“REVELATIONS!”
He shouted it out loud, startling everyone else in the Molue.
“The apocalypse of Christian heresy! Let those who have ears, hear!”
His voice was thunder as he spoke:
“Many believe the apocalypse will bring destruction upon the enemies of Christianity.
And they are right.”
[He threw his head back and laughed.]
“Problem is?
They themselves are the truest enemies of Christ.
And by implication… enemies of Christ-likeness.”
[He let the words hang in the air for at least five seconds. Then, in a softer voice:]
“There is a name for Christ-likeness.
It is called… CHRISTIANITY.”
Then he laughed again.
This time, the whole bus laughed with him.
“Another Molue Monologue,” I thought to myself.
“Where everyday voices speak eternal truths.”
Then, shifting gear, he said:
“One day, Americans—those who seek the Lord God in spirit and in truth—
one day, they will thank Trump.
Thank him for what? For what?
For exposing the innards of their beloved republic.
For they were deceived into becoming a nation proud of its racism,
which from the beginning—and especially now—
has clothed itself in the garments of divine justification.
À la:
‘The subjugation of others built all this great country.
And all of this great country is marvelous in God’s eyes.
We should do it again…
Do things which are marvelous in God’s eyes.
It is God’s will.’”
He tapped both hands rhythmically on the backrest of a seat:
1-2-2-3… 2-2-3… 2-2-3…
“And perhaps…
Perhaps it is the will of a god.
The one they created, whose proper name is Mammon.
Why would America be grateful to Trump, Mammon’s begotten son?
True darkness… from true darkness? Truly begotten?
Because he tore the veil.
Forced them to confront their hypocrisy.
The depth of falsehood their faith rested comfortably in…
making them begin the long crawl back toward Truth.
A Truth most fully preserved in the Catholic Church.”
[The whole bus groaned.]
Catholicism simply wasn’t popular among Molue commuters.
They were Lagos’s most disadvantaged—socially and economically.
Resisting the allure of the gospel of Mammon,
the false prosperity gospel,
that American invention,
was simply beyond them.
“Most fully,” he said, to assuage their misgivings.
“I did not say, fully.
Even among American Catholics, many have lost the plot.
Proof that living in a loud pseudo-religious ecosystem has its perils.
Look at EWTN… They have fallen into disrepair.
Total Pharisees—whose knowledge of theology has made them arrogant.”
“Haba!” someone protested.
“But you were praising them a few months ago!”
“I was,” he admitted.”
He paused, scanning the bus.
Then turned to the one who interrupted him and asked:
“Can I continue?”
He spoke with such authority.
I looked at him.
Who was he?
I looked at his feet.
He was wearing what we call rubber slippers—flip-flops.
He continued:
“Culture does not float in a vacuum.
It is rooted in religion.
And as long as Mammon—that false god—remains enthroned as the one they worship in spirit and in truth…
…There will be no peace.
No justice.
On Earth.
Especially as this falsehood, masquerading as Christianity,
gains worldwide followership.”
Too soon, we got to my stop.
I pulled my shoes, placed them by his feet, and walked away barefooted.
He gave a short laugh and said:
“Don’t walk away barefooted… You can wear my flip-flops.”
Hmmm, I thought. A preacher who gave back.
“And thank you very much, my brother,” he said with genuine warmth.
Raising his voice, he continued:
“Most tragically…
That same Christian sect reads the book of Revelation,
yet fails to grasp that the apocalypse it foretells
is the judgment of Christian heresy itself.”
“Word!” someone shouted.
“Many believe the apocalypse will bring destruction upon the enemies of Christianity.
And they cheer it on.
Sadly, they’re correct…
It will bring about their own destruction.
For they—
not the other great religion,
not the sinners they despise and call God’s judgment upon,
not the deviants who are lost in the world seeking a way out—
They themselves…
are the truest, bluest enemies of Christianity.”
Alas, this is all I overheard.
I should have found a reason to continue my journey.
But I had my own Molue to join.
I would be speaking Jonah today.
Here’s what I spoke about:
Jonah. The prophet who hated mercy…
Read it yourself: https://donkenobi.wordpress.com/2025/09/27/jonah-the-prophet-who-hated-mercy/
I rest my case.
—DK
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