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The waiting room

It went down like hot eba with slippery ogbono soup. Quick, fast, fleeting, barely leaving any taste in the mouth; Just the brief memory that something had slid in and gone down quick as lightening. It should have done the work it was meant to do, but it didn’t. And she didn’t understand it. She didn’t understand how something that was meant to be quick and powerful turned weak and feeble inside her. She willed it to life. Manifested it into being. Held the image of it in her mind’s eye until she felt the eye of her mind turn red from not blinking. She was exhausted. It was supposed to work. They promised her it would. She was only meant to believe they said, and it would happen. She believed. She really did. She felt her sinews and joints coursing with the belief, she really did. But still, she felt deflated too, as if the course of belief stopped shy of inflating her flesh with its presence. She was exhausted. *************************** Someone should have
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The issue of abuse in the church: When the healer refuses to heal

Photo by Melanie Wasser on Unsplash To the abused:  You know how they say it takes great strength to leave an abusive relationship? I think it takes great fear to stay in an abusive relationship. Fear is the currency abusers trade with, the misappropriation of the power they have in a relationship. Because at the end of the day, that is what abuse is. It is the misappropriation of power. For men who name themselves Christians and abuse the women in their lives, the power given to you is one that is meant to be gentled. True power is knowing that you have the ability to destroy everything but deciding to protect and grow the weak things around you. It is not identifying weaknesses and using that as a spear to thrust through the side of the woman you have already pummeled into a shadow of their former selves. It is not using the same mouth that is meant to produce God-life to speak death into the life of the woman with whom you are meant to reveal God. When you abuse you

Fiction: The Lights

Eno was only six years old when he saw became born again and began to see the light. It started out as a beam of colours. One minute, he was playing with Teni, his best friend from next door and the next minute, he was knocked off his feet by a burst of light that exploded right in front of him. When he came to, he saw soft beams of different colours  of light surrounding Teni’s face as he stared at him anxiously. He was silent for so long, not answering Teni’s “What happened? Can you hear me?, that Teni ran off to call his mother from the kitchen. By the time his mother got to him, the light was gone so, he thought he had imagined it and forgot about it until it happened again. This time, he was eleven and his father was sitting astride his mother, slapping her as hard as he usually did. Eno was cowering behind the mustard coloured sofa in the living room, whimpering and crying, telling his father to stop, when the light exploded around him, knocking him against the standing

Dear "single" Mother

Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash Dear “single” mother, I am writing you this letter because I have had the most wonderful revelations of all time. It is one of those mind-blowing revelations, the type that can never be taken away from you. I personally felt the nudge to share this revelation with you because it has already begun to change my life and the way I respond to things around me. You see, a few months ago, I was struggling. I was on the verge of giving up on life and was even considering going back to a place that had broken me and was the source of one of the most painful times of my life. Sometimes, when life charges at you or the enemy tries to trip you up with issues, the kind that makes you buckle under pressure, the kind that gets your legs shaking and your heart quaking, Egypt can look like paradise. It was in these moments I understood the way the children of Israel must have felt when they saw the army of the pharaoh, charging at t