From Medicine to Miracles

Preface

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your paths," (Proverbs 3:5, 6)

"For with God nothing shall be impossible. " (Luke 1:37)

My early life was spiced with dreams. Coming from a moderately unpromising background, those dreams sounded like idle speculations. However, an imaginative storyteller with a real-life Bible report changed all that. It was in an Episcopalian, children's Sunday school setting. The teacher painted vivid pictures with his words. Sitting in that class, I could hear Peter say "look here. " My mind's eye pictured the expectant initial look on the man's face. He hoped to receive money. Disappointment changed to wonder when Peter, staring at him declared his inability to help financially. My childish credulity "saw" the halo of anointing on Peter as he ordered him to "walk in the name of Jesus. " There was suspense as, a few seconds later, Peter helped him to his feet. It was as if I was there at the gate called Beautiful. The excitement in the man as he discovered he could walk, rippled through the crowd. It even came into our Sunday school classroom. I decided to do the same experiment the next day, on my way to school. To my horror, it did not work. As a result, I made two decisions. One was to give my allowance for school to beggars thereafter. The second was that, no matter what it took, I would become a doctor.

This was the birth of the vision. I was committed to striving towards that goal. However, the loss of may father when I was sixteen seemed an insuperable setback. But God then came into that situation providentially. A long-lost uncle suggested climbing the social ladder the hard way. I latched onto the idea - the work/study approach. It still required a series of extraordinary, indeed supernatural events, for that dream to come true. The long hand of providence gave me a hard push. Not only did that goal materialise, but I soon became a specialist. It did not end there, but one breakthrough after another led to some modest measure of prominence.

Suddenly, an invisible visitor changed my life. I had become a workaholic, interested only in the exciting fruits of academic research. Quite unexpectedly, on a certain afternoon, the name of Jesus brought healing to a polio cripple in my laboratory. Rediscovery of the old-time religion therefore turned my gaze to a different type of research. Was this healing authentic? Is it repeatable? How did it operate? What are the ingredients which stimulate the genesis of faith for healing? Would everyone get healed? What are the limits, beyond which a would-be adventurer may not explore? These and many other questions raced through my mind. They prompted a new line of research which almost entirely displaced scientific medicine. The question, "what makes Jesus tick" became an overwhelming curiosity. This research project continues. Indeed, it must continue till we arrive at the other side of the vale. The interim findings may interest you. One conclusion stands out. The same hand of providence which brought realisation of my initial dream, seems interested in wholesomeness or making people whole. The realm of the miraculous remains a mystery. However, for a seeker there may be crucial guidelines to the trigger mechanisms. This testimony may point to a few of them.

Chapter 1: The Genesis of Faith

"Yet faith comes from listening to this good news - the good news about Christ. " Romans 10:17 (Living Bible)

"I know how much you trust the Lord, just as your mother Eunice and your grandmother Lois do, and I feel sure you are still trusting him as much as ever. " 2 Timothy 3:15 (Living Bible)

"You know how, when you were a small child, you were taught the holy scriptures and it is these that make you wise to accept God's salvation by trusting in Christ Jesus. " 2 Timothy 3:15 (Living Bible)

My roots are deeply embedded in a tutored fear of an Almighty God and Creator. My paternal grandfather was a church organist and choirmaster. My father was a headmaster in a church school before he took up a civil service job. My mother was brought up by a "blood and thunder" missionary who "spoke and it was so. " Sundays in my father's house had a standard pattern. Apart from morning and evening worship at the nearby Anglican Church, Holy Trinity, Ebute-Ero, Lagos, and a children's afternoon service, we read the Bible at Mama's feet for the rest of the day.

Introduced to singing in the choir at eight, I sat in the choir stalls at services. God seemed to my childish eyes specially close, since everybody focused on the nearby chancel. It did not need much to fire my imagination about the word pictures produced by the church homilies. There was also Bible reading and hymn singing in the mornings and evenings at home on weekdays. We were a pious family.

What is equally important was the fact that I went to a Baptist School from the age of six. I had eleven and a half years' exposure to Baptist doctrines. We had morning assemblies at school every weekday. Each was a short Baptist church service. The teachers usually took turns to conduct the services. But from time to time, a visiting missionary would preach a series of revival sermons at the assembly. I was soaked in deep piety.

I was born in Zaria, Northern Nigeria in 1934, and my parents moved down to Lagos six years later. I had been baptised in December 1934 at an Anglican Church, St. George's in Zaria. Right from birth, most of my friends were churchy folk. I also ran around with a more varied group during play time on weekdays. This was only part of the truth.

My mother came from a ruling family in Ondo (Yoruba land) in Nigeria. Her ancestors were the leaders of traditional religion. It was impossible for her not to be double minded, by which I mean sharing in traditional forms of worship as well as the Christian faith. I imbibed this in my milieu as I grew up. I well remember folklore tales told by my maternal grandmother around wood fires at night. These were partly myth and partly true stories. I learnt from them what different representative deities of Almighty God did to individuals in my cultural setting. My mother's daily admonitions therefore conditioned my life, not only with the missionary-derived Bible truths, but also with the fears from the traditional culture. Indeed, because she was literate, she had a notebook of cures learnt from her ancestors.

Although it can be said that my boyhood religious conditioning was mainly from the church, it was not entirely so. There were deep cultural beliefs inserted into my subconscious mind, particularly for times of crises such as illnesses. We prayed through Christ for some of these situations, but I well remember an occasion when a fish bone got stuck in my air passage. In that emergency, my mother said some incantations which moved the bone out through my mouth. I regarded my mother as a holy person and I believed she was a Christian. However, there were deep things from her that created confusion in my young mind.

Half-way through high-school, I had a conversion experience. It was in 1948, Rev. B. T. Griffin was Principal of my school (Baptist Academy). The late Ayo Bankole, who studied music at Clare College, Cambridge, England, was school organist. Bankole was thumping on the piano, as we walked out for a brief counselling session on the veranda. Ten minutes earlier, after a twenty minute oration, the preacher announced "all eyes closed and all heads bowed. " He continued. . "walk out to the front if the Lord has touched your heart".

I had an argument going on inside of me. "But I had always been a Christian!" I told myself. " I have always attended church services. " Another voice in me answered back: "But you have not always been a good boy, have you?" I argued back: "No; but do you know anyone who has?" The persuasive voice continued: "You need help, and giving a public invitation to Jesus to enter your heart will change you permanently. " A force I could not understand moved me out of the row of boys and on to the front of the hall. We said the sinners' prayer. "Lord I am a sinner. I accept the work done on Calvary for my soul. Come into my heart. Cone in now to stay and reign, Lord Jesus. Amen. " That did it. I had made a mental assent to the claims of Jesus on my life. I felt blissful. There were no clouds on my horizon. I assumed that moral lapses would soon be ancient history in my life. I avidly read the whole Bible on my own twice, and thoroughly enjoyed it. Perhaps my understanding was poor, but it was fun.

In spite of my declaration, victory over my bad habits was a long way off. I had fallen into bad company at school some two years earlier. We were often truants from school, sometimes for fractions of the day, at other times repeatedly for the whole of the school period. Besides, all kinds of fears continued to haunt me, including those resulting from my nightmarish dreams. The most typical and recurrent ones had to do with being chased by violent adults or by animals. I had once raced across the seas to hide under the Queen Mother's chair, shaking with relief at getting to that haven.

Fears also resulted from the nocturnal activities of the traditional cults. One particular cult was typified in operation by a blood curdling sound. The sound was produced by tying pieces of string to flat pieces of plywood of different lengths and then swinging the plywood pieces. Depending on the size of the wood, different pitches of sound would rend the peace of the night. Since this cult started their perambulations at a shrine near our house, those nights when they operated were filled with terror for me. Casual encounters on the playfield with boys who possessed "juju" or charms, also frightened me. Lastly, there were visitors to our house, who were generally regarded as witches. These fears crescendoed to a climax when my father died in 1950 of diabetes mellitus. In the middle of a good spell of medical control, he suddenly collapsed and died.

After the sharp edge of sorrow had worn off and the dust had settled, I decided to acquire metaphysical power. Unfortunately I did not realise that being a regenerated man was inconsistent with occultism. My objectives were simple. I was the oldest boy of the family and I needed power to defend my mother, younger brother and two older sisters from devilish attacks. I had. two contemporaries at school who had knowledge in this area. They were children of the head of the Rosicrucians in Lagos. I consulted them and they gave me various magazines to read. Through these journals, I made contact with an Indian guru who sold me books on Yoga and occultism. As soon as I left school in 1951, I embarked on intensive studies of these books. Apart from a six hour interlude at a civil service job, I spent most days in acquiring this esoteric brand of knowledge. I learnt control over various parts of my body's metabolism. I also learnt thought transference and telepathy, clairvoyance and clairaudience, healing and transcendental meditation.

My style of life was highly ascetic, being an absolute vegetarian and indulging in protracted fasts. Mahatma Ghandi's life-style, for instance, was very attractive to me. About eighteen months after embarking on these studies, however, I became disillusioned. My mother had burnt my books, because they had become passionate obsessions for me. In addition, an aura of sterile holiness had surrounded me and somehow prevented my erstwhile friends from coming close. I missed their company so much that I started to compromise with regard to my asceticism. In fact, by June 1954, I started indulging in occasional alcoholic escapades and there were a few cases of sexual debauchery.

For many years there ensued a swing between these extremes. There were periods when for sometime the ascetic life would regain ascendancy, only to be toppled soon afterwards. This pattern continued unabated for twenty-one years. There was a curious marriage in either of these states with the external observances of the Christian faith. I sang in the choir and took part in other church activities. I became a regular member of "sound" Christian societies at the University without relinquishing my interest in the occult and/or licentiousness. I envied many of my friends who knew Christ securely and had a consistent stable relationship with Him. Many of them did not twig my double-mindedness, as my other activities were often clandestine. Eventually, this twilight period of backsliding came to an end in July 1973.

I had gotten married in 1960 but there had been health difficulties of a very grave nature from the beginning of the second year. Besides, I had trauma at work, because I was not progressing as fast as I thought I should. There were serious clashes with the management. Indeed, I received a severe reprimand for gross insubordination from the authorities were I was Senior Lecturer/Consultant. To cap it all, all these resulted in physical illness. I had all the common stress-induced conditions - peptic ulceration, high blood pressure, asthmatic bronchitis, chronic sinusitis. There were also severe , symptoms of serious spiritual illness - bad temper, masturbation, promiscuity, heavy alcoholic indulgence, chain-smoking of cigars and pipe tobacco, etc. Nevertheless, my church activities and fasting continued unabated.

A female postgraduate protege of mine brought the whole thing to a climax. She had been my ward and counsellee for four years. From that vantage point, she knew all of my woes. Unfortunately, she developed a misguided approach to expressing her sympathy. I called on her during my lunch break one afternoon. I knocked at her door, "Come in " she said, and so began an affair that was to last three months. "You cannot go on like this," she had said. "You are too wound up. Somebody would have to give you psychotherapy. Why should I not do it?" My resistance was feeble. The rest is left to anyone's imagination. Suddenly, I realised I was ruining a young life that was in my charge and I broke off. She had a nervous breakdown and left the University for a spell of six weeks. When she returned, she ran into an evangelist who was a student of mine. She had a thorough conversion experience and desired that I should taste it too.

That young man, (now a specialist gynaecologist) came with the girl at night to watch me play squash, and to initiate discussions. Dr. Ibeneme (for that was his name) was respectful as he was persistent. A day came when my partner failed to turn up and The (as he was called) got his chance. "Can I have a word with you outside, Sir?" he asked. I wanted to get rid of him, so I went out to meet them. "Sir", he said "this lady knows your life story. She is sure you have no peace, even though you go to church. If you really have Jesus, sir, you would have peace. " He opened his Bible and read Romans 5:1 and expounded it, relating it to other passages. Somehow it made a strange impact on me. I decided to take a holiday to examine the proposition. Taking holidays was not a habit I indulged in. I believed that I needed every day for scientific research. But this was too important. If that young man was right (and he sounded as if he had first-hand experience to back up his witness), it could change my life.

I took a plane from lbadan to Jos. The principal of the Jos Campus of lbadan University was very good to me. He gave me an empty apartment with a house steward to look after my bodily needs and I was set. I went through the New Testament again and I found faith. What is more, I found peace as well. I came back convinced, never to waver again.

But let me take you to other aspects of my earlier struggles in order to really prove the mercy of the Lord upon me, a fact the apostle Paul most eloquently testified to when he said that: "God commends his love towards us in that while we were yet sinners [enemies of God], Christ died for us. " (Romans 5:8)

Chapter 2: The rugged road to the Stethoscope

"Cast thy bread upon the water: for thou shalt find it after many days. " Ecclesiastes 11:1

"Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might; for there is no work. . in the grave. " Ecclesiastes 9:10

I had been extremely frustrated. However, the sharp edge of the pain had worn off. I had a limited measure of fulfillment teaching General Science and Biology. My qualifications for that job were mediocre in the extreme (Intermediate B. Sc. - fail). But then, the school though famous, was very rural in location. Its fame was grounded in the training for LIFE that its professed atheist principal, Tai Solarin gave the students. It was almost possible to give a guarantee that if a boy passed through those school gates, he would come out an independent minded man. He could pass through any tumultuous storms in the sea of life afterwards with a reasonable degree of fortitude. He was already armed with a "will to win. " although I turned twenty-one in the middle of that year (1955), I was half-boy, half-man. The dusty roads of ljebu-Igbo, innocent of any tarring, left their marks on my clothes, my skin and partly on my thinking. I became rustic, addicted to lonely forest lanes and laboratories. This was the setting and the month was November ending.

I had invented a nickname for myself. I called myself the plaything of fate. For almost five years, it seemed I could do nothing, right. I had passed London Matriculation in June 1951 when I was not yet seventeen. In the Nigeria of those days, this was an outstanding achievement. Moreover, I had gained kudos because I succeeded in spite of my father's death in 1950. But all that vanished like an early morning mist. I attempted to pull myself up, by studying after regular work as a laboratory assistant. It brought only frustrations. ill health colluded with poor teaching in the night school to rob me of any semblance of success. I had failed seven examinations ~ four Ibadan University Entrance examinations and three "A" Level G. C. E. (Inter B. Sc. ) examinations of London University. I braced myself to attempt the Cambridge University equivalent or the Higher School Certificate examination. The prospects were somewhat brighter. Hobnobbing with the school boys in Molusi, I taught myself the sciences during the vacations. I did some high jumping and played soccer (goal keeping) for recreation. And so, it was with a slightly less woe-begone psyche that I went to Lagos from ljebu Province that late November. In fact, it could be said that the tide was changing. A girlfriend jilted me in 1954, she broke my heart - she did. That was my main reason for leaving my mother's home in Lagos. But a new girlfriend had registered in September 1955. Indeed she sounded determined to be permanent. All this was a shadow, however. It seemed that real good fortune was on the way.

On my arrival in Lagos, my mother had exciting news for me. Her cousin, Mr. Adegbie, who had been in Eastern Nigeria on transfer had returned to Lagos. He made inquiries about me and became highly irritated as a result of what he was told. He was upset because when he left Lagos, I was the bright-eyed hope of the whole of our sub-tribe. He took a dim view of how my mother had planned goals for me. At the very least, he thought, I could cross by ship to England and slug it out working there. Opportunities abounded "abroad" to bring back the "golden fleece. " Fortunately, in return for past favors from this relation, an immigration officer gave me an international passport. Even when "palms were greased," it took one to two years from 1955 to get travel documents. This was the first of the "minor" miracles in my early adulthood.

The second followed in mid-December. My immediate elder sister. had gotten married in London in July 1955. She proved able, in reply to an enquiry from me, to secure a place for me at Acton Technical College, London W3. This was extraordinary because I was being offered a place in the second year of G. C. E. ("A" Level course) in the second term starting in January 1956. In rapid succession, I had another breakthrough. It would take about six months to a year with more bribes (in 1955) to secure a place on an England-bound ship. In desperation, I even offered to bribe the official in charge of bookings. (Those were the days of my backsliding). It was to no avail. If he took the bribe, the earliest date for me to travel would be April 1956. By then, I would have lost my place at Acton Technical College, London W3. I wept shamelessly. Why did God seemingly open the doors of opportunity for a suffering man and then let it slam shut again? I was walking along the Lagos Marina. My tear-dimmed eyes did not recognize the man I had tried to bribe days earlier. "Hey ! Hello there!" I heard at last. I crossed the road. "Can I help you?" I asked. "Don't you recognize me, I am the Elder Dempster Office official. There is one place on 3rd class (Deck) on a cargo boat, M. V. Tamale sailing in 24 hours. Can you make it in time to sail tomorrow?" "You bet", I said. I paid all my savings of 58 (pounds sterling) for the passage. My mother scraped all the money she had to make one brown suit and a black one (evening wear) overnight. In the event, M. V. Tamale was not ready and we had an extra 24 hours. I sailed on December 23rd, 1955 for England.

The crossing was colorful. In many respects, it proved comparable with the journey in search of the original "golden fleece". Being the first visit outside Nigeria, the brief stops in Takoradi, Ghana (then Gold Coast) and Freetown, Sierra Leone were packed with excitement. The seas remained calm until we reached the Bay of Biscay. We woke up to find all the forces of hell loosened upon the ship. The waves sprang high. One side of the ship rested on the waves to be replaced next moment by the opposite side. The ship was rocked to its foundations. We took in water. Although the crew fastened down as many objects as possible, all loose bits of matter became violent missiles. All except the sailors lost their footing frequently. Even the sight of food became nauseating to most. For me, however, it was different. I sang "Master the tempest is raging. . . peace be still" and there was calm within. I had never before had more than two courses per meal. In fact, the usual was a simple main course. Now, there were rich dishes of six courses for breakfast and eight courses for lunch and dinner. These were supplemented with snacks at coffee and tea-time with some final encouragement to the palate at supper time. I allowed nothing to depress my appetite. I ate like a ravenous wolf, who had been starved for aeons of time previously. I believed that God could not open my way so wonderfully for capricious storms to shipwreck me. Little wonder then that I put on 28Ibs in the three weeks it took to make the crossing. After an interlude, which featured no abnormality except moral lapses at Las Palmas, Canary Islands, we dimly sighted Liverpool through the fog.

My arrival in England could not have been more inauspicious. It was a dark and dank January evening. With a little help, I found my way to the railway coach from the port. Thinly clad in mid-winter, I sat in a packed Liverpool-to-London railway compartment. The heating in those days was inadequate. My jacket and trousers were clearly designed for tropical Lagos. They were laughably flimsy. My feet were frozen before the train pulled to a stop in London. The agony from chilling and anxieties had seemed interminable. Finally, I sighted a familiar face in the crowd in the London station. My brother-in-law shook my hand and handed a mackintosh to me. It was not lined with wool, but to me it made the world of difference. My sister had a piping-hot meal waiting as we arrived in a taxicab from the station. It was with a rude shock that I was introduced to life in London. First, it was a particularly cold winter. Second, I was a term and a week late for classes. Third, life in London was different from life in Lagos, and even more different from life in ljebu-Igbo. There was the sophistication. There was the independent, mind-your-own-business stance of the Londoners. This had infected my sister and adjustment was not easy. With a rickety, fifteen-year-old bicycle, I joined the G. C. E. "A" Level class at Acton Tech. It was cold cycling to school in winter over a crowded three-mile stretch. It was also dangerous. I fell one day on an icy road in front of a double-decker whose brakes very nearly failed. In addition, I could not draw, and both Botany and Zoology practical periods became painful experiences. For a few trivial reasons, it seemed impossible for me to study in the evenings. My sister gave birth to her first son three days after I arrived in London and every evening was taken up with entertaining her guests. Besides, my bedroom was not heated. Nevertheless, through all these, I succeeded. When the results of the May-June 1956 "A" Levels were released in August, I passed Physics, Chemistry, Botany and Zoology. Nobody else expected I would pass, except myself. Again, I believed God was providentially involved in steering my life.

But more shocks and stoppages were in store for me. There were, at that time, regulations governing the admission of colonial students into British universities. Foreign students were often stranded without financial support and the Colonial Office had to safeguard the interests of the universities with a ruling. They would endorse the application of a colonial student on one condition only. If 500 pounds sterling was deposited with the Colonial Office by the student, it would be possible to guarantee repatriation in situations of financial difficulties. With this and the necessary academic prerequisites a candidate could then approach any of the universities with a supported application form. For me, this was not one of my options. I had no money to deposit. I undertook long fasts and sought to enforce my admission into the medical schools of London with spiritual armory. I failed in my bid, though Westminster and Charing Cross Medical Schools put my name on their waiting lists.

At the start of the session, those with preliminary admissions were found to have passed the three necessary science "A" Level subjects. Once more, I wept disconsolately as I walked the streets of London.

After a while, I braced myself to continue living. "A way of escape" will emerge eventually. I sought for and secured a job as a factory hand at the biscuit and cake factory (MacFarlane-Lang) on the old Great West Road at Isleworth. My hours were the night shift, from 6 p. m. to 6 a. m. . I consoled myself by reading voraciously - anything I could lay my hands on, largely biographies. Time passed. After settling into the job, I undertook every Monday the study of Botany and Zoology (part-time) towards General B. Sc. degree at my old Technical College. After three months, the hand of providence struck again.

When work finished one Saturday morning, I came away with the "King's Story" by the Duke of Windsor, borrowed from the foreman. It made interesting reading and after a short nap, I went back to it I could not put it down 'till the evening. By this time, I had got to the description of the Duke's one year at Magdalen College, Oxford. Unused to my manual work at the factory, I took the Saturday evening off. For recreation, I revisited some old friends and the "hop" (dance) at Acton Tech. I recognized some old friends and shared their table. Soon afterwards, my best friend at the Tech. , John Kirby, came in with a girl. He had got into Guy's Hospital after "A" Levels and was also visiting Acton for the first time since leaving. After introductions, pleasantries and a few rounds of dancing, John buttonholed me. We were quite close to the Tech. (he would top the class at Chemistry and I would be a close second, whilst it was the other way round in Physics). "How is it that you never got into a Medical School?" he asked. "Colonial Office rules, you know" I explained, giving the details. After lapsing into thought for a while, he made a suggestion. "Have you tried Oxbridge?" he asked. "They are rather independent and they will give you a place if they like you. " "Come on, John," I replied, "you must be nuts. " "Oxbridge is for the brainy few. " "Besides, is it not rather expensive at Oxbridge?" I am afraid my frustration gave a sharp edge to my reply and that ended the conversation. However, later on when I resumed my reading of the "King's Story", the coincidence struck me forcibly. I was reading about the Duke of Oxford the same day John Kirby raised the possibility of going to Oxbridge. I shook off the thought, but it kept recurring. Finally, I wrote a letter to Magdalen College, Oxford. I knew literally nothing about the College, apart from the Duke's Story and my ignorance lent amusement to my letter. Nevertheless, there was a gracious reply.

I was invited to sit for the Entrance-Scholarship examination into Magdalen, Oxford in December 1956. I had six weeks to go and there were innumerable hurdles to overcome. First, although I had a reasonable grounding in the sciences, there were other requirements. In those days, we needed to pass an examination in Latin. I last studied Latin in 1951 in preparation for London Matriculation. I resolved to tidy up my knowledge of Latin by putting in some hours at the Municipal Library. There was an English paper and a paper on Current Affairs. Because of my versatile choice of reading material, I did not envisage much difficulty there. The greatest academic difficulty was that I did not have any foreign modern language. My own language, Yoruba, was not in the approved list. It had to be German, French, Italian, Russian, Spanish or any other European language familiar to the academic world.

Whilst thinking out a way round this difficulty, my cultural background raised up an emotional hurdle. This second hurdle materialized when I announced my intention to sit the Entrance- Scholarship examinations. My landlady, a warm elderly lady (Mrs. Woodhouse) said "William, your struggles have overheated your imagination. Why, it is easier for you to plan to go to the moon. " My fellow choristers in the local Anglican church simply laughed me to scorn. All my acquaintances felt that the move was either conceited or mad. I had to invent a ruse. I gave out a story that taking the examinations would give me a good holiday in the pleasant grounds at Magdalen. I assured all and sundry that I had no hope of success and this quieted them. Eventually, I traveled up by train to Oxford. There were intelligent-looking boys from the great public schools travelling with me. Conversation with the confirmed my worst fears about my utter inadequacy. Nevertheless, with a jaunty air, I sat for the examinations. My sense of hopelessness made me carefree and removed nervousness. The papers went reasonably well, except the paper in modern European Languages. Using my knowledge of Latin and my memory of French and German phrases (from an international fruit-picking camp) I attempted the French and German translations, it must have provided very amusing reading. The interview was a droll affair. I returned to Chiswick, London and thanked my landlady for her frank assessment of my chances. One week later, in mid-December, my landlady collected the mail from the door in the morning. "William, you have a letter from Oxford" she said. "Grandma" - my nickname for her "please read it to me. " I said. "William, William," she shouted, her portly form shaking with emotion, "you passed. "

And so it was that the door of opportunity swung open. When the shock of the news had died down in Chiswick, information poured in about Magdalen. At the Botany class the following Monday I was taught that "Magdalen" is properly pronounced "Modlin. " I had to learn the polite manners of smart English society. Various groups took a hand in getting me ready for the cream of English educational institutions. Some deepened my knowledge of serious European music, others introduced me to a variety of operatic and theatrical arts and yet others showed me round the important sights in England. Chief instrument in this respect was the late Bill Mills. He owned a Rolls Royce and no weekend went by without a group visit to a gallery, theatre or historical national monument. However, the giant- sized problem loomed large in the future. How on earth did I hope to finance the journey through six years and three months of the medical course at Oxford? I needed and fortunately possessed a strong basis of faith. My faith at that time centered on the consistency of God's involvement in my personal fortunes since my father died. My first "faith" operation was London Matriculation (1951). Since it was not a school-sponsored examination, I needed a supernatural input to succeed. My "A" Levels at Acton, with the short exposure and the background of poor laboratory training was another "faith" venture. Finally, I looked back at the saga of my admission into Magdalen and I took courage in that God must have planned it all. I wrote to my mother. She could not promise anything. In the end, she took a mortgage on our bungalow that would pay the "batell" bills for two sessions. This would look after tuition, board and lodging for five months each year for two years. I met a friend (Auntie Kay) at my local church in Chiswick, London who had a job at the Labor Exchange. She promised to do her best to keep me gainfully employed throughout the seven months of each year when I was out of school. Perhaps I should explain. The Oxford University terms were a brief eight weeks each. The vacation periods were deliberately designed to be long. Each student was expected to research his subject independently, starting with the tutorial reading lists during the breaks. For me, this was a luxury. I determined to do most of my reading during the term and yet participate in sports and social activities to the full. This meant working almost through twenty to twenty-four hours each day. It was, at best, a desperate venture. At worst, it was a foolhardy pipe dream.

How did it all go through without a major hitch? How was it that my health did not fail? How did I secure the wide variety of jobs needed to clothe, feed and house myself during the seven-month school-free periods and provide "pocket" money for term-time? From the beginning to the end, I believe it was God's providence. Not once did my expectations fail. My tutors were satisfied with my weekly work. Indeed, once I adjusted to the peculiar and profound nature of cerebration required (which took a year), I fared fairly well. I got excellent tutorial reports in my second year and my applications for grants were well supported by Dr. Hugh Sinclair, the Senior Medical Tutor/Fellow.

Nevertheless, it was not all plain sailing. At the end of the second session, two things happened - one gave me great pleasure but the second almost ended my life prematurely. The college gave me the George Broadbent prize in June 1959. It was on the recommendation of my tutors and it was to reward proficiency. Two weeks later, the results of our first University-based medical examinations showed that I had a reference in Anatomy. It was a very rare event for a Magdalen student to fail any University examination. The tutorial system at Magdalen was of a very high standard and was individualized. In addition, I had just won a College prize. Finally, I was living in a part of those rooms in Cloisters formerly occupied by the Duke of Windsor when he was Prince of Wales. I felt that to bring disgrace on the College, after receiving such privileges merited the loss of those distinctions. I felt so bad that I resolved to end my miserable life by drowning in the Cherwell (part of the River Isis flowing past Magdalen). I ran into Dr. Sinclair whilst I was looking so glum. He invited me to his room. His carefully chosen stories worked good psychotherapy. He told me of others who failed at my stage and became great men. Some Nobel Prize winners were in his catalogue of failures who later became great. I was comforted, but was left with a problem.

I had hoped to earn a grant to pay for my course by dint of hard work. The loan from mortgaging my mother's house was finished. I was at a loss to see how I would continue. It seemed that providence was waiting just round the corner. A Mr. Barker, employed as Education Attaché at the Nigeria Office in London visited his son at Baliol College. He called on him early in the morning while his son was on the river rowing. He decided to fill the time with some useful activity. He had read flattering accounts of me in my tutor's recommendations for a grant. He wondered how an "undistinguished" black got into Magdalen. (My father was not one of the Nigerian "big names. ") As he knocked on my door, I was "whooping" over the Broadbent prize letter. "They must have made a mistake" I said, aloud. "How can you give a "wog" like me a college prize. " Quietly, he said "I am Barker from the Nigerian Office in London. Can I have a look?" I gave the letter to him still mumbling to myself. "Your getting into Magdalen was like a camel getting through a needle's eye. And this is something else. Can I borrow this letter?" He did, and that was how, eight months and several letter battles later, the Nigerian Government gave me, first a loan scholarship and in 1961 a full scholarship. That solved my financial problems. Before the money arrived, I was literally starving, since I could not do factory work with my backlog of academic requirements. In that situation, I discovered a "friend for all seasons. " Unknown to me, Jim (who came up to Magdalen with me to read medicine) had noticed my plight. In a moving, tearful scenario of real human drama, he came forward to offer help. "You fool, do you wish to kill yourself?" and he stuffed a five pound note into my pocket. (James Whittell O. B. E. is now the representative of the British Council in Nigeria. ) Without a doubt, God was good to me. My tutor recommended that I should do the third year for an honors degree in Animal Physiology. I took an Oxford Second in June 1960. With Physiology in the bag and Biochemistry (my ancillary subject) behind me, I passed the reference in December 1960.

Although a serious illness of a psychiatric nature (chronic) manifested in a member of my family causing mental trauma to me, and I recorded a number of failures at the Oxford Medical School, my distinctions were not restricted to negative things. Providence came into the picture again and again. I had married in April 1960, after obtaining the grant. Our first child came in June 1961, and I was washing diapers on a certain mid-morning. "Good morning" said an elderly lady. I answered politely. She needed a pair of garden scissors as she was in charge of Cardinal Newman's gardens nearby. However, as we chatted, I discovered that she was also the Director of Research at the Nuffield Orthopedic Centre in Oxford. I told her I was interested in research and was invited to look round her laboratory. During my three weeks' vacation from the Oxford Clinical School, the work I did on Devonian Fossilized Fish earned me my first publication in Nature (Science Journal) in January 1963. I had a place at St. Mary's, Paddington, London for the clinical course. Because we could not find apartments in London in time, I got a last- minute placing at the Radcliffe Infirmary, Oxford. It was to that fortuitous event that I owed my entry into research. Secondly, because I was guinea-pig for the haematology laboratories, supplying ',sickle-cell" blood, the lecturer took an interest in me. "I would like you to take an elective with Dr. Hermann Lehmann at St. Bart's," he suggested. "Right sir," I answered. I had done a survey of haemoglobin types in Africans at Oxford for a second publication in West African Medical Journal. This elective course and my second scientific publication (before qualifying) paved the way for my postgraduate training. Thirdly, I was afraid of what my political interests (anti-colonialist stance) might do to my chances in sometimes prejudiced Oxford. I decided to attempt the Conjoint Board examinations in London. So it was that I qualified as a doctor three months before my colleagues in October 1963.

Chapter 3: Serendipity - A Tool of providence

"And everything works together for good to those who love God, who are the called according to His purpose. For those whom He had foreknown, He also fore-ordained to be conformed to the image of His Son. Romans 8:28, 29

"Hello. I would like to speak to the minister - Dr. (Moses) Majekodunmi. " Professor W. F. R. Collis was on the telephone. He was phoning from the Teaching Hospital in Lagos. When he was certain that the Minister was on the line, he was direct. "I have a young man here who was a government-sponsored medical student in England. He is presently bonded to serve off a term for that sponsorship. I would like him released to take up research at Cambridge. " It was done. The Minister had been his student in Paediatrics in Dublin University years back. This was now January 1965. Dr. Hermann Lehmann had moved from St. Bart's Hospital, London to Cambridge and had written a letter offering to train me in Biochemical Haematology at the University Department of Biochemistry. The letter had been sent to the Nigerian Minister of Health, but it did not get to him. It was the copy shown to Professor Collis which excited him, months later. He had got wind of information that I was victimized for lack of influential contacts in high places. But he was a no-nonsense man who liked my work in Paediatrics. Not only did he influence his ex-student for my benefit, but he wrote another friend in Geneva. He made useful inquiries about a World Health Organization Fellowship which would make it possible for me to train at Cambridge. The WHO forms were filled, but it seemed fruitless. In the meantime, I moved over to teach Physiology in the Medical School. Suddenly, when all hope was lost (late September), the award letter came.

It was Providence who once again filled up this interlude. At the end of January 1965, the hospital authorities felt it would enrich my experience as a Senior House Officer to change places with a colleague in the Department of Medicine. So it was that professor G. L. Monekosso became my head of Department. He had been the editor of the West Africa Medical Journal which published my second scientific paper as a clinical student. As it happened in March 1965, he sat on an interviewing panel which found two applicants for a junior post in Physiology unsuitable. I was working in the Outpatients Department one afternoon when I heard him. "Hello, Isaacs. I would like you to consider a proposition. " "What is it, sir?" I queried. "We know you have a good degree in Animal Physiology from Oxford. We would like you to start work next week on the 1st April as Junior Research Fellow in Physiology. We will regularize your appointment later by interview. " This was how I made the crossing from service posts to academics in medicine.

That's how I went to Cambridge in October 1965. To medical scientists, sitting under the lectures of Krebs, Le Gros Clark, Florey and Liddell at Oxford should be enough good fortune for one man. Dr. Lehmann's laboratory rapidly opened more avenues for good intellectual contacts. If genius could be transmitted through skin contact, I should have acquired some. Fred Sanger and Max Perutz and a host of other brilliant and Nobel-rewarded men provided formal and informal training through lectures and discussions. Indeed, I gained invaluable insights due to the innate humility of most of the great men I met at Cambridge. As a member of the Middle Common Room at Magdalene College, Cambridge, I dined at the high table twice a term. This privilege showed me the world from which C. S. Lewis had recently departed. We had to work extremely hard as Postgraduate students. There was a tradition of hard work which is basic to the Cambridge research world. When in my second year, I decided to combine abnormal haemoglobin work (for which Professor Lehmann was famous) with tissue culture work, I had to labor for a little under twenty four hours a day. This was true for most days of most weeks in my second year. The methods for defining the structure of proteins which had been invented by Sanger were still new then. The newly found haemoglobins (sent from all over the world to Professor Lehmann) which we struggled to characterize, resulted in "discoveries" for us when the work was complete. I was involved in defining human types, as well as horse, donkey and mule haemoglobins. A contemporary of mine in that laboratory broke entirely new ground when his work explained for the first time a whole group of diseases. He has been rewarded now with an appointment as Professor of Haematology in the University of Cambridge. His predecessor in that post, Professor F. G. J. Hayhoe gave me my opportunity for a breakthrough.

Professor Lehmann had asked him "Could you train Isaacs in routine haematology for his second year?" A Christian gentleman, he had agreed. In sophisticated Cambridge, I was given a whole room to myself as well as a laboratory assistant. I decided to make the best of it. The laboratory of Professor Hayhoe was famous for many things - leukaemias, cytogenetics and cytochemistry among others. I decided to investigate a pet idea of mine - to breed blood cells in the bottle with the idea of changing their genetic make-up. In particular, I was anxious to see whether sickle cells could be induced to change into normal cells. It was not as easy to get off the ground as I had thought. To start with, cells from blood forming tissues always reverted to a more primitive type in the bottle, by the techniques available then. After extensive consultation as well as trial and error, I was beginning to get somewhere. I desired to clinch this development by repeating the experiment in a more measurable way. That time, however, I could not obtain any samples of bone marrow from the accident department. I decided (for the fifth time) to have my marrow removed by a colleague as material for my experiment. I set up the experiments.

The design was simple. Two bottles, each containing my bone marrow in a suitable fluid which would supply nutrients lay side by side in an incubator. The only difference between both bottles is that whereas one had a minute amount of the male sex hormone in it, the other only had the oil in which the hormone was dissolved. I had to take samples for study every three hours, because radioactive matter was tagged on to the haemoglobin-making cells. Lo and behold, the first sample after three hours sprang a surprise. The innocent bottle (devoid of hormone) contained cells which were shaped like blades of grass (with sharp edges). I knew I was a carrier of sickle cell haemoglobin but my cells were usually the normal doughnut shape. The requirement of the system for oxygen was so heavy that the atmosphere was robbed of its supply of oxygen. Carriers of haemoglobin S would produce blade-shaped cells under these conditions. The only surprise was that it was so early. When however, I had examined the contents of the other bottle repeatedly for about an hour, I began to sing the "Magnificat and Nunc Dimitis" alternately at the top of my voice. As I cycled home, it was a wonder that I was not arrested for disturbing the peace of the sleeping population of Cambridge. It was 1:30a. m. and I continued praising God uncontrollably at the top of my voice. The particular verse of the Magnificat that struck me was (Luke 1:48b) "from henceforth all generations shall call me blessed. " Why was I so happy? Many great men of Science had worked on sickle cell disease. And now, almost casually, the solution to the terrors of this disease seemed unveiled. The details would be worked out later - whys and wherefores. But there, before my eyes a mystery was unraveled. The two bottles contained the same cells and yet a drop of hormone preserved the normal shape - the shape is responsible for the disease. Later, my supervisor, Professor Hayhoe repeated the experiments himself and got the same results and we got a prestigious publication (after dotting the "I"s) in Nature (London). This was serendipity -the term for chance discoveries - or was it the hand of providence again? Later, it was shown to be an effect on the coat of the cell (at a time when all the effects in this disease were said to be due to the haemoglobin inside) and the mechanism of action suggested. My excitement knew no bounds. I remembered Fleming's discovery of penicillin and I made comparisons. But it did not end there. I returned to Nigeria by sea, and traveled with Dr. Sofowora, also coming back from research adventures in Scotland. Just before losing my first son due to careless handling by the ship doctor of food poisoning, I shared experiences with Dr. Sofowora. That was October 1967. In 1971, this friend was involved in experiments of a totally different nature. Using extracts from plant roots used for cleaning teeth in South Western Nigeria, he (with three others) compared the germ-killing efficiency of these extracts. They noticed that the blood color was preserved with one extract, but not with the others. Dr. Sofowora did not tell the others that I had found a membrane-stabilizing effect in Cambridge. However, he asked me to use my cells and my system to test his extract. I got the same result as with the hormone in Cambridge. It was again published - another act of serendipity in the same disease. He broke down the extract and synthesized and modified the active components, and I tested them on my system. The result is that the Nigerian government is now setting up independent tests on sickle cell patients to establish whether this is a new time-tested control for the disease. This hand of providence seems relentless.

I taught again at the Lagos Medical School for thirteen months and then transferred to lbadan Medical School. After many ups and downs, I was promoted to full Professor of Haematology in October 1975. In September 1971, at the end of one of the "down" periods, I fasted and prayed for and interlude of tranquillity away from Nigeria. A German research worker in our department (Dr. Bienzle) wagered that research support was hard to come by and that I. would not be funded. But blind faith won through. The World Health Organization again funded me and I obtained a study leave from lbadan University to work in Utah, USA. Once again, I walked the wards behind one of the "kings" of World Haematology, Dr. Max Wintrobe. I got invitations to give guest lectures in many States in the USA. I spoke in New York City, Washington D. C. , North and South Carolina, Seattle, An Arbor (Michigan), Rochester (NY), Augusta (Georgia), New Orleans, Buffalo (NY), Stanford and Berkeley (San Francisco). The excitement was a little overwhelming when the great Linus Pauling sat in the front row at Stanford and asked questions. At the end of my leave period in July 1972, I was promoted in the University of lbadan to Senior Lecturer/Consultant. Indeed, I was a member of Faculty at the State University of New York at Buffalo - Research Assistant Professor of Medicine. I was a Buswell Foundation Fellow from April to July 1972 under Professor Robin Bannerman of Medical Genetics who was formerly my tutor at the Radcliffe Infirmary, Oxford, England. I was also offered a job under Professor Titus Huisman and Augusta, Georgia as Assistant Professor of Medicine and Director of Sickle Cell Anaemia Clinic. I was anxious to return home to Nigeria and I turned it down. What is important, however, is that providence had pushed that hope-starved man in rural Nigeria (1955) to this position in 1972 - seven University degrees and diplomas and an international reputation. I recognized vaguely the hand of God upon my life.

The drama did not end there. I was founding Secretary of the Sickle Cell Club of Nigeria and was elected to represent Nigeria on the International Council which governs Haematology all over the world (1975-1979). I led a Nigerian delegation of haematologists to the Euro-African Congress of Haematology in London in 1975 and became full Professor of Haematology in October 1975. I was invited to be editor of two USA-based scientific international journals - "Haemoglobin" based in Augusta, Georgia, USA and "Sickle Cell Disease" based at Howard University, Washington D. C. . It all climaxed with my election as President of the Nigeria Society of Haematology (1977-1979).

All of this almost did not happen. I had unwittingly put huge roadblocks in the way of help from providence by my attitudes. I reacted very badly to hurt. I had thought that my head of department was suppressing my progress. When I returned from my successful study leave in the USA in 1972, I became insufferably belligerent. I wrote a protest letter to the University authorities which went to excesses and was in bad taste. I received a strongly-worded letter of official severe warning from the authorities of the University. What is perhaps worse was that I put up the backs of many friends in high places who believed I was unfair to my Italian-born professor. Things looked bad for me and my future was bleak. Fortunately, that was the time I repented from backsliding and returned fully to the Lord. Incredible things happened fast, I learned to speak the language of love, even to unfriendly people. Soon, the atmosphere changed dramatically. It climaxed when the Dean, who had been pointedly unfriendly made glowing remarks about my research work at a meeting. I was not even present and colleagues streamed to my laboratory to inform me. It was not the end of the battle, but my change in attitude helped a lot. I would certainly not have triumphed in the University political battle (entailed in my climb to full professorship) had the wind driving my life not changed directions drastically.

I look back and I shake with wonderment even now. It had been unlikely, even impossible. My mother had always believed I would taste greatness and I always thought it was a pipe dream. Her dreams have not all been fully realized, even now. But who can doubt that the seeds are already in place. What God makes of the seed in the soil depends on the availability of "water and fertilizers" etc. , but it also depends on God's design, does it not?

My academic career was interrupted in September 1979. The stoppage is for an undefined period of time. I had an inner urge in 1976 to respond positively to an invitation from the University of Ife to come over to help in their efforts to build a younger medical school. It was an tremendous challenge. I had a clinical laboratory to develop from scratch in a united group of hospitals. Because of an integrated system of medical education Ife was experimenting with, I taught five out of the six sets of medical students simultaneously. I was head of a division consisting of four disciplines - Morbid Anatomy, Microbiology, Chemical Pathology and Haematology (after Professor Harrison, who retired from the Postgraduate Medical School in London). Later, this was split up into two departments and I headed only Haematology and Chemical Pathology. Besides, I was in charge of daily management of the largest hospital of the group of four. Lastly, I held a Christian fellowship every weekday after 7pm. It was all a little too much and my health broke down. I was forced to make a choice.

Chapter 4: The Beginnings of my Christian Ministry

"Who has despised the day of small things?" Zechariah 4:10

"For to God, nothing shall be impossible. " Luke 1:37

I did not plan to be a minister. Indeed, I never thought I was worthy enough to be called of God. It is true that I indulged in adolescent fancies of becoming like the "blood and thunder" missionaries of my mother's schooldays. But my long history of backsliding had put such wild thoughts out of my mind. And yet did God not say "my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways"? (Isaiah 55:8. )

After I returned to the Lord Jesus fully, I began to see the words of scripture with new eyes. Stories I had read many times before sprang to life and acquired deeper meaning. There was created in me a tremendous and new zest for living. I was not immediately made pure in thought, word and deed. Indeed, I continued to be a slave to many passions for quite a few weeks. I still masturbated often. In fact, I failed badly in that there was a sexual debauch with an American visitor soon after my decision. I was simply too weak to resist temptation. I indulged in tobacco and alcohol almost continuously. And yet, as the word seeped into my spirit, a supernatural strength was born in me to shake off all these enslaving instincts. Suddenly, (and it seemed dramatic), I was free.

Five months after my re-conversion, on December 12th, 1973, I had a strange encounter with the Holy Spirit. I had been to a public outreach meeting by Morris Cerullo. There I saw many fantastic happenings. One particular impressive sight was a lad of about eight with orange-stick legs (which had never walked) running across the stage. I came home very excited. I quickly got ready and I attended a prayer meeting cum Bible study at the postgraduate hall of the University (Ibadan). The same chap who had led me back to the Lord was there. He had also been to the Cerullo meeting. But his excitement seemed to me to be irrational. He was convinced that there was little more use in scientific medicine for him after that than to serve as a source of patients to heal. "Look here" I said to him "this is going too far. " "An almighty God surely has more important things to do than to look after mundane matters that modern medicine can handle. " "Besides, what a bore it would be for Him to bring minutiae like headaches, diarrhea, etc. to Him. " My mentor could not be persuaded, but I won the bout of arguments. At least, he was silenced and so was the Spirit. Or so I thought.

On getting home, I knelt by the bed. The house was quiet, for it was about midnight. I rushed through my prayers. You see, I had done my "good deed" for the day - an outreach program and a Bible study. But as I laid down, I could not sleep. Indeed, somebody (an inaudible voice) started after an interval, an interrogation within me. "Please get up and show me from the Bible where I gave instructions as to the class and magnitude of problems which would qualify to be brought to me. " I was patient at first. Later, I started to squirm inside and this turned to cold fury. "What is going on?" I said to myself. "Surely, even important human beings do not engage themselves in menial or puny activities below their dignity. Is it not entirely reasonable to suppose that God, being almighty, would wish to leave ridiculously small matters to human ingenuity?" After some time the question echoed again in my head. "OK. " I said, a little frustrated "there is no such passage. " "Thank you", the voice seemed to say. "Now show me where I indicated that I would need a recovery period after any exercise of my supernaturalness. " Again, I was stumped. My irritation knew no bounds. However, I decided to have my revenge on the voice. "Look here," I said inside, "I suffer from hypertension, duodenal ulcer, asthmatic bronchitis, chronic sinusitis and enhanced susceptibility to malaria. I have drugs for all of these, I will no longer take these drugs. If a man cannot reasonably hope to be logical about simple things, you God will have to heal me or I'll not believe that it makes sense. " There was no a priori reason why God should have taken any notice of me. The incredible thing was that He did. That was the last of those pestilence's.

I began to gain confidence in my ability to reach out to God. I experimented with the children. There were seven of them at home and few days passed by without some minor disability showing up. I prayed for them and usually, that was the end of the matter. However, Satan did not wait long before he threw his first challenge. On the last day of 1973, I went to a social gathering which consisted largely of academics and their spouses, letting their "hair down. " Although I successfully avoided alcohol and tobacco, I indulged in hot, spicy "pepper-soup. " Whether it was the highly spicy concoction which irritated my system or that the goat entrails (the other major component) were insufficiently cooked, I would not know. I hardly reached home before the flood-gates burst open. I had been to church to usher the new year in, and I was feeling reasonably holy. I decided to pray rather than swallow some medication. But I was being drained of all the fluids in my body after visiting the little room ten times or more. And then doubt played on my mind. I was the Consultant doctor on duty for my department at the hospital on the next day, which was a public holiday. A treacherous inner voice said "what if the diarrhea embarrasses you on the ward round, where would you be with your show of faith?" As this thought lingered un-resisted, it was not more than a few minutes before the frequency of the toilet visits increased dramatically. Another, a quieter voice, said "why did you doubt, 0 man of little faith?" I apologized and the change was immediate. It was like the turning off of a water tap. The new year saw a total change in my life style. I became much more involved in fellowship meetings. The curious aspect of it was that I was usually the only one from my age bracket at those meetings. The vast majority were ten to twenty years younger. It seemed that the temperature of their spiritual life was considerably higher than that of my generation. Soon, I was joining them for love feasts, all-night prayer meetings and the like. On the second weekend in February, they scheduled a weekend prayer retreat with continuous fasting. I volunteered as one of the candidates for "baptism of the Holy Spirit". My big need came from my depression at the end of every day's working session. There I was, returning home daily to my miracle-working God. But I usually left at the hospital some patients with cancer of the blood-forming system and similar ghastly problems. What was the use of my getting all that help if I could not pass any of it on to those helpless patients? Could there be a way of becoming so full that the power of God would literally ooze out of me? I had read some books. In fact, I had made up my mind that all I wanted from God was the gift to heal. I certainly wanted nothing to do with "tongues". Loonies in the psychiatric ward sometimes had "tongues" and I did not wish to be confused with them. I did not know enough about the other gifts to hanker after them.

The fast was drawing to a close and there was a solemn assembly. Finally, a team of student ministers (led by a brother called Abraham who got a first class honors in mathematics at the end of that session) started to pray. After they had all prayed together in "tongues" for a while, Brother Abraham rounded off the prayers and they all went round laying their hands on our heads. When a brother laid his hand on me, I shivered a little. I was not sure what caused the shiver - like a mild electric shock. I did not speak any strange tongues, but I felt something had probably happened to me. Nothing of great significance happened for the next six weeks. I returned from a scientific meeting down at Lagos, the capital, to receive shocking news. My young friend and colleague, Dr. Joe Smith, a senior lecturer/consultant in Histopathology at our University (Ibadan) had been struck down with a cancer (Hodgkin's disease). The dramatic feature of the problem was that he made the diagnosis himself and within days, it had spread to some vital 'organs. In fact, he was given but a few weeks to live, as he was in seemingly intractable pain all the time. For two days, I was too cowardly and overwhelmed to visit him. From Friday to Sunday morning, I avoided his part of the hospital. Early on Sunday morning, as I was rising up from prayer an inner voice spoke to me, "Go to the hospital ward - to see Boy Joe (his pet-name). I have a message for him. If he will trust me enough to ask anything of me, I will grant his request. " I hoped I was imagining things. I struggled through the early morning Holy Communion Service. In vain, I tried to drown that which intermittently repeated the message with loud singing. After the service, it was clear I would have no rest until I obeyed. I drove the five miles to the Teaching Hospital, vaguely threatening the voice "You'll see, his room will be full of visitors. " Indeed, there were two - a famous cricketer cum Virologist and another - "I was right", I said inside, and I sat down. A few minutes later, I murmured "I had something to say to you privately, but it can wait. " The others overheard and promptly got up. "We've been here for hours" and they left.

I cleared my throat loudly. "Em, Hem" I said. "I am not usually in the habit of talking rubbish, but it's like this. " I blurted out the message. There was silence. I thought "Boy Joe" was about to descend on me; that in his agony, he would irritably demand that I stopped disseminating false hopes. You see, he was a brilliant scientist and a professing atheist. After a lapse of about two minutes, he spoke. "In my agony, I had been trying to get back to God. You may not have known that my late father was a pastor. It was my visit to Jerusalem - seeing Muslims, Jews and Christians squabbling against each other - which turned me against religion. But now I want comfort. I find that each time I go into the Bible, I come away feeling that I have only got a fraction of what is there. " I was so relieved. It was easy to meet that need he had. I was able to show him that the Holy Spirit had to give revelation knowledge for spiritual food to be adequately digested.

Because I was so new to the business of healing, I invited one of my student mentors to visit Boy Joe with me. Brother Okey - now an established nephrologist and TV minister in Lagos - was confident. We, however, picked a bad time. Boy Joe's nerves were on edge because of excruciating pain. I explained that we wished to book an appointment with him to minister healing. "If you think you can do anything, the time is now" he hissed between clenched teeth. I was petrified but my mentor was unmoved. After praying silently, he brought out a Bible from his pocket and read a short passage. We both laid hands on Boy Joe and he prayed. "I believe God would have me say to you that He has touched you. In three days, you will rise up from this bed. " Brother Okey prophesied and left. I was very disturbed. It was easy for him. After all, he was only a student. I, the colleague and friend of Boy Joe, am a Consultant Oncologist! What would professional colleagues say when news got round that I had brought a student to give false hopes to a dying patient? Besides, we still had three days to go.

I visited him the following day. If anything, the pain in his back had become worse. Boy Joe was not unbelieving however. He was merely curious. I explained that whilst a miracle is in process, to look back could be disastrous. I cited the case of Lot's wife and some personal experiences. When three days were almost fully up, on the morning of the D-day, Boy Joe's cousin, an important medical officer from Lagos came down to see him. I took him there, as it was not regular visiting time. Boy Joe was asleep - the sleep of a child. My inside was churning with excitement. I rushed back from lunch break and pulled the door open. He was swinging his legs by the side of the bed, and his mouth opened to give a full smile. I moved and in a moment, he was up and in my arms. I was overwhelmed and I had to tell everybody. I jumped into the hospital corridor and saw a trainee medical technologist. I gripped his shoulders and shook him, shouting "I have just met Jesus. " He must have thought a screw had worked loose in my brain.

Boy Joe had other cessation of his problem (technically, oncologists call them remissions). As a result, he was able to teach, research, write scientific papers and win souls to Christ for two and a half years. Why did he still die at a tender age? I do not know. He said he was not given the faith to claim a cure; he only prayed to aid the medical treatment extraordinarily and receive remissions. I learnt one very important lesson from caring for him - that faith is a gift from God. In addition, I overcame my resistance to "tongues" (the Holy Spirit charisma) while looking after Boy Joe. After that initial exciting remission, he relapsed perhaps once every other month. (It got more frequent towards the end. ) Since his laboratory was next to mine in the Teaching Hospital and his house was close to ours on the University campus, I was almost always the first to know of the problem. On one of those occasions, I rebuked the disease and the pain only to suffer from pain all over in my own body. I struggled with it in prayer without any improvement. The same student friend who had led me back to Christ (Ibeneme - now a famous minister and a gynaecologist) had argued me out of my reservations on the subject somewhat earlier. Now, as I wrestled in prayer, I found myself repeating "WAKIL AH. " Within seconds, the pain oozed away. In this way, I was converted to speaking in "tongues. " I did not believe I was speaking anything but gibberish for about two years. On a trip to Japan in 1976, I sat behind a plump lady with oriental features. I could not help overhearing a loud conversation from the seat in front. "Excuse me, Madam", I said. "I am sorry to appear rude, but your language appears vaguely familiar. " I repeated "WAKIL AH" and asked her if it meant anything to her. To my utter amazement, she replied that I was shouting "Deliverer" with "Ah" as an exclamation in the URDU tongue. My eyes were moist. "Why, O Lord, do you care whether this one poor soul believes or not?" I said in prayer. Since then, I have felt free to speak what the Holy Spirit dictates, with no holds barred.

The message to Boy Joe was the first sign that the Lord had need of my services. In July 1974, Yety Opakunle (now Mrs. Utah) came to my laboratory for the second year running for a vacation job. Her bosom friend (Bomi Odutola) had died the previous year before my re-conversion, from very severe sickle cell disease. Since she was a greatly loved niece, Yety took her place in my heart as a daughter. One afternoon after her duties were finished, she shyly asked whether I could pray with her for the baptism of the Holy Spirit. I did not know how to receive this. I myself was such a greenhorn as far as deeply spiritual things were concerned. I prayed a simple prayer. It did not sound weighty or spiritual. Just as I did not speak in tongues at first, she did not either. It was therefore difficult to know what to believe. However, six weeks later, when I returned from much travelling, I developed a throbbing cellulitis on my left arm. After praying, I got only temporary relief. "Call her and ask her to pray for you" the inner voice said. "She is only a little girl" I retorted. "Well, if you would rather stay in pain, it is well, but she is the vessel for your healing. " That settled it. "Don't hurry away after closing, please there is a kindness you can do for me" I said to her. She was a little reluctant at first, but she was given courage as I knelt down. She put her hand on my head and gave a short history of some miracles of healing which the Lord had granted her since her baptism. As soon as she rebuked the illness, I was instantly and permanently relieved of all pains. Within minutes, a part of the swelling burst, oozing pus. Because of her shyness, this was the only way I could confirm that the Holy Spirit had filled her with power.

All this created a restlessness within me. I wanted to serve God in a more direct way. He was like an intoxicating liquor in my system. I was charged up. I thought the only thing I might qualify for was to work as a doctor in a missionary organization. I sought employment with the Roman Catholic Hospital (Sacred Heart) in Abeokuta. There was no vacancy. Dr. Modeski (a much loved German) sent me on to St. Brennan's Hospital in Bacita, near Jebba. I was stung by a snake in the dark veranda, but I claimed the promise of Mark 16:18 and was overjoyed the next morning to discover there was no swelling.

Again, there was no vacancy. I went through Jos to Garkida in North Eastern Nigeria with the Church of the Brethren Mission. That journey was my first big lesson in trusting God for my needs. The Lord allowed the devil (through various incidents) to maneuver me out of my last kobo coin before I saw the CBM representative. I was stranded at 12:55 a. m. in Jos. I attempted to register into a hotel and was writing a cheque for advance payment, when the receptionist got irate and threw me out. (They did not accept cheques. ) As I stood there, not knowing anybody, on a dark night, I said "Lord, what can I do now?" I had hardly finished when a man from the third house came, took me over and paid my hotel bill. For me, he was the messenger of God. But again, CBM had no vacancies.

And then I was forty. Time had moved on. Because God had been so good in restoring all that locusts, cankerworms, and palmerworms from Satan had eaten for twenty-one years, I had a big garden party. Five hundred guests were present. A close relation (unbeliever) in my house had cursed the occasion and asked for thunderstorms. Indeed, thunderstorms came early in the day, but an extraordinarily hot sun emerged and licked up every drop of moisture on the lawn and chairs. It was a glorious party. Ibeneme preached and I gave my testimony. Many souls were won to the Lord and the name of the Lord was magnified. (1 Cor. 4:20 says "the kingdom of God is not in word but in power" Six weeks earlier a worldly party that would not have brought honor to the Lord was scheduled in the house. We said in the name of the Lord that it could not be. As people gathered, a violent storm descended and scattered the crowd. )

A little later, in October, I was involved with testing sickle cell disease children with Fogger extract in a controlled clinical trial. An old illiterate woman came in with a little boy of four. "Thank you for curing this boy from painful spells" she said. I explained that it was only a control and that it was the product of scientific research. However, she stood her ground "If you can remove the pain, you can also make the boy walk. " The boy's right thigh and leg were wasted and he could not walk. In vain, I tried to convince her that I was no magician. "We do not have money, or I would have offered you" she said. It was this insinuation that I needed financial encouragement to do my trick which galvanized me into action. "Please come away from the corridor", I said, as I shut the door to stop the embarrassment. "The truth is that I can do nothing for your grandson's polio. However, I have seen my friend Jesus deal with such problems when other people have prayed. You hold on to the right thigh of the boy and I will put my hand on his head. Tell Jesus to repair the leg and I will pray along with you. " I gave the instructions hurriedly because I wanted to get rid of her. When we had prayed, both of us supported the boy, as he staggered a little. "Take him home and as you exercise him, he will improve. " To my mind what I was talking was rubbish, but they believed me and left. Two weeks later, there was a greeting from the open door to my room. "Yes, good afternoon. " I replied, burying my head in my work. The greeting was repeated. I was irritated because I was busy. "Can I help you?" I asked, rather unfriendly. "Don't you recognize us?" she asked, pushing a little boy towards me - the boy ran towards me. "No, I don't. I am sorry; I see a lot of people all the time. Madam, I already explained that I am busy. " "Don't you remember praying for a crippled little boy two weeks ago? This is the boy. " I started to cry. It was too wonderful for words. That was the first spectacular physical miracle I had seen at close range. I almost could not believe it. When did Jesus comet in? My laboratory is an untidy place, not suitable for such things. How did He do it, in spite of my unbelief.

That was the beginning. Two months later, in December, the grandmother of a sicker patient of mine was brought in. I had referred the old lady (almost 60 years old) to a Consultant Ophthalmologist. Now, they were reporting back that the problem was brought too late. She was already blind. She was in despair, as she only lived to look after her grandson. Because of the healed cripple, I offered to pray. But she was a fanatic Muslim and she rejected the idea outright. However two weeks later, she was back in her desperation. After stalling for time to make sure she had faith, I called her in and prayed a simple prayer. There was a slight difference after the prayer, compared with the status quo. I dismissed her. In the meantime, there was a mighty crusade by a renowned American evangelist, T. L. Osborne in Benin City. Mr. Osborne gave us a lot of books and tools for evangelism and the distributor, Rev. S. G. Elton suggested that I should be the curator. Within a week, I became Coordinator of the evangelistic thrust in Ibadan, centered around students in the Teaching Hospital and the University of Ibadan. As a result, there were always a lot of people hanging around in my room. The old lady returned. There were altogether seven visitors in my room, excluding Christian brethren. I was so afraid to ask about her sight. Indeed, I complained to one of my student mentors. "Why does this woman not leave me alone. I have done all I can for her. "

This was in the corridor, and on my way back into the room, the Holy Spirit charged me with cowardice. "What will you lose by inquiring after her health?" the inner voice said. "But there are so many people" I countered. In any case, the Spirit prevailed. In a very small voice, I asked "What about your sight?" "I can see now" she replied. And I burst into tears again. All the seven visitors present which included four Muslims, gave their lives to the Lord Jesus right there.

Late that December, I had an encounter with the Lord Jesus. I was on my knees, with my arms spread on the bed praying. There was an appearance before me of brilliant light caused by a blazing human form. I was too terrified to pick the details. He motioned to me and I bent down, petrified. As He was bringing the shining sword in His right hand down on my left shoulder, I remember protesting that I was very unworthy. "Arise, for you are now my knight. " I could not even rise for so great was my prostration. The vision had faded, but it was all repeated about a month later. Such then was my "ordination" into the ministry of the Lord Jesus.

The beginning of 1975 saw another development. After an evangelistic outreach in a village secondary school, a girl of twenty was brought by her brother, a committed Christian, to my office. She had intractable epilepsy. Three brethren, including her brother were encouraging her to repent whilst I was on my table, writing. "I have no sins in my life" she said. At that instant, an inner voice said to me. "Get up and challenge that statement. " "But I know nothing about this girl" I retorted. "Arise and go towards her. When you open your mouth to speak, I will instruct you. " That was my guidance. I obeyed. Because of the three brethren present, I whispered in her ear. "You are involved in regular fornication. A gentleman drives to your school once a month and takes you out of boarding school for a weekend of sin. " She broke into profuse sweating. The brethren thought it discreet to leave the room. She confessed, but explained that it was with her boyfriend. I brought her to understand that it was an extramarital and immoral situation and she repented. She was instantly healed.

As a result of these three healings, people gathered in my room almost daily. Brother Okey brought a message from the Lord that I was required to disciple these people. I felt most inadequate. Nevertheless, with the help of my young friends, a daily Bible reading fellowship with counseling started in my room after working hours. I was desperately worried about teaching wrong doctrine, but the Lord was there to guide me. Each experience forced me to search the scriptures and wrestle with the Lord in prayer. And the Lord faithfully supplied all my spiritual needs, according to His riches in Christ Jesus.

Chapter 5: Side by Side

"Paul went to see them and stayed and worked with them because he earned his living by making tents, just as they did. " Acts 18:3

"You yourselves know that I have worked with these hands of mine to provide everything that my companions and I have needed. " Acts 20:34

"Or are Bamabas and I the only ones who have to work for our living?" 1 Cor. 9:6

I worked as a Consultant Physician in the area of diseases of the blood and blood-forming organs. Every evening on weekdays, I also consulted and counseled at fellowship, using the blood of Jesus to wash sins away. Thus I treated disease and I invited Jesus to heal. The crusades in schools and villages (also at weddings and birthdays) went on in collaboration with the brethren. The Lord Jesus wrought many miracles at those meetings. The tools given us by the T. L Osbome Foundation proved very useful.

A new movement was born in 1974 ending as a result of these activities. A Christian postgraduate student, Mr. Ososanya suggested that graduates of post secondary institutions should formally organize a Christian fellowship. I was invited to be the founding chairman. This little project blossomed. We organized ministrations to orphanages, homes for the handicapped and for juvenile delinquents, the prison, etc. We all contributed time, talent and money, but what we gained in experience was incalculable. One of my main interests was the weekly visit to Agodi prison. As we gathered the interested inmates together for fellowship, many yielded their lives to Jesus and were discipled after discharge. On one occasion as we gathered in the open, there were dark clouds, hanging low. I did not wish to disband the gathering and I started praying. The Spirit ministered to me that I should wave one hand to shift the heavy clouds. I obeyed and the clouds started to move. Nevertheless, the group of about thirty was still anxious to escape a tropical downpour. Whilst discussing the issue we negotiated for a hall and drifted slowly towards it. As I came up behind, I observed that the pulling in of my hind leg opened the tap in the heavens. I publicly acknowledged it as a miracle and prayed that God should give a confirmatory sign to the people. As we said grace and sang a final chorus, it was as if a hand again dramatically turned off the tap. We walked leisurely out greeting friends over about 50 yards through the gate to our car outside. Hardly had we started the car when down came the heavy, bucketing rain again.

The goodness of the Lord continued in our prison ministry. We undertook to rehabilitate ex-convicts and find them jobs on discharge if they would level with us and talk freely about their lives of crime. The scheme worked smoothly for quite a few. There was the case of Brother Banji who told his wife and us that he was in the army. The wife in fact believed that he had only been in prison for a short term of a few months for wrangling. Instead, he had been a gaol-bird even before they met and got married. The day came when he had a showdown with the Lord Jesus. The Holy Spirit had charged me during my early morning prayer of careless handling of this friend. Being put on the alert, I was prayerful. As he confessed to having been imprisoned several times, the Spirit said I should challenge him. "I am sorry, I don't know what to say", I answered back. "Open your mouth and I will dictate the words" the Spirit guided. And so I lunged forth. "Banji, you have to level with me" I said. "Three years ago, you were fighting a tall, very dark man in Nassarawa area of Kaduna, Northern Nigeria. A fat, short, light-colored Hausa man was watching. The man was getting the upper hand and you suggested the fight should shift to a blind alley where there would be no interruptions. Unknown to your opponent, you got a flick-knife.

As soon as fighting resumed, you stabbed him through the heart and ran to lbadan in the South. There were no witnesses, or so you thought. God saw it all and demands that you repent. " Banji denied without a flicker of movement on his face. But he was sweating. His acting was so good that I was almost deceived. I checked back in prayer. "If you let him go," the Spirit said, "I shall demand his blood at your hands. " That was enough for me. I moved back my chair. "This is not regular fellowship time and I have spent enough time with you" I said. "I must go and so must you. But if you leave with this lie on your lips, you are a dead man. " I read the first few verses of Acts 5 (Ananias and Sapphira) and moved as though to leave. He grabbed my coat. He not only confessed to that murder but to a second one the Lord had not revealed. The name of the Lord acquired a new stature in the prison ministry.

Meanwhile, I was anxious not to teach wrong doctrines. I spoke to the Registrar of the Anglican Seminary in lbadan, Rev. Job (an Englishman). He enrolled me as a part-time student. Although I did not initially plan towards Anglican ordination, my pastor (now Professor Omoyajowo) in conjunction with Rev. Job made out the application to the Bishop. The Bishop, after questioning, gave me a list of reading materials and apprenticed me to Rev. (now Bishop) Ogundana at St. Paul's, Yemetu. Many wonderful things happened in addition to the sound training I received. One was that my fluency in preaching in Yoruba increased tremendously. The second was that I worked with the Evangelism group of the church to start a charity clinic. We were asked to meet on Tuesdays in the School-Room. However, on the first occasion, the school was not ready and we gathered in the Church Hall. I arrived with my oldest daughter, Toyin (now a doctor) and Sister Funmi (now a University Lecturer in Economics). We were following the pattern I had learnt in Lagos whilst doing charity clinics with the late Dr. G. Ademola at my parents' church, Holy Trinity. Clinically ill patients would be seen one by one by me. Where free samples of drugs were available they would be given out. Otherwise, the patients were given prescriptions to buy their drugs at the pharmacists' shop. I had struggled through the patients and was tired, having come straight from hospital. After working all day, I was, anxious to go home. But then, there was a collection of cripples and other handicapped people. The group of evangelists who went out to announce the news of the clinic had not understood correctly. I told them off, rather irritably. "We can't let you go without some prayers", I said to the group of about fifteen. "Have the deaf and dumb to sit in front" - there were a few of them - "and the others in the second row, please. " I said a quick prayer. "Let's sing "hallelujah" twice and we’ll call it a day" I said. Half-way through the singing I noticed one of the boys, aged about twelve and sitting in front singing. "Stop" I said. "How is it that you never obey instructions. Who put this boy here in front?" I asked belligerently. "I did, sir". "But he is singing. " Then the penny dropped! I started to cry. It was too wonderful for words.

I enjoyed my visits to the Seminary Classes. I gained some insight into the professional aspects of ministry both at the Seminary and the place of my apprenticeship. Many great things happened that year (1975-6) which the Lord used to confirm my call. I will mention only two. The first had to do with an absolutely incredible healing. I set out on my ward round at 9:30am. accompanied by my medical Registrar. This was a young woman who gave her life to Jesus when she heard the testimony of the blind woman healed in my laboratory. We went first to the Children's Emergency Ward of the Teaching Hospital. "Good morning sir" said the intern, a professing atheist. "We have a case for you. This boy of about eleven-and-a-half had been ill for a week prior to admission. He had signs of meningitis and was treated in a private hospital with antibiotics. Investigations on admission, however, showed that the causative organism was a virus and the infection has spread to the brain, saving only the brain stem. He cannot feel, talk, see or hear. Indeed, he is dead to the world apart from feeble breathing and heart sounds", he concluded. "Why have you invited me, I am not a neurologist" I queried. "I've been asked to discharge him sir, but I was told that you pray for hopeless cases" he replied. All eyes swiveled round and centered on me. Apart from crusades, I had kept my praying activities confined either to my office or to the church. I was diffident but I was determined not to put my Lord to shame. "Where is he? He's a Christian, of course?" I asked. The parents of the boy answered in the negative. "We are Muslims but we do not object to being prayed for. " "It's a little more than that", I said. "I am not the healer. The healer is Jesus and there are three conditions you must satisfy. " I then explained that since Jesus cannot be seen, the parents who will stand proxy had to believe Matthew 18:20 - if two or three gather in His name, He is present. In addition, his recorded miracles took place 2,000 years ago. However, they would have relevance if they believed Hebrews 13:8 - Jesus the same, yesterday, today and forever. Finally, His miracles were done in Palestine, but they are relevant here because of Matthew 28:20 - He promised to be with us. I asked them to consider these conditions and to come to my office two and a half hours from then if they agreed. Frankly, I hoped they would not. I had never prayed for anybody like this before. I waited and after three hours, I breathed a sigh of relief. I was just preparing to go for the lunch break, when shuffling sounds in the corridor announced their arrival. "Come in" I said in answer to the knock. The father and mother staggered in carrying the boy who was rigid like a board. "Are you sure you agree with the conditions?"

I asked. "You can deceive me, but you cannot deceive the man who is the healer. " "We are sure" they replied. I read a passage from Mark 5, about the woman with the issue of blood and the raising of Jairus' daughter. "The same Jesus is here, if you believe" I said. My friend Ibeneme was present. I anointed the child and prayed, with both of us laying hands on the boy. Before I could stop myself, I was prophesying. "The child will sleep normally tonight. In two and half days, he will sit up, eat and talk. A few days later, he will be discharged. " Soon they were gone and the reaction set in. "What had I done? Had I ruined my career? What if nothing happened? A Consultant raises the hopes of a patient, without any rational indication. " I need not have worried. For whatever He says, He is able to perform. The following day, after watching the boy sleep, both parents came, knelt down and gave their lives to Jesus. And it all happened exactly as the Lord had said it would.

Many more incredible things happened during this phase. Like John, the great and beloved Apostle (John 20:30,31 and 21:25) I could truly say that Jesus did so many miracles that it would be impossible to record all of them. There was a killing cancer with several off-shoots even in the brain of a young woman (medical specialists call it MTD). A famous unbeliever friend of mine was the professor in charge of the case. He had an international reputation for work on that disease. And he did all the tests - the x-rays were so clear. The patient, a university graduate - could not write any more. When we had prayed and my God had touched her (for she was a strong believer), the professor could not believe he had the right diagnosis in the first place. The late Professor Lewis made this point very strongly again and again in his book "Miracles". If you do not wish to see miracles, you would always have an alternative explanation for extraordinary things under your nose.

Meanwhile, soul-winning continued. We went out to the Republic of Benin (Dahomey) to conduct a crusade at the University. We were nine in my Opel Record Station Wagon (most of them have their ministries now). It turned out to be an exotic experience. First, we learnt on arrival that the University had refused to grant permission for the crusade. Second, after we scampered around and got an alternative venue, miles out of town there was only my vehicle available to transport fifty to sixty students to the place. Third, after successfully achieving that feat there was the language problem. They spoke French and Yoruba. Eventually, I preached in English. Sister Maureen Akwule (now Mrs. Ogbuoji) translated into French and our host translated into Yoruba (mixed with Ewe). Fourth, at the end of it all after several souls were won to the Lord and counseling finished, we discovered the wife of our host died just before our arrival. Our host loved Jesus so much, he covered her up and was interpreter. Only after it was all over did he show sorrow and bury his dead. It was a wonderful example from those simple village people of what it means to love the Lord with the whole heart.

About the time I got a promotion to full professorship, the Lord graciously "enlarged my coasts" as a minister. A national event was the trigger God used. A stenographer/confidential secretary (unconverted) worked with me in the hospital at Ibadan. Being an ambitious man, he moved to Lagos when he got a better job. Early in the morning (8 a. m. ) of February 13th, 1976 I was summoned to the telephone for a long-distance call. "Hello, who is it?" I queried. "It's Joseph on the line. I thought you would like to know that there is trouble brewing. I now work opposite the residence of the Military Head of State and there is very severe fighting going on there at Dodan Barracks. " "Thank you, Joseph, we will pray" and I hung up. I sent a message round calling the serious Christians for a solemn assembly in my rooms at 12 noon. Because of the short notice, only about thirty people crowded into office and laboratory. But they were the committed cream of the Christian population. We had not prayed for long when a student started praying aloud in an unknown tongue. There was a pause, because he had not given a translation. Yet, it was obvious it was a message from the Lord. The meeting was in my room and that spurred me to ask the Lord for the meaning. Prior to that, I had never prophesied nor had I interpreted publicly on a national issue. The inner voice gave me a leading and I started to speak. "There is a cankerworm eating through the fabric of this nation. Most of your countrymen do not realize how corrupt the nation is. However, I have decided to do a limited operation to remove the malignancy from the body of the nation. Only a few people will die and the wound will be completely sown up within 24 to 48 hours. " The word was passed round the hospital that the Lord had spoken. It came to pass exactly as the Lord had said. Five top members of the military government including the head of state were killed. Within two days, a new government was formed with General Obasanjo replacing the Late General Murtala as Head of State. Two weeks later, a Consultant Paediatrician friend of mine heard the news of my promotion to professorship and committed a Freudian slip. He gave me his hand to congratulate me and he said "congratulations on your promotion to be a prophet. " Indeed, even though he did not profess Christ ordinarily, I believe he spoke the mind of God on that occasion.

Finally, the time of formal training came to an end. I had an interview with the Bishop and was required to attend a retreat for a week. For various reasons, chief of which was the criticism of my non-Anglican friends, I asked for a confirmatory sign from the Lord. I fasted daily for four days and ate nothing for the last three days. The occasion itself was colorful. The liturgical ritual was beautiful, but my mind was on higher things. I hoped I would receive a vision of Jesus. I did not. All I got was an overwhelming feeling of His presence. But the next seven days were different from any others in my life. My routine day consisted of seeing patients with various problems - talking to them and examining them. For that week, all my patients were healed without prayers during examination. Significantly, the day of my ordination coincided with the bicentennial anniversary of the independence of USA which was 4th of July, 1976. In a sense, I had also been liberated from the clutches of the world.

This time represented a watermark in my extra-parochial ministry. I was attached to a parish as a deacon under a fully-ordained minister. However, the Lord was insisting that I should accept an invitation to move from Ibadan to Ife University. Many of my Christian friends did not agree it was the Lord. And so we had to put it to the test. "If I get a letter waiving off the interview before appointment, and giving me all my "rights of office", I shall take it that it is from the Lord", I told my friends. In the end, the letter arrived and the conditions were fully met. We moved on the first week of October to Ife, but I retained my attachment as deacon of All Soul's, Bodija, lbadan till the end of that year. At Ife-Ife, I had another attachment at St. Paul's, Aiyegbaju. The more exciting responsibility however, was ministering at the All Soul's Chapel, University of Ife, under the leadership of Canon Olajide, now Bishop of Ibadan. It was exciting because I was well-known in the University and there were few restrictions in the Chapel's style of worship. In addition, it introduced me to the needy students, and my weekday fellowship at 7pm. grew tremendously. Soon, I was counseling on weekdays till very late in the night. We celebrated the Lord's supper, breaking bread on Wednesdays, and had one hour Bible study on the other days. After that came the counseling and healing sessions. There were many conversions to Christ at those meetings and many discipled. Indeed, a "life-line" was started soon afterwards, the needy phoning in for prayers in the evenings.

The year of graduate apprenticeship as deacon was soon over. My bishop insisted, quite rightly, that I take the six-paper examination for qualifying to be a priest. This was the same examination set for those who had taken a fully residential three-year course in the Seminary. I was scared, even though I had kept up with the recommended reading. Reading is different from studying. However, I need not have been unduly concerned. In the event, I discovered that the Holy Spirit was not called Helper for nothing. I had two sets of University examinations. A good friend, Rev. Dr. Kayode gave me a few tutorials to make my two to three weeks of preparation more adequate, but I dozed through each one of them. Confronted with the question papers, I said prayers in desperation. "You asked me to go on with it, Lord. You know what everyone will say: 'He has the brains, but not the interest. ' Lord, you have to dictate the answers for me to pass. Nothing else would glorify you", and words to that effect. He was more faithful than I was. Old Testament, New Testament, Church Doctrine, Worship and Pastoralia went without a hitch. Then I became cocky. The Holy Spirit gave me the answers in Church History and I started to argue. It was the only low mark I got. I topped the class of graduates and was ordained full priest on the 3rd of July, 1977.

All this while, the spate of miracles in my ministry did not diminish. There was a case with both hands and both legs paralyzed - quadriplegia. A nice girl of about twenty. The paralysis was caused by a "cancer" in the spinal cord, high up at the back of the neck. I treated this in the hospital, but realizing how hopelessly spread out it was, I witnessed to her about the healing power of Jesus. She accepted the Lord. We then had to find a way for her relatives to smuggle her out of the hospital to the Faculty Office (about five kilometers away) where I had my fellowship. It was like Peter and John in Acts chapter three all over again. After the prayer, her brothers and I helped her up and at first, she merely staggered up and down. She was fully healed and ambulant later with exercise. There was a little girl of ten with her whole body riddled with a "cancer" called Burkitt's. We gave her treatment, but as her doctor, I did not think she had a chance. The nursing sister in charge of the ward was her aunt and what a believer she was. Together, we raised this girl to the Lord. She was made every whit whole.

Popularity for a minister is a mixed blessing. There is a Centre in the head which usually controls emotions, but this goes sick and ceases to function when there is a rush to fame. I was preaching across Southern Nigeria. Every weekend I was engaged, sometimes preaching several times the same day. In addition, my duties as a doctor, teacher, University and hospital administrator were not getting any less. Finally, my body could not take any more. I went to hold a series of meetings just outside llorin (Kwara State). I had to be driven half way back in my own car by two kind Christian brothers because I collapsed whilst speaking. On December 22nd, 1977 I had symptoms of what felt like heart disease (mild coronary). The tests (done days afterwards) showed only minimal changes. I simply rested and ignored it. On the 1st of February, 1978, the morning after I presided over a dinner to end an international haematology meeting in Lagos, I woke up with the same type of pain. I cried to God. "You are perfectly at liberty to take me home any time you want, but must it be this way?" He replied, "These may be the signs of impending death, but you will not die. Not unless you rebel. I wish to transfer you. If you are my servant, I have a right to do as I wish with you. " "Yes, sit", I replied. "Father, why didn't you just say so? There is no problem. Where am I to go?" He went on. "You are to leave academic medicine completely and go to Kano. If you obey, I will double your life-span. If you don't, you will have a few more of these, and that will be the end. " I replied, "Father, you know I don't have a choice in this matter. When am I moving?" "Now", He said. But you know, once I was strong, I relaxed my resolve to obey. The vice-chancellor (a very gentle friend) discussed with me as did many other influential friends, chief of whom was the great Nobel Laureate in Literature, Prof. Soyinka. I was firm with them, but those discussions softened me. In the event, it took eighteen months for me to get to Kano. Indeed, I had three Jonah-type experiences to "persuade" me that obedience is better than sacrifice". Perhaps because I was somewhat tardy in doing as I was told, I went through many strange illnesses.

After a spell of hospitalization in Aachen, Western Germany (where I had gone for research) it was a convalescent shadow of me that finally arrived in Kano on August 15th, 1979. It was not the "done thing" to tell an Anglican Bishop that God had spoken to you. I simply got myself introduced to the Bishop of Northern Nigeria who invited me for an interview. The Board graciously offered me a place in Kaduna. That would have proven that the whole vision was false, but indeed, the letter arrived and I was appointed Vicar of St. George's, Kano. And so, once again, He spoke it and it was so.

Chapter 6: The First Seven years at Kano

"Neither count I my life dear to myself, so that I might finish my course with joy and the ministry which I have received of the Lord Jesus. " Acts 20:24

"The just shall live by faith. " Habakkuk 2:4, Romans 1:17, Galatians 3:11, Hebrews 10:38

It was late afternoon. As the train dragged to a halt, I had no idea what Kano was going to be like. Since it was a pre-visit, I was ready for surprises. A taxi cab took me to the biggest Anglican church in town. I went to the parsonage next door and after introducing myself, was shown where to leave my suitcase. I took leave of my hostess to look for the church I was to pastor. I did not see a taxi driver that seemed to recognize the name of the church. As a result, I went first to St. Louis' Girls' Grammar School. I had been praying that my twin girls would school there. Thank God, I found favor with Sister Maud Murphy, the Principal, who agreed to test them. "Thank you very much", I said in Irish Gaelic, and that made us friends. Sister Dimpna-Drury had visited from Ibadan. She had said nice things about me to Sister Maud Murphy. From St. Louis' Girls' School I found a lift to St. George's Church. I stood at the gate of the compound half-hidden by trees. "Englishness" was written all over the compound buildings, garden, general layout. From the notice-board area near the gate, I saw a cluster of people on the veranda of the church building. I walked slowly towards them. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen", I said "May I introduce myself? I am the Rev. Dr. Isaacs-Sodeye. " "How incredible", someone remarked. "How. did you know the Parish Church Council was meeting today?" he asked. "I did not, but I was sent here by God. My feet were guided", I replied.

That was the way my relationship with the church started. There was a warm reception. I made many "instant" friends. One of them was a doctor who took me out to dinner that same night. The following afternoon, he arranged a picnic tea party. Within minutes as we enjoyed tea and shared testimonies of God's goodness, two people - a man and a young woman - accepted Jesus as their Lord. When I returned the next morning to Lagos, I was very excited and happy. There was a hiatus of two and a half months.

"You are welcome" chorused some voices at the window of the train as, with my family, we finally arrived. The date was the 15th of August, 1979. Again, my new-found doctor friend was there. It was his car (with some support) that collected my bits and pieces and dropped us at the vicarage. The day was Wednesday and it was in the evening. "Frightfully nice to have you here" someone said. It was a cultivated voice in clipped English the next morning. The reception was loving. Indeed, if there was a word which characterized that parish, it was love. And so, it was not difficult to settle into St. George's. All the children (except the oldest who was at university in the south) found schools. All the fanciful fears we had entertained evaporated one by one. At my interview, I was confronted with the prospect of coming down from a NI5,000 to N2,400 per annum income. I took a step of faith and God honored it. The parish Committee sent word to the Bishop "We cannot offer him less than N7,000 a year. It would be absurd to do so. " In addition, the Diocesan Board allowed me to undertake a part-time medical job. I found one at Sudan Interior Mission Eye Hospital which supplemented my income with another N8,000 per annum. I did not lose after all. The prospects were good. There was only one cloud on the horizon. I was the first Negroid vicar of the parish and even with the English parsons of this relic of colonial times, none lasted very long.

Things did not stay calm for too long. On the first Sunday morning, I was met by a gentleman in late middle-age who introduced himself as the People's Warden. "I think you might like to merely observe proceedings this first week" he suggested. He had been a member since the late fifties and there seemed no good reason to argue with him. A few minutes later, however, it was all changed. Gathered in the church, was a crowd of about fifty children with just over twenty-five adults thrown in. "I have a long-standing policy" my people's warden was saying. "If a pastor exceeds five minutes with his sermon, I deduct a shilling from whatever I plan to give. " It was meant partly as a joke, but I did not think much of it. On my very first Sunday, it was a difficult situation for me to handle. I said a quiet prayer inside of me. When the opportunity offered itself later in the service I simply remarked "I do hope you will determine your giving on the basis of how good God has been to you and not on what the sermon contains" or words to that effect.

There were more problems. My new doctor-friend had a difficult marital situation. The Holy Spirit had given me a "word of knowledge" on the night of our first meeting and I had counseled my new friend accordingly. However, the situation deteriorated. His wife was said to be a witch and an overzealous young woman was attempting to save him from some unspecified dangers. God told me that the young woman was already compromised and I said so. I called for a meeting by the choir stalls in the church. In addition to the three principal actors, I had invited my warden. After hearing from all sides, I summed up. "His wife is not about to divorce him and you have been deceived" I said to the young woman. "In the circumstances, I think you should beat a hasty retreat. " Turning to my doctor-friend, the Holy Spirit led me to say "Now that the girl wishes to leave you, on pain of death, leave her alone. " She had been counseled by me from my days of preaching in many Universities in the south of Nigeria. The young woman kept her word and disentangled herself. Six weeks later, she was at the end of her compulsory National Service year in Kano. Before returning south, she wished to thank my doctor-friend and my family went with her as chaperon. She went into the kitchen to prepare mild refreshments with him. When they returned into the living room, he said "I am taking her south tomorrow". Just as quietly, I replied "Remember the warning from God. " In spite of all entreaties, she stayed behind to be conveyed home by my doctor-friend. As we were leaving, I took a bottle of wine from him for Holy Communion on Sunday (it was then late Saturday night). My oldest daughter queried "What had come over the young lady?" I said we had done our best and she was to mind her own business. On the short journey home in the car, the Lord said "I hope you are not planning to give my people wine from that man. " It was as though the Lord's eyes were immediately in front of the car blazing red with anger. I stopped the car before we entered the church compound and emptied the bottle of wine on the ground. I knew my friend had received a sentence of death. It was no surprise, when twenty-two hours later, on Sunday night, we received information of his death in a ghastly road accident. With the exception of a few minor scratches, the young woman escaped unhurt whilst he waited for a few agonizing hours before death. It was a very somber moment for everyone in the church.

When I was three months in the church, we planned some evangelistic outreaches. One of the "veteran" English members of the church objected on the grounds that it might displease Muslim indigenes and endanger the lives of the European members. I did not agree with him. The primary function of the church must be evangelism. I had warned them that this was my view on my exploratory visit to the church. Reluctant to back down so as not to lose face, he not only stood his ground, but went behind me and the Parish Council and wrote to the Diocesan Bishop. He informed the Bishop that my services were no longer required by the church. Moved to tears, we sought the Lord's face with fasting and prayer. The Lord graciously responded. The largely European Parish Council voted unanimously to counter the first letter from the Treasurer with another passing a vote of confidence in my management of the church. I let it be known that if the gentleman did not write to withdraw his letter and apologize to me within a week, I would report the case to God. Within two hours, he arrived at my door-step to apologize. In spite of that, the Lord continued to discipline him further for some weeks. After all the Lord had said "Touch not mine anointed, and do my prophets no harm" (Psalms 105:15). And He does not change (Malachi 3:6).

There were more challenges. The Chairman of the District Council had supported that move by a "veteran" to remove me. Early in 1980, our diocese was split into three and we got a new bishop. I was secretary of the reception committee for the inauguration of the new Kano Diocese. During the preparations, the chairman of our district council turned on me abruptly before about a dozen observers and remarked "You are merely a doctor. " I took umbrage because I was offering solicited advice based on arrangements I had observed in my original diocese of lbadan. The Lord again backed me up and our chairman was transferred elsewhere. It was in this way that the Lord established me at St. George's.

Efforts were made to keep well within the Anglican structure. For instance, the liturgy changed from the rather inflexible 1662 format to the adjustable 1928 style which allowed for extemporized prayers. The social meeting which took place on Sunday mornings was replaced with faith-based family services. The children were in church for the first quarter of an hour and later trooped out to the vicarage living room for Sunday School. They retained their mid-week children's church on Wednesdays. Regular morning and evening prayer were instituted for all weekdays. Later on, Thursday evenings became the Bible study slot and there was a mid-week Communion Service on Wednesdays. Because the family service in no distant time became the best attended meeting, one Sunday in six was set apart for teaching. One Sunday evening was for evangelism, another was for healing and a third was for Communion (healing and evangelism) every month. To better motivate the people, the monthly magazine was changed to a weekly newsletter. Good Friday (especially) was designated outreach day and members went out in Twos for personal evangelism. Each member was encouraged to subscribe to an active ministry and there were ten of them. Examples were Prisons, Evangelism, Healing/Hospital, Home Visitation, Music, Children's and Church Planting. Some of these ideas were developed during a visit to Christ Church, West Wimbledon, London for a month in the summer of 1980. There was also a free clinic which catered for the medical needs of the poor in the parish and was used for outreach to pagan villages. The result was rapid growth.

Within four years, the regular members had grown from about thirty to about three to four hundred. The degree of regeneration also changed remarkably from almost insignificant to about forty percent "born-again" Christians. One major focus was evangelism. Apart from efforts within the parish, the contacts of previous years were maintained. Journeys to different parts of the country for evangelism continued. Some of these outreaches were to educational institutions. Others were to hospitals and yet others. to churches. In addition, St. George's became a Centre for stimulating evangelistic and healing efforts in Kano during those years. The Kano Students for Christ Crusaders' Ministry (KSCC), now known as Students for Christ Crusaders Ministry (SCCM), and the Associates of the Fellowship of Christian Students (AFCS), both of whom worked among student groups were beneficiaries. The Christian Youth Corpers' Fellowship of those years also worked very closely with me. Some daring rural outreaches for evangelism resulted from these associations.

Miracles became a feature of services in Kano city particularly during the healing services on the second Sunday of each month. Afterwards, we began to see miracles at the free clinic meetings on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. Later, the visits to the hospital (Nassarawa General and Dala Orthopedic Hospitals) saw a number of these remarkable events. Perhaps the earliest of those cases at the clinic involved a young woman of about twenty-five. She had a very high blood pressure (240/160). "We can give you a prescription, but the drugs will only slowly bring your pressure down. However, if you will call on the Lord Jesus, He can save you now. " I gave her this explanation and she opted to cry to Jesus, after receiving the prescription. When she was re-checked after the healing prayer, the blood pressure had become normal at 120/80, and this was subsequently maintained.

There was great excitement in St. George's in 1981 when I received an invitation from the Church Missionary Society (CMS) in London. It is usual to receive missionaries from abroad to Nigeria. But I was invited to visit for 90 days to preach, teach and heal in England. I sent a prayer request round to many friends in Nigeria and Britain. "Please pray in particular that I may decrease and Jesus may increase in this CMS visit" (John 3:30). That prayer was answered in a very remarkable way. CMS was responsible for my expenses, However, when I decided to take my wife and youngest son, a friend paid their air fares to and fro. I was plunged into a severe emotional upheaval the night we arrived for my wife became very ill. Within a few days, she was hospitalized and stayed there for half of my visit, after which she had to return home to Kano with my son. Yet I saw Jesus do so many mighty miracles. Towards the end of the first half of my visit, with my base in Birmingham, I was subjected to severe trauma. This was most regrettable, because apart from so many wonderful outings, I had given my testimony at a city-wide crusade rally on the same platform as the late Canon David Watson. I had also been interviewed on Birmingham ITN Television by Mike Stewart on the program "Something Different. " On account of my wife's illness, I and my son were turned out by my host pastor and I took refuge in a Nigerian postgraduate student's house. With tears in my eyes, I left to keep an appointment at the Birmingham Bible Institute. Although I had warned my new hosts that it was a 45-minute outing, I was gone for five hours. After my talk, I agreed to minister to any who so desired. In front of the queue was a young lady of twenty. She was born without most of the retina in her left eye (coloboma of the retina). I tried to persuade her that a person who is not an air pilot only needed one eye. She was adamant that God had assured her that if I prayed with her, she would be healed. She was immediately completely healed. During the second half of this period, with my base in Wimbledon, I spent some weeks in Norfolk where I was interviewed on television. There were miracles at Mary Magdalen Church in Norwich where I had a healing service. There was an elderly lady whose daughter was a nursing sister. She was badly afflicted with arthritis of the backbone and as a result could not stand straight. The Lord healed her instantly. These are a few examples out of a long catalogue of the Lord's incredible mercies on that trip. Yes, I decreased, but in my ministry Jesus wonderfully increased.

The year from December 1982 to December 1983 witnessed a plethora of miracles. The trend started early one morning after an all-night prayer meeting. Before I left Ife-Ife in 1979, the Lord had warned me that two things were necessary for the fulfillment of my ministry in Kano. Just as He had graciously used me to forge unity among Christian groups in Ife University, I was to seek a forum for unity in Kano. The second need was for a strong prayer caucus. I sought to combine these two by campaigning for an inter-Denominational extended prayer meetings weekly, at my church. It thinned down after a few months to some faithful individuals who met from eight to twelve on Friday nights. However, the Lord then said our night vigil should last from midnight 'till morning. Until we obeyed, we would not see a breakthrough with the indigenes behind the walled city. On Christmas Eve, we decided to try out the new instruction. As an indication that God was pleased, He gave a sign. As we were rounding up at 6:30 a. m. , the first child of the first wedding I conducted at St. George's was brought in with a raging fever and some rashes. Taking the child in my arms (she was two years old), I noticed that the temperature went down at my touch before I could pray. Subsequently, it was noticed that the rashes disappeared within hours.

We went out after the service on Christmas Day to a village on the Kano-Zaria Road for the free clinic consultations. My medical student daughter and her fiancée, a medical doctor, her friend and our English missionary nurse were in the team. Our aim was to give free medical services and drugs as Christmas presents to the villagers. In the line was a fourteen year old boy. When he had mumbled for a while, I got irritated. The man behind him explained that he was deaf and dumb. He offered to use sign language to communicate. I treated the gastro-enteritis that was the problem by writing a prescription to be dispensed by the nurse. But the Spirit said "You are cheating him. His diarrhea and vomiting will pass away, but his deafness and dumbness will remain. " "I am sorry" I replied "But my Hausa is so poor. " "Excuses, excuses" was the retort. So I called the boy back and my interpreter communicated with him in sign language. I put his index fingers in his ears and his thumbs on his tongue. When I had prayed silently for a moment, I shouted "Ears, open in the name of Jesus" in Hausa (Mark 7:34). I then shouted "Mouth, open in the name of Jesus" because I did not know the Hausa for "Tongue, be loosened. " Nevertheless, I took his fingers off and asked him to repeat "Nagode, Allah" which is "Thank you, God" in Hausa. To the glory of Jesus, he repeated it, though imperfectly at first. He was perfectly successful at the third attempt. Within that year, there were two other similar cases.

On January 14th, 1983, one of the Nigerian nurses who helped at the Charity Clinic brought a pathetic problem to me. Her husband had badly fractured the two bones, tibia and fibula of his right leg some weeks before. The nerve running between the two bones had been cut and the end of the upper half was swollen and had developed into a tumor (neuroma). He had gone to England, but the combined work of a neurosurgeon and an orthopedic surgeon had failed because the gap resulting after removing the tumor was too wide. I asked her to bring him on the 15th of January. She said he did not believe in such things. I asked her to fast and pray and try her powers of persuasion. Eventually at 5:25 p. m. on the next day, I saw an irritated gentleman in my office. (I had kept them waiting. ) I told him some Bible stories of miracles, with stories of previous Jesus miracles in my experience. These stories stimulated faith in him and he agreed to pray with me. When we finished, I asked him "Did you ask Jesus to heal you?" He did not answer, but moved to test the leg. When he touched the foot, there was sensation, and he was able to move the toes. When he touched the knee area, there was no pain. He started to cry. His wife, who was kneeling by him, also did her own investigation and started to cry. Meanwhile, they had told me nothing but I could guess what had happened. I walked round the garden. When I returned, he had discarded his crutches. I tried to persuade him that he could support the new bony joint for a while. He merely stamped his foot on the ground and went out shouting for people to hear his testimony. The next day (Sunday) I was away preaching at the Cathedral. He insisted on giving his testimony and apparently gave the best sermon for that day.

Two and a half weeks later, a cousin of mine visited Kano with his wife and brother. He had lost his vision totally in one eye, and the other was also nearly gone from retinal detachment caused by extreme short-sightedness. They were seeking surgical help to prevent total loss of vision in the remaining eye. I explained that the surgeon who did that particular operation had left for USA. In any case, no recovery of sight was possible, as he had thought. His wife claimed she had dreamt that they would receive help in Kano. I shared with them testimonies of what God had been doing in the ministry and encouraged them to fast the following day to seek the face of the Lord. In the meantime, I said, "let us pray to prepare the grounds for tomorrow. " Early the next morning, the couple went for a walk. They returned in great excitement to report that he bought daily newspapers and that he could read with both eyes without his thick glasses They spread the news far and wide. And so people started to come for healing. There were days in 1983 when I when be too busy to even sit down from morning 'till night. Such was the favor that Jesus bestowed upon the work at that time.

That wave of popularity had three favorable consequences. One was that many invitations came not only to preach and heal, but also to teach. There were visits to llesha Diocese (July 1981), Owerri Diocese (December 1982) and Kwara Diocese (October 1984). I was even invited on an accreditation panel to review the suitability of IGBAJA ECWA Seminary for a degree course (1980). Secondly, the grapevine carried the good news to places we visited for church planting. In a village in Tudun Wada Jandutse I went to see about starting a church. I was asked why I had come without bringing drugs from the charity clinic. I explained that although I had no drugs, I came with Jesus who was better than drugs. They formed a queue of people with various complaints and they were all healed. The church was immediately founded. Thirdly, there was violent resistance to Christian preaching behind the walled city in Kano. I had however, led three "commando" raids for evangelism, disguised as indigenes. On the first of those occasions, we could have run into serious trouble had one person not recognized me as the likita (doctor) in the villages.

One further side effect was that I was thrust into the forefront of defense of the faith "for which Jesus died. " In October 1982, the Muslims burnt two churches and badly damaged six others in Kano. I was chosen as one of two spokesmen for the Christian community in Kano. We made representations on television, in newspapers and we spoke at the government tribunal. Many truths, which would not otherwise have come out were unfolded.

Problems developed which necessitated my resignation from St. George's and the Diocese of Kano in March 1984. I was very upset and indeed deeply depressed. I was fortunate that there were many meetings scheduled at the time - a great family fellowship at Kaduna, a dedication of the elders of the Christian body of students in the University at Zaria and a trip to Gambia. A WEC - World Evangelization Crusade German missionary and Bible translator approached me at the end of the Gambia campaign in May. She had a message from God that I was to resign from every job to set up "deliverance" ministries along West Africa because there was a gap which needed to be filled up. When I came back home, whilst waiting on the Lord, the Lord said He had made me a judge in Israel. I did not understand what all this meant until much later.

The grace from God, however, did not dwindle. If anything, the quieter milieu led to the development of gifts that had suffered from stunted development. A discipling ministry was developed to complement my evangelistic ministry which involved much travelling. Visitations to hospitals with prayers for miracle hearings for the sick also continued. One doctor (in 1985) traveled from near Port Harcourt in South East Nigeria to see the eye specialists because he had bled into one eye, and the eye was blind. I explained that there was nothing that doctors in Nigeria could do (the chances of getting good results in a few centers in the USA and Europe were also slim).

However, as I shared the gospel and the stories of Jesus' miracles I had witnessed, he began to see. Indeed Isaiah 65:24 was fulfilled, for whilst we were yet speaking, God had heard and whilst we were praying, He answered.

A Muslim teacher (Mailam) also brought his ten-year-old son to me in February 1986. The child had petit mal (the failing sickness of Julius Caesar) - a form of epilepsy. The boy had been sent away from school because it was frightening and embarrassing to the other children. The Mallam had to be persuaded after two weeks on anti-epilepsy drugs that only Jesus could help. However, he was still arguing as to the identity of the Holy Spirit when the boy fell from the chair to the ground. The Lord then graciously demonstrated the power in the name of Jesus by raising the boy up. The Mallam agreed to call on the name of Jesus, without whom nothing was made that was made" (John 1:3). The child was made completely whole from that day.

Finally, two incidents happened which pointed to the new role God had for me. The first happened in January 1982. I gave a talk to the Christian Graduate Fellowship in Zaria Hotel, Zaria by the swimming pool. As I waited on the Lord before the talk, he gave me four prophecies of national significance. It was interesting that the first three have been fulfilled. Firstly, that the economy was in a ghastly mess (a few months later, a national leader confirmed it). Secondly, 1983-1984 would mark the beginning of a time when essential commodities would be hard to come by. Thirdly, in July 1985, there would be a coup which would bring a Government with new ideas. Fourthly, in July 1987 the beginning of a new dispensation which will lead to more social justice and righteousness will emerge. Some even believed that the plan for transition with more powers for local governments in Nigeria published in July 1987 represents fulfillment of the fourth prophecy. The second incident took place in Kafanchan in 1986. A dynamic young man known as Emmanuel Kure organized a program in Kafanchan under the auspices of Calvary Ministries.

His plan was three-fold. He was calling for repentance from all indigenes of Southern Zaria. They were arranged as representatives of their families and local government areas. Secondly, each would crown Jesus as Lord of his local government area. Thirdly, each would ask the Lord to revenge him for the havoc that Satan had done in their area by reason of the compromise of the indigenes with witchcraft and demonism by giving them restoration. It was a laudable objective and the Lord signaled His approval by the signs that followed. A woman brought her ten-eleven year-old son who had never walked. I had "word of knowledge" that the woman was responsible for son's lameness. The woman confessed and was delivered. She joined us in the prayer for the son and over five hundred witnesses saw the boy walk for the first time in his life. The organizing committee then asked me to prophetically anoint each mature Christian participant, for guidance as to what they had been and what God wanted of them. It was a wonderful time. People testified to the accuracy of the accounts given of their past lives. This opened a new kind of prophetic ministry for me for the future.

Chapter 7: Confrontations with Death

"I am the one who raises the dead and gives them life again. Anyone who believes in me, even though he dies like anyone else, shall live again. " John 11:2 (Living Bible)

"Please, stand aside, Dr. Oomen", I said. She moved back and I stepped forward beside the inert body lying on the stretcher. It was about noon in late November 1982. We were in theatre. The air was charged, so tense was it that you could cut through it with a knife. I was operating on this man, a case of bilateral cataract extraction. He was about sixty years of age and the operation itself had been straightforward. However, there was a crisis towards the end. As I was suturing the second eye, the man started coughing, and then vomited profusely. I was a bit flustered, but I mopped up the vomitus, and put in the stitches. He was apparently all right as the porters wheeled him off to one side. As they brought in another patient and returned to him, I heard a cry of horror. I turned and noticed that my last patient had changed color to an ashen-blue superimposed on his usual chocolate. I was temporarily numbed into inactivity.

In the meantime, the shout of the two porters had roused Dr. (Mrs. ) Oomen. She was the senior surgeon in charge of theatre that day. The two clinical assistants who administered local anaesthetic to patients also looked on. Mrs. Oomen, in her Indian wrapper hidden underneath the theatre gown moved forward. She ripped off her gloves and stood over the body. Mounting a short stool for extra height, she pounded on the chest. With rhythmic motions of her hand, she gave cardiac massage. It was no use. As seconds passed (it seemed like hours), she tried many things. Nothing seemed to work.

As I stood by, I remembered another occasion like it. It was during Easter week of 1980. Two friends were visiting me on the Easter Monday holiday. Both were part-time ministers, though one was also a medical man. I left them in my living room to attend to a medical problem in the shack which was St. George's Clinic. A young couple (Brother Godwin and his wife) brought a six-month old child. He had gastroenteritis and was very severely dehydrated. Whilst examining the child, I complained that they came rather too late.

Before I could complete the examination, the child gave up. No heart beat or breath sound could be heard with the stethoscope. I fiddled with artificial respiration and cardiac message for some minutes. I was getting nowhere. In desperation, I called on the name of the Lord and rebuked the spirit of death. The child came round. I sent for my visitors to join me in prayer. When the child looked quite strong, my friend (formerly my medical student) took the child to the hospital. The aim was to re-hydrate the child and correct any imbalance in the body fluids. Something went wrong, for the father reported that they lost the child some hours later. There had been a second occasion, a more successful one. The hospital visitation ministry was making its maiden visit to Nassarawa Hospital. I went with a parishioner. We entered the pediatric ward with the Deputy Matron who introduced me to the Ward Sister. "They would like to pray with very ill patients", she said. "They have come at the right time", the Sister said pointing to a four-year old girl who was gasping. In a general ward packed with Moslem mothers and their sick children, the Angel of Death was repelled and Jesus restored life. I took the precaution of organizing the fluid replacement this time, as well as ordering the tests.

That was in March 1982. The mother was a churchgoer and the father a Moslem.

Back in the theatre from "memory lane", I wondered what to do. This was a Mission Hospital. It was not my pitch and I was not in control. I had in fact given a month's notice of my resignation from the part-time job. Death on the operating table is a nasty blot on a medical career. I felt I had to find a solution. My comfort was that I had seen Jesus do this "raising from the dead" on two occasions. I stepped forward to where Mrs. Oomen had been. Raising my voice, I spoke to Death. It had become almost tangible, a ghost towering over and frightening everyone present. "Death, stand back from the man, leave the room and go where you belong in Hades, in the name of Jesus. " Nothing appeared to move. "Lord Jesus, by your hand everything was made, put life back into this man. " The man rolled, gave a cough and opened his eyes. Relief flooded my soul. I felt like creeping into a hideout (all that spectacle), but the name of Jesus acquired new dimensions in the Kano Mission Hospital. I did not advertise what Jesus did immediately. But with passage of time, the spectators have gossiped the good news that Jesus is alive and is Lord. Indeed, one of the porters met me three years later (1985). I was again supporting the ministry in a private hospital (Asmau Memorial) which looked after NEPA (a utility corporation supplying electricity). That porter, named Bello had changed jobs and then worked for NEPA. I had attended to his needs, but failed to recognize him. Because he struggled to reacquaint himself with me, he had to recapitulate the whole story in the presence of the Matron (a Muslim). The name of Jesus was again glorified. The two clinical assistants both called John, had also recounted the story, to the glory of God, I was quickened by this experience in the inner man.

I wrestled with many problems in my understanding of these experiences. Why does God use poor vessels like me? Often, I am plagued with doubt. What turns on, like a switch, that cocksure certainty (sometimes) that Jesus is present and will perform supernaturally? Why do I sometimes "know" beyond any shadow of doubt and at other times quiver with uncertainty? In those prophetic ministrations to ministers (several times in the last thirty months), I do not doubt, though I was tremulous. One man duped and cheated recently many sound churches (including Pentecostal churches) in Kano. And yet the Holy Spirit gave me minute details of his life such that he was forced to confess and bow the knee publicly. Why do I pass through "tunnels" of time when I am ignorant of what God is doing in my life?

Continue to teach me
Gentle Lord
Set to reach me as you must
Lest your work
That painful work
Transforms not ought
Murky fears
Still hide and lurk
Still status quo.

There were more encounters with Death. On the 1st of January 1985, my friend John and his wife Felicia circumcised their son. He had been a miracle child. The gynaecologist had planned a caesarian section because it was lying across the tummy. However, I prayed with the mother and the child came out unscathed. After circumcision, there was oozing of blood from the site. The parents hoped it would stop. By the time they came to Asmau Memorial, the boy was almost literally exsanguinated. He started to gasp and the mother gave up all hope. I took the father out and we claimed the prayer of agreement (Matt. 18: 19). I went back in and asked Jesus to give life, whilst I rebuked Death. Jesus honored our prayer. On the 1st of January, 1987 we had just ended an all-night prayer meeting at 6:30 a. m. when a couple arrived. Their two-year old son had epileptic fits and gave up in the car on the way. We rebuked death and called on Jesus. The Lord honored our prayer and restored life. On the 22nd of January, 1989, I was roused from sleep at 11:20 p. m. by my neighbors across the road. Two young relations, ten and twelve respectively, had developed a mysterious illness with headache, a few hours previously. They both gave up. The man had been so vigorous with artificial respiration and cardiac massage that blood had oozed from their mouths. However, only the older one revived but was still groggy when I arrived. I called on the name of the Lord and rebuked death. The boy, Cletus, revived to the glory of Jesus.

In my medical career spanning twenty-five years, I have seen a lot of illness and a lot of deaths. In just over fourteen years of ministry, I witnessed a lot of miracles of the Lord Jesus. Clearly, not every ill person has been heated. However, listening to the Holy Spirit better has made the percentage of failures very small. Indeed, I never usually have the opportunity or the boldness to minister to those God did not plan to heal. This is all a far cry from my beginnings in medicine at Magdalen College, Oxford. My vision was confined then to living in smart society and perhaps making a lot of money. I wanted to serve in 1948, when I first met Christ intimately (my first altar call). That is why I came through thick and thin, the hand of providence being upon me, to become a doctor. Backsliding distracted me for a while, but He had always foreknown me (Romans 8:29, 30). For fifteen and a half years, I have been back and my life is poured out on the altar of sacrifice. My prayer is that I will apprehend fully that for which I was apprehended (Phil. 3:12b). And that I will always trust Him whatever He brings, for He has been a wonderful Father to me.

Epilogue

"Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name give glory, for thy mercy, and for thy truth's sake. " Psalm 115:1

"Not that we are sufficient to think anything of ourselves, but our sufficiency is of God. " 2 Cor. 3:5

C. S. Lewis used the word "miracle" to mean an interference with Nature by supernatural power. I have been describing true stories of events in which I believe one Supernatural power, the living, glorified Jesus was involved. At the start of my ministry (1974-1975) Jesus appeared to me three times - first to ordain me, second, to heal me of giant cell arthritis (or a three week continuous migraine) and third, to show me the "rapture". Why have I been so blessed? I do not know why. But I can suggest why not. It is most certainly not because I was good. Indeed, I have committed more terrible sins more frequently than many other people. It is not because I have been more industrious, popular or more trusting than others. An unkind friend once asked me - "Why are your testimonies always larger than life?" I said I was sorry to have given offence, but that I was at a loss how to behave since I do love and serve a God who is "larger than life". It is also true to say that not all sick people I have prayed for got healed.

The miracles cited in this book are a small fraction of what He (Jesus) did in my life since He called me. The book was finished in August 1989 and two more times the risen Christ has successfully "confronted" death with me as an observer. I believe in miracles of Jesus Christ today. I also believe that Mark 16:17 and 18 are true today.

I believe that faith in the sufferer (which is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen (Heb. 11:1)) contributed to the miracles. So did grace (unmerited favor - Eph. 2:8) I also believe that total surrender to Jesus Christ as Lord is a prerequisite to being used of Him. Those who are led by God's Holy Spirit (Rom. 8:14) who can say "speak, Lord, for Thy servant heareth" (1 Sam. 3: 10) will be His co-laborers (Mk. 16:20). To Him (Jesus) be glory, adoration, majesty, dominion and thanksgiving for ever.