Deep in Amatu village where crickets chirp at night, where birds sing early in the morning and where the air smells of farmland, there lived a well-liked man named Lotus.
He wasn’t so rich in money, but he was largely loved by friends and family. His sisters, Agnes and Charis, were known throughout the village. They were close friends with a travelling preacher everyone called Bros J, whose reputation for powerful teachings and astonishing miracles had reached Amatu.
One day, trouble came knocking. Lotus fell terribly ill. It was not just the usual fever that came and went, this was different. His strength vanished, his breathing was slow. It was a sickness that scared everyone. Agnes and Charis were beside themselves with worry.
Knowing that Bros J was ministering a few villages away, they sent a younger cousin on an okada (motorcycle) after finding someone going that way. The message was simple and desperate: Bros J, please come quickly. Your dear friend Lotus, the one wey you love, dey very sick. E be like say death don dey knock him door o.”
When the messenger finally found Bros J and delivered the news. Bros J heard it, his face serious but calm. He told his disciples – Peteru, Johanu, Thommy and the others – gathered around him, “This sickness no go end in death. No, it is for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.”
But then, strangely, Bros J didn’t pack up immediately. He stayed where he was for two more days. His disciples were restless. “Bros,” Peteru must have thought within himself, “Wetin dey delay us na? Our friend dey die for Amatu!”
After those two days, Bros J announced, “Let’s go back to Ogidi region, towards Amatu. Our friend Lotus has fallen asleep; but I am going there to wake him up. His disciples, still thinking literally, replied, “Lord, if he sleeps, he will get better.”
They thought Lotus was finally recovering. Then Jesus told them plainly, “Lotus don die. And for your sake, I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.”
When they arrived on the outskirts of Amatu village, the air was thick with sorrow. You could hear the sounds of mourning from afar, the wailing, the dirge. Lotus had already been dead for four days.
They had followed tradition, washed his body, wrapped him in a simple white shroud, and laid him in the family grave dug into the earth at the edge of their compound, covered with planks and packed earth. The whole village, it seemed, was gathered at Lotus’ compound; neighbours offering condolences, women cooking food for the mourners, a sombre gathering under the mango trees.
Charis, ever practical even in grief, heard Bros J was approaching. She rushed out to meet him on the path leading into the village, dust puffing around her feet. Tears streamed down her face. “Lord!” she cried, her voice choked. “Ah, Bros J! If only you had been here, my brother would not have died! If to say you dey here..!”, she whimpered in regret.
Jesus looked at her with deep compassion. “Your brother go rise again,” he said gently. Charis nodded quickly, wiping her eyes. “Yes, Lord, I know say him go rise again for resurrection at the last day.”
Then Bros J spoke words that would echo forever: “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never truly die. Do you believe this, Charis?”
Her voice trembled, but her conviction was firm. “Yes, Lord,” she replied. “I believe say you be the Christ, the Son of God, who was to come into the world.”
After this, Charis hurried back and whispered to her sister, “The Teacher is here and is asking for you.” Agnes got up quickly, leaving the group of consoling villagers, and rushed out. When she reached Bros J, she fell at his feet, weeping uncontrollably. Her words mirrored Charis’ initial cry: “Lord, if only you been dey here, my brother for no die!”
When Bros J saw her weeping, and the villagers who had followed her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. A profound sorrow, mixed with anger at the power of death, washed over him. “Where have you laid him?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion.
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“Come and see,” they replied.
They led him to the gravesite. A simple mound of earth, marked with stones, covered the place where Lotus lay. A small crowd had gathered, watching, wondering. Bros J stood before the grave, and tears flowed down his own face.
Then, Bros J, still deeply moved, spoke with authority. “Take away the stone! Make una clear dis sand comot!”
Charis protested immediately. “Ah, Bros! By this time? E don dey there for four days! E don tay small, di smell go strong well well!”
Jesus looked straight at her. “Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?”
So, reluctantly, a few men bent down and began clearing the earth and removing the planks covering the grave entrance. A hush fell over the crowd. Jesus looked up towards heaven. “Papa,” he said, his voice clear and strong, “I thank you say you don hear me. I knew that you always hear me, but I said this for the benefit of the people standing here, that they may believe that you sent me.”
After he had prayed, Jesus called out in a loud voice, a voice that seemed to shake the very ground: “Lotus, comot for there!”
Silence. Eyes wide, fixed on the dark opening of the grave. Then, a rustling sound. Movement. Unbelievably, a figure began to emerge from the darkness. It was Lotus, still wrapped in his grave clothes, his hands and feet bound with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face. He shuffled slowly into the daylight.
Omo! People gasped. Some screamed and stumbled backward. Others stood frozen, mouths agape, unable to process what they were seeing. Na real? Abi na ghost?
Jesus looked at the stunned crowd, then at Lotus standing there, bound. Then, he gave a simple command: “Loose him, and let him go.”
Hesitantly at first, then with growing excitement, people rushed forward. They unbound Lasisi, unwrapping the burial cloth. And there he stood, Lotus, their friend, their brother, not a ghost, but alive and whole!
That day in Amatu village, weeping turned into joyous shouting. Fear turned into awe. Doubt turned into unshakeable faith for many. The news spread like a bushfire. Bros J didn’t just heal the sick; he raised the dead! The man Lotus, dead four days deep, was walking and talking among them again.
NB: This story is a reimagining of the biblical account of Lazarus found in John 11:1–44, retold in the voice and rhythm of everyday Nigerian life. Bros J is our Nigerian depiction of Jesus, showing up in dusty towns and rural villages with love, wisdom, and authority.
KloutBox #StreetsOfSalvation Series
This story is part of the KloutBox #StreetsOfSalvation series, a special Easter edition reimagining the Gospel and the life of Jesus in today’s Naija. Subscribe to our newsletter here so you can be the first to know when we release the next story in the series.
