Stories of Faith - Episode 48

Pastor Kayode MOMOLOSHO (1960-2009)

IN MEMORY OF A GREAT MAN THAT LIVED FOR JUST 49 YEARS, BUT DID WONDERS FOR THE FORGOTTEN PEOPLE BY THE GOVERNMENT IN HILLS OF KOMA IN ADAMAWA STATE, NIGERIA

"No Epitaph is Golden and Remembered by Men like the One written in the heart of Men."- Pastor Kayode MOMOLOSHO

Proverbs 10:7 - The memory of the just is blessed: but the name of the wicked shall rot.

Odds Against Pastor Kayode MOMOLOSHO

He was a Missionary Extraordinaire in Koma Hills of Jada Local Government Area of Adamawa State, Nigeria. He was the Pioneer Chief Project Coordinator of The King's Call @ Koma Hills. He faced many challenges in carrying out the divine assignments given to him. Some of the challenges included the following;-

• He had to live in an unfamiliar land and among strange people far away from home.
• There was no road into Koma Hills and he trekked 16 hours from Yola to Koma Hills and back to Yola many times.
• He suffered from river blindness because there was no good drinking water. This made him blind in one eye.
• He walked hundreds of kilometers in between the 39 communities in Koma Hills preaching the gospel of God to the Koma people.
• Some of the communities are located on hills and he once fell from a hill on one of his trip. He was seriously injured and had to be taken to the theater for surgery.
• He had numerous accidents​ on motorcycles. At death, he had gone through 7 surgeries and was fitted with plastic knee caps and plastic ribs. He once said jokingly​ that when he gets to heaven, he will tell Paul the Apostle about the many motorcycle wrecks he suffered.
• He had to engage an interpreter to communicate with the Koma people.
• As at 1996 when he arrived Koma Hills, the Koma people were not wearing clothes but using leaves and animal skin to cover their nakedness.
• He was accused of trafficking children by the Government and he was arrested.
• The Koma people had the culture of burying a baby whose mother dies.
• Having twin children was a taboo and such children were killed.
• Females had their two frontal teeth removed before getting married between 12-14 years.
• Koma people were predominantly idol worshippers.
• A pregnant woman must not be assisted in the delivery process. After delivery, she must clean herself and prepare her first meal successfully​, if not, she will be regarded as a witch.
• Boys are circumcised in the early teenage years using local methods which sometimes resulted in deaths and many more challenges.

Life Application

Despite of the numerous challenges he encountered, he overcame them. He overcame the challenges in the following ways:

✓ The King's Call @ Koma Hills clothed over 90% of the Koma People with 5 trailer loads of clothing donated by the members of Living Faith Church (aka Winners' Chapel International) under the Leadership of Bishop David Oyedepo.

✓ The King's Call @ Koma Hills dug 10 motorized boreholes, 10 wells and constructed an infiltration gallery thus supplying portable water to many Communities in Koma Hills. This has made river blindness, which use to be prevalent in Koma Hills, a thing of the past.

✓ Rapha Mercy Centre provides free Medical care to the Koma People free of charge till date. This had reduced drastically the high mortality rate in Koma land.

✓ A free Boarding House School and 3 other Day Schools are currently running in Koma Hills for the education of the Koma Children. The day Schools serve the children a meal in school daily.

✓ Pastor Kayode Momolosho led the indigenes in constructing the first road which connected the community to other places. The road was constructed with hoes and cutlasses.

✓ Many of the Pioneer pupils of Dominion Academy, Mani were taken outside the state for further studies. Today, many of them are graduates including a First Class Graduate of Landmark University (LMU).

✓ Dominion International Junior Academy, Mani (DIJA) has also graduated many students from its Junior Secondary Arm of the school.

✓ Koma Children are not only receiving formal education but they are also been taught the word of God.

✓ The allegation of Child trafficking was dropped when he brought back home successfully all the children who were schooling in different parts of the country.

Conclusion

Pastor Kayode MOMOLOSHO didn't just survive in the midst of challenges but he succeeded against all odds. God's Grace and help was available for him.

Source: https://thiscrossroad.com.ng/rising-above-challenges-pastor-kayode-momolosho-1960-2009/

Stories of Faith - Episode 47

Chris Delvan narrates:

Pa Joshua Ekpikhe, a great evangelist in Northern Nigeria died recently. He was from Akwa Ibom. He built Baraka Press, the only press that publishes the gospel in Hausa. He told me the story, he said the Lord told him to leave Minneapolis and go and preach in the West Coast. And he said to God, but you know I don’t have money and you know that my host, his father died and he inherited everything. And the Lord said, “don’t ask him”. So, he told his host, I’m going to California, and the host said “for real… let me take you to the airport”. And he drove him to the airport. And the host said, “are you ok” and he said, “I’m ok, everything is perfect”. And the host dropped him at the airport and left him. And Pa Ekpikhe entered the airport and joined the line to buy ticket without a dime in his pocket. And there were two people before him and the lady at the ticket counter. And there was a man behind him reading a newspaper. As he was going forward, the second to the last person was just attended to and the last person was there at the counter and he started to sweat, a cold sweat. And then he said, somebody puts his hand in my back pocket and placed an envelope in it. Meanwhile, the man behind him was still reading his newspaper. He looked and pulled out the envelope carefully and there was enough money to pay for his flight to and fro.

Stories of Faith - Episode 46

Chris Delvan narrates:

I met an Ibo boy, who came to Mauritania. He had been to Mauritania four times in two years. To preach in Mauritania is punishable by death, by beheading. I said “what job were you doing to survive?”

He said he bought a taxi – a horse. He was using it to raise money to support himself to preach.

When I met him, he was living in an uncompleted house in Kaduna. They had arrested him four times and he was to be killed but this time he was released. The last time he was in an underground cell, open cell with bamboo and palm fronds and everything stacked on top and guards were watching him from above. So he decided to come and learn shoe-making, he wanted to be a cobbler, so he can add to his trade. So, I said, “what will happen, do you want to start making shoes?”

He said, “No”. He’s going back.

I said, “You are going back?”

I’m a Northerner. There’s no relish in going to Mauritania. They still have slaves there. And the guy went back.

If the fire of the spirit of evangelism is not burning in you, you have not seen the end of everything – the lake of Fire.

Stories of Faith - Episode 45

Bill and Elaine Cook shared the following testimony:

Several high-ranking church leaders from Europe, visited a pastor in Hong Kong who took them to visit some churches. 

They found them inspiring, and uniquely Chinese, but they wondered aloud if they were seeing the real church. At their last stop, the pastor discovered that two young women had just returned from their mission station for a short visit, so he asked them to come to the hotel late, to meet the visiting leaders. 

These young ladies had become believers as teenagers while listening to the radio, and they each had felt the call to be a missionary. The pastor had tried to convince them to witness right where they were but they said, “No. The Bible says Jesus said to go into all the world. We will go.”

The pastor protested, “You have only been Christians for six months, and you are so young.” They replied, “Pastor, we have read everything Jesus said and nowhere does He ask people how old they are. We want to go.” The pastor replied, “Very well. We need some workers on Hainan Island. But it is very rough. The people there are fishermen. There are no Christians there. For young ladies it might be dangerous.” Excitedly they responded, “How soon can we go? We will go to this place.” 

They had been there for two years and were now back for a short period of time to try to get Bibles for their new churches. The pastor had not seen them since they insisted that they “go now!”

The pastor went to the lobby that night at the appointed time and waited for the ladies to arrive so he could escort them to meet the visitors. While he waited, he watched the bellboys in their crisp, tailored uniforms, and the tourists who attempted to be casual in their designer clothes. “Oh, no!” he thought, as the girls walked in. Their black pajamas and broad-brimmed fishermen hats stood in stark contrast to the appearance of the sophisticated hotel. 

Tourists ogled them with that “how quaint” look so often directed to nationals. Several people stood staring as he greeted them as politely as possible without drawing too much attention. “Come, we will go to my room to meet some people from Europe.” The women looked at each other, then apprehensively followed behind, looking down at their bare feet sinking into the carpet. They attempted to step more lightly, as though they were afraid they would sink into this beautifully colored “mud.” 

The pastor pushed the elevator button, keeping his head down and afraid to watch any of the many eyes staring in his direction. The elevator arrived and the door slid open, and the women greeted it with a look of astonishment.

Several tourists smiled at them as they stepped on. There were more “how quaint” looks. The elevator operator pretended not to notice his passengers as he asked for the floor number. The women’s wonder changed to fear as the doors closed and their first elevator ride began to ascend! Once in the room, the two European church officials graciously greeted them and motioned for them to sit down. The pastor pulled chairs toward them, so they would not sit on the floor.

The European brethren began, “Pastor, ask them how many churches they have established on Hainan.” They put their heads down and answered, “Oh, Pastor, we have only been there two years. Not many. Not very many.” Their voices were apologetic. “How many?” “Oh, not many, not very many. We have only been there a short time. The people were not very friendly. Sometimes they became very vicious. Yes, sometimes they told us they were going to drown us in the ocean. Several men threatened us. Oh, my, and because we were so young, even some of the ladies did not like us. Yes, some even called us terrible names…so, not many churches…no, not many.” The pastor interrupted and slowly repeated the words, “H-o-w m-a-n-y?” 

There was a moment of silence, then one of the women looked up with embarrassment and anguish, as though confessing to a crime, “Only thirteen.”

The pastor looked astonished and interpreted for the guests. “Thirteen.” One of them repeated the number, “Only thirteen! Oh, my, goodness, I haven’t planted that many churches in my lifetime!” One of the pastor’s assistants interrupted, *“No, Pastor, she did not say thirteen, she said thirty!”* The pastor looked at them and asked, “Thirty?” “Yes, yes, not many. We have done very poorly. Only thirty.” “How many people are in the churches?” Again both heads went down, apologizing for their failure. “Not many.” Finally, the pastor looked like he was ready to shake them and practically yelled, “How many?” “Only two hundred and twenty people. Not many, no…not many.” 

Quickly multiplying in his head, the pastor said, “Two hundred and twenty in thirty churches?” “Oh, no, in only one, but that one is a very small church, very small. There are bigger ones…” The guests repeated the numbers, “Two hundred and twenty is small? Dear Lord, I wish I had some that large. Ask them how many are in the big churches.” With a more reverent manner the pastor inquired, “And how many in the big churches? I mean, the biggest one?” They began again, “Oh, not many…” when he asked them, “Please, ladies, how many?” “Oh, less than 5000. Only 4,900. Yes, less than 5000. We have just started.” From behind the pastor came the sound of weeping. “Dear Lord, forgive us! What did they do? How did they do it? Ask them what they did!” 

When asked, they looked astonished. “What did we do? Why, nothing. Yes, we did nothing, nothing.” “You did nothing? You have thirty churches; the smallest with two hundred and twenty people, the largest with almost five thousand new believers! And you did nothing?”

“No, nothing. We just prayed.”

“I know you prayed, but what else did you do?”

“After we prayed, the Holy Spirit would tell us exactly what to do. We would keep praying and He would tell us what to do, and we would do it. Then we prayed and then He would tell us what to do. We would do it and keep praying…”

“Dear Lord, they just prayed and the Holy Spirit told them exactly what to do and they prayed…”

The pastor laid his hands on the shoulders of the two sisters. Behind him his two guests, on their knees, weeping, joined as they just prayed. 

This year and going forward...if Jesus is Lord in your life... just pray and obey the Holy Spirit

Stories of Faith - Episode 44

Narrated by Ayooluwa Adepoju-Kisha

In December of 2006, when I was in 100 level in the University of Ibadan, my menstrual period started normally, but won't stop, even after 2 weeks. By my nature, I was not worried about it. However, my then roommate, turned big sis, Dammie Tabitha, being a nurse, kept hammering on me getting checked. So, of course, I went to meet my sweet sweet Mama, Adepoju Folasade, who is also a Nurse. And that was when my plenty journeys back and forth hospitals began. 

In the year 2010, during my final year, my dear friend and brother, Tayo Odejimi insisted I went to the University College Hospital (UCH) for proper treatment. That was when I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS). That was after 4 years of excruciating pains, sleepless nights and many many embarrassing moments. The symptoms I had included very long delay between periods (6 months to 1 year) bleeding in heavy clots (whenever it came), leading to extreme pain (accompanied with vomiting and stooling.....hahaha), bleeding could start at any time or could be on for weeks on end (my longest experience was about 17 weeks or so)and just suddenly increase in the middle of no where (I always had a sanitary pad or 2 in my bag), sudden and excessive weight gain, and ultimately, infertility (which I was then told to expect). 

Well, another round of journeys to and from UCH started and all they could say was that it can only be managed. Part of the management included taking contraceptive pills 🤦‍♀️ and some other orisirisi that now made me add weight. I was also told that they couldn't help the infertility until I got married and was ready to have children, and the treatment could take 10 years before I could get pregnant. 

Plenty of money went into buying of pads, running tests and scans, buying drugs, etc. But oh! My faith was strengthened!!! Because, "Though our outward man perish..... Praise and worship was my go-to weapon. I danced into the night many times and by day break, the bleeding dried up (only to return many times). I listened to many of Kenneth Hagin's and Gloria Copeland's healing messages and appropriated them. I didn't always get the results I wanted but my faith kept growing. I would have used my last cash to buy sanitary pads and then trek to fellowship serve God in my many capacities and probably drop my last #10 😂. Then go back to my room and sleep hungry. Plenty incidences flood my mind now, including during my service year and when I started working in Lagos and had to travel to Ibadan, many times, for treatment. All these went on for 11 years. 

When I finally agreed to marry my Sunshine, Jonathan Chang Kisha (another long story 🤣😂😂), in 2016, that was the first thing I told him. He was so calm that night in April. And then, when we spoke the next day he told me that he had a good dance into the night, and He who sits in heaven laughs (Ps.2:4), so he also had a good laugh. He then told me (more like decreed), that from the day he married me, the bleeding ceased and we would have as many children as we want, when we want them. But, of course, the devil will not leave us without a fight. 

On the day of our traditional wedding, I suddenly started bleeding and I mean bleeeeeeeeeeding. Between 5am and 12 noon, I had used up like 12 pads. All those pictures you saw me smiling bah, that was Mr. Kisha encouraging (and tickling😊) me. Well, when it was time for the engagement to start, I just told myself that the devil has lost so I danced like the winner that I was. Oh! I danced that day. It wasn't just wedding excitement o. It was prophetic! That was when the torrents became trickles for that day and we had a non-embarrasing event. Suffice it to say here that while we were praying towards the wedding, one of the things God told us is that we shall not be put to shame. That shame would have been terrible, but God's word had gone ahead. 

Fast forward to when we were ready for a baby. We didn't even plan or anything o. On 19th February, 2018, exactly 6 months after our wedding, I found out I was pregnant. Of course, we were so excited. Then, the devil tried again. We lost the baby on the 9th of April. It was a lot of pain, both physical and emotional. Then fear set in. And self pity and many other emotions. Most people around me had no idea (I was new in Kano so I had only 1 friend, Aderonke Ajiboye Amehson, my Kano angel) but I could tell that my friends in other places who knew my story and who I told I was pregnant were worried. Even my parents. You know, the pregnancy looked like it happened by chance. In fact, a friend of mine, who is a medical doctor said "you had something that looked like PCOS cos you couldn't get pregnant like that (he wanted to marry me but ran for his dear life when I told him 🤣🤣🤣) . Anyway, I had work to do. I needed to enthrone Jesus above all those emotions. So, I set to work. By the time I was through, I knew I had taken hold of my soundness of mind and was ready for another pregnancy, that I was carrying to term. And so it was. 

Our baby was born, on 7th April, 2019, exactly a year short of 2 days after we lost the first one.

Stories of Faith - Episode 43

Narrated by Kajungu Boaz Kyarimpa

Before killing me, the killers decided that I should dig my own grave. As I was digging, I was also praying. “Lord, I believe you can deliver me. You can protect me from being killed by these people. I’ve preached about Daniel in the lion’s den, and about how you delivered Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego from the fiery furnace. Are you still the same God? You can show me now. Please give me that faith.”

I was hoping that God would give me wings to fly away, or that He would send fire from heaven. But God answered in a much different way from what I could have imagined.

As I was digging the grave, one of the killers picked up my Bible and was looking at it. Noticing the many markings in it he asked, “What do all these colors mean?”

“Those are my favorite verses,” I said.

Interested, the man started reading the many highlighted verses. “Are you sure you’ve read all of these?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes,” I responded. I could see that the man had some pity for me.

Turning to his fellow killers he said, “Friends, I know we’re going to kill this man, but please let me help him dig!”

The leader nodded and the man jumped into the hole with me and started digging. “Lord, I prayed, “this grave is going to be finished quickly now. What are You going to do?”

God had a plan, but sometimes we want to try and force God to answer our prayers in the way that we think is best, rather than just trusting Him.

To my surprise, as soon as we were finished digging, the grave digging killer said to his colleagues, “Why should we use the grave for this man we don’t even know? Let him go and dig another grave near the highway. This is our field; why should we bury him here?”

The group agreed, and decided to use the grave for another man they had just killed. Then ironically, one of the killers said, “Before we bury that man, why don’t we pray for him.”

I watched as the group gathered around the body of the person they had just killed before coming after me. “Mary, mother of Jesus, receive him,” they said before rolling the corpse into the grave that had been meant for me.

All of a sudden my entire outlook changed. “Lord!” I gasped, “Don’t allow me to be separated from these people before I tell them who You are! These are people who have never heard about You. They think they can pray for someone they have killed. And we are partly responsible. We never came and taught them the truth about You.”

Right after they buried that man, we moved closer to the highway. I was about to start digging another grave when the man who had my Bible asked if he could keep it. I said, “yes,” but the other killers told him “No! It’s ours—you’ll have to pay for it!”

I could see that the Holy Spirit had already touched this man’s heart, so I begged him, “Please, can I have that Bible and say something before I dig another grave?”

The man was excited and said, “Go ahead!” but another one shouted, “No! He’s our enemy. He has nothing to tell us.”

Then the arguing became very sharp, with some of the group insisting that I should be given the opportunity to speak, while others insisted that I had nothing to say. Just when it appeared that the killers were going to fight each other, one who appeared older than the others asked, “Why are you going to fight over someone you don’t even know? Those who want to listen, sit and listen; others, sit and shut your ears. When he’s done, we’ll kill him.”

So they all sat down and I started to preach.

First, I thanked them. “Thank you for praying for somebody that you have killed. However, you need to understand what the Bible says about death—the only chance you have to be saved is during your lifetime—not after you are dead. ‘For the living know that they will die,’ I quoted from Eccl. 9:5, ‘but the dead know nothing.’ I’m not going to plead for you to let me go, I continued, because I know that even if you kill me a time is coming when I will be resurrected.

“Among the people you are killing are another tribe—they are not Hutu or Tutsis. They are God’s children. You think that you’re fighting a tribal war, but you’re mistaken. This is a war between Christ and Satan. You think that the people you’re killing are Tutsis, but they belong to a totally different tribe because they have given their hearts to Jesus and they are His children.”

Then I read 1 Peter 2:9-10 to them: “But you are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, His own special people, that you may proclaim the praises of Him who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light; who once were not a people but are now the people of God, who had not obtained mercy but now have obtained mercy.”

As I preached, I could see some of the killers were crying, and I knew that the Holy Spirit was working on their hearts. After preaching for 15 to 20 minutes I told the group, “Now I’m going to say a final prayer, and after that I will dig another grave.”

As soon as I finished praying, someone shouted, “If anyone kills this person, his blood be upon them!”

“No, we can’t kill him!” the others said. “Let him go! We can’t kill him.”

Then the leader spoke up. “I was the one who suggested that we kill this man in a very bad way. But now, we’re not going to kill him.”

I knew it was only by God’s grace that my life was spared. Who am I? I didn’t have any power. God was just kind.

During the approximately 100-day genocide from April 7 to mid-July, 1994, approximately 1 million people were killed, including my entire family. But even though I came face to face with death numerous times, the Lord always saw fit to spare my life.

Stories of Faith - Episode 42

Fulani Herdsman finds Jesus

As a Fulani herdsman, Abdul witnessed the brutal persecution of Christians in northern Nigeria, but accidentally hearing about Jesus while passing a church changed his life forever.

Raised a Fulani herdsman, Abdul heartbreakingly recalls the times his own family and friends would attack Christian villages leaving no survivors.

“You cannot count the people they killed – they would go into villages and kill the entire village,” he says.

He even admits that he was involved in orchestrating one murder himself, as he recounts with tears his old life.

In 2002 he walked past a church by chance and heard a preacher say that Jesus was the only way to heaven; these words filled his mind with questions and his journey to truth began.

He began asking those around him questions about Jesus and the Bible. The advice was always the same: “Christians are not serious people and Islam is the far superior religion. He wasn’t satisfied with the answers.”

“I was at a loss; if Jesus was the way, then why was I still following Mohammed?”

He was desperate to hear the message of Jesus preached again, even though he knew attending church was a risk.

On Christmas Day he sneaked out of his home and attended a church service. He didn’t receive Christ that day but he returned home to find all his belongings outside. His mother discovered he had attended church and kicked him out. He had nowhere to go.

The same night, he had a vivid dream about two paths, and he knew immediately Jesus was speaking to him.

“That night, even after seeing how my mother reacted, I decided to accept Jesus Christ as my Lord. It didn’t matter to me if they wanted to kill me or disown me. I didn’t care, I wanted to accept Jesus Christ.”

His family began trying to convert him back to Islam. They tried using voodoo and threatened to kill him but he would not renounce Christ.

He went to church once more and when a police officer saw him there, he warned him that he needed to escape.

“The churches in my town would not accept me as a Fulani and my family wanted to kill me.”

This is when he knew he had to leave the state.

After leaving, he prayed continually for a place to go where he would be accepted.

“I prayed to God: I want you to lead me where I will learn your Word better and where I will be embraced and accepted.”

Not long after, his prayers were answered when someone told him about YWAM. He had no money, but a pastor blessed him with finances and encouragement to go.

He is still at YWAM and knows he has been blessed, and he looks ahead with hope.

Culled from https://vom.com.au/fulani-herdsman-finds-jesus/