An Ode to a Youth Church
An Ode to a Youth Church
J. Emmy
1. FIRST SACRAMENT
The sky had settled for a new blue skirt. The earth remembers something new was about to be
born. Among stones, sands were filtered. All fresh from the shore was the spring of life which
begat the onrush of the living spring in them. Old altars could not contain this excitement.
Gospel alas had found his youth. “These children want to break the ancient bondage,” the street
ululated. Heaven chuckled, & likewise rejoiced and this was their backbone.
2. SECOND SACRAMENT
Then the gathering began. Piety with all zest of youthfulness led the onslaught of the old rugged
flesh. Earth witnessed how flesh begged for pity, but amid the spirit could not be deceived. Then
the stones who had sunk to become porous sand, only to rise and stay afloat to carry within them
the living spring to become the light of the world, among the elects were chosen, each with their
mantle, various tasks but in one accord to spread the gospel, these the elements of sulfur did not
like and by this they were enraged.
3. THE SULFUR’S REVOLT
Talk of the elements of sulfur, was a beaut veiled with the finest tapestry of Italy, courted with
sight fairer than the skin of sodium, whose name was Rebellion. Came with only one intent to
seduce, mislead and court many among us. It takes only a man filled with the holy spirit to turn
down her offer. Youth some argue is the time where one loses one’s innocence, but of the Lord
must our youth be given for in him there is no aging of the spirit. Many were deceived, for some,
the call became their fall, how by her strokes were the mighty fallen. Bodies of Christ became
mere stale bread for the cankerworms. Though we stood accused of iniquities, of being either too
forward to having a grasp of the mantle neglecting our secret altar, but bless His mercy, by
which some retraced their steps, and for every falling was a glorious more uplifting, swift and
pedaled by His word, our rhema.
4. THE OUTREACH
November came with a tongue-in-cheek comfort. We remember the street went about her
business not expecting our coming. Bursting in joy roundabout, the streets groaned, “these lousy
youths are at it again,” yes, better it is to be a lousy youth for Christ & shameless to talk about
his love. Show me a faithful whose mouth is too heavy for mouthing the gospel and I say verily
of him, he is no better than the Roman soldiers who adorned the body of Christ with stripes with
their whips. We went about with a bodice full of joy, every one of us animating the glory of God
in our lives. Magboro on two-legged heels, one dry and the other mud-logged could not hide her
awe for our zeal and for this she motored us through smoothly her brown skinned path. Ah! Then
too much was the joy of heaven, she broke down in tears of joy, heavy enough to have washed
all sins of man, across stood an house, bricked with curious looks of on-lookers, stood a woman
among them, Mama Akin in name, inquired from her son, “whose youths are these?”
“They are from PCYC,” Akin replied.
“PCYC?” Mama Akin shot back bewildered.
“Prayer city youth church,” Akin replied,
“And they are on evangelism, even in the rain,” Mama Akin replied more puzzled,
“Yes maami, what do you expect? This Olukoya children! Radicals for Christ, fall down & die.”
retorted Akin sarcastically.
“Fall down & die or whatever they are called, you must worship there next week,” Mama Akin
replied.
J. Emmy
Poet
J. Emmy has been published in The Shallow Tales Review. You can find him most active on his Twitter page with the Twitter handle @TegaMavoho.
Photography by James Gana