Category Archives: God



Be the judge: it is September (clue: Children’s school year begins) and your tablet connives with your phone to both go out of service. Who’d blame your suspecting the witches from your mother’s hamlet for such dis-empowering coincidence?
I hear witches from the mother’s side are usually more sinister.

The up-side however is, the attack drove me back to my hard copy bible. Preaching and (mostly) studying with it have brought back a ravishing joy, a remembrance of former times and a renewed love for ‘writing’, instead of typing. I’ve confirmed again, it is still the case that I get more ‘stuff’, maybe because I think better and clearer, when writing, than I do when typing. I am stuck it seems.

I don’t know how much longer I have to go on like this, but whenever the toys are back, I hope to not let go of this revived discipline. I am realizing how much my creativity has fossilized, in the bid to go ‘all digital’. Now, the decided combo is: study with the toys but write more with a pen, an actual pen, on actual paper.
Maybe not so efficient, but more effective, more productive, more authentically me; for now at least.

When I have a handy toy again, I will share from my ongoing study of Acts of the Apostles. It is a book I study every year. This particular episode is unearthing incredible treasures. After 3 weeks, I am yet to go past chapter 1. Officially though, I’m in chapter 5. Something in the first 8 verses of chapter 1 keeps calling me back. God’s Rhema-light seems to be on repeat mode upon those opening 8 verses. Each time the Rhema-light beams on them, new bundles of revelation display fresh colours – in the resplendent beauty of the present light.
O, how life transforming to study under the light of lights!

Differently, I have followed, howbeit with disinterest, the happenings in Kogi state, the state of my parents. My thought in one word: PAIN.
What did kogi do to deserve this torture? Choosing between Audu and Wada is like making a choice between Ogogoro and Sapele water. Tell, what’s the difference?

GMB has not disappointed me. I have no expectations. However, he is yet to surprise me. I am waiting. He made a few good choices in the nomination of the noise makers, but I saw much of it coming. Not a surprise.
Congrats to Ocholi (SAN): Good Nigerian, brilliant man. You make us proud.

Hmm, I have somewhat been every where in Nigeria this past quarter. Okay, I was in all 6 Geo-political zones for sure; preaching in an array of settings. The testimony has been the same. The conviction grows stronger: The gospel is true. It is God’s power for salvation. It works. But it works because it is true. It is not true simply because it works.

I am a witness. God still saves, transforms, heals, delivers, energizes, enriches, and more. He is everything He always is! The I AM.
And, the safety I enjoy, sometimes driving 5000 km a month, on Nigeria roads, is phenomenal. God loves me.

The privilege of being a Gospel-bearer is a joy beyond expression!
I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ.
It is God’s saving power.
It is my life!

Friends who pray for us: Thank you. God keeps answering.
Friends who support us in practical ways: Thank you. Your support eases our burden.
Friends who just wish us well: Thank you. God recognizes your kind thoughts.

Thank you all for standing with us; even when I’ve been out of circulation on sundry platforms, of late.

Thank you!



Our Children and their stolen Innocence

10255491_10203027861031694_7233558847708848074_nWhat day is it today?
Tehillah and Duke.
None is 5 years old yet. But they have a strange assortment of words in their vocabulary. No, not from movies. From living.

“Dad, our Pastor’s daughter was killed by the bomb blast.”
“We shall not die, in Jesus’ name.”
“Dad, 15 students died…”
“Boko Haram will not come here in Jesus’ name.”
And on, and on.

On the other hand, I can’t remember if they’ve ever attended a children day’s celebration in the open field (or Stadium).

On this Children’s day, I feel for all the children whose innocence has been stolen from them, not by Holly or Nolly Wood, but by the jungle our beautiful nation is turning into… I feel for the Nigerian child upon whom adulthood is violently foisted.

There is no time to be a child in many parts of our land. Not anymore…

Yet, I remember with indicting nostalgia, rehearsing for Children day’s parade.

What will my children, our children, remember?

I remember the thrill of seeing pupils — song in mouth, flag in hand — from other schools, filing through the streets like columns of Angels in procession, to the celebration grounds. What will Tehillah, and Duke, and Asher remember?

I Remember
The special songs, and acrobatic displays, and heat of the scorching sun, and the bond, and the cultural dance, and band boys, and Ice cream (ehm, well, coloured Ice-water). I remember slow-march, and creative Eyes-right. Flutes, tired legs, the joy of coming first, chewing gums, and the pain of not winning. What of Aunties who groomed us for the day; and Uncles who taught us the winning style? Dont you remember? I remember… I remember even more.

May 27,
What will my children remember?

Today, they are at home.
No outings. No novelty. ‘None of the above’. Nothing memorable to file away in Memory for future musings and recollection. Hmm!

Remind me, what day is it today?

Tehillah, Duke, Asher:
Someday, if you are still children, I hope you’d KNOW what it means, what it feels, when I say ‘Happy children’s day!’

Today is a sombre day
Our girls are still missing

But hope…