Welcome, Reading Friends and New Subscribers! We’re glad you’ve joined us! Today, we have another standalone D.I. Telbat short story for you, “Nigeria Not Alone.” This story focuses on our persecuted brothers and sisters in Nigeria. Be praying for them, as well as for their persecutors.
Nigeria Not Alone
by D.I. Telbat
Carol Stockton counted the Nigerian refugees as they filed past her. So many were still missing, either killed or injured in the bush. The relief camp couldn’t continue like this, not with Boko Haram militants attacking suddenly without warning.
Long past was the international outrage at Christian girls being kidnapped and forced to marry Muslim men. But even if the outrage had dimmed in the global media, the atrocities across the country hadn’t ceased. Carol had witnessed so much Christian persecution, she had nightmares—unless she prayed herself to sleep each night.
Her three week outreach to the region had become two years. The misery was so horrible and yet her desire to share Christ’s love was too great for her to return to the States.
She saw Abuja come into the town light. He was one of the few men who’d protected her and the other women when they’d fled the relief camp. A machete wound on his elbow would require cleaning and stitches.
“Abuja!” She jogged over to him. “Thank God you’re safe! Did you see what happened to Roger?”
“No, Miss Stockton. But Dr. Forkert is a big man. He can take care of himself better than any of us. Besides, he knows Jesus, even if the Muslims have him.”
“Let me see your arm.”
“No, the others are in more serious need. See to them first,” he said, then walked away.
Gazing into the darkness again, Carol didn’t see anyone else coming. Doctor Roger Forkert was the only other Westerner who’d been at the relief camp. The danger was all around, but as long as Nigerian Christians were still there, she and Roger had determined they would remain with them.
Carol moved into the basement of an apartment building to tend to dozens of wounds. Her medical training was minimal—mostly what Roger had taught her since she’d arrived in Africa—but it was all these people would ever receive.
Around dawn, when Carol turned down the last LED light in the room, the door opened. She didn’t think much of it since her mind was on sleep as she curled up in a corner. But then a large shadow passed in front of the light. The shadowy figure carried a box, which was set at Carol’s feet.
“You made it!” She jumped up and threw her arms around Roger’s neck. “Where were you? Nobody knew!”
“I went back to the clinic.” He placed a roll of medical tape in her hand. “I figured we’d need this stuff. Besides, you didn’t think I’d leave my fiancée behind, did you?”
Roger sat against the wall next to her. For a moment, Carol imagined that they were no longer in Nigeria where their lives were threatened daily. But she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else, so she knew they were in the right place.
Taking Roger’s hand in hers, they prayed for God’s will to be done in their lives, and that their Christian brothers and sisters would continue in the faith, even through the persecution.
She even prayed for the Boko Haram militants, that they, too, would come to Christ. After all, every Christian the terrorists killed was a little light of Christ that had shined brightly against the darkness. That Light wouldn’t be wasted.
The Nigerian Christians were not alone.