Read this powerful piece Special Adviser to
President Buhari on Media and Publicity, Femi
Adesina, wrote on the death of former Minister
of State for Labor, James Ocholi, his wife
Blessing and their son Joshua. Read below...
Let's be honest with ourselves. When
some baffling things happen, we question
God, if not verbally, at least, in our
hearts. But we pretend that we are not
querying the Almighty. We say to
ourselves: well, no man can question
God.
However, in the deep recesses of our inner man,
we have questions. But since we don't want to
appear as interrogating God, we then keep quiet,
saying "no man can query God."
It is in the light of that pretension (as if God
does not know our very thoughts, even before
they are formed in our hearts), that I situate the
death of Minister of State for Labour and
Employment, Mr James Ocholi, a Senior
Advocate of Nigeria (SAN), his wife, Blessing,
and their son, Joshua, in an auto crash last
Sunday. It was a tragedy of monumental
proportions, which brought up a lot of ifs: what
if the family had decided against the fatal
journey? What if the vehicle had refused to start,
and they had aborted the trip? What if the
Minister had developed a runny stomach, and so
could not travel? What if the car key had got
mysteriously missing? What if...? The questions
would never really end, and we then lay them at
the doorsteps of God: what if God had not
allowed the crash to happen? And of course, He
has the power to have prevented it. He is
omnipotent. He has all powers. He is omniscient,
knowing all things. When James Ocholi was
born in November, 1960, God knew he would be
recalled home on March 6, 2016. When he
courted Blessing, married her, and they began to
raise a family, God knew they would both die the
same day, continuing their romance into eternity.
Or did God not know? He must have known. But
could He have stopped such tragedy from
happening, thus saving us from sorrow, tears
and blood? He could have. So, why didn't He?
Baffling. Confounding. Astonishing.
Yes, I am asking questions, but let me pretend
that they are questions of faith. The news of the
decimation of the Ocholi family sent me into a
very painful deja vu. Just last December, my
sister, a professor of Dramatic Arts at the
Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, had died in
a gruesome accident on the Lagos/Ibadan
Expressway. Foluke Ogunleye died along with
her brother-in-law, who had visited from
America, and was being ferried to the airport in
Lagos to catch a flight later that evening.
Rather, what he boarded was an eternal flight.
He went on a journey of no return on a famished
road.
When I heard about the Ocholis, I remembered
the Adesinas, the Ogunleyes, and the pain we
bore, and still bear. Don't I still shed a silent
tear when nobody is looking? Don't I still sigh
and shake my head mournfully whenever I
remember my sister? Some broken hearts really
never mend. And of course, the questions pop up
again. What if...?
James Ocholi was no ordinary, inconsequential
man before God. He was a devout, humble man.
He served God in many ways. He was an
ordained reverend of the Salem Family Church,
though he did not flaunt the title like a badge of
honour. He rather let his faith speak through his
works. Yes, faith without works is dead. But
Ocholi combined faith and works. Those who
knew him saw piety in him. They saw humility.
They saw the unobtrusive, self-effacing nature of
a man who knew God. A man who had been
national secretary of the Full Gospel
Businessmen's Fellowship. When Ocholi was
thrown out of his Sports Utility Vehicle on
Kaduna-Abuja road last Sunday, and his body
battered and mangled, it was no ordinary man
that was being treated thus. It was a man of
God, who was returning home to the God of
man.
His time was up, we console ourselves. Yes, his
time may have been up, but couldn't he have
slept, and not woken up? If Heaven was so
much in hurry to have Ocholi, his wife and son
back, because they were needed to sing tenor,
soprano and bass in the choir above, could they
only have been recalled in such cruel
circumstance?
Cruel! I must watch my words. On Wednesday,
at the Federal Executive Council (FEC) meeting,
a special session of tributes had been held for
Ocholi. Minister after Minister had spoken,
recalling good things about the deceased and
their departed colleague. Very moving and
poignant. But the words that continued to
resonate in my ears and mind came from
Minister of Agriculture and Rural Development,
Chief Audu Ogbeh. He ended his oration by
giving thanks and praises to God. He then
declared:"God is too kind to do anything cruel."
Profound. Thoughtful. Illuminating. God is too
kind to do anything cruel. But who killed the
Ocholis? The Devil? He was not supposed to
have such latitude over the people of God. On
that same road that day, armed robbers must
have driven through safely. Assassins must have
passed. All sorts of malefactors would have
travelled safely, so why did a godly family
perish? Does the world now belong to the Evil
One? Is mankind now helpless before Satan?
Only he could have brought such cruelty to the
Ocholis and their loved ones, since cruelty is his
stock-in-trade. But then, the question again
(don't forget that it's a question asked in faith
o, lest anybody accuse me of anything): why did
God allow such cruelty to humanity, to the
Ocholi family, to the government, to the church,
the body of Jesus Christ, of which the late
Minister was an ordained reverend gentleman?
Why?
Who can claim to have all the answers? No
man. The hidden things belong to God. In
August 2013, my mother, and matriarch of the
Adesina family had passed on, aged 75. Pastor
Dayo Adewumi of my local church, Foursquare
Gospel Church, had joined us to bid her a tearful
farewell. All the seven Adesina children were
inconsolable, but we nursed our wounds quietly.
We were still trying to come to full terms with
the loss of the woman we called Mama, when
my sister died last December, aged 53. When
Pastor Adewumi and his wife visited me in my
Lagos home, where I was wailing like a wailing
wailer, he prayed, and uttered something that
was very instructive to me. He said:"Oh God,
even as a pastor, this is rather too much for me
to bear. Just about two years ago, I joined this
family to bury their mother. All the children were
there. Now, one of them has been taken away.
This is rather shocking."
True. We go into shock when some
unfathomable things happen to the people of
God. We ask questions, not out of unbelief, not
out of backsliding or lack of conviction. I now
dub those posers as 'questions of faith.' When I
ask them, I am not querying God or His
omnipotence. I have seen Him at work in diverse
ways, and can never doubt His power and
presence. I am a captive of faith in God. A lawful
captive. God has a right to hold me. I am His
bondservant. I have seen His footprints in the
storms, in the skies, on earth, everywhere. It is
too late to stop believing. He is too kind to be
cruel. Our Agric Minister, Chief Audu Ogbeh was
right. Also right is the writer, Juliette Adam, who
declared:"Death is the opening of a more subtle
life. In the flower, it sets free the perfume;in the
chrysalis, the butterfly; in man, the soul."
I mourn with the Ocholis. Only God can comfort
them. As I condoled with President Muhammadu
Buhari on Monday in his office, and he told me
about the steadfastness and dedication of the
departed, I could see his pains. He told me that
when Ocholi had wanted to be governor of Kogi
State on the platform of the then Congress for
Progressive Change (CPC), "I joined him to
campaign in almost all the local government
areas in the state." Well, the strife is o'er, the
battle done. James Ocholi is out of it all. I have
questions. Questions of faith. But no matter
what, I join the biblical Job in declaring:"Even if
He slays me, I'll trust in Him."
What about you?
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