I was eight years old when my dad died. He went out with ten people barely twenty-four hours before Nigeria's civil war ended in a cease-fire, and he never returned. About two weeks later, I tried to kill myself. I got up from sleeping on the floor with my mom and brothers, and I took a rope with me out into the night. But when I got outside about 1 AM, a woman living in the same compound saw me with it and tried to stop me. I struggled with her for about two-and-a-half hours.
I was so bitter. I would fight with anybody to retaliate. I kept a broken bottle in my pocket, and I did a lot of damage. I have a machete scar on my face, and I inflicted a few. It was a very rough childhood. My last fight happened in a church a few days before Christmas 1971. Someone upset me and, holding my pocketknife in the midst of about sixty seventy kids, I told someone, "Either you kill me or I'll kill you." My uncle, after a long struggle, stopped me by calling me by my nickname. I handed him my knife and left. The pastor and the church committee called me to mediate, but I stopped going.
A few years later, I fell sick. And someone—a nurse in a doctor's office shared the gospel with me briefly and asked me to go back home and meet a Nigerian man (who now lives in Houston) who could tell me more about Jesus . That night I prayed to receive Christ.
For the first time I got up in the middle of the night to sing. I had thrown away the only Bible I had. I went back to the church I was attending in my town and apologized for my previous behavior.
I saved money and wanted to go to the USSR to go to college. But that meant a year of language school. So I wrote to my friend in Houston and he asked me to mail him my transcript. He took it to an agricultural college in Georgia and turned it in to them on my behalf. Within two months I received a letter of acceptance along with Form 1-20. So I came into the States in the spring of 1981 to start college. Later I transferred to Arkansas State University, where I earned a degree in Finance.
I wanted to go to flying school next. I left Arkansas and traveled to Daytona Beach, Florida. I applied and was accepted to the MBA program in Aviation at Embry Riddle Aeronautical University. Yet most people around me kept calling me pastor or preacher, because I enjoy telling others about Christ . I headed to Clearwater, Florida, to visit a pastor friend a few days after my graduation, and while I was there, a man I didn't know dropped by. He said to me, "You're from Nigeria? If God is calling you, I'll pay for the first year [of Bible college]." He was a stranger! (Since then I've never laid eyes on him.)
My soul was disturbed by this development. So when I finished visiting my pastor friend, I decided to stop by the Bible school. The only person I saw was the academic dean. When he met me, he said, "Someone came this morning and said ‘a Nigerian may be coming to your school.' By the way, class starts on Monday." That Sunday at 10 PM, I packed my car, gave my roommate rent for the month, and drove all night from Daytona Beach to Clearwater. That was the beginning of two years at Florida Beacon Bible College. During my final semester, I joined a mission team to Guatemala for 10 days, and it was an eye-opener to me to minister in a third-world country.
Following graduation, in 1987 I returned to Nigeria to see my mom, whom I'd not seen in years. While there, I got engaged, and was married. I taught in a Bible school, and my wife was an artist. Two years later, our first baby was due in January 1990. But when my wife went to give birth, she was in labor for thirty-six hours, and thereafter she was operated on. We discovered the baby had long since died. I buried the child that Sunday morning, and on the following Friday, I buried my late wife. And I told my mom I'd never marry again.
Some months later, I flew to Tampa. I told my host that I wanted to
go to seminary at DTS, but it was too late in the year to apply—or so I thought. A friend called the school on my behalf and helped me get all the forms faxed. And amazingly a few days later, I received a fax informing me that I'd been accepted.
So I started at DTS in fall of 1990. That winter a drunk driver hit my car and provided a false address, so the expenses, including surgery, were laid on me. Once I got through that, the following year I had peace about marrying again. I told my prayer group, and they prayed with and for me. I told the Lord, "God, I'm ready for someone to work with me. " My friends asked if my wife had to be from Nigeria, and I said, "I don't care if she's black, pink, purple, or yellow—as long as it's from God, its fine with me."
Three or four days later, I met Judy. So I called my friend from Houston and asked him to come to Dallas. Then I told Judy, "Someone is coming whom I'd like to meet with you." I picked up my friend from the downtown bus station and went to work. The two of them talked long into the night and most of the next day. Then she said she wanted to pray about it. And a few days later, she called. A few weeks after that, we met with my pastor, and we stared planning a wedding. I asked her, "Would you be willing to go back to Nigeria with me?" And she was and is. There is no one I could have married who is more fitting for me and the work we're doing. She changed her major from computer engineering to study nursing so that we can go back and be of help to our people.
When we had our first boy, Steven, I thought I would have to drop out of Greek because we didn't have childcare. But
Dr. Dan Wallace, my professor, called me and said, "You've been passing your tests. Do not drop out. Bring the boy to Greek review class." So for two months I took that baby to my Saturday Greek class. And I graduated the spring of 1995.
Two years later Judy took her board exam. We got the results a month later, and left to go to Nigeria within a week. She never worked one day in the U. S. with her nursing degree. She was four months' pregnant, and we had no idea where we would live or stay. But our hearts were in Nigeria. So we moved there and had another child. All four of us lived in one room.
Before long I was appointed the rector of a Bible college and was teaching at the Bible school and pastoring. We did that for seven years.
Eventually I felt led to a different ministry. I resigned from all my responsibilities and my wife, kids, and I started meeting and praying. We started Fellowship Bible Church and Africa Ministerial Fellowship (AMF), an organization for training and equipping hundreds of pastors through conference ministries and helping them form accountability relationships. I also started a Bible school that now has fifty-six students. We charge them $50/semester and we have to live by faith.
Today we also hold kids' clubs. Two years ago, we had only a few kids. So my wife went house to house to convince the parents to send their children. This summer a pastor friend that we met at DTS and his friend, also a DTS graduate, brought a team to help us teach hundreds of kids at VBS. The mayor of our town, Ikot-Ekpene, even came and led them in a message and singing. He said he would like to see our work with kids expand to include a multi-city effort.
Today we operate on a 32-acre lot in the town where I terrorized people with my bullying. A man who had never sold a piece of property to anyone else sold that land to me for a fraction of its value because he wanted to improve the community, and he believed in what we're doing. And I've seen God in a different dimension!
We have many more plans…vocational training, teaching girls to sew, and welding and carpentry for the men. We want a clinic. And I also have grave concerns about the lack of grounding in theology; we started a Bible school to train these pastors. These pastors need each other—they need a network and accountability. Everyone wants to be independent. I am trying to do what is not common in my area. I tell them, "If you have a problem, come tell me." I want them to talk to somebody instead of doing ministry alone. You cannot do it alone. I cannot do it alone.
Dearly Beloved, 
Stephen is 15 years old and in his final year in senior high school. He is preparing for his certificate exams called West African School certificate. This is a major comprehensive exam in Africa that covers all materials done in high School. Please keep him in your prayers. He shall be through in May next year and thereafter head on to college.
We wish you and your loved ones a merry Christmas and a happy New Year.
