So sad! He died in my arms

Charles and I had many things in common. We were born same day,  same and same year.  Our families were very close. The children  in the two families  all acted like siblings.  We lived in the same neighborhood and often slept over in each other’s house.

Charles and I attended  the same primary and secondary schools.  We were also  coursemates during  our undergraduate  days.

But there was one big difference between Charles and me.  I had given my life  to Christ early in life but Charles  was a happy -go-lucky guy who thought  a life of faith was boring.

All my friend cared about was graduating and making it big in life.  He would tell me “Paul,  I will make helluva lots of money. You’d better be like me.  This Jesus thing  you  have,  will limit you in life. “

“No,  you are wrong, Charles. I have found real  peace  and joy in Jesus.  You’d better give your life to Christ.”

“Oyo lo wa, Paul, boya lo mo pe olowo lo laye(You are on your own,  Paul.  You surely don’t know that the world belongs  to the wealthy. “

We had this kind of conversation  frequently.  But the things  that pre-occupied my friend’s mind were  wealth, fame and girls. He’d skip classes and go to Apapa Wharf claiming he had a deal with some merchant expecting  some goods from overseas. He did this very frequently.  In his third year as an undergraduate, he was already  driving  an SUV.

While I was a “triangular” student,  who was mostly  interested in moving from my hostel to class/library, then to the Campus Fellowship  and back to the hostel,  Charles  was involved  in many social activities.

There was a day, he decided  to “honour” my invitation to attend our campus fellowship.  But all he kept talking  about was the beauty  of the sister who led the praise/worship songs.

“That chick is beautiful. Did you notice her backside?  That babe is a paragon of womanhood.  She is a man’s ultimate fantasy.  Omo, if I can lay my hands on that girl…. “

But tragedy struck for Charles during one of the holidays.  I was home alone  at my family house thinking of how best to approach  a knotty assignment given to us by the notoriously sadistic Dr.  L. M. when Aunty Joy,  barged in to the living  room. Aunty Joy was the elder sister to Charles.

“Paul, Charles is dying.  He was involved  in a ghastly accident while he was driving  to Apapa Wharf. A truck crushed his car.  His legs are mangled. One of his hands is crushed. He is at the National  Orthopaedic Hospital at Igbobi. You are the pastor.  He needs you now,” She said with tears streaming down her face.

I felt so sad but tried to mask my grief as I encouraged  Aunty  Joy to have hope.  Aunty Joy drove us to Igbobi. The Charles I saw was different  from the swashbuckling,  effervescent guy I used to know. This was a guy in throes of pain.  He groaned. “Paul,  will I die?  Will I go to hell? ” He asked  him. I sat down close to him and wrapped  my arms around  him.

I could  not promise  him he would  survive,  but I told him that was the tme for him to make peace with God.  But the next thing I heard from him was this: ” I feel the heat. I feel like they are dragging  me down  to hell. He was screaming. Aunty Joy went out to to call the nurses  for help. But before she could return,  Charles breathed his last right there in my arms. He died at the age of 23.

P. S. The story above is totally fictitious. But I do hope it makes  you my readers realise that  there is more to life  than making money, achieving fame and living in pleasure.

There is life  after our temporary stay on earth.  You will either spend it in everlasting shame or eternal glory.

Choose  Christ today and become  a citizen of heaven.

-Paul Dada

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