We are grateful for the demonstration of love and support shown to me and my family since I began this series of posts on our late father. Actually this support has gone on for 6 years. When I began putting my thoughts on paper, I thought dad’s story needs to be shared, who knows, someone will read them and be encouraged to fulfill their calling. I realize now more than ever that I needed to be reminded of what great heritage I have in Christ and I needed to be challenged again in terms of my own walk with God. 

These posts are not in any way to brag about his deeds, truth is dad was quiet about his work and ministry. I learnt more about him in death, than when he was alive. The things I saw of him while alive, made me so in awe of him and I thought, I am a blessed son. The stories and testimonies after his was gone, made me doubt if I ever knew him and made me wish I had appreciated him even more. Sometimes, I was that critique. Now, I hate myself for that. When you see someone too often, you don’t appreciate them as well as you should. Not that I didn’t, not just enough. Dad would jokingly respond to me, “A prophet is not without honour, except amongst his people”. Friends, don’t wait to lose that loved one to appreciate them. Send them a note now.

Ours is a lineage of priests, starting with my great grandfather, Catechist Samuel A Adeyefa who was born into Ifa (deity) worship, his father being an Ifa priest (What South Africans call Sangoma and the Yoruba people of Nigeria call babalawo). When my great grandfather first responded to the call of the gospel of Jesus, he joined the priesthood and later planted a church in Ode-Omu. His son, my grandfather, continued in this path when he also served in the Anglican communion as a priest, asides his academic and political aspirations. My dad took such pride in his heritage, the legacy of service to God as handed to him by his progenitors. He was raised and taught the way of Lord, his mum playing a strong role at that. He would attend church but that was it. Having a form of godliness but not embracing the power in the gospel. That would all change in 1980. A series of encounters, first with some CAC women he was training in community midwifery and then some medical students he supervised, who introduced him to the saving grace of Jesus. He accepted this truth and there was no turning back. From then, he was involved in training over 5,000 church based health workers in several parts of Nigeria.

He received the call to do mission work in April 1981 and became a founding member and Member of the Board of Trustees of the Christian Missionary Foundation (CMF) Inc, an indigenous mission agency whose mission presence is spread over 11 African countries, especially in the remote areas of the Nigeria and Africa, with little or no church presence or civilization. As you may now have realized, I am a missionary kid. Growing up, we lived and breathed missions. I had to attend prayer meetings, where we prayed for nations and missionaries who had given up their all, including their academic qualifications, to take the gospel to the unreached tribes. The living conditions in some of the villages and towns the missionaries went were so hostile and very little financial support, sometimes no schools for the kids in those villages, thus my parents opened up our home to the missionaries and to their kids. The missionary kids became my siblings, many of them grew up with us, as my parents offered them scholarship in a school God had entrusted them to establish in Ibadan. I will add that these seeds sown by my parents, is what I reap and enjoy today in goodwill. It’s also important to note that, dad was effective in his calling because he had a very supportive wife. I will talk about mum’s role in another series.

One of the missionary kids, Omolade Omolade, writes:

"I still find it hard to believe you are gone, even though you departed before my very eyes. I started to call you daddy since I was a seven years old girl, and you really were a father to me. When my parents were far away doing missions, this was one of the tokens you used to support their ministry (adopting me into your family as one of your own). Your words of wisdom and advice, your ways of correcting wrong and instilling discipline, your kind words of encouragement with which you urged me on, the words with which you prophesied into my future and my inclusion in your prayer list as one of your biological children…. I could go on and on.On Monday 4th July, I listened as you sand four songs in a row from your much cherished Church Hymnal – “Who is on the Lord’ side?”, “Praise my soul the king of Heaven”, “My hope is built on nothing less”, “Jesu My Lord, My God, My All” and I thought you were doing your usual thing – worship. I never knew you were sort of preparing to depart.Daddy, it’s hard to say goodbye (I’d rather say good night) but the indelible impressions you made in my life will ever remain with me. I’ll never forget that unique smile of yours, your way of dividing the word of truth, your care as a father and doctor, your love for children, your care for the aged, your compassion for widows, and your love for the Lord; they will continue to inspire me. Daddy, sleep on till we meet to part no more – Your daughter”.