went in and lay on his bed, wishing that all he saw was just a dream. But it sure wasn’t. To add salt to injury, it was Demola’s music player that the two culprits were using to cover up the soundtrack of their evil. So disheartening.

And the girl…can you take a guess who it was? You guessed right. It was Sister Rahab. The same Sister Rahab that was weeping bitterly and trusting God for a new start a couple of months ago. But is this really her fault? She was addicted. She was already a sex addict. After all, there wasn’t a delete button to press at salvation to delete the stuffs that were formerly in the mind before salvation. But I wish she could get someone to bring her to the knowledge of the truth. The truth that sets free.

Wednesday, May 14, 2009
A 306, Moremi Hall.

Rahab’s room. Demola went there to see Taiwo who happened to be his subgroup member in fellowship. He did not even know that he was in Rahab’s room. He could not even recognize her.

On getting to the room, he knocked and asked from behind the door “can a guy come in”. A feminine voice (Rahab’s) asked from inside “Who’s that?” Demola replied saying “I’m asking after Taiwo.” Then there was a brief silence after which Taiwo came out and ushered him in. the room was like any typical Moremi hall room. That was Demola’s first time in the room. He looked around for quite a while and said “You have a lovely room here” “Oh thanks” Taiwo replied.

Then Demola’s eyes spotted two books on Taiwo’s bed. “Were you reading?” “Yes…No. I was actually writing an article on addictions” “Addictions?” “Yeah…I’m even thinking it’s high time we took a Bible study on that” “So what types of addiction have you been considering?” “Oga…wait, wait, wait…you’ve not even told me what you will like to take” “forget that one…I’m here on a mission…and I think I’m getting there already…you see, last night, something happened in my room, a squatter brought in a girl and had sex with her right inside the room, but afterwards, we got talking and I discovered that the lady was one of the many thousand Christians that are saved but are yet struggling with one addiction or the other”…

They both continued with the discussion while Rahab still hid herself in her corner, listening. In a little while, she was weeping profusely…she came out from her corner and sat beside Taiwo weeping so uncontrollably. Taiwo and Demola tried to pacify her to know why she was crying but all to no avail. The only statement she kept on saying with her tearful voice was “I’m dying…I need help”. So Demola brought out his handkerchief and wiped her tears. Then he spoke to her softly “Can we have a stroll together…I think I have a word for you.” Did she have a choice? She consented and they both left the room, leaving only Taiwo in the room.

They strolled to Mainbowl and sat down to have a talk. That was where Rahab got it. For the next 2 hours, Demola took her on a practical Bible exposition on addictions, renewing the mind, what salvation entails, and what have you, sharing from his own past as a masturbation addict. This was the first time in Rahab’s life when she felt the peace that comes with the truth.

That marked the beginning of the turn around in Rahab’s life. She now goes about singing with great anointing and with a message of how God freed her from the shackles of her past. Everywhere she gets to, she never stops sharing the testimony of how God changed her life.

That was the beginning of the transformed Rahab that we saw at the beginning of this book at the carol service of Grace Students’ Fellowship….

to be continued…
culled from “The OAU 7 and The Great Revival” (c) 2010 Ola Joseph Kolawole

Dont Be Caught Dead…Inside D Toilet! (TOILET MINISTRY, Part 2)

Dont Be Caught Dead…Inside D Toilet!

a living dog is better than a dead lion… Ecc 9:4

Remember where we started from in the first part? With a joke about a man that found himself in a females’ toilet and started pressing “the buttons he had sworn not to press”…and you remembered where he landed? “Yeah! You remembered. On the hospital bed!”
(If you did not read the first part of this piece, U can check it out on my notes on my profile page).

Let me start this second part with a true life story. This happened years back (over a decade actually) so don’t crucify me.

There was this day that my Dad was taking bread and tea in the afternoon (back then, those were really rare delicacies. Especially the tea…the family takes that once in a week thereabout). So I was expecting my Dad to call me like he always did to come and finish the remaining tea in his cup…but alas! He didn’t! But there was a part of me that was dying to have a taste of the brownish thing in whatever form—powdery or liquid. Covetousness, you may choose to call it. Or “hunger”—perhaps, that was what I thought it was. But whatever it was, the thing led me to do what I shouldn’t have done but which many of you would also have done if you were in my shoes.

I thought to myself “I will go and take some of the Bournvita…scoop as much as my tiny little hand can contain…then rush to the toilet—the place where nobody sees me—the place where everyone respects my privacy. Then when I enter, rather than do what the toilet was meant for—I will satisfy my throat with the sweet sensation the powder as it journeys down my oesophagus to my alimentary canal…” Those were thoughts—the “innocent thoughts of a 7-yr old.

And that was just what I did. Went into the room where the beverages were kept…climbed on a stool to carry the tin from the shelf…opened the tin with my metallic belt tip…then…dipped my innocent little hand in…and scooped a handful of bournvita…then rushed to close the tin with the lid…then I heard some foot steps approaching…so I took the other exit (without returning the tin back to where I picked it from)…and I hurried towards the toilet. But as I was reaching for the knob to the toilet door from outside (with the second hand), the toilet door was opened (from inside) and my Mum came out of it. (We lived back then in a house with only one toilet!…but now, we live in a house with three!) Shocked…I quickly hid my second hand behind my back and displayed a restlessness that was too obvious to be hidden. Mummy asked “what’s that?” “what’s what?” I replied. “What are you hiding?…bring me your hand…”…the rest was “history”. I was given a “beating I will never forget”.
Don’t just laugh…because I’m sure you’ve been there before too. Haven’t you?

You know, as I was typing this note, it dawned on me that the “toilet” literarily has its own function. But some people go there to do other things besides the function it was meant for. So let me remind you of what “toilet” means as far as this write-up is concerned:

“Toilet” in the context of this write-up is taken to mean “that place where no one else goes with you to”…”that place where (as it were) no one sees you”…”where nobody is there, except you…alone.” and like I said in the first part, “toilet ministry” means…what you do…when nobody is there!

So what’s the danger in “going to the toilet”…as in “going to those places where nobody sees us…?”. I have come to understand that going to such places is not the problem. The problem is from what you go there…to do! Fine, people will always “respect” your privacy when you eneter the “toilet” but a day is coming when the unforeseen will happen and you will need the help of people that are “outside the toilet” but because they “respect your toilet privacy”, nobody will come to your rescue! I SPEAK IN PARABLES…

I said in the last write-up that I was going to tell you of a King in the Scriptures that died like that. An enemy came and smartly gained enterance to his presence to stab him. The security guards were expecting him to come out, but on assumotion that he was in the toilet, they respected his “toilet privacy” and decided not to check. But after a while, by the time they broke the door in to check, behold…the king is dead.

I am not formulating stories. Let me quote the scriptures and you will see what I’m saying:

Judges 3:20-25 God’s Word Version
(20) Ehud came up to him as he sat alone in his room on the roof. He said to the king, “I have a message from God for you.” As the king rose from his throne,
(21) Ehud reached with his left hand, took the dagger from his right side, and plunged it into Eglon’s belly.
(24) After Ehud went out, Eglon’s advisers came in. They were surprised that the doors were locked. “HE MUST BE USING THE TOILET,” they said.
(25) They waited and waited, but Eglon didn’t open the doors. So they took the key and opened the door. They were shocked to see their ruler lying on the floor, dead.

That’s why I wish you could see the “foolishness” of the “toilet ministry”. Think twice when no man is watching. Ask yourself, “can I do this if my Dad was here?” “or if my Mum was here?” “or if my fiancé(e) was here?” “or if my best friend was here?”….and most importantly…“If God was here?”…AND HE IS! YES! He’s right there with you everytime.

So when next you want to rush to those hiding places to do the “ungodly”, just remember…GOD IS WATCHING!

I actually planned writing something entirely different for this second part…but as I started typing this note, the flow changed. This is yet a reinforcement to the first part. If God permits, there will yet be a part three, where I will show you the “concept” behind why you act the way you do…especially in the toilet!

God loves you Sweetheart…and so do I.

© Feb, 2010



SAVED “in 3 tenses”

SAVED “in 3 tenses”

(Excerpts From My First Book–THE SALVATION JOURNEY)

Hurley was a fat guy. When I say ‘fat’ I mean he has this avoirdupois—a kind of blubber. He has an excess bodily weight. Of all his problem, the major one is the fact that everybody thinks he is a goon. They address him like he’s gone nuts. Not because he was that fat, but because he seems not to know that a fool at forty is a fool forever—actually, I meant to say fourteen, not forty. And here is twenty six years old Hurley. He doesn’t seem to be mindful of responsibilities now knocking pretty hard on his door.

He was actually admitted in a psychiatric clinic once where he met Leonard, another psychi-atric patient. As we will get to see soon, Leonard is going to become the best thing that ever happened to Hurley, or the worst—depending on how you want to see it. Hurley never be-lieved that anything was wrong with him—or so I suppose—so he believes he shouldn’t be admitted in a psychiatric home.

But at least for the first time, he did something with some cacoethes (passion). If only the thing made sense afterall. Gambling? Or gaming? Or what do you call trying to win a lottery by guessing the six numbers for a weekly draw? But somehow, I really don’t know how, but somehow, he got what he wanted. He miraculously won the lottery. ‘Miraculously’. I hope that’s the right word.

He was seated glued to the TV set doing what he knows how to do best. He’s either watching a G-string ‘mujere’ like his mum will say, or watching the weekly draws for the lottery. Those two, ostensibly, are his favourites. And on this particular day, it was the latter that he was up for. And just like a dream, Hurley watched his five numbers being the lucky numbers for the week with the mega jackpot number of 42, just tallying with his! As luck will have it. Yeah luck. I suppose that’s a better word for this case than a ‘miracle’. Remember – luck can be good…or bad. And for a synonym, try the likes of destiny, fate, fortune, lot, chance etc.

What matters anyway is that he won. A lottery worth a hundred and fourteen million dollars. Next thing you see is a panel of reporters waiting to interview the lucky fella in his apartment. It’s been sixteen weeks without a winner. But that’s history now. Someone has broken the jinx. The ‘lucky’ guy Hurley. One of the reporters asked “How did you get those numbers?” And Hurley’s response was that “they just sort of came”. Indeed they just kind of came. (I wonder how myself).

He introduced his family members on request from another reporter. Apparently, he was liv-ing with his mum, his grandpa, his brother and his sister-in-law. But right there, while he was giving a preconceived spending plan to the newsmen, his grandpa, Albuerto, fell down and died. I surmise that was the end of the interview.

Next thing, Hurley was riding a yellow hummer. What do you expect? Really, if it were to be you, what will you do with about 114 million dollars? (Really, you can get a piece of paper and right down how you will spend it—and be serious about it ’cause one thing I’ve learned recently is that there is power in wishes—and who knows, you could be holding a cheque of such an amount very soon?!)

So Hurley bought a house for his mum. And while they drove to the site of the ‘surprise’ like he called it for his mum, he recapitulated what has happened ever since he won the lottery. From the loss of his grandpa to the loss of Father Arguilla – their parish priest (they were Catholic). It happened during the funeral of his grandpa. Right there at the boneyard, there was a lightening that struck the priest dead. And thereafter, his sister-in-law left his brother for another man. And now, while he blindfolded his mum to gradually unveil the surprise, the poor old woman fell off a trough and broke her ankle. As if that was not enough, even the ‘surprise’—the house—was already on fire. And as he was still beholding that stupefied, he was beleaguered by cops and arrested for drugs. It took some days in the German cell before the cops realised that they collared the wrong person. Lots of other bad things happened, like one of his companies getting burnt down and a number of people dying in the incident; a storm hitting one of the companies in which he is a major stock holder. Many bad things.

And then, he came to a conclusion that he was under a whammy. Maybe some sort of a curse. Maybe he was never created to win a lottery, he thought to himself. But really, how did he manage to get those six bloody numbers right? He remembered where he got those numbers from. From Leonard, his friend in the asylum. Leo has been repeating those numbers for God knows how long. That’s all he kept on saying all his days, actually years, in the asylum. So Hurley thought it wise to go and ask him how he came about those cursed numbers. Contrary to Hurley’s expectation of not really getting anything from the visit (since Leonard hasn’t really spoken to anybody reasonably for years except for mumbling those numbers over and over again), he got a lead from the visit. Leonard told him of how a friend of his by the name Sam Tooney heard those numbers in a town in Australia. Hurley had no choice than to trace Sam Tooney to Australia. He really wanted to know how those numbers came about.

When he got to the isolated residence of the Tooneys in a sort of desert in a town in Sydney, Australia, he met Sam’s wife, but he learnt that Sam’s dead. He’s been dead for four years. It turned out that Sam and Leonard were both formerly in the U.S. Navy and one night, like many other nights, they were in a ‘Listening Post’ to monitor long wave transmissions com-ing out of the pacific. A very boring job, he called it since there was always nothing to listen to eventually. Ho-hum and irksome until one night, when according to Sam’s wife, about 16 years ago, the dyad heard a voice repeating those numbers. Then the next day, at a fair in Karlgoolie, Sam used those numbers to win a wally’s money. The man had a jar filled to the brim with beans and was willing to offer 50 grand for whoever can guess how many beans were in the jar. Sam used the numbers and got it. On their way home, Sam had an accident in which his wife lost one of her legs but the man was unscathed. Subsequently, many terrible things were happening to people around Sam but not to Sam himself. To put everything to a stop, four years ago, Sam put a shot gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. But that was after lots and lots of bad stuffs had happened.

So Hurley boarded a flight back to LA having gotten the info he wanted in Australia. But un-fortunately, he never got back home. His plane suffered a crash and he found himself in a jungle, close to an Island amongst forty something other survivors. And day after day, while they hopefully awaited a rescue team, they kept wandering and journeying through the mys-terious jungle, and they kept on discovering that they were—simply put—lost. But in the midst of their predicament, it was this same Hurley of a guy that did all he could to make a home out of the mysterious jungle by setting up a golf course for his lost fellows to have something to keep their minds off their predicament. They were all lost. Very lost. And that was actually the title of the movie from which I culled Hurley’s story—LOST (Season 1).


Salvation is an odyssey. It’s a long journey. Ask Hurley, and he will tell you that salvation is the journey from the mysterious Island back to his house in Los Angeles (with everything thing back to normal—no more bad things happening to people around him). And sincerely, that’s not going to be an easy journey. The term “Salvation” is a great inclusive word of the Gospel. In a way, the term gathers into itself all the redemptive acts and processes. So salva-tion is like a journey through Justification City, plying the Redemption Highway somewhere at Atonement Boulevard in Sanctification District in the Charabanc of Forgiveness with the steering held tightly in the grip of Grace, the great driver, to the Haven of Glorification.

The well-worn word “salvation” starts from a double metaphorical meaning. Alternately in the scriptures, the word is used as meaning being healed and being made safe. Ask Hurley, and he will tell you the same thing that salvation has two definitions—being healed (from his psychosis and psychopathy) and being made safe (back in his home in Los Angeles with a permanent stop to the bad things that were happening)….

Culled from The Salvation Journey (c) Ola Joseph Kolawole 2010