ELDER AKINTUNDE VACANT SEAT

I was thinking this morning.... About five years ago, I started attending a new branch of my church because my former assembly had become too far from home. As I became more involved in service and pre-service prayers, I quickly noticed an elderly couple in their late seventies — Elder Akintunde and his wife, Deaconess Akintunde.

They were always there. Before most worshippers arrived, the couple would already be seated in the middle section of the auditorium — second row, first and second seats to the right. Week after week, service after service, they occupied those same seats with quiet consistency. Over time, they almost blended into the structure of the church itself. To many of us, seeing them there felt as certain as seeing the pulpit or the pews.

Last Sunday, after being away for a few weeks, I arrived early as usual and instinctively looked toward their seats.

Empty.

At first, I assumed they had changed seats for once. I kept expecting them to walk in before the service began. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Still no sign of them. Then the sound system came on and the service started.

In that moment, it suddenly dawned on me that the service was continuing without Elder Akintunde in his usual position. I leaned over to the pastor seated beside me and quietly asked why our beloved Elder was absent.

“Oh, you didn’t hear?” he replied softly. “Elder fell ill suddenly a few weeks ago and has gone to be with the Lord.”

I sat there in shock.

Throughout the service, my eyes kept drifting back to that seat. No, it was no longer vacant. It has been occupied by someone else. The choir sang, prayers were offered, announcements were made, and life continued.

And that is one of life’s humbling truths: no matter how faithful, committed, influential, or dependable we become, one day the service will go on without us. The office will continue. The meetings will hold. The seats we occupied will eventually be filled by someone else.

So live humbly. Show kindness while you can. Love people deeply. Do not let pride deceive you into thinking you will always be here or always be in control. At the end of life, what will matter most is not how important we seemed, but how meaningful our lives were to God and to people. One day, the service will start without every one of us. Don't be another mama Monica.

“So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.” — Psalm 90:12 (KJV)

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey