When He Turns the Other Way

Grinding pepper on the stone of loneliness,
I watched Mother sweat with quiet unease,
Her wrapper firmly tied across her chest,
Preparing the meal we believed was best.

This is not the village, but the city of life,
Where civilisation and modernisation are rife;
And Mum, not a house help but a dutiful wife,
Soaked in a season both rugged and rife.

With an enormous bill demanding its due,
And a terse landlord’s message I dared not pursue,
As help withdrew day after day,
I wondered if God had turned the other way.

Ours was a family at His beck and call,
Built on a sure foundation that cannot fall;
Many a time we prayed and worshipped in His hall,
Yet now we grope beneath a heavy pall.

A few years ago, we were friends of the mall,
With Father standing tall, like King Saul;
We children, reflections of palace walls,
Going in and out, returning with a haul.

I asked Father, simple yet bold and direct:
How could He turn deaf when we call Him Lord?
How could He close His eyes when we plead His Word,
Bound by a covenant sealed in efficacious blood?

His answer was gentle, sincere, and clear,
From a heart both devoted and free of fear:
“Shouldn’t we give thanks in everything?” he enquired.
“Whatever the season, God is still to be admired.”

“It could have been worse,” Mum softly submitted.
“God knows the beginning and also the end.
He will not afflict nor leave His own to the foe;
We wait on Him—He knows what to send.”

The Pastor spoke with measured response:
“The ways of the Lord are past finding out.
His Word we must never doubt,
But seek Him in love, without a shout.”

From the natural, my search turned spiritual;
An unquenched thirst—persistent, habitual.
The Father’s posture feels strangely unusual,
Yet His presence remains deeply mutual.

O my Lord, why are You turned the other way?
Why does each dawn appear barren and grey?
Hearken unto my voice, I pray,
Lest the enemy throw us into disarray.

When You turn away, our joy decays;
Our faith becomes fuel for scoffers’ plays.
They mock when answers delay,
And treat us as objects of dismay.

Yet with hope, I await Your response;
Your promise I prize above a thousand pounds.
Like a tiger poised and ready to pounce,
I will hear Your Word—even if spoken once.

— Oluseyi Ogunbanwo