My Prophet TB Joshua Diary: A beautiful inspirational life of purpose – A tribute
The only “man of God” that I respect in Nigeria is Prophet TB Joshua. He was arguably the best breed there can be. Selfless. Humble. Reticent. Humane. Wise. Bold. Audacious. Committed. Peaceful. Loving. Lovely. Calm. Slow to anger. Effervescent. Charming. Honest. Spirit-filled. And decent.
I first knew about TB in my hay days in the University of Calabar in the early 2000’s. He was the butt of jokes for the manner he used to “murder” English language on TV. At that time, the Emmanuel TV outreach programme was syndicated across television stations in Nigeria. It was interesting spectacle, watching men and women fall to the ground, under his breath. We had hearty laughs in obvious disbelief of the staged comedy. That is what we called it.
Later in life when I moved to Lagos, my curiosity took me on a fantasy visit to his sprawling Ikotun Egbe Headquarter. For me, I needed to see the secrets behind his staying power. At that time, Emmanuel TV was no longer on the terrestrial TV spectrum. Former President Obasanjo ordered all TV stations to stop broadcasting “miracle” churches, especially that of Prophet TB Joshua which had assumed notoriety for all sorts of signs and wonders. The law was enforced. As usual.
Luckily for the Prophet, private satellite broadcasting started to take root at the same time as OBJ was “banning” miracles. So, he quickly moved his operations into the satellite space by acquiring a foreign TV license and setting up Emmanuel TV satellite channel. It was the spark that he needed as his messages were no longer limited to Nigeria. As a result, people in their millions flocked to him either by face or faith. They testified of getting miraculous healings of their infirmities by just touching the TV screen at their homes, tuned to Emmanuel TV. Those who could afford it, turned Ikotun into a mini-Mecca. All sorts of people. Americans, Indians. Asians. Europeans. South Africans. Mexicans. For miracles.
It was a Sunday. My inventive curiosity drove me to The Synagogue in 2014 to see things for myself. I wanted to worship there. I passed through the first and second gates. Then, I entered the third inner gate, only to be told that I needed to have come the previous day to get an access tally with which I can gain entrance into the Synagogue for Sunday service. I turned back and drove home. For another day.
The next Saturday, I was at the Synagogue by 9.00pm. Everywhere was filled. The imposing auditorium to the right had all sorts of artistic designs of the Biblical fourteen stations of the Cross. A battery of flags of nations of the world fluttered atop the giant structure. I counted huge tents in the adjacent compound which hosted the overflow. There were twelve. Or fourteen. Or more. Massive and filled with people, watching gigantic TV screens hooked to the Emmanuel TV Channel. I was introduced to one of the many ushers by my minder. The usher took my details to be sure I am comfortable. She showed me the hostel reserved for foreigners. It was a six-storey building, skinnily rising into the skies. I told her I am fine. She then gave me a plastic tally and advised I must be available by 5.00am to gain a seat in the main auditorium the next day. I went home with the tally. Very late at night.
The next day, I was already in Ikotun by 5.00am to join a long queue herded into the auditorium. The feeling inside was surreal and inexplicable. I saw the choristers atop the suspended balcony, gyrating to the pulsating heavy sound from imposing loud speakers hanging from the tall rafters. The acoustics was excellent with no echo. The hall was gradually getting filled as many other worshipers of different nationalities filed in. Asians. Indians. Turks. Cameroonians. Americans. Egyptians. Christians. Muslins. Sikhs. Hindus. All. Clutching unto their miniature national flags, some draped in their signature national Ankara. Unmistakably Ghanaians. And Mexicans. I could also spot South Africans.
I was herded into a corner close to the alter. It was a long wait filled with a medley of inspirational songs booming from the public address system. And endless testimonies. All sorts of claims were being said by testifiers about healings that they got by the touch of the man of God. Some by simply watching the TV channel. Some by gulping the Morning Water. Some by visiting Ikotun. From the interesting to the ridiculous. From miracle USA Visas to the sublime success in ICAN examinations. From restored broken marriages to promotions at work. From financial breakthrough to healing of long-drawn infirmities. Nothing I did not hear from real people of different nationalities, freely sharing their encounters and healing. I was struck. But not convinced.
By 9.00am, Wiseman Daniel (Wiseman is the title by which Prophet TB Joshua’s Assistant Prophets (?) are known) took the microphone to formally commence the day’s programme. He started by reading from several Bible portions. All of them connected to love, kindness, purity, brotherhood, faith, hope, righteousness, peace, tolerance, forgiveness, etc. The messaging was inspirational. It was the sort you can’t find in the real church as it were. I was impressed.
At about midday, Prophet TB Joshua emerged. I don’t know where he came from, but he was up there at the crescent-shaped elevated podium dressed in a 3-piece suit, clutching a wireless microphone. The room was electric. I felt a sudden rush of unexplainable adrenalin. He spoke softly about the essentials of life. Admonishing congregants to seek first the kingdom of God. He also took time to explain Biblical injunctions with emphasis on brotherliness, love, forgiveness, tolerance, faith, hope and good neighborliness. The messaging was very refreshing. And repetitive. Just as his garments were not embellished with ornaments, precious stones, gold or bling.
Then the prayer line. It is a long corridor where people with all sorts of strange infirmities stay in a single file to be touched for healing by the Prophet. Some level of screening was earlier done and a gate-pass given to those who would be in that line. It was apparent that I was among those whose gate-pass qualified for the prayer line. I realized because people in the cluster where I sat were all led away. To the prayer line.
One thought crossed my mind to excuse myself. Another told me to hang on. I obeyed the second. And stood there. I wanted to see things for myself. Then he came around. He touched people and they fell to the floor. One of them which’s memory has stuck with me was a woman who was allegedly possessed by a strange continuous urge to pull and eat her hairs. She looked semi-bald, haven eaten up most of the hairs on her head, by pulling them with her bare hands and swallowing them dry after chewing. Grotesque. Strange. It was as gross and impossible as hell. She was still eating them right there, when the Prophet took her by the hands, “harassed” the devil in her to leave, and rescued her. Or so it seemed.
A woman next to me with a huge lumbar cosset, suddenly removed the body support and jumped for joy. Healed! Right in front of me! The next was me. My eyes were set on him. Is this witchcraft? Or magic? My heart was racing as he got closer. Then he stood there in front of me. Looking like a lion, ready to pounce. His gaze strong like a needle. Starring at me as I was staring back at him. He then asked why I had to join the queue when I had no reason to. I told him I was guided by the ushers and couldn’t say no. He said that I should give those who need help a chance and stop interfering. He slapped my wrist and met the next person. Then the next. While I took a deep breathe. And walked away.
To explore more, I crossed to the opposite side of the compound. There was also a long queue. By this time, night started to descend. I raced to the head of the queue to find that the long line was for those struggling to buy the famous Morning Water, famed for all sorts of miraculous healing powers. That didn’t settle well with me either. Each sealed tiny bottle, bundled with gospel CDs, three books written by TB Joshua and three bumper stickers of the Synagogue was sold for N5,000! That was huge. I stood by watching some people buy up to ten, twenty and sometimes more packs. I made a mental calculation. Millions. It was then I understood how the organization manages to pay the huge bills needed to keep the sprawling compound neat, squeaky clean and spotless, even with hundreds of thousands milling around and about. And also embark on countless charity projects around the world, as well as keep the Emmanuel TV channel broadcasting 24/7. Does the Morning Water work? I guess it’s a matter of faith and believe. Mere symbolism. As does everything else in religion. A matter for another day.
Back home, I was exhausted. I watched from afar as the congregation grew in leaps and bounds year after year. In 2019 when I passed through the Ikotun Area, hotels and malls dotted the landscape. A big economy was created by this unique man of spirit. Thousands of foreigners trooped to Nigeria with hard currency to get healing. All sorts of merchandize stores litter the vicinity. From flag sellers, books, journals, water, eateries, BDC operators, etc.
The amazing part of TB Joshua’s kind of religion is the respect he accorded people of different faiths and believes. His door were not shut against any human being irrespective of what they profess, worship, look like, how much they had, etc. He didn’t dwell in the madding frenzy of differentiation and commoditization of salvation. He preached and practiced pure Christian living, measurable more by works than words. When the organized Christian enterprise tried to lure him into the politics of CAN and PFN, he stayed off the trap. Rather, he kept his gaze on his good works which are today, testaments to his spirit-filled life of service to the poor, the homeless, the weak, the oppressed, the bewitched, the hungry, the aged, the scorched, the afflicted, the sick, the fatherless, the barren, the motherless, the abandoned, the imprisoned, the sinner, the underserved, the rejected, the hopeless, the separated, the abused, the raped, the anemic, etc.
TB Joshua was an incurable patriot. In the midst of all the storms that have afflicted Nigeria, he kept reminding us that this country is God’s beautiful creation which would never go to a tailspin again. He used the enormous resources he had to tend to those in need. He never discriminated between those who hated him and those who loved him. There was no Jew nor Gentile.
He prayed for Nigeria everyday and admonished citizens to play their part to support leaders, be they Muslim or Christian. He used the power of love to lure people to abandon their old ways and seek that which is fair, noble and just. As a result of his activities, Ikotun Area became West Africa’s biggest tourism destination grossing in millions of US Dollars in foreign exchange for Nigeria. According to the Nigerian Immigration Service, 60% of all foreign visitors to Nigeria in 2019 came to the Synagogue Church of All Nations (SCOAN). That is a record.
Nations of the world yearned for his loving touch. He welded the warring parties in South Sudan together and brough settlement to one of Africa’s bloodiest dark spots. In reciprocation, that country accorded him great respect. He also played the same role in the conflict in Tanzania after crises broke out from disputed elections. He held massive crusades in Singapore, South Korea Indonesia, Australia, Colombia, Mexico, Peru, USA, Israel and Paraguayy where he was awarded the country’s highest honor – the National Order of Merit, an honor reserved only for Paraguayan citizens who distinguished themselves.
Prophet T. B Joshua is arguably the most influential religious leader to have come from Nigeria. No one compares to him. He had enormous influence in the African landscape spanning Ghana, Tanzania, Liberia, Malawi, South Sudan and South Africa where he either influenced change of governments of played a role in shaping governance. He preached peace, forgiveness and tolerance everywhere he went. He was a soldier for Christ in the purest form.
As we bid him farewell after his earthly work is done, I can only hope that his supporters, followers and admirers the world over realize they were close to an extraordinary enigma, created in controversy, existed in humility and exited in mystery.
I have read that some flamboyant pastorpreneurs are jubilating that the Wizard of Endor (in the words of one of them – the funky jerry-curl-and-weed-loving-pop-musician-turned-Pastor Chris Okotie) has been struck dead by divine anger. How ignorant. How indignant. How cruel. How repugnant.
I cannot join issues with him and other hawkers of the gospel, who have set themselves up to continuously pursue actions and preachments that stab and murder the essence, symbolism and mission of our Jesus Christ over and over again, under the guise of being clergy. Probably they took insurance policy that guarantees them continuous unending physical presence in this ephemeral transient earth, much more than our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ who lived for only 33 years did. How sad.
For me, Prophet TB Joshua was an accomplished extraordinary mortal whose good works have already outlived him in time and eternity. I cry not for him. Because he lived a meaningful impactful life of treasurable memories, candor, service, wisdom, chastity, obedience, humility, righteousness, peace, love, brotherhood and purpose. I celebrate him today, even as I feel sad that Nigeria and humanity would sure miss the light that he exuded and the illumination he beamed.
Heaven gained a good man. Adieu Prophet Temitope Joshua. So long bro…….
******Celestine Mel (MBA Scotland, BSC Calabar) ACIB, ACIS, is a Chartered Banker, Projects Lead and IT Professional. He writes from the FCT – Abuja, Nigeria.
