My husband, my love, the man of my covenant, the man of my youth.
You were a spiritual icon and a giant in the faith. You never allowed anyone who came to you with a burden to leave still carrying it. Like David of old, you would face their Goliaths head-on and bring it down, restoring joy and victory into their lives as God gave you grace.
The needy and the widows saw you as their helper. They would come to you for food, for business support, for rent, and none ever left in tears. Not because you had so much to give, but because you would always find a way to meet their needs. I remember one particular man, who claimed to be a child of God, who called you for help. You had only ₦2,000 in your account that day, yet you withdrew it and gave him. We all went to bed on empty stomachs that night.
You were a Bible teacher, a leader, a mentor who raised other spiritual leaders who are now doing greater works for God. Bold as a lion, you never allowed anyone to intimidate you. Your confidence in the promise of our Heavenly Father, "Touch not mine anointed, and do my prophets no harm" (Psalm 105:15), was unshakable. You were loving to the core, always ready to give sacrificially for the sake of Christ.
We fought for your life. We prayed. We fasted. We held vigils. We clung to God's promises, yet it seemed as though Heaven was silent. But I understand now, sometimes God calls His beloved home early to keep them from the dangers ahead (Isaiah 57:1). Sometimes, God calls because He alone has the final say over every life. And sometimes, a servant of God completes their assignment quickly, out of deep love for the Master. When the work in their vineyard is done, and the inspection is passed, the Master simply says: "Well done… come home."
Daddy, your death is shocking and painful, but we have no choice but to submit to the will of our Lord Jesus, who loves you the most. Sleep on in the bosom of the Lord until we meet again on the resurrection morning.