{"id":1203,"date":"2025-06-01T01:07:00","date_gmt":"2025-06-01T01:07:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/oluabikoye.com\/blog\/?p=1203"},"modified":"2025-05-31T21:37:20","modified_gmt":"2025-05-31T21:37:20","slug":"the-holiest-simp","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/oluabikoye.com\/blog\/the-holiest-simp\/","title":{"rendered":"The Holiest Simp"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Dear Diary
June 1st, 2025<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

It happened in a flash \u2014 the kind of flash that stills the whole room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was at the final stretch of my research. The part where references are trickier than the research itself. The pressure was real \u2014 a looming submission deadline and only seventy per cent done. I\u2019d come home for clarity, for grounding, for that strange peace that only comes from hearing life around you. And it worked. I was making progress I hadn\u2019t made in months.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There\u2019s something about being near love that makes difficult things lighter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then came my five-year-old niece \u2014 the light of this home. The kind of child who kisses you for no reason, pats your back when you\u2019ve sat too long, and tells you, \u201cYou\u2019re strong,\u201d without knowing how much you need to hear it. She is wild in the most beautiful way. But five-year-olds are not calm people.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She darted past me \u2014 too fast, too free \u2014 and her little foot caught the charger cord.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My laptop flew off the desk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My laptop. My HP Envy. My thesis. My years of work.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It hit the floor with the kind of thud that sucks the air from a room.
My very core vibrated at the sound.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I froze.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My heart left my body. My deadline flashed through my mind. Everything blurred.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I didn\u2019t even have the courage to pick it up. I couldn\u2019t. The house help did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I just sat there \u2014 hot, cold, angry, blank. And still, I didn\u2019t shout. I didn\u2019t thunder. I didn\u2019t let my disappointment speak.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She already knew.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I simply, in my calmest state, sent her to do her homework. Then to eat. Then to bed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Later, after I had checked my laptop \u2014 bruised, but still breathing \u2014 I went to find her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She was lying on the bed. Small. Quiet. Still.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I sat beside her and said, \u201cYou know what you did was wrong, right?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I asked, \u201cDo you know why I didn\u2019t shout at you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She looked up at me with those eyes children have when they\u2019re searching for the right answer. Then she said softly, \u201cBecause you love me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I hadn\u2019t expected that. But there it was \u2014 truth, naked and tender.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I said. \u201cBecause I love you. So much.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then I explained why I had asked her to be calm. I told her how important my laptop is to me \u2014 that it\u2019s where my schoolwork lives, and that I\u2019m trying to finish something big. She nodded again. Not because she fully understood, but because she wanted to show she cared. Gen Alpha knows what a laptop means.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then I said gently, \u201cIf you were calm, this wouldn\u2019t have happened. It could happen to anyone, yes. But being careful helps us avoid breaking the things we need.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She hugged me again. Not because she had the words. But because love often doesn\u2019t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And as I held her, I realised this was more than a parenting moment.
It was a divine one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Because this is how God deals with us.
When we ruin the thing He\u2019s building in and through us \u2014 not out of hate, but out of haste \u2014 He doesn\u2019t storm out.
He doesn\u2019t embarrass us.
He speaks calmly.
He loves loudly.
He teaches quietly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This reminded me of Hosea \u2014 the holiest simp you\u2019ll ever meet.
His babe was a serial cheater, but he still chased her like a man under some form of divine spell.
Let\u2019s be honest: any regular guy would\u2019ve blocked such a cheating wife, deleted her name from the group chat, and posted a black-and-white Instagram story that says \u201cProtect your peace.\u201d
But not Hosea. Man was out there loving like his heart was sponsored by heaven. And it sure was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Because Hosea had every reason to raise his voice.\u00a0Instead, he raised the standard \u2014 to keep loving when others would walk away.
To mirror God\u2019s relentless tenderness.
Anointed, devoted\u2026 and just a little bit insane.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That\u2019s how God loves us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And that\u2019s the choice He gives us too \u2014 to love even when it\u2019s hard.
To not let anger hijack the moment.
To choose not just what is right, but what is restorative.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hosea was proof that even when we fail God,
He chooses not to break us with the sound of His anger \u2014
but to remake us with the sound of His silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So now, in this mid-year month of June \u2014 a month of reset, of reflecting on the first half of the year, of fresh calendars \u2014 may we remember this:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The power to choose how we respond is the greatest gift God gave us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We all carry the power to break or to bless.
To raise our voice, or to raise someone\u2019s dignity.
To react in rage, or respond in love.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Even in your most angry state, you can choose to be the calmest person in the room.
You can choose, like God, to be kind.
To love \u2014 especially when it\u2019s not the easiest choice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Because the ones who hurt us most\u2026 might just be the ones who love us best.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And in that decision not to shout \u2014 you just might mirror the heart of the Father.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That\u2019s the kind of love that doesn\u2019t just protect.
It teaches.
It grows.
It covers.
It lasts.
It waits.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So, I ask you to join me:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lord, teach me to be more like You \u2014
slow to anger, rich in love (Psalm 103:8).
When our hearts rage, help us see beyond the crash, the mess, the fear.
When we want to bruise with words, help us choose stillness.
Help us cover with grace.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Let our restraint become worship.
Let our gentleness be strength.
Let our silence be filled with You.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Thank You for giving us the power to choose \u2014
and for inviting us, even in anger, to still choose love.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Amen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I wrote this story, I wrote yours too.
For the parent holding back the shout.
For the leader breathing deeply before they speak.
For the friend choosing not to speak in haste.
For the one healing from things they didn\u2019t mean to drop.
For the one standing at the edge of boiling, but choosing instead to bless.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yours \u2014 calm in the chaos, and choosing love.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

If this made you laugh (or think), wait till you read the last one. Go on, treat yourself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Wisest Fool <\/a> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

How Weak Can You Be? \u2013 Samson Had One Damn Job<\/a> <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

My laptop flew off the desk\u2026 and everything blurred. Five years of research. A looming deadline. My entire thesis. I just sat there \u2014 hot, cold, angry, blank. And still, I didn\u2019t shout. I didn\u2019t thunder. I didn\u2019t let my disappointment speak.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[12],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1203","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-dear-diary"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/oluabikoye.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1203","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/oluabikoye.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/oluabikoye.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/oluabikoye.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/oluabikoye.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1203"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/oluabikoye.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1203\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1213,"href":"https:\/\/oluabikoye.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1203\/revisions\/1213"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/oluabikoye.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1203"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/oluabikoye.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1203"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/oluabikoye.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1203"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}