Even in death

A sequel to What We Can Carry

Apr 05, 2025

I turned 25 two weeks ago.

Usually, I’d take time to sit, pray, and wait for “my word for the year.” You know how churches say things like “2025 is our year of dominion”? That kind of thing. I don’t always chase those declarations, but I do find myself listening—asking God what He’s saying to me for the season I’m entering. A phrase, a scripture, an image. Something to anchor me.

But even before I wrote What We Can Carry, a certain awareness had been resting quietly in my heart. It was hard to name at first, but it lingered—surfacing in conversations and books. (By the way, Nigerian YouTuber Tayo Aina is currently in the world’s coldest city, and something about his experience took me back to a point I raised in that piece.)

The idea began to take deeper shape after I read Gbile Akanni’s Tapping into God’s Resources for Life and Ministry. That book did more than inform—it shifted something in me. It reminded me that God’s provision isn’t always loud or showy. Sometimes, it’s hidden, waiting to be discovered just when we need it.

The week before my birthday, I found myself at a retreat centre.

It wasn’t planned. I’ve wanted to do something like that for a long time, but it never worked out. Every time I tried to book, the place was full. This time, it just happened. A quiet gift. I didn’t need to pay. I didn’t even need to force it. Everything aligned as though God was saying, “Come away for a while.”

During my stay, one of the things I looked forward to was taking long walks and praying the Stations of the Cross. For context, it’s a 14-step Catholic devotion that commemorates Jesus’ final day on Earth—His journey to the cross. It’s traditionally prayed from Ash Wednesday to Good Friday, but I’ve found meaning in it all year round.

That night, while I was walking the quiet path and praying at each station, one moment stopped me in my tracks.

It was the part where Jesus was about to be laid in the tomb. The Bible says that because it was the Jewish day of preparation, there wasn’t much time left before the Sabbath began. So they had to bury Him quickly. And right beside where He had been crucified, there was a new, empty tomb. Joseph of Arimathea—a wealthy man, a secret disciple—offered it. He gave up his tomb so that Jesus could be buried.

I had read this many times before, but this time, it came alive.

I resisted the urge to run off to commentaries. I wanted to let the text speak to me as it was. But I later learned—and remembered—that in Jewish culture, especially in Jesus’ time, it was common for individuals or families to prepare their tombs in advance. Particularly the wealthy.

So, Joseph had likely planned this tomb for himself. He carved it out of rock at Golgotha. Maybe he thought it would be his final resting place. And yet, unknowingly, he was fulfilling prophecy:

“He was assigned a grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death...”
— Isaiah 53:9

Even in death, Jesus’ needs were met.

In the days leading to His crucifixion, we see this pattern: a colt borrowed for His Palm Sunday entry, an upper room prepared for the Last Supper. At every point, someone was already positioned, provision already made. Even in uncertainty, Jesus knew—what I’m walking into is what I can carry.

That retreat made me reflect more deeply on how God shows up—not just in life, but even in death. And by death, I don’t only mean physical death. I mean any season that feels like a loss. Emotional burnout. Financial pressure. Career silence. Dreams delayed. Faith questioned. Spaces where it feels like you’re being buried.

In those moments, I’m learning that God is not absent. He is often working quietly, meeting needs we didn’t even know we had. Preparing a tomb before we realise we’ll need one. Sending a room. A ride. A friend. A place to breathe.

A few days after I left the retreat centre, something deeply personal happened. I can’t go into it yet, but it confirmed this reflection in ways I couldn’t have scripted. God knew. He always does. And when the time is right, He makes sure we have exactly what we need to carry His word to fullness in our lives.

But waiting is hard, isn’t it? That’s the real wrestle. Not just the desire, but the timing. When will this happen? Why isn’t it now?

That’s why the retreat meant so much. I had tried to book it several times before. Fully booked. Not possible. But this time, it came to me—without effort, without payment. And when I arrived, I understood why. God needed me to be there then, not before. There were people I had to meet. Conversations I needed to have. Lessons I wouldn’t have learned had I gone at any other time.

So maybe that thing you’re trying to force—whatever it is you’re struggling to pay for, achieve, or step into—it’s not the time yet. Maybe the door is closed because God is still preparing the space. Or maybe He’s preparing you.

And when it’s time? You might not even need to pay. It might just come.

Even in death, Jesus’ needs were met.

So will yours.

🍿 Things that I have enjoyed recently:

Applications are now open for the MTN Media Innovation Programme—and I can’t recommend it enough.

I had the privilege of being on this fully funded fellowship last year, where I studied media innovation and media business sustainability at Pan-Atlantic University in Lagos and the University of Johannesburg in South Africa. It was a transformative experience that improved how I think about storytelling, strategy, and sustainability in the media space.

If you're a journalist or digital content creator, this is one opportunity you should seriously consider. And if you’re applying, I’m more than happy to help review your application.

The deadline is Monday, 7 April, so don’t sleep on it.