Lillian (Ibhade).

I was in the admission clearance line for new Faculty of Science students when I met Lillian for the first time. It was a long, slow-moving queue that funneled students into an office in the rear of the Microbiology Department building. This was early 2005, when the entire country still accorded Uniben some reputational capital to justify the patent chaos that was it's clearance process.

Lillian, along with a few other members of GtaN fellowship, like other fellowships and fraternities, was proselytizing. She was in her sophomore year, studying Biochemistry, but you wouldn't believe she was a fresher only a year ago. I wasn't a stranger to evangelism at the time, but her and her team's approach was remarkable. There was conviction mixed with brilliance and empathy (and boldness?) in a way I'd not grown accustomed to.

I didn't join GtaN in those early days, even though Lillian consistently extended me an invitation to the fellowship. I attended a prayer meeting one Thursday evening that was a markedly invigorating experience, but I never managed to return or attend a Sunday service. Because I'd typically travel over the weekend to see my folks and attend my local church.

She was in 500LT every day to see me and a few other freshers she'd connected with about the same time she met me. I knew some of them. She was a constant feature of my day in those early days. She almost always found the time to check on us in between classes. You could tell Lillian was the kind of person whom people liked and respected. She could hold a conversation well and held strong convictions about her faith, which she could articulate deftly.

Because they had evening outreaches in the dormitories, too, I started to get visits there, too. She'd come along with Onaivi, who also lived in Hall 4 at the time, to check in every once in a while. I wasn't as receptive in the hostel as I was in class, and there was an occasion where I was really unpleasant and told her she wasn't welcome to visit me there. I learned later that my attitude and action on that day left her rueful and hurt. My emotional intelligence was infinitesimal at the time, so it didn't register in my mind that I'd been needlessly uncouth. It's not exactly god-tier now, but I'm aware enough to be ashamed of that moment.

But Lillian is as patient and forgiving as they come. She still cared for me; that much was evident. She was a big picture person, working and patiently playing the long game. When I eventually came to the fellowship, she didn't invite me that Sunday. On that day, I returned early to campus. I recalled Lillian had mentioned that their services were held at 4pm (which was weird to me at the time), so I decided I'd check it out. The moment I walked through the door, I knew this was going to be my new thing. I finally understood why Lillian was relentlessly extending me an invitation all those weeks prior. It's been twenty years, and I'm still here.

Those early years after I joined revolutionised my Christian walk. Prophet Macwealth’s teachings activated in me a curiosity for The Lord and His Kingdom in a way church hadn't managed to do before. I began to understand faith from an intelligent, discretionary, and sacrificial plane. I soon joined the choir because of Lillian and Johnny Fortizo. We were quite the trio in the choir together, in the same Vision Coordinating Fellowship (called Hope Alive and led by Pastor Linda at the time), a subgroup that houses many cell groups. But the larger group was so closely knit that it feels uncanny as I recall it now. It was tangible fellowship.

We were teenagers when all of this began. Over the years, I learned to cherish Lillian’s friendship. She was the sister I never had, who genuinely cared for me. I think of some of the journeys I've made in this life, some of the relationships I've had and have now, great friendships, and experiences. They all point back to Lillian. Her relentlessness in 2005 culminated in a friendship that's proved invaluable for 2 decades. There are so many life events that were made easier because she helped me. From being an adept wingman who helped make my first official relationship happen, to rescuing me multiple times in Abakaliki during NYSC camp and beyond, to helping process my transcripts for my MBA, and all the various times in between and after, she was consistently there and helpful.

I am a gospel pillar today because of Lillian. She represented everything good and desirable about us as a collective — kindhearted, patient, peaceful, intelligent, confrontational, empathetic, no respecter of persons, loving, spiritual, driven, thoughtful, flawed, and perfect. When I think of her, I remember the all-night choir rehearsals in the basement building on campus and the ones at Stadium Road Church, in preparation for Camp Meeting (now called G3). When J Moss, Smokie Norful, Kurt Carr, Cece Winans, and any popular gospel music artist come up on my Playlist, I think of her. I remember the Uniben Harvest Crusade of 2006. I remember the Christmas carol services, the prayer meetings, and, much later, the catch-ups or calls we had to make after we hadn't seen or spoken for a while.

Lillian is the node that powered some of the crucial branches of my early adult life. My life and some of the people in it would be markedly different today if we never met. We knew each other for 20 years. I’d have preferred — expected — our friendship to go on for another 50 years at least. We’ll have quite a lot of catching up to do eventually. Writing about her feels necessary, not obligatory. I'm devastated by her passing in a way I don't quite know how to express. It still feels unreal.

I know she's on the other side of eternity now, unbounded by time and space. She deserves the crown of righteousness that The Lord will place on her head when they meet. For her family, friends, and the many folks whose lives she impacted, her absence represents a gnawing, gaping void that won’t close up. There’ll never be another Lillian. RIP.