In a nation where headlines often resemble plot twists from a soap opera, the saga of Pastor Apollo Quiboloy takes the cake—or perhaps the communion wafer. Despite being tagged a fugitive by the authorities, Quiboloy seems less like a criminal mastermind and more like a magician pulling off the disappearing act of the century.

With the Department of Justice, National Bureau of Investigation, and the National Police scratching their heads, one can’t help but wonder if they’ve misplaced their magnifying glasses or if Quiboloy has perfected the art of invisibility.

Meanwhile, as Quiboloy’s legal limbo unfolds, he’s not holed up in a secret lair but basking in the limelight, surrounded by birthday well-wishers and high-profile guests, including his faithful sidekick and Kingdom of Jesus Christ administrator Rodrigo Duterte.

In a land where truth is stranger than fiction, Quiboloy’s escapades serve as a reminder that in the Kingdom of Jesus Christ, miracles come in all shapes and sizes—even if they’re just a pastor’s ability to evade the long arm of the law.

Ah, the divine drama unfolds as Pastor Apollo Quiboloy claims the heavenly title of the appointed son of God. Yet, amidst the accusations and legal woes, his behavior mirrors less of a messiah and more of a fugitive evading earthly justice.

If indeed he walks in the footsteps of Jesus, why the trembling reluctance to face accusers or the prospect of arrest? Even Pontius Pilate, sorry, President Bongbong Marcos, stands accused of potential betrayal in this divine comedy. Quiboloy’s paranoia reaches celestial heights, envisioning extraordinary rendition to evade accountability, alleging a modern-day crucifixion. 

But fear not, for even in his hypothetical demise, the promise of resurrection after three days looms large.

In this divine comedy of errors, the script seems to blur between scripture and scandal, leaving us mere mortals to ponder: if he truly holds the divine mantle, why the earthly fear?