SAME GOD PART 2
Tijesunimi sat across from her pastor, her hands clenched in her lap, her heart heavy with frustration and exhaustion. She exhaled deeply, shaking her head as her emotions threatened to overwhelm her.
“Maybe God was just using me all this while,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
The pastor’s brow furrowed in concern. “Where is all this coming from?”
Her breath hitched as she recalled the countless prayers, the endless nights of intercession for others, the victories she had witnessed on their behalf while her own plea remained unanswered.
“Seventeen,” she said, her voice trembling. “Seventeen different ladies, Pastor. Prof. Bamiwo wanted to sleep with them. I prayed with each of them, and God answered. He let them go. But me? God has left mine unanswered.”
The pastor folded his hands, nodding solemnly. “Hmm… speak on, dear.”
“Some of these girls were just new in the faith. I watched them graduate, move on, some even got married. Yet here I am, stuck, fighting the same battle, dealing with the same tormentor.” She wiped the tears threatening to fall. “Which God did I pray to for them? Was it not this same God? Have I not done enough? I have given my all to this campus ministry. Under my ministration, people gave their lives to Christ. They received healing. Their destinies were reshaped. But here I am… trapped in the net of one professor.”
The pastor leaned forward. “You still have more to say?”
Tijesunimi sniffled and let out a bitter chuckle. “Pastor, you know my story. I was not always like this. There was a time when I was good at having sex with men. Married men begged for my time. I traveled with them, enjoyed life at its sinful best. Money was never my problem. But I gave it all up for Christ. I surrendered my life, walked away from that darkness. And now? Now He has decided to leave me here to suffer under a man that I can silence in seven minutes!” She spat out the last words, her hands gripping the armrest of the chair.
The pastor let out a deep breath and nodded. “I think I get it now.”
Tijesunimi’s eyes widened. “What?”
“I have an idea of what is going on,” he said, reaching for his Bible. “Listen to me. As you were talking, God directed me to a passage. Let’s read it together—2 Corinthians 12:7-10. In fact, please read it yourself.”
Her fingers trembled as she took the Bible and turned the pages. Clearing her throat, she began to read aloud, “Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”
Her voice faltered, her lips quivering as she took in the words. Tears welled in her eyes as she lifted her gaze to meet the pastor’s.
“You mean… God did this for a major purpose?” Her voice broke as the realization dawned on her.
The pastor nodded. “He is the same God that set those girls free. He is the same God working in your life.”
Tijesunimi clutched the Bible to her chest. “And His grace is sufficient for me,” she whispered.
“Yes. God is up to something greater than you can see right now. Let Him fight this battle Himself.”
She exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples. “But Pastor, this is not easy for me. I want to move on.”
“To where?” the pastor asked gently.
She hesitated. “I need to move on with my life.”
He shook his head. “You want to move on to a place He has not prepared for you?”
Tijesunimi closed her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks. “But what will I do? I have stayed too long here, sir.”
“My dear,” the pastor said softly, “please stay and let God finish this fight.”
She nodded slowly, wiping her tears. “Okay, sir. I have heard you.”
The pastor smiled. “Good.”
She glanced up, a small, tired smile breaking through her exhaustion. “Please tell God to hurry up abeg.”
The dim glow of the study lamp cast flickering shadows across the pastor’s office as he knelt, his face buried in his hands. The air was thick with the weight of his burden, his voice trembling as he poured his heart out to God.
“God, what is happening?” His voice broke, laced with anguish. “You cannot just leave your daughter, Tijesunimi, hanging like this. She has waited, Lord. She has stayed at this spot for too long. She chose You above the enticing things of this world, forsook her past, and embraced righteousness. And yet, she is being tormented. Lord, she does not deserve this. I know You are working, but it is taking too long, all because of one man—a careless professor who has not only oppressed her but has also mocked You.”
Tears rolled down his face as he clenched his fists. “Lord, she is weak. She is tired. She is at the edge of giving up. I have prayed so many times, asking You to let me intervene—to let me go and face this professor myself—but You have said no. Why, Lord?” He sobbed openly now. “Why? Arise, Lord, and fight for Your daughter. Show Your might. If she turns thirty-one and is still trapped on that campus, it will be hard for her to hold on. It will be hard for her not to backslide. Lord, help us. Help her.”
He wiped his face and opened his Bible, desperation driving him to cling to the very promises of God. “Psalm 54:4 says, ‘Behold, God is my helper; the Lord is the one who sustains my soul.’ Lord, sustain Tijesunimi’s soul. Psalm 46:1 says, ‘God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.’ Lord, this is trouble! Show Yourself great. Prove Yourself mighty. She has waited, Lord. Father, help her.”
His voice quivered, his breath shallow. “Psalm 33:20 reminds us that ‘Our soul has waited for the Lord. He is our help and our shield.’ But this wait is too long, Lord. Do not let her break. Hebrews 4:16 says we should ‘draw near with boldness to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace for help in time of need.’ I am here, Lord, interceding. She needs You. Father, she needs You.”
His voice dropped to a whisper, then cracked into sobs. “She has trusted You, Lord. Psalm 62:8 says, ‘Trust in Him at all times, you people. Pour out your heart before Him. God is a refuge for us.’ Be her refuge, Lord. We lift our eyes to the hills. Where does our help come from? Our help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. You will not allow her foot to be moved. You who keep her will not slumber. You are her keeper. Lord, You said we should cast our burdens upon You and You will sustain us. But, Lord, she is about to be moved. She is weary. Come to her rescue.”
A thick silence followed. His chest rose and fell heavily, the room silent except for the sound of his labored breathing. Then, with a deep sigh, he whispered, “Lord, I am not trying to fight Your battles. You are the mighty Man in battle. Who am I to step into Your war? I am just concerned. Please, forgive me.”
His voice steadied, and with eyes closed, he began to sing softly:
My soul says yes, says yes, says yes…
Tears glistened in his eyes as he reached for his phone and dialed Tijesunimi’s number. The ringing felt like an eternity before she finally answered.
“Hello, Pastor.”
“Tijesunimi,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “How are you?”
She paused for a moment. “Pastor, you sound… different. Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” he assured her. “Everything is fine.”
“How is Mummy?”
“She is well.”
“Okay, sir.”
He exhaled. “I just finished praying for you, Tijesunimi.”
There was a silence on the other end, then a soft, “Oh. Thank you, sir.”
“To be honest, I am deeply worried for you, but each time I pray…”
“God still tells you it is His battle,” she finished for him.
“Exactly,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
There was another pause before she spoke again. “Let me tell you what I know, Pastor.”
“I’m listening.”
She took a deep breath. “Isaiah 50:7. ‘For the Lord GOD will help me. Therefore, I have not been confounded. Therefore, I have set my face like a flint, and I know that I shall not be disappointed.’ That is the word God gave me.”
A wave of warmth filled his chest. “Wow.”
“So, please, Pastor,” she said with quiet strength. “Let’s leave it to God.”
“Please remain steadfast, dear.”
“I will, Pastor.”
As the call ended, the pastor sighed, a mixture of relief and awe washing over him. God was indeed at work. It was not easy, but the battle was the Lord’s. And though the night seemed long, he knew that the morning would surely come.
The morning sun was relentless as Tijesunimi made her way to Professor Bamiwo’s office. With each step, her heart pounded in her chest, her hands clammy with anxiety. Today, she had decided to face the monster head-on. The man who had held her academic life hostage for the past three years.
She knocked twice.
“Come in,” came the voice from inside, smooth yet laced with a sinister undertone.
Tijesunimi pushed the door open, stepping into the suffocating aura of the office. The bookshelves lining the walls, the framed academic certificates, the faint smell of leather and paper—everything about the office spoke of prestige. But she knew the truth that lurked behind the façade.
“Good afternoon, sir,” she greeted, keeping her voice even.
Professor Bamiwo leaned back in his chair, a smirk curling his lips. “Oh, my sweetest is here. Look at you,” he mused, his eyes shamelessly running over her. “You still look so magnetic with your beauty. Have you finally come to give me a chance to enjoy what you have been blessed with?”
Tijesunimi swallowed her disgust and forced herself to sit. “I have come to ask you a few questions before I give your request a second thought.”
The professor chuckled. “That sounds like victory already. Feel free, my dear.”
The sound of her chair dragging against the tiled floor echoed in the room.
“Please, explain to me,” she began, “what exactly do you want from me? Why do you want to have sex with me?”
Professor Bamiwo tilted his head as if amused by her boldness. “Well, I don’t actually feel good answering such questions, but I will.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. “I like you. I want you. But I know I can’t have you—not permanently. I can’t take a second wife, but I can have a bite at least. I don’t mean any harm, my dear.”
Her chest tightened. “But do you really think it is fair to keep me in this school for the third year just because I did not allow you to sleep with me?”
“I don’t think I am the reason why you are still in this school,” he said with an air of indifference.
“Then what else would be keeping me here?”
The professor shrugged. “You are actually busy with a project that should not be your business.”
She frowned. “What project is that?”
“Your church.”
Tijesunimi straightened. “That is God’s project, sir.”
He chuckled. “Exactly. Did you hear yourself? You said it is God’s project, not yours. You are still in this school because you are busy facing another person’s business and have left yours unattended.”
“But sir, I am like your daughter.”
Professor Bamiwo let out a sinister smile. “No, you are getting things mixed up in your head. You are not like my daughter. You can never be like her. Erase that from your mind.”
Tijesunimi clenched her fists under the table. “But please, I need you to let me go. I want to graduate.”
The professor’s smirk deepened. “Your graduation gown is in one of the rooms in a hotel in town. You need to go and pick it up.”
Her stomach churned. “Which hotel, sir?”
“Are you ready for me?” he asked, his tone low and charged.
She held his gaze. “What do you think, sir?”
“I am not thinking, dear. You are the one taking me down this thought line.”
She inhaled sharply. “Sir.”
“Yes?”
“Let me take a second thought.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “You are funny.”
“How do you mean, sir?”
“You think you are wise,” he said, his tone darkening. “You can’t come into my office to set me up and believe it would work.”
Tijesunimi’s heart skipped a beat. “Sir?”
“Bring out that recording phone and play back what you have recorded.”
She froze. “I don’t understand.”
“I know you are recording me.”
Her fingers fumbled with the bag. “You what?”
“Bring it out.”
With trembling hands, she pulled out her phone. The professor leaned forward. “Play it.”
She pressed play. Instead of their conversation, the phone crackled with static, like a broken radio struggling to find a frequency.
She gasped. “How did you—?”
“You think you are wise, Tijesunimi. Don’t waste your time. You want to graduate? Do my bidding.”
Tijesunimi shot up from the chair, anger searing through her. “What kind of beast are you?”
The professor’s face darkened. “The kind of beast that can keep you in this school for ten years if you fail to do my bidding.”
“You are a monster!”
“That shouldn’t be new to you,” he said flatly. “Monsters know what they want. Monsters get what they want. Give me what I want.”
Tijesunimi clenched her fists. “I destroy that demon in you right now in Jesus’ name!”
He smirked. “Forget it.”
She stepped forward, fire burning in her veins. “I stand on the word of the Lord! The fire of God comes upon you in the name of Jesus!”
The professor sneered. “Do you see me fall down and shake? No. I have told you, I am inconsumable.”
“Leave me alone in Jesus’ name!” she screamed.
“Not until I have what I want from you!” he roared back.
Breathing heavily, Tijesunimi’s eyes flicked to the framed photo on his desk—his family at his son’s graduation.
“Look at the wall, Professor. That’s your family. Your son’s graduation day. You celebrated his success, but you won’t let me have mine.”
“Then stop delaying the happiness your parents want to have on your graduation day.”
Tijesunimi’s voice broke. “I don’t have parents, sir. I am an orphan.” Tears streamed down her face. “Please, let me go.”
Professor Bamiwo exhaled, a brief moment of silence passing between them. “Really? You don’t have parents?”
“No, sir. Please let me go.”
He sighed deeply, but his expression soon hardened again. “No. I will not let you go until you bless me.”
Tijesunimi shut her eyes tightly. “My God, why have you chosen to forsake me? Why have you given this man so much power over me?”
“Are you done crying?” Bamiwo asked.
“Sir, please, I don’t want to do this with you.”
His voice turned sharp. “Then get out of my office.”
Tijesunimi wiped her tears. “Professor Bamiwo.”
“Yes?”
She straightened her shoulders. “You really want to sleep with me?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
His eyes glinted. “Is that a yes for me?”
She smiled. “You are not too powerful for my God. He is preserving you for a purpose. You will live, and you will be in good health. You know why? Because you will be at my graduation ceremony. In fact, we will take a selfie together.”
“Get out!” he barked.
“See you next year,” she whispered, walking out with her head held high.
Tijesunimi sat quietly in her modest living room, her Bible open on the wooden table before her. The afternoon sunlight streamed through the window, casting warm golden hues across the room. She sighed, her thoughts drifting between prayer and the silent questions that had lingered in her heart for years. Her 31st birthday had passed just a few days ago, yet she felt no real joy—only the weight of waiting, the endless delay that bound her to the university.
A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. She straightened her posture and called out, “Come in.”
The door creaked open, and Grace, a bright and beaming young woman, stepped inside. She wore a radiant smile, her excitement almost tangible.
“Hello, Sister Grace,” Tijesunimi greeted warmly.
Grace chuckled. “Haba, Sister bawo? I am your daughter o!”
Tijesunimi shook her head, laughing softly. “Please stop it. How are you?”
“I am doing fine, ma,” Grace said as she took a seat.
Tijesunimi observed her for a moment, sensing that Grace had something important to say.
“Ma, I called you three days ago to wish you a happy birthday,” Grace continued.
“Yes, my 31st birthday,” Tijesunimi responded, a shadow crossing her face briefly.
Grace clapped her hands together. “Wow! I am so happy for you, ma!”
Tijesunimi smiled faintly. “Thank you so much.”
“I also came to share a testimony with you,” Grace announced, her eyes sparkling.
Tijesunimi sat up with curiosity. “Okay, please share it.”
Grace took a deep breath, then said excitedly, “I am getting married in three months!”
Tijesunimi’s eyes widened with joy. “Wow, praise God! That is wonderful news.”
Grace nodded eagerly. “Yes, ma! Please, I want you to be there. This is a special invitation for you.”
Tijesunimi’s smile wavered. “Eyah… but why?”
Grace reached for her hands. “Ma, you have been a blessing to me. You were the one the Lord used to save me from that terrible man, Prof. Bamiwo. I can never forget that, ma. Because of you, my spiritual life flourished. I owe so much of my journey to you.”
Tijesunimi’s heart swelled with warmth. “Eyah, that is so sweet.”
“So, please, will you come?” Grace asked hopefully.
Tijesunimi hesitated, then said, “I will try my best.”
“Thank you, ma!” Grace beamed. “Have you told Pastor yet?”
“I will be visiting him after leaving here,” Grace replied.
“That is good,” Tijesunimi said, nodding approvingly.
Grace fidgeted with her hands, her expression shifting. “But… Sister Tijesunimi, there is something really bothering me. I’m not sure if I should discuss it.”
Tijesunimi gave her a reassuring look. “Please, go ahead. Tell me.”
Grace hesitated, then exhaled. “Hmmm, I don’t know if I should say this.”
Tijesunimi chuckled. “Seriously, you are free to say whatever is on your mind.”
Grace sighed deeply. “Okay, I get it,” Tijesunimi said after a moment.
“What do you mean, ma?”
“You want to ask why I am still in school after three years, don’t you?”
Grace’s eyes widened in surprise. “How did you know, ma?”
Tijesunimi shook her head, a sad smile on her lips. “What else do people wonder about when it comes to my life?”
Grace hesitated before speaking again. “I just want to ask… Are you not depressed in any way?”
Tijesunimi inhaled deeply. “God is my strength.”
“Oh, my sister,” Grace whispered, reaching for her hand. “Please, let God help you.”
Tijesunimi’s lips trembled, but she remained silent.
“Whatever it is, your labor of love in the vineyard of God will speak for you,” Grace assured her.
“Amen,” Tijesunimi said softly.
Grace stood up. “It is well.”
“Amen.”
“Please, let me be on my way,” Grace said, adjusting her bag.
“Okay, please go well,” Tijesunimi replied.
“Have a lovely day, ma.”
“Enjoy the rest of your day.”
Grace paused at the door. “I hope I haven’t caused any offense by bringing up the topic, ma?”
Tijesunimi forced a smile. “Not at all.”
“Okay, ma. I am grateful,” Grace said, stepping out. “I will wait for your feedback on the invitation.”
“I will call you,” Tijesunimi assured her.
The door closed softly behind Grace, and silence settled in the room.
Tijesunimi sat still, staring blankly at the floor. A bitter chuckle escaped her lips as she muttered to herself, “It is not your fault. Why wouldn’t you come and mock me in my own house? Se bi you have gotten a man who wants to marry you, while I am here claiming to be a strong child of God.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Tijesunimi, what an ‘understanding’ child of God you are,” she whispered bitterly. “And you should have known by now that ‘understanding’ child of God no dey pay.”
Her voice cracked as she buried her face in her hands, the burden of waiting pressing down heavier than ever.
TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 3
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