I gisted my parents today about Yola as we drove along Ikorodu road. I talked specifically about being the leader of the church’s Drama Team. I told them how I felt like it was God’s way of giving me a heads up preparation for my theater production dreams.
I was talking and talking and next thing, I heard myself lamenting, saying, ‘It wasn’t until when I became the drama team leader that I knew that people can be different…’
‘…and difficult to manage’, my mother completed my sentence.
‘Exactly!’ I yelled.
I went ahead to tell them every relationship friction I experienced in that position. Told them stories. Told them of how I had to (waaay against my personal desire) set fines for late coming and for absenteeism. Told them how I really never knew how to yell at people, never quite knew how to be fully angry, how to control people.
I generally have a life principle that says that ‘once a fairly rational adult does something obviously silly, do not scold him, do not correct him.’
This is because I feel like people know when something is not a nice thing to do. And so, if they go ahead to do that thing, then they really desire the results they’ll end up achieving. This philosophy is bad for leadership. This is because a large part of leadership is correcting and reforming people’s behaviour (by example and by words).
Anyway, I was telling my father ‘You know drama is not like the Choir. If a choir member messes up, the choir master can simply suspend such a member from ministering for that Sunday. But not drama, everyone of my members is important to the ministration because each person has a role. And if you don’t play your role, you’re basically creating a void in the drama’.
My father smiled and said, ‘Don’t you see that God is really trying?’
‘Why? ‘I asked.
‘ Because you’ve just described human existence. We are all here to play a particular role. And God is like our director and producer. Life is a drama. He needs everyone to play their roles. Not that one person would sit back and not do anything. Or another person would start playing someone else’s role. Or someone else would go entirely off the script.’
And I thought that was an awesome revelation. I am an actress in this drama called ‘Life’. My producer (literally and theatrically) is God. I have a specific role to play. I have a script (or at least a structure that is to guide my speech in Life). Without me playing my role, there’ll be a void. I am that important. My voice must be heard in Life. And my name listed as part of those we played Life.
I must therefore keep my ears on the lips of my Producer. I must submit and respond to the rehearsals (the trials we go through in preparation for something major). I must take His corrections with joy knowing that I need them to excel in my assignment. I must listen to Him.
While I’m thinking of this, my mind goes to the few people in my drama team who sort of stressed me for only a few times. I think of how stressed I actually felt. And how much I wanted to just crawl somewhere and sleep. Then, I think again of the number of actors in this play called Life, and how many of them who don’t get their roles, or don’t even know that there’s a drama going on.
And I think like my father that, ‘God is really trying o’