NEAR MISS

(Part 1)

I used to be a goody-two-shoes pastor's kid. Not anymore. Not since God went deaf and killed my mother. Entering college was the key to my freedom from that pious cage. 

My cousin was the catalyst for my promiscuous lifestyle. During holiday visits, Frederick would give me his phone, allowing me to watch a couple of pornographic videos. I got hooked. Ever since then, I indulged in secret addictions: alcohol, masturbation, pornography, name it.

When my mom died while I was in my first year in the university, all my conscience died with her. I let go of every constraint and began to fully show my true colour. I never went back home, despite my father's pestering.

"Hey, Jay boy, check out that new chick," Oscar, my best buddy, yelled about the noise, letting out a puff of smoke. "She looks fresh." He let out a low whistle, piquing my curiosity.

It was the night after our last exam paper in which we had cheated. I and my clique of friends had the entire holiday planned out for unrestrained fun and pleasure. Tonight at the club was the first step to our full-fledged spree.

I glanced in the direction he nodded towards and saw the girl. I took in her flawless cocoa skin, her soft plump face and her wide eyes that searched the expanse of the dimly-lit noisy bar.

My eyebrows rose in surprise.
I knew her, vaguely. She was this new DE student in my department. Grace, wasn't that her name?

Though she was damn attractive, I could sense the holy aura on her from miles away. From her modest dressing and even her speech, one could immediately tell that she was a SU to the core.
I kept my distance. I didn't want anything to do with God.

What was she doing in this cave meant only for all the bad boys and girls of this campus?

Suddenly, I had a strong sense of unease. Within seconds of her entry, the guys who weren't gyrating with scantily-clad girls to the hip-hop music blaring from the speakers all had their eyes on her, leering.

Before the wolves came fully for her, I rose, pretending I wanted to go shoot my shot.
My company of half-drunk friends hooted and cheered me on. They had no idea of the conflict in my heart.

I went over to her and tugged her arm.

"Follow me," I said under my breath.

She took one look at me, relief washing over her features, and obeyed.

"Are you asking for a death sentence?" I blasted her once we were outside, away from the noise. "What are you doing here?"

"I came looking for you," she said simply, looking straight at me with that piercing gaze of hers.

I raised a brow and gave my impish smirk that usually had the ladies swooning. A little flirting wouldn't hurt.
"Me? Wow! Am I that irresistible?" I said charmingly.

"To God, you are. He wants you back. Why did you rebel against him?"

I frowned, suddenly agitated.
"Who are you? A spiritual psychic? I barely even know you."

"But God knows you, Jeremiah Oluwabiyi. He led me here, told me I would find you here."

Trickles of raindrops began to fall but I didn't flinch. I was frozen to the spot.

How did she know my full name? Everyone, even my closest friends,  knew me as Jay boy.

What was happening? It was as though I was standing naked before her, before God. I wanted to disappear.

She grasped my hands and looked at me with pleading eyes. Was she crying, or was it the raindrops on her face?

"Look, I have been having bad dreams about you and I cannot shake them away. Please, I'm begging you, accept Jesus before it's too late," she said, desperation dripping in her tone.

I snatched my hand and walked away, stunned and furious. Her voice kept calling me.

I wanted to lash at her and tell her what she was saying was crap, but I couldn't. A million emotions clashed inside me.

As I stalked to my hostel to crash, I couldn't shake off the heavy feeling in my chest. Why wouldn't God just let me be?

I was grateful for the solitude of my room. My other roomies also had gone clubbing.

After peeling off my drenched clothes from my body, I ransacked my bag for the Bible my mom had given me before she died.

Shaking, I flipped through, thinking I would see a logical explanation to why she had to die, why my life had to go haywire. Finding nothing, I flung the bible across my room.

I yelled at God and wept, unleashing my pain before him. I didn't see a flash of light like they say in those fancy testimonies. I didn't hear the voice of God.

All I felt was a sense of comfort, like someone who truly understood and who loved me despite my sins. It broke my defenses and I cried, this time lighter.

My phone jingled. Picking it up, I cleaned off my tears and stared at the strange number calling me. Perhaps it was Grace. I had so much  to ask her.

Shrugging, I cleared my throat and picked it.

"Hel—"

"Is this Jay boy?" the urgent voice cut me short. 

"Um, yes. Please, who am I speaking with?"

"You're needed at the hospital to identify the bodies of your friends."

My head spun and I sat up straighter.
"What?"

"There was a fatal accident at Road Eight some minutes ago. They were drunk and the visibility was low due to the downpour. They hit a fast moving truck. The car was mangled beyond recognition. They're all dead. Yours was the first number in the call log of the only phone that wasn't damaged."

My phone fell from my hands to my bed. "Oh, God!"

All dead?
I would have been in that car with them. Had God given me a second chance?

Breaking out of my shock, I snatched a fresh shirt from my wardrobe and dashed out.

~~~

NEAR MISS

(Part 2)

Tears blurred Jeremiah's vision as he watched the friends that he had hung out with just a few moments ago now bloodied and mangled on the hospital bed.

"Do you recognise them?" a man in a white coat who he guessed was the doctor in charge asked.

"Yes," Jeremiah said in a croaked voice. Yes, these were the bodies of Oscar, Biodun and Femi.

He still couldn't wrap his head around the frightening concept that he could also be dead at this same moment.

As he staggered out of the hospital some minutes later after providing the contact details of his now-dead friends' families, the bitter taste of grief filled his throat.

He saw a vaguely familiar figure emerge from the dimly lit walkway that led to the hospital's entrance.

Grace walked up to him with hastened steps, her face a big reflection of relief.

"I came as fast as I could. The news of the accident is all over campus. I was terrified my nightmares about you had come to pass..."

"They are all dead," he said in a blunt tone, interrupting her.

Grace covered her mouth with her hand and said, "All dead? Oh no! I'm so sorry. Oh my God."

She drew nearer and looked at his face with concern as she placed her hand on his shoulder. "Are you fine?"

Apart from the tears streaming down his face and the slight tremble of his body, yeah, he was great!

A sudden surge of anger welled in him and he shrugged off her hand. 

"If He is the loving and compassionate God He claims to be, why did He let them die? He could have saved them too!" he yelled.

"I'm truly sorry for the loss of your friends, but if you think blaming God for the consequence of bad choices they made is the way to go, then I'm very sorry for you. You obtained mercy, yet, here you are being a lousy ingrate. Not to sound rude, but if I were to be God, I would strike you with thunder immediately for your ungrateful attitude!" she retorted.

Terse silence descended.

Grace calmed her heavy breathing and said in a small voice, "I'm sorry, I should not have yelled back."

Her lash made Jeremiah pause and backtrack a bit.

"I'm just confused. Why would he save me and not them?" he said in a weary voice. "Why didn't he allow my mom to live? She served God her whole life. I even prayed, but He didn't answer."
His voice was laced with pain.

"I can't explain. But one thing I know for sure is this, God loves you and He has a purpose for you. Why not accept His love?" Grace said.

Jeremiah sat on the slightly elevated concrete pavement and put his head in his hands, weeping.

Grace sat beside him with a heavy sigh.
"I understand how you feel. Two years ago, I had dreams that my elder brother who was in Abuja at that time would die without God. The reoccurring dreams haunted me for days but I couldn't summon the courage to talk to my brother about my new-found life. He died an ugly death. Was shot by the boyfriend of his one-night-stand girl for the night while in the act."

She grimaced and sniffed while Jeremiah listened with rapt attention.

She continued, "I was mad at God, but that was because I wanted to blame anyone else but me. God brought me out of that mire through a message of conviction."

Jeremiah murmured his brief condolences for her brother's death and she did the same for his mother's.

"To be honest, I'm tired of running away from God. Maybe I'm just scared that if I return to Him he won't accept me. I'm already too filthy," Jeremiah finally said.

"He loves you anyway," Grace said.

"Look, I'm a pastor's child. I know how this God-thing works. I hate the whole rules and regulations aspect."

"He doesn't impose laws on His children. Christ came to abolish that. He only wants you to reciprocate His love."

"But it's been forever since I last prayed. Will He hear me?"

Grace smiled wistfully.
"You know, you remind me of Moses. I bet you'll also be a mighty tool in God's hands."

Jeremiah sighed. "I'm ready. I want God in my life again."

Beaming, Grace took his hands and allowed him to talk to God himself. When he was done, he felt lighter.

"Welcome home, brother," Grace said, grinning.

"I should thank you for being the persistent widow," Jeremiah said.

"Ooh! I see you're the Bible scholar kind, uhn?"

Jeremiah chuckled.

Grace leaned back. "So, what are you going to do this holiday?"

A small smile crept up his face. "I'm going home. Dad will be so shocked."

"I doubt that. He probably has been praying for and expecting you considering how your case gave me sleepless nights and seeing how you had a near miss with death"

"Hmmm. Now that you're saying this, it reminds me of one parable in the Bible Mom loved so much."

Grace smiled as they chorused it together.

"The prodigal son!"

The End!