Gone from Sight, Never from Impact: Remembering T.B. Joshua Five Years After

BY FEMI OYEWALE

June 5 will forever remain a date etched in memory, a solemn reminder that even the most extraordinary lives must answer the call of eternity. How time flies. In life, we meet to part, and we part to meet again, yet parting, they say, is the sweetest sorrow.

Five years on, I still live in quiet denial over the passing of Prophet Temitope Balogun Joshua, the Senior Prophet of the Synagogue Church of All Nations (SCOAN). His exit did not just mark the end of a life; it signaled the close of a chapter that shaped destinies across continents.

I recall with deep nostalgia that I was among the last few people he spoke with before stepping onto the altar for what would become his final assignment on the pulpit. Unknown to many, we shared a rare bond, one that transcended professional lines into a father-and-son relationship that stood the test of time.

About an hour before that glorious ministration, my phone rang. It was him. We spoke, as usual, about fulfilled prophecies and my planned assignment to South Africa, a trip he had graciously promised to finance. By God’s grace, I have traveled across the world, and over 90 percent of those journeys were made possible through his generosity.

Then he said, with calm finality:

“Femi, it’s time for me to step out for ministration. Go and watch it.”

I obeyed, but little did I know that it was an au revoir, a parting shot cloaked in routine familiarity. That moment has remained frozen in my heart. Perhaps that is why, until now, I lacked the courage to put pen to paper, despite being part of the media committee for his burial.

Our meeting years earlier was nothing short of destiny. As a reporter with Encomium Weekly Magazine under the distinguished Mr. Kunle Bakare, I was assigned to handle the media affairs of a client, Prophet T.B. Joshua. Fear gripped me instantly, fueled by the many myths and exaggerated tales surrounding him.

But journalism, like the military, demands obedience.

Armed with prayers and uncertainty, I made my way to the Synagogue Church in Ikotun, mentally preparing for the worst. What I encountered, however, shattered every preconceived notion.

Instead of a mythical figure, I met a simple, humble man, so ordinary in appearance that one could easily doubt his global stature. That encounter marked the beginning of a relationship that would redefine my understanding of humanity, faith, and leadership.

I am not here to validate him. History will do that. I am here to pay tribute.

Prophet T.B. Joshua was a man deeply misunderstood by many, yet profoundly impactful to millions. A man with uncommon global influence who chose the path of humility. A man with access to immense wealth who embraced simplicity. A man whose name opened doors worldwide, yet who remained grounded in service.

“He lived not for himself, but for others.”

His capacity for forgiveness was disarming. No matter the offense, once you gained access to him and expressed remorse, he forgave, completely. Like the father in Luke 15, he welcomed back the prodigal with open arms and overwhelming generosity.

I saw him in many dimensions: a prophet, a mentor, a father, a husband, a teacher, a preacher, even a comedian. Behind the pulpit was a man of depth, compassion, and humanity.

One moment I can never forget was during the tragic collapsed building incident. In visible pain, he asked me:

“Femi, can you believe they said I used these people for rituals?”

For the first time since I knew him, he wept. That incident broke him in ways words cannot capture.

Another unforgettable moment involved a man brought to the prayer line, a victim of gunshot injuries, abandoned by both orthodox and traditional healing methods. He had once vowed never to come, calling the Prophet “the devil.” But when the pain became unbearable, he said: “Even if T.B. Joshua is the devil, once he can take away this pain, I am ready.”

In that instant, the Prophet approached him, prayed, and he was healed.

That was the paradox of his life, criticized in public, sought after in private.

“Many who condemn him today once sought his help in silence.”

Five years later, it still feels like yesterday.

Good morning, Prophet T.B. Joshua.

Your legacy lives on. Your wife stands strong, preserving the vision with dignity and grace. The seeds you planted continue to grow across nations.

You were not perfect, but you were purposeful. And in the end, that is what truly matters.

“A life lived for others never dies.”

Rest on, Prophet. You may be gone from sight, but never from impact.