In Memoriam - Immanuel Umunna Anyakwo

June 27, 1957 - January 8, 2004

On January 8, 2004 Regent student Immanuel Anyakwo passed away after a six-month battle with gastric cancer. Immanuel came to us in the fall of 2002 from Nigeria and threw himself into the course of his studies with verve and enthusiasm. In the late spring and summer of 2003 he started feeling ill and was diagnosed on August 5th with gastric cancer. On August 20th he was operated on and thereafter placed on palliative care until he passed away peacefully on the evening of January 8th. In Vancouver he is survived by his wife Abiola and their three children, Evita (10), Nanso (8) and Chifun (7). The loss of their husband and father is grievous and we ask the wider Body of Christ to keep them in your prayers.

As a community we came together January 22 to remember and celebrate the life of our brother Immanuel, who made an indelible impact on those of us at Regent and the surrounding Vancouver area in the short time he was with us. Regent professor Sven Soderlund—a good friend of Immanuel who spent much time with him in his final few months—was one of three persons who gave eulogies at the service. In it he included many of Immanuel's own thoughts from the journal he kept during this time. You can read his eulogy below.

We deeply thank his family for giving us the profound experience of knowing Immanuel for what would be the last few years of his life here in this world. It was a privilege that we are eternally grateful for. Farewell for now, brother Immanuel. The reunion will indeed be a joyous one.

 

Immanuel Anyakwo Eulogy
by Sven Soderlund

The following eulogy was given by Sven Soderlund at the Memorial Service for Immanuel held at Regent College, Jan. 22, 2004.

I met Immanuel for the first time in the spring of 2002 when he and his wife Abiola were here to spy out the land to see if this was the place where Immanuel should study. Apparently the fruit was deemed good enough and the giants in the land not too tall for Immanuel to return for the start of fall term courses later that year, while Abiola stayed on in Lagos, Nigeria to hold the fort at home together with their three children Evita, Nonso and Chifun.

I remember meeting Immanuel again early in the fall term that year chatting away in the office of my colleague Thena Ayres, for one thing we soon learned about Immanuel was that he was never one to be shy about taking initiatives in seeking out professors and peppering them with questions. Since we also attended the same church, I soon became good friends with Immanuel, and as a result, my wife and I would sometimes go out with Immanuel to dinner following the morning service at Broadway Church.

Little by little I began to patch together the remarkable story of this man who had come to faith in Christ on May 18, 1986 at the age of 28. For years Immanuel had been an avid reader devouring all kinds of books on literature, history and philosophy in a relentless search for truth. An avowed atheist, he could see no reason to believe in God, until—that is—until that day in May 1986 when God encountered him and he in turn encountered Christ in a radical way. Never one for half-measures, Immanuel became a totally committed disciple of Christ with a deep passion for communicating the gospel, beginning in his native Nigeria but also abroad, both in Britain and in the United States where he made several ministry trips. In fact, Immanuel always preferred to speak of himself as a citizen, not of any particular country, but of the world—hence our parade of flags in the background—and foresaw an expanding ministry into other areas of the world, not least of all into Asia.

But fiery Pentecostal preacher that he was, having entered fulltime church ministry just over ten years ago, he had also come to the deep conviction that in order to strengthen that preaching and evangelistic ministry he needed both theological and biblical training. Thus it was that he showed up at our doors for that reconnaissance visit in the spring of 2002 and then again for the start of classes in the fall.

Immanuel threw himself into his studies with verve and enthusiasm. He deeply appreciated the teaching he was receiving, even though he couldn’t understand why he had to struggle so much, for instance, with Greek since it was his desire to read the New Testament fluently in the original from cover to cover. When I suggested that maybe at his tender age of 45 and the many things going on in his life that goal was overly optimistic, he rebuked me for my disbelief. He was going to press on until he mastered it. That same determination he applied to other spheres of his life and studies. When he prayed in chapel the foundations of the building shook and students didn’t know what had hit them. But what had hit us all was someone totally committed to Christ with a burning passion to reach the world with the gospel.

For Christmas that year Immanuel went home to be with his family in Lagos and then returned in January 2003 to throw himself into the fray of studies with the same intensity as before. Towards the end of that semester, however, Immanuel began to feel weary, struggling with loss of sleep and appetite. Of course none of that he shared with us at the time, but when he returned to Vancouver in July after again having visited home and then spent a couple of weeks at our Oxford Summer School, it was clear that all was not well. He had lost weight and was himself visibly affected. He wanted to see me first thing when I returned to the office on August 5th.

When he came into the office he had already received confirmation earlier that day from the UBC hospital across the road that he had been diagnosed with an advanced case of gastric cancer. He would have to be operated as soon as possible. Abiola and the children by this time had come to be with him since all had now understood that there was the possibility of a serious health crisis.

Everybody was in shock. How could this strong man—strong physically, emotionally, spiritually—be hit with this devastating disease? It was perplexing in the extreme. On August 20th he was operated and stayed in the hospital for a couple of weeks before finally coming home. Every day was a new challenge to try to keep focused and to keep spirits up. I encouraged Immanuel as much as possible to journal the experience he was going through.

On the 20th of September, one month after his surgery, he began his journal. He wrote, “In the four weeks since the surgery, the past seems so far away and the present seems slow while I wait for the fast-approaching future freight-train laden with new-dimensional activities. The beauty of this is that I am no longer in control because God has taken purchase of it all. His song rises up joyfully from [my] wounded viscera and I walk gracefully with the surefootedness of the mountain goat.” That kind of optimism, mixed with sober realism and expressed with eloquence and colourful metaphor, was going to mark all his entries.

Early on in the struggle he determined not to resign to the advancing cancer without a fight. He wrote: “Fight,’ so says everything within me. ‘Fight,’ says everything outside of me. Fight I will, no holds barred, so help me, Lord. The line of battle is evident in the theater of my life.”

Yet it was not an easy battle. A couple of days later he confessed, “Pain has its place in this journey of faith. Sometimes I literally see it fighting to be acknowledged by me. The disharmonious rhythm builds up slowly while I toss and turn from side to side. Other times it just descends with such ferocity asking for that which belongs to quiescence and I respond with a one–two punch of Danlodid or 1000 mg of extra strength Tylenol. Pain tries to unnerve me but some fiery prayers by my wife knocks it out. The radiation speaks all over [he refers there to the side-effects of the radiation treatments he was receiving], but is eventually dislodged by a word said in the Name of my Boss, Jesus.”

Like the previous one, many journal entries document graphically his struggle with pain, as well as sleeplessness and discouragement, but almost invariably the entry will end on an upbeat note acknowledging God’s greatness, his faithfulness and enduring love. “I know what it means to be kept by the power of God,” he wrote—“I know what it means to be loved by God . . . for it is depthlessly unfathomable, vertically unattainable and horizontally unembracable. God just loves on me, and his benevolence cannot be matched by words available to me. Maybe when I see Him, I’ll be able to sing my song to Him. . . . That’s why I live and have life.” “I am still the Halleluia Man! . . . born to worship Christ with all that I am and all that I do.”

His last full entry was on December 30th. He writes, “The year is drawing its feet in and I have found it difficult to write. Things do happen every day, songs come up in my soul. I have contemplations and encounters but articulating them has not been easy. . . . For the past few days my children have had the joy of snow in Vancouver—heard they’ve been frolicking in the unAfrican whiteness, building a snowman and throwing snowballs at each other. . . . Hurray to snow! . . . [But] here I am scribbling words a year after having planned [things] differently, watching life unfold in a different direction. . . His options are not mine, but it is good to be in His hands [when] you don’t know where else to be carried now by the Angel of His presence. It is one more day before we turn into a new year and I’m thankful for what He has done so far knowing that His markers are good enough for what the future holds. So into Your hands I commend and commit my life and future. . . . Be magnified even when my words cannot say them out. Be lifted up, O God—and that’s from my heart!”

Into God’s hands Immanuel committed his life and future. We can take comfort in the fact that those hands were there to receive him when on the night of January 8th the Angel of His Presence carried our brother to his eternal abode, and he was able to take his leave of this earthly journey—but also of his pain and discomfort. Actually, I’m not sure he was carried in by the Angel; methinks Immanuel was much too agitated for that. Rather I see him dancing into the presence of God singing his favourite worship songs, still the same but now transformed “Halleluia man”!

Many are those who have borne testimony to being impacted in special ways by this dedicated follower and proclaimer of Christ, both in his life and in his illness. I was amazed to see how friends and family came from afar at great cost and sacrifice to spend even a short time with him—some for longer, some repeatedly. In Vancouver there were those who became special classmates and prayer partners. Others became friends and supporters during the months of his illness—the several Regent families at St. Andrew’s Hall who rallied around with offers of food and transportation, the staff and families associated with West Side Christian School who warmly and generously embraced the children, friends from Broadway Church and Point Grey Community Church, as well as from the local Nigerian and wider African community in the city.

For all of us who in one way or another were touched by Immanuel’s passion for Christ and his Word, the challenge of his life rings in our ears: to be willing to live life wholeheartedly for the cause of Christ, as he said, “with no holds barred,” and also to accept—as Immanuel came to accept—that “His markers are good enough for whatever the future holds.”