Obedience
Brooklyn, NYC
09.27.2020
“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things unseen” — St. Paul to the Hebrews 11: 1
Breathe in. Hold the breath there. Common. Just 5 seconds. Exhale.
I repeated this verse, my favorite verse in the bible, as my mantra each morning after January 11, 2020. It was the glue that held me together. That, and my gospel playlist. Tasha Cobbs, Travis Greene, Sean Johnson, Riley Clemmons and the whole supporting cast of my mental health in this year of the coronavirus .
For the first five months of the year, I felt that I would break into a million little pieces that dissolve into the hot puddle of my own tears. Heartbreak can have that effect on you. I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror and asked why? Why did God allow so much pain to exist within me? Why did my love call our relationship quits when we were building something beautiful, renewed and exhilarating together? I had so many questions and no answers. God remained silent. I mean what purpose does this pain serve?! God, YOU gave him to me in the first place. I was careful, cautious even. What were the odds of our paths crossing in this way after so long? Sigh, so many questions. More silence.
My alarm went off: 6:30AM. I dragged my feet back into the dark bedroom unwilling to believe the day had started again. Sheesh, I only went to bed a few hours ago. I have to quit this stressful job. It’s not great for my mental health. Actually, me crying every other hour is not great for my mental health. I need to stop. I stared at my room, triggered by the memories that every corner he stood in and everything he touched evoked. I cursed the fact that I slept late because of yet another law firm partner that needed a quick turnaround on a deliverable for a client. I dragged my feet to the bathroom again, in the dark, and fumbled around with the toilet seat. I sat down and pondered how long this period of quarantine in my tiny studio would actually continue. Eventually, I hopped into the shower and closed my eyes as beads of hot water ran down my skin. Reprieve.
Slowly, I clambered out of the bath tub to brush and listen to my best friend Sanjay Gupta give CNN’s daily coronavirus briefing on his podcast: Coronavirus Fact or Fiction. Word, Sanjay got me through the lockdown, I can’t lie. When I step out of the bathroom, the sun is shining from my east window and I feel much lighter, so, I decide to dress in something pretty, do my makeup even. Just for the work day so I feel somewhat motivated even though I am not going anywhere. Eat something. I should eat something. Whatever I can find, really, for breakfast. Finally, I plop down in front of my monitor at 9AM dreading the barrage of emails that will pop up once I log on.
Such was my routine.
Fast forward.
The streets of Lagos are eerily silent at 9PM outside Muritala Muhammed Airport, on a weekday. But, the peace feels peaceful and I’m grateful. I hold on to my “Welcome Home” card like precious pearls because this time the words hit different. I’m back for a long time, maybe forever, who knows?
I chose a crazy year to move back home (more later on this subject: Home). The coronavirus is still ravaging, travel is daunting and risky, and much of the world is in dire straits because so many are sick and dying. The vaccine is a white knight on the horizon, and Nigeria, well, many Nigerians are pretending the virus doesn’t exist because life is different here . Yet we keep a keen eye on the vaccine roll out worldwide.
Now, let’s step back. A moment ago I said “I chose” to come back home but that’s not quite true. God chose. If you know God, you know when He chooses, he has a funny way of giving you room to pick differently, to reject his path for you. The Holy Spirit, however, reminds you that only you will live with the consequences of your counter choice. It’s free will after all! This was how I found myself waking up in cold sweats from vivid dreams (prophetic visions more like) in the middle of a deadly coronavirus outbreak in which I was nursing my heartbreak in isolation. My dream was odd but clear: it’s time to return home.
More context.
Sometime in April, a voice started moving in in my heart and head telling me to go home. But where was home? Like home home? The voice wormed its way into my dreams and my waking consciousness for two months. At first, I resisted. It didn’t make sense! I had too much going on for me in the U.S.: my job (though I hated the stress and was ready to quit anyways), the potential of a new more exciting job in Washington D.C. (though the pandemic had made my odds worse); my college-aged siblings to care for (oh shoot, they were in Nigeria temporarily to hunker down during the lockdown AND they were grown up anyways—they didn’t need me); my friends (lol they keep moving cities and jobs, and most of our relationship is virtual—this year anyways), and last but not least I still had to put in two years of hard time with my employer to even become eligible for the almighty Greencard.
For every excuse that I gave myself for not taking the dreams seriously, when I looked into the mirror, I recognized my own folly. Nothing kept me tethered to my present location. My last tie had been cut. The spirit was moving in me and God was giving me an opportunity in the silence of my apartment to introspect and come to the conclusion that He had already reached.
My introspection. It was laughable! It consisted mostly of Netflix, great wine, bad food and hard days at work, punctuated by group FaceTime calls with friends and colleagues ready to give me whatever piping hot tea (gist) was on deck. Necessary distractions for my survival. For them, I am thankful. But God pushed harder. One day, when the emails and drafts of legal documents slowed down, I confronted the small but confident voice in my head and began to review my 5-year decision trees, which I had drawn on the plane ride into New York earlier this year . They looked sort of like this:
Plan A — Get a new job in DC and move out of New York, but if Plan A fails then Plan B
Plan B — Get a new job in New York or the West Coast, something slower paced, more people-centered, exposure to projects in Africa but if Plan B fails then Plan C
Plan C— Consider moving to Nigeria just for NYSC so it’s out of the way but keep options open to return to the U.S. Will you have your Greencard yet? What about your H-1B renewal?
Laughable right! The apprehension with which I viewed Plan C compared to the other two. But here comes God. He reminded me that Faith in Him is the substance of things I hope for, the evidence of things unseen. I remembered that for over a year, I had prayed to God for very specific things, these among others:
Show me my true calling in life that I may use my gifts for the betterment of your people
Reveal to me my true love and life partner and grant me clarity in the next steps for our relationship
Help me love and understand my parents better as they get older and develop a closer more honest relationship with them
Subject of course to the good catholic girl’s catch all, “all in accordance with your will Father, in Jesus Name. Amen.” I chuckled and wondered that maybe if I didn’t give God room with that last sentence, I would have ended up with a different outcome?… lol no chance. It’s a trifling thought.
God had a plan, the rest was history. God was answering all my prayers, just not in the way or order that I expected. And that, is the frustrating but beautiful thing about God’s relationship with us. When I struggled with God’s word earlier in the year, I called my sister and asked her to pray for me, to let me know if she received any words of wisdom. She did, not surprisingly, and a few days later she called me with a message— Obedience. God wanted me to obey. I was humbled.
In the days that followed, I stopped asking God questions and simply obeyed. There was a reason my love walked away so unexpectedly, a reason why my plans for a new job were paused, a reason why my Greencard moves were on hold, a reason for about a million other things that I experienced this year. I became content with not having answers rather than maddened by it. Instead, I focused on moving with my spirit guide. I meditated more on God’s word and listened to Him more. Obedience. I experienced a spiritual awakening that I never expected. Then God spoke to me. I’ll share what He said in case it touches any one of you similarly struggling with a tough decision:
“My daughter, you have been praying to me nonstop about many things. Don’t forget that I am a good and gracious Father. I have given you good gifts and they will soon bear fruit. Have faith.”
So friends, regardless of the logical reasons I have shared with you for returning home to Nigeria, I have come back not because I see a clear path but because I have faith that God wants to use me here and cleared my path for that purpose. My future is unseen and unknown by anyone but Him yet I remain hopeful. That is the essence of faith. I am calm and remain assured that all will be well. God is listening to me. He is listening to you.
I packed my bags, spread the good news that I was going home and channeled my efforts into creating a super handy Master Relocation Plan (coming soon!)
Moving back home after 10 years in the U.S.A. was one of the toughest things I did this year but also one of the easiest. Toughest because of the logistics involved and the deals and case work I had to close, but more so because of the emotional and psychological toll of goodbyes and detachment from a place I called home for so long. Easiest because God gave me all the tools I needed when I needed them.
In my last weeks, I did a staycation in New York City and stopped to literally smell the roses, took a ton of photos, treated myself to gourmet solo lunches, walked around all five boroughs and just existed in nature. I found the peace I had lost.
On the day that I finally closed my suitcases, I realized I’m going to be just fine. What do they say hindsight is 20/20?
Recommended Music: Obey by Sean C. Johnson
