This is my Story, I am Lola Daniels

I lie here on my bed, staring at the tattered wall paper that litter the walls of my little bedroom or cute as I like to call it. My eyes keep darting back to my phone every thirty seconds or so. It has been a week since I last spoke to him, I mean one whole week and I am incredibly proud of myself. 

Tade is a good looking guy by every standard. Looks and body, he’s got it nailed and unarguably too. Well, you could argue but, I’m sure you’d fall into the 0.01% of the population that think the same. Ok, ok it’s a bit of an exaggeration but, the point is he’s that hot.

That Sunday afternoon after church, I unwittingly walked into Mr Walter, the youth leader’s office to pick up the list of our new members he had compiled. My role in the youth ministry was to follow up new members. I picked it up and made haste to leave as I saw he was busy with a certain gentleman. Of course, that gentleman was Tade. As I tried to exit his office in order not to disrupt their meeting, Mr Walter called out to me:

“Hey Lola (pronounced as Lowlar in Mr Walter’s British accent), its good you came in”.

“Here’s Tttta ttaa... it’s Tade”, Tade cut in.

“Yes Tade, he’s new to the church. I saw him as he tried to sneak out after the service”, we all laughed.

“I’m sure you will make him feel welcome.
“I certainly will”.

“Nice to meet you Tade, I’m Lola, not Lowlar” I said sarcastically as I cast a glance over Mr Walter.

We exchanged pleasantries and I promised to call him some time during that week. I hurried off; I had to catch a train.

Fast forward two months and I’m pacing back and forth at the bus stop, grinning from ear to ear as I talk to him over the phone. If you ask me how we got ‘here’, I honestly don’t know. I mean, following our initial meeting and the ‘follow-up’ call I made to him afterwards, I had started to think he wasn’t that bad looking, but that was about it. Well, until the calls started increasing, the ‘good morning’ texts and the ‘What’s app’ instant messages. 

Here’s the thing, in as much as he seemed to tick all the boxes, there was just something that didn’t feel right, but I wasn’t quite sure what it was. He’s attendance in church wasn’t great, but each time I asked him, it was either he said he was on call- he’s a medical doctor (a young medical doctor, just one more reason why I was attracted to him) or he had been at an engagement the night before and he was too tired to drive down, so he would just follow the service online. He’s favourite phrase is “God looks at your heart and not your church attendance”. But these reasons never seemed to come into play whenever we had a youth meeting. The youth meetings were a lot less formal. There wasn’t too much preaching or praying. It was more of talk shows, outings and the likes, so as expected; the turn-out was usually good.

See, I’m a very strong Christian, tongue-speaking, fire-breathing, power-filled Christian, so I really don’t know how I got ‘here’. This was never the plan. Just the other I called him to find out why he hadn’t been in church and gist him about the “amazing” sermon, or so I told myself. The conversation went something like this:

*Phone rings*

Tade: Hey babe!

*Heart already melting*

Lola: Hey! What happened? I did not see you at church.

Tade:  Awww, you missed me, didn’t you?

Lola: In your dreams Mr.

Tade: Ok, did u or did you not miss me?

Lola: Of course I did not, I definitely did not miss you, I emphasised as if to convince myself too.

Tade: Oh I see and that probably explains why I can feel you blushing just at the sound of my voice.

He wasn’t lying, I was blushing, I always do when it comes to him. Twenty-five minutes and thirty-two seconds later, we hung up and I had made no more reference to church, let alone tell him about the sermon.

Like I said, I am a strong Christian or so I thought and I could see the hand writings on the wall. It was time to run or flee like the bible put it, but I decided to stay. I was too weak to run, let alone flee. Truth is, I enjoyed the attention he gave me, the endearing names by which he called me, the constant phone calls and of course, his six-inch, well built frame is a pleasure to stare look at.

I was slowly falling away; I could not prayer as much anymore. Each time I bowed my head to pray, the guilt of the not-so-godly conversations we had had would flood in. I would quote as much of the 1 John1:9s as I could remember, but I would still be unable to pray. I will mumble a few words and leave, as though I could run away from God.

I tried to stop communicating with him on several occasions, but a day was all I could manage. Just the sound of his voice did wonders to me, literally. But in all of these, I had friends, praying friends. I did not mention to them what was going on, but they felt it and they were praying. They had stood in the gap for me.

I remember that Sunday, I had woken up and gotten ready for church just like every other Sunday. As I got to church, I began to feel uneasy; I couldn’t quite place the feeling. I looked around as though searching for clues as to what was going on, but I found none. The praise session began in earnest, I joined in but I began to feel even worse. Not long after, we began the worship and I thought to myself, this should be better, how wrong I was. 

The very first song the chorister led us in was all it took to break me:

*When the music fades

All is stripped away

And I simply...*

I could no longer hear her, my tears had drowned the sound of her voice. I suddenly remembered I was still in church, so I tried to get myself together. Wiped my face continuously and tried to continue singing.

*I'll bring You more than a song

For a song in itself

Is not what You have required

You search much deeper within

Through the way things appear

You're looking into my heart*

I couldn’t take it anymore; I burst out into a fresh crescendo of tears. It was as though God was ripping through my heart and bringing out all my sins- the lustful thoughts, the not-so-godly conversations, the un-Christ like messages, all of it were right there facing me.  I didn’t care that I was still in church, nothing else seemed to matter. I felt as though I was standing in from my Maker, my King and I was disgusted with all I had done. I was disgusted with what I turned into.

*I'm coming back to the heart of worship

And it's all about You

It's all about You, Jesus

I'm sorry, Lord, for the thing I've made it

When it's all about You

It's all about You, Jesus*

That was exactly my prayer; I was sorry, truly sorry for all I had done. I was ready to make it all about Him once again and certainly I had to get rid of Tade from my life. 

It’s been a week since that fateful Sunday and I must say, I’m doing very well. The Holyspirit has been my Help indeed.

When I look back now, I realise how much I had backslidden, how carnal I had become, how much I had let my guard down and how much my relationship with God had diminished. Indeed, backsliding doesn’t just happen, it’s a gradual process.

This scripture comes to mind 1 Corinthians 10:12 “Therefore let him who thinks he stands, take heed lest he fall”

This is my story, I am Lola Daniels.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are purely a product of the writer’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.