OUTDATED

Sophie sat on the metal bench just outside the ICT office. Her fingers trembled slightly as she typed in the 9-digit code on her student ID card for the fifth time. The screen blinked. Access denied.

She exhaled hard, gripping the card as if squeezing it could force the system to respond differently. She knew the number by heart. She had carried that identity for five long years—lectures, exams, clinicals, even student dues. So why wasn’t it working?

She stood up and approached Deji, the ICT personnel seated in the corner. He looked up, unconcerned, and asked for her details again.

He barely glanced at the ID card before shaking his head.

“This number is outdated.”

Sophie’s face twisted in disbelief.

“Outdated? What do you mean? I’m a 500-level medical student. I’m not just enrolled—I’m active. How can my ID be outdated?”

Her voice rose with each word. A mix of confusion and insult. She paced the room, anger in her steps. What kind of system erases a student who’s still breathing within its walls? It's like burying someone who's not dead. Who does that?!

She sat back down—this time slowly, a tear escaping her eye.

Then suddenly... something shifted.

She looked again at Deji, but the face had changed. It was no longer Deji. It was Him. And she knew. The brilliance in His eyes gave Him away. Time slowed, space bent.

She looked back at her card.

The REGISTRATION number had turned into RECRUITMENT number.

Her heart thudded.

“What on earth is happening?” she whispered.

_______________________________________________

Sophie had come into university ablaze. Her first year was nothing short of a holy crusade. She journaled her visions. She prayed all night for classmates she barely knew. She wept over souls like it was her life's mandate.

She wasn’t just a Christian—she was a burning coal.

But by second year, things changed. Not abruptly. Just... subtly. Her spiritual fire didn’t go out in a storm; it dimmed like a candle under a jar.

She looked around and noticed:

Fasting for days? Unnecessary.

Preaching in lecture halls? Embarrassing.

Carrying God like a badge? Too much.

They said she was being “primitive.” And maybe they were right.

So she evolved.

She didn’t walk away from God. She just modernized her Christianity.

She kept her faith, but only where it wouldn’t offend.

And four years later, she had climbed every ladder—except the one that led to the Throne Room.

______________________________________________

"That number have long been changed. If you were not updated then it means you've been outdated."

“Why was I not updated?”

That question broke her.

Tears streamed freely now.

But He had. In the silence after skipping prayer. In the dullness during worship. In the emptiness after her best performances. He had whispered, tugged, and waited.

But Sophie had grown good at ignoring gentle proddings.

He answered, voice tender yet weighty:

“The code for queuing into what I’m doing in this season has changed. You weren’t updated—not because I didn’t want to—but because you weren’t willing to pay the price to wield it.”

Silence.

Then:

“You left the path, your path, Sophie. You were to be My vessel. But instead, you began to seek validation from those you were sent to validate. You rebranded your fire until it became smoke. You traded consecration for content. Burdens for branding. Fire for followers. In your quest to avoid being called ‘outdated’ by men, you became ‘outdated’ to Me.”

Sophie wept uncontrollably.

_______________________________________________

She remembered.

The dreams. The prophecies. The call.

She remembered the journals full of visions.

She remembered praying in tongues under her breath during lectures.

She remembered the fire that once made demons tremble and her coursemates curious.

All gone.

Replaced by campus politics, trends, and titles. Replaced by applause and “Christian baddie” aesthetics. She had become eloquent, influential, and empty.

She hadn’t renounced Christ. She had simply replaced Him with a newer, shinier version of herself.

______________________________________________

Then He said words that shook her core:

“You can NEVER upgrade Christianity. The Cross is still rugged. The path is still narrow. The burden is still heavy. And the glory still follows obedience—not relevance.”

Sophie’s heart broke afresh.

She had labored to become everything her generation adored—only to find she had lost the only thing that made her truly useful.

Were they worth it?

Were the compromises she had made in her walk with God worth the loss of opportunity to reveal Jesus to her campus in the brightest shades and colours?

There was more to her life than just being in church leadership 

There was more to her voice than just being the Director of Information in the Students Union Government 

She had left her place

She had left a throne

She had become a creature without an identity in the very institution where she was domiciled.

She had become neither hot nor cold and Abba had spewed her out of His mouth 

_______________________________________________

Could this be your story?

You’re still in church. You still lead worship. You still post Scriptures.

But deep down, you know… you’ve become outdated.

Will you return?

Will you be updated into His move again?

Will you pick up the old, rugged cross—unfiltered, unedited, and unashamed?

The End.