Death has shown no respect to a woman who paid no respect to worldly life. Almost like a revenge for her disrespectful attitude.

Like many layers of heat and pain that a stubborn stony iron ore must endure to give up gold, her life has been extracted from her in many, many tears.

A rebel of the happy-life gospel revealed on Peace FM how she had to empty her bank accounts to try and fill her kidneys with enough life to keep her afloat.

But with disappointing results – the gospel musician has died.

You really cannot describe her painful exit as sending any shockwave for a singer who won no awards, did no epic interviews, spoke no English, wasn’t fashionista and had no great video shoot of any of her great music.

No shockwaves here. In the least, we will be quick to move on and may even consider her sad demise as a bit of a weak attempt to ruin a perfect day.

For a Christian community now quick to overlook 40-chapters of Job to memorise one verse in Philippians 4:19, it would not have really sunk in what we have really lost.

Who wants to be Job?

Christianity today has the mangled face of a patient who has undergone plastic surgeries under the knife of 20 quack surgeons.

We look ugly.

And it is because we want to be happy not joyful.

Is the Christian meant to live a happy life? A very easy question if you attended 31^st night all-night service.

Yes he is.

And because we have edited the goal to happy when the higher aim is to be joyful. We have settled for bronze happiness while joyful gold lies unwanted.

Without any shadow of wavering, a Christian is not designed to be happy. He is meant to be joyful. One is an external expression of physical satisfaction, another, an internal mood of his spiritual lampstand.

To paint a picture of how a Christian ought to be, author Jeff Lucas draws a picture of a groom before a wedding altar, beautifully adorned yet very anxious waiting to see his bride walk in.

Any second more delay increased his anguish, he keeps turning back, staring at the door to see when his lover will split open the flowery doors to brighten his countenance in relief.

Waiting for the bride

I dare say we are that kind today. Starting with me.

The suspicion is strong that Jesus Christ’s coming will be a serious killjoy for many. Just when you got that contract sealed, that car you bought, that promotion letter – then a spoilsports of an angel blasts what sounds like a trumpet.

I have been reading Job since the beginning of the year. How I happened to want to read it, I can only pen it down to God’s leading.

A depressing book if you wanna be upbeat about life in a new year.

The man had worms gushing out of his festering sores during the day and haunting nightmares when he tried sleeping. And to perhaps finalise his misery were three friends who were unanimous in their view that Job must have done something wrong to merit such torture.

How can a man who lost all any man can hope to gain, process all the pain and deliberately come out with a conclusion “ naked I came, naked I shall go. The Lord gives, the Lord takes, blessed be the name of the Lord”.

How?

Where could this conclusion have come from when ‘why me O God why me?’ looks a more promising and predictable response to pain.

It came from a spiritually prosperous hidden man inside Job because he focused on God against his wealth.

To be sure, nobody wants to be a Job. It is not easy to keep his kind of perspective about life today and this difficulty in keeping this perspective of joy in poverty, lack, need, pain, disaster, tragedy encapsulates our loss in the death of Comfort Annor.

This is what the woman has been singing about all her life.

Yet this miserable loss of perspective- that we should be joyful not happy - is actually the standard for heaven.