You Can’t Beat God’s Giving

I didn’t get admission on time. In fact, I got admission when most of my mates were already done with school. During that period of waiting, I went to Zone 3 in Abuja to learn laptop repairs. I spent over three years there before the admission finally came, and by that time I could repair laptops and also do software installation.

During that period, I made a vow to give the first ₦500 that came into my hand every week to God.

It was going well until I got to school. Since I was self-sponsored, I didn’t call anyone for help. I relied on God for everything. I believed that I would rather talk to God than beg any man, and God would touch the hearts of men to reach out to me.

There was a period when everywhere was dry. Nobody among us staying together had anything. Garri was the food every day for two weeks straight. During that period, I feared the night, because night hunger is not something funny. Most of us can relate to what I’m talking about.

So early in the morning, I would go for lectures, and after that I would go to the library and stay there till night. There was even a time the people in the library had to tell me they were closing before I could leave.

One of those days, a student brought his laptop for repairs. After I finished, he gave me ₦1,000, telling me he would balance me the next time we met. I hadn’t seen ₦1,000 in about a week, so I was happy.

I immediately calculated it:
₦500 for God, ₦500 for me.

In fact, I was already thinking about what I would cook with that ₦500. I could cook sweet okro soup with plenty obstacles and apu. Nigeria was good then, and the naira still had value.

While I was lost in my thoughts, I heard the guy say:

“Ah! Na my last card be that. Hold ₦500, I go see you, no worry.”

Immediately my mood changed, because I knew that ₦500 wasn’t mine.

Coincidentally, that day was fellowship day. As I wanted to leave for fellowship, I dropped the money and went outside, but my spirit was troubled. I went back, carried the money, and went to fellowship.

Throughout the service I was crying. The minister that day could have thought it was his message touching me, but I was crying because of ₦500. The pain that day eh… I still feel it as I’m writing this.

When it was time for offering… see cry, abeg. Serious tears.

For someone who does outreaches and had emptied my small account before, that ₦500 pained me more than anything.

After the service, I went back to my lodge, drank garri, and slept.

To make the matter worse, I didn’t see the student that was supposed to bring the balance he owed me. I drank garri for two more days.

On the third day, one aunty in my church back home called me.

She said:
“Emmanuel, this your number, me and my friend are arguing whether it’s Etisalat.”

I was even tired that day. I replied,
“Aunty, the number is MTN ma.”

Aunty hung up.

The next thing I saw was ₦1,000 airtime.

I was happy.

As I was trying to call her to thank her, another number called me. It was a friend.

He said,
“Emma, this your school, how are you surviving?”

I answered,
“God is faithful ooo.”

Then he said,
“Please send me your account number.”

That ₦1,000 airtime was what I used to send my account number.

Some minutes later, ₦3,000 dropped.

I stood up immediately, went to the nearby market, bought food items, came home, and prepared one delicious meal that we hadn’t had in months.

My roommates came back and met food. They asked me how I managed it.

I told them:
“Na God run am.”

I have never really recovered from the sacrifice of that ₦500 till today.

And I still keep my vows till today, and it’s far more than ₦500 now.

You can’t beat God’s giving!!!