By Mike Cerutti
“Giving is not measured by what leaves your hand, but by what it restores in another’s heart.”
Long after the cameras left Government House Jos, long after the handshakes and official photographs, the weight of Apostle Joshua Selman’s ₦200 million intervention still moves through the camps and burnt communities of Plateau State. It was not a pledge whispered for headlines. It was cash and relief materials delivered — 3,000 bags of rice, cooking oil, and other essentials — placed directly into a hurting moment during his courtesy visit to Government Office Jos.
Speaking after presenting the donation, Apostle Selman said: “We thought it was responsible not only in capacity of ministers of the gospel, but being sons of the soil, it is a display of responsibility beyond compassion to visit the state, identify and commiserate with the families that have lost lives and property… So we brought a truck of 3,000 bags of rice and oil put together, totaling over N100 million, and by the grace of God we are also giving out a N100 million cash to see to it that we bring succor to those crying families.
These palliatives will not bring a dead person back, but at least it can bring succour to the crying families.” He added, “Your excellency and to all who are here, we encourage you not to give up, Someday we will look back and thank you for your resilience, there is still hope for the Plateau.” 3635
For families who lost their loved ones in the crises & who had watched the world’s attention drift, the donation arrived when grief had become quiet and help had become rare. That is why he is still being celebrated in Plateau.
The celebration is not about celebrity; it is a communal memory of who showed up without a ballot in hand. ₦200 million became more than money — it became a counter-narrative to abandonment, a hybrid response of food and cash that met hunger and restored dignity. Rice filled empty pots, while cash gave mothers the power to buy medicine, replace burnt school uniforms, or pay for hospital runs. Coming long after the initial media spike, the timing itself preached. Most relief fades in 72 hours, but Selman chose to enter when victims were sliding from headlines to statistics.
As a cleric stepping beyond the altar into the logistics of compassion, he modeled a theology that carries blankets, not just blessings, reminding young people in Jos that healing is not government’s job alone. Governor Mutfwang’s public reception of the gift signaled alignment, not politics — a bridge of trust in a state where distrust has deep roots.
The real measure will unfold in the coming months: whether families return to farms before the rains, whether children stay in school instead of IDP camps, whether trauma has room to heal. But already, in markets and prayer rooms across Jos plateau a new phrase has entered the language: “like Selman did.” It means show up late, but show up heavy. And for victims of the Jos crises, that standard may be the most enduring relief of all.
