FOUND IN CHRIST 

Abidemi sat under the shower, fully clad in her outfit from class. She never intended to take a shower in the first place. She simply needed the sound of the running water to drown her sobs as she wept in the bathtub.

Her entire life up until the age of fourteen was all a lie. She recently turned twenty-one, yet she couldn’t bring herself to get over the truth about her existence. She still wished she never got to know, as it affected her in many ways than she could bear. She could be having a good time right now, and the next moment, she would be looking for a bathroom to cry in.

*****

Somewhere on the other side of the country, Kikelade was at her workplace. She was the head of a bakery she built many years ago as a young graduate. For some unknown reason, she felt an unease in her spirit and was moved to pray. She didn’t have a complete picture, yet she resolved to pray as the unease in her spirit grew.

*****

Abidemi’s roommate informed her that she was heading out for a class, and not long after her roommate left, she turned off the shower. There was no need for the background noise anymore. She was now the only one on her floor, and no one would be back for at least the next hour. She knew this because she was good at observing patterns and details. She didn’t have an active social life and always preferred to be alone. For someone with a backstory like hers, people were always itching to gossip, so she tried to avoid their presence as much as she could.

Her sobs continued as her head pounded heavily. She looked at her hands. There were scars, many of them. She sometimes joked that they resembled the stripes of a tiger. Her parents knew she harmed herself but hoped their daughter had gotten better and stopped believing she deserved pain. Only if they knew how much of her pain she concealed from them. She even had scars on her scalp that no one knew about. When her hairdresser noticed them, she cooked up a lie to cover up.

*****

As the only child of two loving parents, both lecturers at her current University, she had an easy childhood. Her parents didn’t withhold love, yet she was gripped by fear on most days. She feared that she was a fraud and that something terrible would expose her. But whenever these thoughts came up, she combated them with words of affirmations she had written down from the Bible and stuck them in different parts of her room.

I’m worthy.
I’m loved by God.
I matter.
I’m a priest and a king.
I’m a child of God.
I’m beautifully and wonderfully made.
I am redeemed.
I am restored.
I am empowered to live life well.”

These affirmations helped her ward off the intrusive thoughts in her head, but all that would soon change. The day she knew the secret about her existence, she tore every sheet containing those truths.

It was a Friday and her 14th birthday. She had woken up a bit gloomy and wasn’t particularly excited as she prepared for school that morning, but she managed to shrug it off as it was her big day. Getting to class, all eyes were on her. Some kept their gaze subtle, others were practically staring at her, and she could feel the weight. She immediately knew something was off.

As she made her way to her seat, Tumininu, who she considered her best friend, walked up to her and informed her what was going on. The class had received news that Abidemi’s parents weren’t her biological parents and that she was adopted. Hearing that, her heart sank as she walked over to her seat in complete shock and confusion before breaking into uncontrollable tears.

Abidemi cried her heart out and eventually started throwing up, tears streaming down her face until nothing was left in her. Her class teacher had no choice but to call her mum to come to pick her up.

In the weeks that followed, she couldn’t help but wonder what else was a lie. She hoped this was all a dream.

She couldn’t believe the woman she had called “mum” all these years wasn’t her biological mum. Her “dad” wasn’t her birth father too. To make matters even worse, her biological father was an irresponsible man who used force to get what he wanted, resulting in her existence. Her mother was raped, and she was the outcome of that experience. After her birth, she was adopted by her current family. She wasn’t a dream child but a child of nightmares, curses and regrets.

Her time at that school was hell after this revelation. No one knew who leaked the truth, but it didn’t matter. Students, and even teachers, treated her like a plague. Unable to bear the shame that had slowly woven into her being and defined her, she changed schools. However, regardless of where she moved to, the truth always found its way around. Even at her present university, she still suffers the stigma. It was her identity. On the other side of the country, Kikelade kept praying. She didn’t have all the words, yet she prayed; the weight was quite heavy on her shoulders.

Walking to the room, water dripping from her clothes, Abidemi opened her wardrobe, picking up the tool she’d used to create some of the scars that decorated her hands. She wanted to feel pain. It made her feel like she was atoning for her existence. She felt forgiven every time she cut herself.

*****

Kikelade prayed harder, pressed deeper and as much as she tried not to call any attention, her voice went higher.

Picking up the blade and looking at the scars on her hand, Abidemi’s vision became blurry as the tears were blinding. Right there, she felt a weird sensation.

It was a realization. She didn’t need to cut herself to earn forgiveness. She was punishing herself for an identity that wasn’t hers. Jesus bore all the shame when he died and was bruised, hurt, and dealt with in her place. And with that realization, she crashed, falling on the tiled ground, tears pouring out in rapid succession. As each tear fell, it felt like the lies were being washed out, and scales fell off her eyes.

She wasn’t her father. She wasn’t his actions. She wasn’t the pain inflicted on her mum. She wasn’t the snide remarks people made. She was more than what humans had defined her to be. She was more, and all of who she was was found in Christ.

Though her biological father was wicked, she was God’s child, fully formed and crafted in his image. Imago Dei. She was worthy and worth it. She was redeemed.

At that very moment, the words she’d taped on her walls as a young girl returned to her memory. She began to affirm those words. At first, they didn’t sound as powerful, and her voice was tinged with fear and uncertainty. Then she got louder and more confident and eventually stood up. The scene looked ridiculous – a young woman drenched from head to toe, shouting affirmations in her room– but a daughter had come home. A prisoner had been set free from the lies that kept her caged.

Finally feeling a release in her spirit, Kikelade began to sing, gratitude pouring out of her. Many years ago, she was like Abidemi, unsure of her identity. She was convinced that a stranger, who she still doesn’t know and might only get to meet on the other side of eternity, prayed for her. She didn’t have the full details of what transpired, but her prayers had just impacted an entire generation, just as a stranger’s prayer had impacted hers.