Godly teens

  Once upon a time, you would have thought she was a great nation, She was pregnant with inexhaustible gems and resources, the envy of all other nations. Her various cultures were the beautiful jewels that adorned her. Her skin shone brightly and none could ignore the beauty and wealth she weilded as a weapon. She had earned her place on the map and she was called the Giant of Africa. The western countries saw it and they came scrambling for a piece of her.  They set their greedy fingers on her and deceived her with things she had never seen, but things that could never have been compared to what she carried.  One after the other, they came to reap where they had not sown.  They latched unto her like eels and milked her year after year, refusing to let her go until they had had their fill... Until her children decided they had been cheated enough and fought for their mother's freedom. Independence! Or was it?  She never recovered from that exploitative experienc...

There's a pain that comes from seeing innocent people been killed on the streets by the very people they trusted to keep them safe; The pain we feel when we can trust absolutely no one, because dangerous people wear plain clothes but wield guns and matchets. It's the kind of pain that makes us feel like throwing up and keep our knees gummed to the floor in prayer so God can intervene very fast because we don't know how much longer this is going to take. The pain that clutches at our throats, threatening to choke us is the same pain we feel in our chests every morning when we wake up and see the amount of people been injured outside because they chose to fight for their rights to live. This kind of  pain makes our footsteps heavy when we walk the streets of our motherland. But the pain we feel the most is the one coming from seeing the river of blood.  We ask ourselves how many more people need to be killed, brutalised and manhandled before the message is passed. Innocent bl...

I sat on the white plastic chair beside my best friend's hospital bed. Monitoring machines surrounded her, beeping steadily. Tubes of different shapes and sizes stuck in and out of her body. She looked so lifeless lying there with her eyes closed. It was all I could do to not cry out in front of her.  Vera was just thirty years old. She was too young to be dying. Her family's record was free of the disease so how did it manage to find a way to get her, slowing down her life in the process and threatening to bring it to a complete halt.  Peaceful Vera. She never picked a fight with anyone, but here she was fighting for her life. The door opened and I wiped my face just in time to see Vera's husband and four year old son. "Ellen," Vera's husband greeted. There were dark rings under his eyes. Proof that he had not been sleeping well. "How are you doing?" "I'm alright. How about you? How've you been putting up?" "Not too well,...

He was a pastor of a growing church. God had called him into full time ministry a few years after completing his PhD. Not that he wasn't spiritual, but things were not just going right around him. His church's growth was as good as stagnated, with only just forty something people showing up on Sundays. His wife had been having miscarriage after miscarriage after the birth of their second son. And his first son was always in and out of the hospital. There seemed to be no progress in his life at all. He knew something was wrong somewhere, because things had not always been like this. He once was a celebrated pastor who got both local and international invitations to minister. Money didn't use to be a problem and the word "miscarriage" wasn't even in his dictionary before. Something was definitely wrong.  He prayed and fasted for twenty days for God to show him where he had gone wrong. One day he was sitting leisurely on the veranda, thinking about his problems ...

HE'S WATCHING OVER YOU. A pilot hovered in the sky in his helicopter,w the confusion going on on the ground below him.  A driver in a small Peugeot car was speeding on the highway when he suddenly had to slow down because of the heavy duty truck in his front that was moving at a snail's pace. The driver drove for a while behind the slow truck, enduring the slow pace he was moving at. He had an important event to attend and he hated to be late. The truck kept rumbling forward slowly and noisily and after sometime the driver of the Peugot car began to get imaptient. He decided to overtake the slow truck. He leapt out of his lane a little, with the intention of overtaking the truck. But an oncoming car prevented him and he had to go back to his lane. This happened four to five times. Everytime the car driver tried to leave his lane to overtake the truck, another vehicle from the other lane would be coming his way. Afraid of been hit, he would go back to his lane behind the slow tr...

 “…And the peace which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:7  Paul read the verse over and over with his vision blurred by tears.  Peace that passes all understanding... Peace that passes all understanding... He had read this statement many times as a Christian. Pastors had preached about it and singers had sung about it, but today he craved to have it right there in his troubled heart. That peace that could rage the storm in his life. Recently, his life had started to turn up side down like a summersaulting car, tumbling over and over, expecting to land somewhere where everyone could see the ugly damage done.  First, it was his job. He had been doing so well that he had even expected to get a promotion the following month. But all of a sudden, the company had decided to downsize. He had thought his name wouldn't even be on the list but there he was on Friday, four months ago, clutching his retrenchment let...

ANYBODY CAN WRITE; 7 TIPS FOR ASPIRING CREATIVE WRITERS. Hello sugars! 👋😍🤗 It's been a while here, but I'm back with my promise: If you've ever admired a good piece of writing (fiction or nonfiction) and wondered how to weave words so that you've got readers entangled in the product of your imagination like an erring fly in a spider's web, this blog post is for you.✨💃🤸 Here are seven ways to unlock unlock your creativity;  1: Flex your imagination muscles. Bob Proctor said that "The greatest nation in the world is IMAGINATION." Can't agree less. Your creativity is directly proportional to how flexible your imagination is. Don't bore your readers with stiff, narrow minded thinking. Flex your imagination muscles. Close your eyes and let your mind carry you to unbelievable, colorful and special places. So many worlds exist outside the world you're presently in and you can only find them in your imagination. Some writers...