About 30 to 35 years ago, during the bustling Christmas sales at my mum's shop in Ogunpa, Ibadan, something happened that left a lasting impression on me.
A woman had come in to bpair of shoes. She found a pair she loved, ied them on, and they fit perfectly. After a bit of haggling over the price, she finally decided to purchase them. Just as she was about to pay, another customer walked in, snatched the shoes right out of her hands, tried them on, and boldly declared she was buying them instead.
The tension in the shop was palpable. We only had that one pair of shoes, and this new customer was ready for a fight to keep them. Her combative stance made it clear she wouldn’t back down easily.
To everyone’s surprise, the first customer simply smiled and said, “It’s fine. Let her have them.”
There was no anger, no argument—just calm acceptance. The second customer didn’t even acknowledge her kind gesture. She paid for the shoes and left without a word of gratitude.
My mum, intrigued by the unexpected turn of events, couldn’t help but ask the first customer why she allowed someone to take advantage of her like that. Her response stunned us all:
"My pastor told us on Sunday that a child of God does not fight... no matter the provocation."
Curious, my mum asked her what church she attended. When she replied, “The Anglican Church,” it blew our minds.
At the time, “Gospel churches” (what we now call Pentecostal churches) were seen as the firebrand, tongue-talking, scripture-deep communities of faith. And we were part of that fold. To see such profound faith and grace displayed by someone outside of that circle was humbling.
My mum brought the story to church, and our pastor used it to teach us a vital lesson from James 1:22-26:
"But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves. For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man who looks intently at his natural face in a mirror. But the one who looks into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and perseveres, being no hearer who forgets but a doer who acts, he will be blessed in his doing."
That moment taught us something unforgettable:
Your depth in God’s word isn’t measured by the number of Bible versions you own, the Greek words you can recite, or how expertly you connect scriptural dots. It isn’t in your flawless exegesis or the many books you’ve read about theology. It isn’t even in the deep revelations the Holy Spirit gives you.
It is measured by how much of the Word you DO.
We were reminded that only the doers of the Word will be rewarded—not just the hearers, not just the knowers, but those who live it out daily, even in moments of provocation or injustice.
That day, a quiet act of grace and humility from a woman at an Anglican church taught us more about living the Gospel than a hundred sermons ever could
