Gunshots blast in my eardrums as the crowd scatters at the multiple cracks from their barrels. I look up and I see the meanest looking police guards heading our way. I don't know who notified them but they knew what was going on and they came to make someone pay. As the bulletproof vested cop grabs a hold of my leg, I see the rest of the gunslingers- albeit through the dust in my eyes- being yanked off the ground by a coordinated force. These guys meant business. They came to collect.

I'm flung to the ground as my head hits the thick, white concrete wall of the jail cell. I clean off the small flow of blood gushing from my eyebrow with my shirt as I take a look around. Darkness surrounds me. Darkness so thick that I can't see my fingers. The cell is shut with a loud thud that resonates through my brain, dawning my predicament on me. I was in jail. A deep dark jail; left all alone.

The tap on my shoulder scratches that last part off.

I was not alone.

"You're an idiot" my co-prisoner says to back up the hyena-like laugh he aimed at me. "You're a big fool for ending up here". "You're in deep poo now..." is the last thing I hear before the blinding punch on my forehead knocks me out.

I'm awakened by a bucket of cold water into another round of knuckles and kicks all over me, my cellmates all too happy to make a pulp out of me. I can barely scream. My lips are swollen. Blood is gushing. And yet I somehow know I'm not gonna die. This is not gonna end.

"Help!", I muster a faint cry for mercy I know will not be answered. My assailants grab me by the collar and I'm dragged across the room to the corner, with my face abrading the cracked floor all the way there. Their leader lifts up my head with his hardened big toe and stands over me with a faint torch pointed at my now disfigured and swollen face. "Look at me", he says with a hoarse voice that evaporates the last drop of courage left in me. "You should have listened when you had the chance. You should have followed Jesus".

His hands are raised once again. As I ready myself to receive the next round of pounding, I'm saved by the shrill sound of the cell unlocking. My tormentors retreat into the darkness as the guard walks in, far more intimidating than the evils that temporarily leave me to be. He picks me up and with a deep voice delivers the message. "Your time is up. Your trial is at hand. The Master will see you now".

I'm all too happy to escape my assailants as I have one -hopefully- last glance at them, the wicked smiles across their faces anticipating my return.

My momentary relief fades away swiftly. I am done for. Destruction surely awaits my soul.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Comment, comment comment. Please, let me know what you think. Blogging is worthless without your comments.

PS: There's a grand finale coming. Plus, if you missed Part 1, click HERE to read.

I'm torn
Comfort or the unknown?
Safety or the raging cold?
For I can justify my calmness for wisdom;
My fear as common sense.
My reluctance as divine restraint
And leave territories in agony

I'm torn
Even though I talk tough
About a God that's wanting to own me.
Not just a section or a fragment
But the whole me, wholly, holy, only
For Him and not as I please;

Of Christianity not of choice or ease
But of a faith of which, with a gushing wind
Leads me to uncharted waters,
With cripples standing and maimed restored
The blind see ex-widows' husbands alive,
A gushing wind beyond my control,
Beyond choice, a sale of self beyond lease.

Because whatever I do is right in my eyes.
If I spend my days searching for millions
Or skills acquisitions
Making me a wiz,
I'll say its God I seek to please.
I'll give Him the glory, still I will
But still, I'm not stilled.

Cause a part of me says I should let go
Forget my degree and brace the freezing cold
Heat up the flames of evangelism that tear at my earthly goals
Rebuke a false voice that says its okay to blend in
And be best at common
Let go of the extreme,
"Radicalism is a sin.
Get the money, support the missions. Be rich".

But I fear that voice
I fear the extreme
I fear the letting go
I fear the loss of all things planned, all things structured
My five-year plan, a solid one I might add
I fear the spirit calling me to be crazy in love with crazy
To be crazy enough to let go

So God, sort it out.
Who are you? And who have you made me to be?
The red-eyed preacher with the gramophone
Telling market women about Jesus
Or the posh CEO in the corner office
Sponsoring radio shows broadcasting Him.

Let me know so I can stop this groan
Who have you made me to be?
I don't know. I really don't know.
And that's why I'm torn.
I don't know who I should be; who you've made me.
I AM, who am I?
Please tell me. Who am I?
'Cause I have no idea who I AM.

She's cheating on him. He knows it. And he can't help himself.

You see he really likes this girl. I don't know why, I don't know how but this guy is in love. He thinks about her all the time, dreams about her when he sleeps; his heart beats for her. Don't even try convincing  him...its no use. He's never  getting over her.

The funny part is that everybody knows that this his dream girl...the one he's loving with all of his soul, is cheating on him. Yes. A confirmed cheat! Everybody...I mean everybody knows her. She's with every guy that has money to throw around. At the sight of small pepper like this, the babe don move! Always from one guy to another, jumping ship like say tomorrow no dey. We all know it, all his people know it. She's a state-of-the-art cheat, the best in the business.

The painful part is, my friend knows it. He knows it, and still he claims he loves her. His haters laugh at him, bring him pictures- even video evidence- of her fornication; hard evidence and still he remains steadfast. "Bros, see babe you wan marry", they say, scorning. Same mockery, same reply every day."She will change, she will change". I don't know what he sees in her.

Even the girl is too ashamed to talk to him now, to even call him her fiancee. She knows how dirty she is, so she hides away from him, refusing to wear his ring. Time without number, he visits her hostel off-camp, knocks on her door and she pretends she's not in; she even refuses to pick his calls. She's scared that he's too good for her; she's terrified that she's too filthy to deserve his love. She likes him a lot, but can't figure out what he sees in her. Pity. If only she knew...

My friend is love struck, heart broken 'cause this is the girl he's taken to see Daddy at home. He has professed his intentions and if she refuses his advances now after paying bride price...that one na wahala oh. You see the problem, he has finalized the arrangements; he's not changing his mind.

The sooner she listens, the better. The sooner she stops running from her husband-to-be, the better. I think his grand plan is simple. He hopes when she finally puts on the diamond ring he got her, she'll let go of her escapades and come home to him. He knows that if only she would stop running away, she'll realize there's no turning back and they were made for each other. He knows that he can love her out of her wanton desires. He knows only he can get her out of it.

My friend is in love with a cheat. I don't know why. He can die for her. It's even more serious than that!

He's already died for her.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

My friend's name is Jesus. And He loves the sinners to pieces. And there's nothing you can do to stop His love. He's already paid for you with His blood.
Plus, there's no sin Jesus can't pardon. There's no need running from Him. Come to Him, and let His love change you. That's the only way.