The David and Goliath battle was one of the fiercest battles recorded in human history. It was both a physical and emotional battle. Someone had come against God’s people with spears, swords, and words (words of intimidation, mockery, taunts, and fear). Because of this, an entire army was unable to stand against their enemy.
One of the first things that floored Israel was not merely the physical weapons Goliath had, but the weapon of words. His size was as intimidating as his words, and this enemy used them very effectively.
For weeks, he had the time, audacity, and might to keep God’s people under siege. He used words to keep them in bondage to fear.
It may seem at the time that Israel had fallen out of favour with God and could not lift a finger in defence. Their problems were many. As we know, Saul had become a king who disobeyed God. But without trying to analyse all the factors that led to their problems, I will focus on one:
The power of words.
Enter David.
This young man came into the battle with an understanding of his enemy’s tactics, and from that standpoint, David began the fight. He wasn’t there to hype himself, nor was he there to entertain or trust in a coat of armour. Israel’s army had already been terribly weakened by the intimidation of a superior enemy. So, David immediately approached the battleground with the “weapon” Goliath had been using to frighten Israel: words.
When Goliath screamed out his usual defiance to intimidate him, David responded with the authority and confidence of one who knew his God.
David said:
“You come to me with a sword (of fear) and with a spear (of lies) and with a javelin (of reproach and destruction), but I come to you in the name of the LORD of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied.” — 1 Samuel 17:45 ESV emphasis mine.
Bbefore he even employed the sling and stone, David SPOKE God’s word. Remember, the power to defeat the enemy was not in his weapon, but in the Lord with whom David fought.
David said in 1 Samuel 17:47 ESV:
“…and that all this assembly may know that the LORD saves not with sword and spear. For the battle is the LORD’s, and he will give you into our hand.”
David acted in confidence in God’s Word, and the Lord gave Israel victory in that battle.
Truly, the Word is power. The Word works.
By this I mean that we have the authority to apply God’s Word when we face Goliath-type situations.
We must keep saying it in confidence.
Speak it by faith.
And be bold in our confessions.
Our confessions and spoken words must at all times be consistent with God’s Word and with what we believe.
A while ago, and in recent times, while reading Mark 1:35, I believe the Lord made me understand the importance of prayer. I know there are lots of books and theories about prayer, and all of them may be true. However, I have only gleaned a “little” of what it is.
The key thing for me about prayer is that Jesus revealed to us the need to seek the Father early, at the wake of day. The wake of day means morning. So for early risers, that could be 3 am to 6 am.., before heading out to work.
Mark 1:35 ESV says;
And rising very early in the morning, while it was still dark, he departed and went out to a desolate place, and there he prayed.
Before Jesus rushed out to meet with people or to preach and perform miracles, He went first to the One who sent Him. Before the day’s noise and busyness, our Master made time to be with His Father.
If Jesus needed those quiet moments with the Father, how much more do you and I?
Prayer can be a deeply rewarding moment where you pour out your love, concerns, and desires before the Lord. As you come to Him, He speaks, gives direction and reveals His mind and ways.
Time with the Father helps you stay open and focused, gain clarity and strength for your journey and face every opposition with courage.
So ASK the Lord to help you desire to spend TIME with Him. For we cannot face the days we are in without seeking the Lord in prayer. And if you struggle with prayer, or struggle with timing, still tell the Lord to help you carve out time with Him.
I have a collection of poems titled HEARTITUDE. I will be sharing the poems here for the next one or two months. I have already posted some here, so… The poems in this collection are inspired by my own journey, quiet moments in Bible study and prayer, the experiences of people around me, and the sermons and songs I listen to. All of these things stir poetic words within me.
Heartitude is coined from two words: Heart and Attitude. The words are more than verses; they are poetic stories that carry the longing of a soul seeking rest and the contentment of a grateful heart that has learned to find fulfilment in the Father’s love.
The psalmists wrote with raw honesty, pouring out their hearts to God. That’s the spirit here too. This collection contains honest story poems and conversations that remind us to press into God and see Him as a Father, King, Lord, and Friend.
The poems and devotionals instruct and convict, calling believers to stand firmly with the Lord, no matter the circumstance.
I believe Heartitude will bless every heart, whether it’s wandering, weary, yearning, worn out, or simply in need. May the poem below bless your heart.
Steel Tender Heart
The gate of my heart was made of steel, Decorated with rust Until the day that my Lord knocked on my gate Once, Twice, He kept knocking. Patiently He waited.
With love and mercy, He waited Until my door cracked open. He walked in like the sun, With rays flushing out the darkness Oh, His footsteps, tender, tore through brass like straw, turning stones to dust.
His voice cut through the iron bars that caged me. It had the sound of triumph, Salvation came for me. His touch melted my heart of steel. Peace filled every room My steel-tender heart, Now soft as flesh.
Reflection: Ezekiel 36:26 reveals the Lord replacing a stony heart with a responsive heart willing to adhere to His ways and do His will alone, in exchange for their once lawless ways.
Only the Lord can take a heart hardened as stone and make it as soft as flesh. He has the power to reform a heart hardened by sin, pride, and unbelief into one that is tender and pliable in His hands.
Prayer: Father, thank You for softening my heart, making it tender, compassionate, humble and forgiving. In Jesus name, amen.
Stories always began with those familiar words. We would lean in, intrigued and eager to hear about the poor man who stumbled into fortune or the wretched girl who crossed paths with Prince Charming.
We would get caught up in the middle, wondering how they would ever find their way to each other. When the end finally came, we were thrilled to hear the exciting words: “and they lived happily ever after.”
Storytelling keeps evolving. Writers, these days, don’t just tell “straightforward stories”; they SHOW you what will keep you glued or ‘engaged’ to the page as the story unfolds (call it suspense).
But no matter where storytelling takes us, every narrative still has a beginning and an end. Whether it’s fiction or a brand’s journey, there’s always a conflict or a status quo at the start, and a resolution at the end.
The styles may be different, but the craft/techniques of storytelling remain.
“I Wanted To Be You and Other Stories” is LIVE on Amazon Kindle Store and Selar. You can order both the ebook and paperback on Amazon. The ebook copy is also available on Selar for those who prefer to purchase through Selar.
23rd July. Yes. It’s FINALLY HERE! I Wanted To Be You & Other Stories is LIVE on Amazon and Selar. It’s been such an amazing journey to the release of this book. I’d like to thank everyone who has followed me on this journey as I’ve shared excerpts and chapters of the book. Thank you to my Beta and ARC readers and to everyone who has prayed for this project. Thank you.
I Wanted To Be You & Other Stories is on Amazon, you can get both the ebook and the paperback. The ebook is on Selar.
I hope you get your copy and do well to leave a review for me on Amazon or Selar, and tell others about the book. Thank you 🙂
A week ago, I received an ARC review from a passionate reader. I couldn’t be more excited! This young man, though very busy, was kind enough to read my book. He submitted a review before the release, which is in two weeks. So here it goes…
Review by Samuel Ojuade
I read the book twice in two days, even though I had other books to read. I Wanted To Be You and Other Stories by Enobong O’wunmi. It’s about life in a town named Edorido, the lives of its people, and the bonds within the community.
Three things that stood out in the book for me:
The characters’ choices: watching how they found their way back from misplaced priorities was so real and human.
The storytelling weave: how each book separately tells about different angles of life in the town, yet is intertwined (artistically) together. A beautiful reminder of how connected we all really are in life
The writing: so sleek and smooth you won’t realise until you’re done and craving more.
Enobong O’wunmi had me captivated with this master storytelling. If you love African storytelling that carries modern culture and traditional heritage, don’t snooze on this. 5/5 I’m officially a fan and look forward to the next series.
Thank you, Samuel, for the review and the encouraging words. 🙂
Please, leave me a message if you’d love to receive an ARC of I Wanted To Be You. I would also love to read a review from you.
It’s officially twenty-two days to the release of my second collection of stories. I’m really excited about this project and the way it has come through. I went through a long season of refining, rewriting and retelling the stories. And that season felt unending. But it has worked out really well for my writing experience and journey.
My editor has left me with an invaluable lesson that I’m now using in my other writing projects: I have learned to slow the pace of my writing where required, because it immerses readers in the story. I have learned to make my stories plausible, relatable, and well-rounded/developed characters, at times, flawed people readers can relate with. I bet you’ll love the stories in the collection, I Wanted To Be You. Every story is infused with God’s word. The book has several valuable lessons; it’s intriguing, heart-stirring, and humorous.
IWTBY is on preorder at the moment. Amazon. Yay! And Selar. To place your order, please click the links, and you’ll receive yours on the release date.
Every small town has a “juicy” story. And Edorido is no exception.
Woven with humour yet anchored on truth, I Wanted to Be You and Other Stories takes readers into the fictional town that mirrors the intricacies of small‑town life.
Woven with humour yet anchored in truth, this collection of five short stories explores the issues of the human heart. Real people wrestle with hidden wounds, pain, and unspoken weaknesses, confront their brokenness, and discover they can’t deal with these issues on their own. Each character, in the midst of brokenness, encounters God’s abundant grace and love, finding strength, healing, and hope.
Eyo’s Story follows a stubborn man running from responsibility and God, only to discover that some paths lead straight into an abyss.
Under the Layers and I Wanted to Be You portray women wrestling with insecurities and identity, ultimately confronting the state of their hearts before God and others.
Oh Fool retells the parable of Luke 12:19–21 through the rise and fall of a proud young millionaire.
Prisoner of Hope closes the collection with a poetic reflection inspired by Zechariah 9:12.
These stories remind us that the heart—before God and people—is where life’s deepest battles are fought and won.
IWTBY is set in a fictional capital city among the Ibibio-speaking people. The town borders Akwa Ibom and Cross River States in southern Nigeria.
Read an excerpt from the story, “Under the Layers.”
Aniebiet longed for the room to empty again, so she could weep without restraint until sleep drowned her. She lay still, listening until the door clicked shut behind Imabasi. Aniebiet let out a muffled grunt beneath the pillow.
Aniebiet was certain: her presentation had been a failure. No hope. She pictured her other friends’ faces lit with triumph. Each one of them had performed excellently today.
Exceptme.
Her tears drenched the sheets.
Yours was a disaster. Worthless. Your father was right, the words slashed through Aniebiet’s mind.
She sprang up from her bed and wiped the dampness from her face with a wet wipe. Imabasi had left her a note.
She crumpled the note and tossed it into a refuse bin beside her locker. Soon, she dialled up the number of the taxi she always hired to drive her around. The taxi driver arrived in under twenty minutes.
She reached for the mirror, dabbed pressed powder onto her face, drew her brows, and applied some lip balm. She swung her rucksack onto her back and rushed out of the hostel, her pulse racing.
Just as she stepped into the taxi, her phone buzzed. Victor’s name lit up the screen.
“Not now, dude,” she muttered, her voice tight.
She shoved the phone back into her bag, burying it under her book, her wallet and other belongings. The thought of him or any of her friends catching sight of her leaving campus twisted her stomach into a knot. She didn’t want questions or eyes following her. All she wanted was to go out unnoticed.
Outside the campus, the taxi driver turned left, weaving through the busy university road where akauke1, keke napep2, and motorist hornsblared, and students spilt onto sidewalks.
He drove to a major junction, turned right at the traffic light, and Aniebiet asked to stop at a flower store. She purchased a wreath, and they were on their way again, headed for her father’s village, Ikot Effiong, which was forty minutes from the main town.
Aniebiet leaned against the window, the burden of the assignment before her weighing heavily on her chest. She watched the street as the taxi wound through the mid-afternoon traffic of Mfi Road. He swerved right into ReverendChryston Way, a dual-carriage road with fewer houses.
And the farther he headed away from the town, the more the scenery morphed into a quieter, more foliage-heavy landscape. On one side of the road, trees lined the road like sentinels. Palm fronds bowed and waved as if greeting each passing vehicle. On the other side were farms and rolling hills.
Half an hour later, Aniebet looked out, and her chest thumped. Her father’s village was close by. Her mind travelled five years back when her large family made this journey to bury her father. Neither her siblings nor her mother knew that she had visited the grave four times since then.
The taxi sped past a mini market, and she recalled how, after every trip to the village, her mother stopped at the market to buy bunches of bananas, sticks of dried fish, catfish, and seafood for themselves and as gifts for family and friends.
The taxi drove up the Edorido Bridge. Aniebiet’s gaze shifted to the river, falling on a lone fisherman, casting his net into the river. The car sped past the river, and she wished she could catch a glimpse of him hauling back the net.
“Please, can you put on Radio Akwa Abasi 91.7?” she asked the driver.
“Yes, my sister.” He twisted the dial.
“Welcome to the afternoon inspirational show with Dede OtoAbasi.”The husky but calm voice of the presenter filled the car.
Aniebiet winced. “Oh, I’m not ready for any talks,” she cried. “Please, try another channel.”
The driver fiddled with the dial, but each station hissed and crackled as if someone were scraping the bottom of a burnt pot. He shook his head. “Weak transmission.”
“We’re stuck with Dede.” She forced a chuckle.
Truth was, she adored his show. She loved his voice and his passion. He was her role model. His words, she realised, always lifted burdens off her heart as though they were light as feathers.
“One of our listeners, a teenage girl, sent in a poem titled, The Whoosh Roar of the Mind.”
Dede began to read, and Aniebiet pressed the record button on her phone.
Guard your heart, the wise man said.
Your thoughts, if left untamed, will sink you into a pit of doubt and despair.
Do not make your bed with the sheets of anxiety and fear.
Do not share a room with dread or torment.
Sow faith and hope in the soil of your heart.
Always remember to cast your anxieties, difficulties and questions on the Lord.
Throw the worries at his feet.
Leave it there with him and be at rest in the Lord.
Aniebiet clutched her chest as though a nail were driven through it. Each word pierced through her like a pickaxe against the hardened soil of her heart. She pulled out her sunglasses from her bag to hide the tears.
Her sniffles betrayed her when Dede played her favourite hymn—One Day at a Time, Sweet Jesus.
….
Meaning of words
akauke1 – Commercial motorcycle, from the Ibibio word meaning “where are you going?” keke napep2 – Tricycle
Thank you for reading the excerpt. I hope you enjoyed the short read. You can preorder the collection on Selar. I will post the Amazon preorder link in the first week of July 2026.
I’m sharing the second chapter from EYO, one of the stories in the collection. Eyo’s Story showsthejourney of a duplicitous, stubborn young man with many troubles who, for several years, has tried to run from his responsibilities and from God, but ultimately realises that a path may feel rewarding yet lead to an abyss.
As you read this chapter, you’ll come across sprinkles of Ibibio words, pidgin English, and some other slang.
CHAPTER TWO
I called Ndodeyin as I walked down the street, so Eka Sam wouldn’t hear our conversation. But she declined the call. Almost immediately, her message flashed on my screen.
Text me, Dude. I’m in a meeting now.
She inserted a smiley and a heart emoji.
I responded immediately.
Just wanted to hear your sweet voice and tell you I love you.
“Tonight’s going to be the best night ever.” I smiled in anticipation of my date later this evening with Ndodeyin. I had composed a poem, bought a ring, and hired a saxophonist to come into the restaurant and play her a song.
In that romantic moment, I’d then sink to the floor on one knee to express my love for her and say… My face spread into a grin. Marry me, my baby.
“I can’t wait,” I mumbled, feeling like screaming for the entire town of Edorido to know I had met my love, the woman of my dreams.
I strode towards the akara seller’s stall with a spring in my steps, whistling like the only man in love.
The aroma of fresh bread still hung in the air, mingled with the smoky, greasy scent of fried food. I arrived at the stall just as the seller was scooping some fried plantain from the sizzling oil. Akara, fried sweet potatoes, steaming-hot fried plantain, and soft, golden fried fish lined the tray, leaving me spoiled for choice. I pointed to the ones I wanted. The woman wrapped the akara and fish in a brown paper, tucked it into a black nylon bag, and I hurried back to the store.
I stepped in just as the wooden back door swung open. Sam, a tall, skinny boy, came bursting through it, shirtless and breathing hard, his chest glistening with sweat.
“Yes, Mummy!” Sam said, panting as he stood at attention.
Eka Sam set down her enamel tray with a clang and rose from her stool. “How many times have I called you, this coconut head?”
“Three times, Mummy,” Sam mumbled, head bowed, his toe tracing circles on the dusty floor.
“Fifteen times, idiod ikod iwa1!” She reached behind the counter and grabbed a wooden pestle. She was already moving towards her son when I hurried in between them.
“Eka A-Sam, mbok2.” I closed my hand around the pestle.
“Akpan Prof, get out of my way, o.” She tried to wrest the pestle from my grip.
“Please, don’t hit him.”
“Allow me to knock dat cabin biscuit head and remof the useless ting called brain.”
“Mbok, forgive him for my sake, so you don’t regret your actions.”
She glowered at me.“Why I will regret beating the evil spirid out of dis stupid boy who want to give me high blood preshure?”
I held onto the pestle, and it stirred up memories. Many times, my father’s hand would reach for whatever lay within sight to discipline me. A belt, stick, shoe, anything. My mind reeled with memories from my days at Christian Model School, Edorido. If I wasn’t caught with a group of boys breaking into the school kitchen to steal food. Once, I was caught in the staff quarters, stealing from some teacher’s farms. Yet another time, a group of boys and I were cooking corn in the school’s dormitory. These offences dragged my father to school hearings.
In my fifth year in secondary school, I was expelled from boarding school for sneaking out with some boys to a Friday night party.
Eka Sam picked me up from school with the expulsion letter. Later that evening, Daddy called me into his room. With a belt in hand, I took off my clothes and stood before him in the living room naked. He washed me down, calling me a “nincompoop, a good-for-nothing fool.”
He gave me six lashes before Eka Sam burst into the room, her knees hitting the floor, pleading with my father to stop. It wasn’t the first time she had thrown herself between us, shielding me from Professor Peter’s rage with her small frame.
A few months after that incident, Eka Sam left my father’s house. Her absence left a hole in my chest as I had to learn to live with my father without her interventions.
Not long after that incident, my mother returned from the United Kingdom (without her boyfriend). And my father insisted I leave his house and join her. That seemed like a good decision, as it gave me a chance to get to know my mother and build a relationship with her.
“Oh. Try me again.”
Eka Sam’s voice brought me back to the present. She pressed her index finger on her tongue, touched the floor, and raised it to the ceiling.
“If I no send you go meet ya father’s people in the grave.”
I looked at Sam. He stood, motionless with his arms folded in front of him, his eyes fixed on the ground.
“Quick, quick, go to the house, bring dat white enamel bowl with garri and di ice water for di plastic Coke bottle for di fridge.”
Sam disappeared through the swinging doorwith the speed of a boy who understood that offending his mother again would end with him landing in the hottest part of hell.
“Akpan Prof, na because I respect you, o. If na another person eh, I won’t let dem take di pestle from me, o. Dat nonsense boy would go to di grave today to meet his father’s people.”She tapped the tray, her three faded bangles jangling on each other.
“Thank you, Eka A-Sam.” I tipped my head.
“Mtcheeew.” She clicked her tongue.
Customers entered the shop, and she stood to attend to them.
Sam returned, holding a tray with both hands. An enamel bowl plate with crisp, yellow garri, a bottle of chilled water, cold enough that I grabbed it before he even set the tray on a stool beside me.
“Before I come to dat house, you haf made Garri and warm soup for ya brothers,”Eka Sam said as she rejoined me.
“Yes, Mummy.” Sam ran off.
I poured the chilled water into the bowl of garri and added some sugar. I cut up the akara and fish and buried a piece of both in my mouth. Then I scooped a spoonful of garri into my mouth. Eyes shut, I allowed the deliciousness to settle on my tongue and cool my chest.
A loud crashing sound came from the backyard, startling us.
“I’m coming, Eyo.” Eka Sam, in no time, darted through the back door.
Behind the row of shops was Eka Sam’s house, a low building painted a pale cream, with a mango tree standing in the middle of the compound.
From the store, I heard Eka Sam and her children’s voices, tumbling over each other. I couldn’t make out what they said. Then came a cry and Eka Sam’s scream. I knew someone was getting some strokes.
I need to speak with her, I decided as I finished my meal. I needed to address her attitude towards her three sons, lest she raise them the way my father raised me.
“Akpan Prof, sorry. I go settle serious matta between my sons.”Eka Sam burst through the door and fell onto a stool. “Is it bad to born boys, mbok?” She searched my eyes as if waiting for a reply.
“They are a blessing, Eka A-Sam. Be patient with them.”
“My name isn’t Patience, mbok.” She tore open a packet of Beloxxi cream crackers.
My phone rang. I dug into my sling bag and pulled it out. Irritation swelled in my chest, and I clenched my jaw.
This girl should stay in her lane,mbok. Can’t she just leave me?
“See di way ya pressing ya teeth as if you want to grind stone? Who is it?” Eka Sam pointed at the ringing phone in my hand. “Issit IJ?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, my eyes fixed on the phone. The phone buzzed several times before I tapped the answer button.
“Sorry, IJ, I’m in a meeting, can’t talk now.” I ended the call and tapped the block button.
“Ya in a meeting with who?”Eka Sam guffawed.
“Am I not in a meeting with you?” I kissed my teeth.
“What has dis IJ do to you now? That girl is a good woman you should marry.”
“Eka Sam, please don’t.” I raised my hand.
“I’m telling you di truth, Akpan Prof.”
“Please give me a pack of Benson and a lighter.” I stood.
“Now you want to run when I bring up serious matta, eh?”
“I need to smoke, please.”
She swung open the mesh-covered cupboard beside her. The hinges gave a small creak. She retrieved a gold pack of Benson & Hedges, and I slid a crisp one thousand naira note across the counter and took the pack.
Meaning of words:
Idiod ikod iwa – An exaggerated way of calling someone an Idiot
2. Mbok – Please
3. Akara – A golden fritter made from a seasoned batter of blended beans
I hope you enjoyed the story. Please drop me a comment to share your thoughts. Thank you.
For many years, I wanted to write a small-town story, or stories about a small town. Maybe it’s because I grew up in one. Maybe it’s because I vividly recall small towns being likened to a fishbowl. So, I set the stories in I Wanted to Be Youand Other Stories (IWTBY), in a fictional town called Edorido, to mirror the intricacies of life in a small town.
In small towns, it feels like everyone knows everyone. Often, they know a little too much. People get involved in each other’s lives, carry stories around, and sometimes make it their business to mind yours. Because the community is so close‑knit, it’s hard to hide your struggles; everything eventually comes to light. There’s plenty of drama (bickering, enmity and backbiting) that could easily be avoided.
On the bright side, the closeness can be beautiful. Small towns are communal, and people genuinely look out for one another’s well-being.
I Wanted to Be You and Other Stories is a collection of five short stories that explore the issues of the human heart. In each story, real people wrestle with hidden wounds, pain, and unspoken weaknesses, confront their brokenness, and discover they can’t deal with these issues on their own.
The stories are set in Edorido, a fictional capital city among the Ibibio- speaking people. The name “Edorido” is not fictional; it is the name of a mini market in my father’s village, Ikot Obong Itam, in Itu Local Government Area. I got really fascinated by the name and named a fictional town after it sometime in 2021 while putting together a mini-series about nation-building set in a semi-urban town where characters in the stories identify a dire need and problem in their community and try to right the wrong narrative. Growing up, people either spoke English as a first language or their native dialect, which could be Ibibio, Annang, Oron, Eket, or Obolo. We weren’t a society of pidgin-speaking people. However, as we had an influx of students, visitors, and even a handful of traders, the use of pidgin increased, and it became a preferred language for interaction among younger people. As such, you’ll come across sprinkles of Ibibio words, pidgin English, and some other slang in this book. However, most of the characters speak proper English, helping readers enjoy the flow of the story.
IWTBY will be released in July 2026. I’ll be sharing excerpts of this collection in subsequent posts. And I hope you’d enjoy reading them 🙂
For over five years now, I’ve nursed the dream of writing a small‑town story. Back in 2021, I finally started scribbling out little flash‑fiction pieces here and there. My biggest challenge, though, was connecting the characters. I wanted each story to stand on its own, but I also wanted the people in them to feel linked. So I kept writing short pieces, saving them away, hoping one day they’d grow into what I call the Edorido Series.
Last year, I pulled a few stories together and sent them off to my editor, feeling pretty confident they were ready. Oh my goodness, her feedback humbled me. She was kind but honest, and I quickly realised my work wasn’t nearly as polished as I thought. I went back to the drawing board. The second round wasn’t much better. Again, she sent me a detailed note, pointing out so many areas that needed work. I almost gave up. But I didn’t.
What I love about my editor is her commitment to seeing her clients flourish. She gave me the support I needed, and I’m grateful for that. I even printed out her notes, went through them point by point, and made my own annotations. Some parts of the stories I tore apart completely, tossing sections into my “unused” file—my little bin of scraps that might come in handy someday.
Still, when I sat down to write again, nothing came. Weeks passed, and discouragement crept in. I started thinking maybe writing was for other people, not me. So I prayed. Yes, I prayed, asked the Lord to help me because I wanted to write stories that were engaging, immersive, and real. I didn’t want cardboard characters—I wanted flawed, human ones.
While waiting, I kept reading (as I always do). Not to copy anyone, but to study what made certain books hold my attention while others didn’t. That process helped me see my own writing differently.
Then came my third attempt. And this time, it clicked. The Lord gave me the grace to write better, and my editor was impressed. We only had minor corrections to make, and she guided me through a few scenes that needed tightening.
Looking back, I’m glad I didn’t quit. I’m thankful for every bit of feedback, and for the patience it taught me.
I Wanted to Be You is now a collection of five distinct stories, each one wrestling with the issues of the heart. And for me, it’s more than just a book—it’s the first step into the larger world of Edorido.
IWTBY will be released in July 2026. I’ll share more about the book and the small town in another post.
Reflection: The heart carries many burdens, ideas, etc that shape your beliefs and actions. No one else sees the things going on within you except God.
David prayed, “Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts. And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” Psalm 139:23-24 ESV.
May you be intentional about keeping your hearts pure and true before the Lord.
Prayer: Father, it’s from a pure heart that I enjoy unfettered fellowship with You. May I stay pure, for from the heart flow springs of living water.
For many years, I wanted to write a small-town story, or stories about a small town. Maybe it’s because I grew up in one. Maybe it’s because I vividly recall small towns being likened to a fishbowl. So, I set the stories in I Wanted to Be Youand Other Stories (IWTBY), in a fictional town called Edorido, to mirror the intricacies of life in a small town.
I Wanted to Be You and Other Stories is a collection of five unrelated short stories that explore the issues of the human heart. In each story, real people wrestle with hidden wounds, pain, and unspoken weaknesses, confront their brokenness, and discover they can’t, on their own, deal with these issues.
In the midst of their trials, each character experiences God’s abundant grace and love that reach into vulnerability and offer strength, healing, and hope.
Oh Fool, a fictional retelling of the parable in Luke 12:19-21, is about a young, haughty millionaire saddled with emotional baggage who brags about his riches to his eventual end.
Eyo’s Story shows thejourney of a duplicitous, stubborn young man with many troubles who, for several years, has tried to run from his responsibilities and from God, but ultimately realises that a path may feel rewarding yet lead to an abyss.
In Under the Layers and I Wanted to Be You, both characters are faced with their fears and insecurities. One of them will come to a point where she seeks her true identity in the Lord. The other must deal with the issues in her heart. While these stories are laced with humour, their emphasis is on the state of one’s heart before God and people.
The last story, “Prisoner of Hope,” is a bonus poetic tale culled from several scriptures, especially Zechariah 9:12.
The stories are set in Edorido, a fictional capital city among the Ibibio-speaking people. The name “Edorido” is not fictional; it is the name of a mini market in my father’s village, Ikot Obong Itam, in Itu Local Government Area. I got really fascinated by the name and named a fictional town after it sometime in 2021 while putting together a mini-series about nation-building set in a semi-urban town where characters in the stories identify a dire need and problem in their community and try to right the wrong narrative.
Though Edorido bears similarities with towns like Itu and Uyo, where I grew up in Akwa Ibom State, it isn’t based on one or the other. I have tried to mix up the look of the town in this book.
I bet you’ll enjoy reading this book.
I just received the manuscript from my editor, and I am excited to announce that IWTBY will be released on the 15th of July 2026. In the coming days, I’ll be posting more snippets from the book and other news regarding the release. So be on the lookout :).
This poem is culled from HEARTTITUDE, a soon-to-be-released collection of poems.
Bow the heart Pour out yourself before the Lord Pour out your tears in the hands, Of Him who holds the earth.
Let your heart speak, Your father’s ears are always open. Dress not your words in colourful jackets Drop the weights at His feet.
He sees the smoking mountains and the flooded valleys in your heart He knows the worries in your mind, And hears the midnight cries.
He invites you, To come to Him and Bow the heart Cast every burden at His feet.
Bow the heart Fall before the gracious King Worship Him Converse with your Father.
Reflection.
Several people in the Bible had such intimate and honest conversations with the Lord. Let’s talk about one of them.
King David is an example of a man who cultivated such (enviable) intimacy with God. He bore his heart to God always and hid nothing from Him. Through the Psalms, we read of David’s tears, burdens and agitations, gratitude, questions, fears and confidence in God.
Psalm 55:1-3&22 ESV says,
“Give ear to my prayer, O God,
and hide not yourself from my plea for mercy!
Attend to me, and answer me;
I am restless in my complaint, and I moan,
because of the noise of the enemy,
because of the oppression of the wicked.”
Cast your burden on the Lord,
and he will sustain you;
he will never permit
the righteous to be moved.
To bow the heart is to come before God in surrender and acknowledge that we cannot carry any burdens by ourselves. For no one in this life can listen to us or give us the answers, consolation and comfort as He alone can.
Pretending before God or refusing to lay out the burdens in our hearts will, in the long run, overwhelm and wear us out. We will never make progress if we keep our concerns, weaknesses and fears to ourselves. But laying them bare before the One who knows us completely gives us peace and rest.
So come before God “unguarded”. Pour out your heart before Him. Hold nothing back.
Prayer: Father, help us to come boldly and cast all our burdens at your feet. May we trust You with the things we cannot control, in Jesus’ name, amen.
Further Reading: Mark 1:35, Hebrews 4:16, Luke 22:42, Psalm 55:22, Philippians 4:4-7, Psalm 37:5, Psalm 62.
I just thought to pop in quickly to give a little update about this collection, I Wanted to Be You (IWTBY) I talked about early in the year. My original plan was to publish in March, but thanks to my no-nonsense editor with attention for detail (I thank God for sending her to me) who has worked side by side with me. With her help, this collection has grown into something far better than I first imagined. Her dedication reminds me that good stories need time to incubate and need to be to be engaging enough to keep the reader glued.
Because IWTBY wasn’t ready, I decided to pause work on two novellas (contemporary stories of Naomi and Ruth.) I had started last year. The reason is simple: IWTBY sets the tone and lays a foundation for readers to know more about Edorido, the fictional town where all these stories unfold.
“Edorido” is not a fictional name but a name I borrowed from a small market in my father’s village. Back in 2021, I became fascinated with the idea of using that name to create a real town. So I wrote a mini (nation-building) series about a semi-urban town where where the main characters confront the problems in their community and they each fight for change.
Now back to IWTBY. Check out the cover below. What do you think? 🙂 🙂
I Wanted To Be You weaves together themes of God’s abundant grace, love, strength, restoration, healing, hope, and so much more.
I can’t wait for you to step into Edorido and experience these stories for yourself. As for release dates. Please, stay tuned.
Thank you for reading and hope to pop in very soon with more news and of course share a poem or two with you.
I have been away from my blog and have missed this space as I’ve been busy working on my latest collection of poems and some other writing projects. This poem I’m sharing today is culled from my soon to be released collection of poems, “HEARTITUDE.” Did you notice the play on words in the title? “Heart-Attitude.”
Yes! I have fifteen poems focusing on the heart. I hope to share one more poem from the collection and will get to tell you more in subsequent post about the poem. Hope you enjoy reading this entry. Happy reading 🙂
Wineskins of my heart
Dear Lord, my old wineskin cannot hold the new me you’re brewing. Tear away the old, clothe me in the new. I pour out who I was;
Fill me again with freshly pressed grapes. Clothe my heart, renew my mind, a heart made deep and clean, fit to receive the new wine.
Pour into my life fresh and living wine, rich and full that all who taste may drink life and long for more. For the old in me was stale and sour.
Deliver me, Lord, from the weight of my former nature. Fill this new heart, this renewed mind, with all of You alone, Lord.
General Fear marches into the dimly lit room, drops his briefcase on a table and stands at attention by a screen, awaiting orders from the rulers. Around the oval table sit the famous “Eleven Reasoning Men,” whose faces remain shrouded in a shadow. The rulers draped in purple and tan regal robes with crimson hooded capes whisper among themselves, ignoring General Fear’s presence.
“Go ahead, General,” One ruler finally commands.
General Fear gives a trembling bow. “Thank you. Good evening, rulers.”
“Good evening, General.” The eleven chorus in response. “What do you have for us today?”
General Fear clicks a remote, and the screen flickers to life—revealing a man with a jagged dark-green scar running down the right cheek.
“His name,” General Fear’s voice trembles, then steadies, “is Doubt.”
“What’s he able to do for us?” One ruler leans forward.
“Much more than you’ve ever known.” General Fear, a burly man with a dark fatigue, a bowler hat and tinted glasses, paces with a grin as he delivers his emissary’s resume to the rulers.
“Doubt’s influence stretches far and wide.” General Fear throws his hands open, as if unveiling a grand secret. “He pierces and clouds minds with cunning deception.”
General Fear snaps his finger. “Doubt traverses the earth faster than the speed of light, shaping people’s actions and altering their choices.”
The rulers trade curious glances.
General Fear’s smile spreads. “Doubt’s voice is thunder. It’s louder than a tower bell or the sound of many drums. He pounds at hearts, screams his lyrics of uncertainty into ears, and drowns everyone’s reason to believe anything other than his words.”
The rulers let out a hum, heads bobbing in unison.
“Can you show us a detailed scope of his work?” One ruler presses, an edge of curiosity in his voice.
“Absolutely. I have a great deal to reveal to you, Sirs.” General Fear turns on the screen. “Permit me to present a five-minute documentary, ‘A World Filled with Doubt and Fear.’ I crafted it in collaboration with Doubt himself. Enjoy!”
The video plays. The rulers watch, admiration glowing in their eyes. They rise to their feet, applauding Doubt’s sterling performance.
General Fear beams as the video rolls to the end. “You need to have this, Sirs.” General Fear hands the rulers a trifold booklet. “We also have a ‘Doubter’s Course’ taught across the globe—schools, homes, everywhere. Doubt is trusted. He’s the expert.”
The rulers erupt with laughter. General Fear joins in, his bark of laughter dissolves into a cough. A ruler rings a bell, summoning a slender young woman in a navy-blue skimpy dress. She enters gracefully, bearing a tray with a jug and a glass of purple juice. General Fear thanks her, flashing a coy smile. His eyes linger, lips curling as she catwalks out of the room. He sips the juice, setting the glass down on the stool before him.
A grey‑haired ruler stands and presents General Fear with a voluminous book. “Look at this.” General Fear skims through the book; his brows arch.
“This is his charge,” The grey-haired ruler bellows. “Doubt must make people embrace cynicism, to cling to logic as if it’s their final hope. Replace trust with reasoning. Let them bow to us, not to God, for we are gods.” The ruler lowers his voice and locks eyes with General Fear. “Will he deliver?”
“Of course, Sir.” General Fear lifts his shoulders, grinning. “He is Doubt. No one questions him. Humanity listens. And his cry is always the same: ‘Impossible, you’ll never succeed.”
“We’ll watch out for him.” The grey-haired ruler drops a bag of silver coins at his feet. “Report back in a week.”
General Fear bows. “Thank you, Sirs.”
“Proceed, General. Go with power.” The eleven rulers command, their voices shaking the walls of the room.
Folly
As he retreats from the room, General Fear bumps into the lady in the hallway, his large frame nearly toppling her tray.
“Hey, gorgeous, apologies.” His lips pull into a predatory grin as he steadies her tray. She returns a sly smile.
“Thanks for that drink.”
“It’s nothing.” Her face glows, her voice soft as silk.
He slides a business card from his pocket. “Let’s meet tomorrow.” He winks at her.
“Of course,” she whispers, lips curving as she tucks the card away in her dress pocket.
“Seven o’clock. I’ll pick you up — wait for me at the gate.”
“Cool.”
With that, General Fear strides down the hallway and vanishes into the night.
Conspiracy
“Doubt! I got it!” General Fear yells as he bursts into the office.
“That’s my Comrade.” Doubt, a stout figure, throws both hands in the air.
“We have a huge mission.” General Fear slams the book on the table. “You have a lot of work to do tonight.”
Eyes burning with excitement, Doubt hunches over the table, poring over the pages as General Fear briefs Doubt.
“Ah, I love this job.” Doubt shuffles his hands as he drinks in the text.
“I knew you would be the best person for this.” General Fear chuckles.
Doubt runs a finger across a paragraph, reading aloud: ‘“Wander the earth, infect every heart and soul with cynicism and rebellion. Etch ungodliness upon their foreheads and ears until our message reigns supreme.”’
Wow. Doubt thumps his chest, laughing. “Comrade, I am ready to drown people’s hearts, minds and souls with this message.”
They give each other a high five and a warm hug. Their laughter rattles the walls of the room.
“For your meals and other needs. General Fear hands him some coins. “Return with good news, son.”
Immediately, Doubt slips into a sterling white attire. He bolts out of the room and disappears into the city.
The Clash
But as Doubt spreads his plague, a powerful figure appears.
The Commander.
Clad in a blazing white robe, crowned with gold, with fiery eyes, feet gleaming with studs of gold, the Commander strides across the clouds and descends on the circles of the earth. In His right hand, a Sword flashes. The Commander lifts it, and the blades brighten the dark skies.
“I am the Commander of Heaven’s Armies,” He shouts, shaking the ground beneath.
At the sound of his voice, Doubt plugs his ears with his fingers. The Commander’s blade glistens through the dark, forcing Doubt to shield his eyes. The Commander strikes Doubt with the Sword, tearing his attire.
Doubt staggers, then takes to flight, shrieking, “Impossible, you won’t succeed”.
The Commander declares: “With God, all things are possible.”
And though Doubt runs across the earth, causing hearts to tremble, the Commander’s voice rises above the noise as he keeps commanding people,
“Trust in the Lord. Believe in the Almighty God. Stand firm in faith.”
Whenever Doubt tries to roar, the Commander screams even louder, drowning out Doubt. And many hearts start to awaken to the Commander’s voice.
The Eruption
News reaches the Eleven.
Back in the office, the eleven men glare at the screen, seething in anger as Doubt’s defeat unfolds before them. Rage boils within them until they each throw off their robes and capes. The grey-haired man rises, slams his fist on the screen and shatters it. Another strikes the lone bulb, plunging the room into darkness.
Thunder crashes outside. Lightning rips through the room, splitting the oval table in two. A splinter of wood pierces the grey-haired man’s eye, and he lets out a shrill cry. Immediately, others start wailing as wood flies around the room, piercing them.
In the darkness, the rulers grope, desperate for escape. Another lightning tear through the room, sending them crashing into each other. In their desperation and confusion, the eleven men begin clawing and punching each other, their cries tearing through the dark.
The room falls silent.
WORD
“Have the kind of trust that comes from God! Yes! I tell you that whoever does not doubt in his heart but trusts that what he says will happen can say to this mountain, ‘Go and throw yourself into the sea!’ and it will be done for him.
Therefore, I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, trust that you are receiving it, and it will be yours.” – Mark 11:22-24. CJB
“If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. That person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. Such a person is double-minded and unstable in all they do.” – James 1:5-8 NIV.
My tongue is a pen My pen is in my writing kit I lift it to You, Lord Refill it with life Infuse it with fresh oil flowing from the olive trees Let it flow, flow, flow afresh Renew Restore Let it scribble life on a parched land, the souls of men And wet the dry places, the dark, hidden areas within the mind Let every stroke awaken weary hearts.
My pen is between my fingers. Ready to mark the city. Enobong O’wunmi. February 2026.
I have not written a poem in ages Today, I sling the writing case on my shoulder, A burden to bear for The One who called me. He gave me a new pen, A weapon between my fingers, A fresh pot of ink I received To mark the city To season hearts To write words full of grace.
As He commands, so will I do For He’s the pen and the inkwell It’s in Him I dip and write upon the land Waiting to soak in His words. Enobong O’wunmi. February 2026.
A few weeks back, I shared a couple of posts about keeping our ‘vessels’ clean and filled with God’s word. I used the analogy of household jars to illustrate some vital spiritual habits.
In our households, we all have separate containers for different items. No one pours oil or petrol into a water dispenser. These items are kept separate for safety purposes and identification. So while considering writing on ” separation “, my mind went to the threshing floor. Quite interestingly, yesterday I read Luke 3:17. John the Baptist said,
Luke 3:17 ESV
“His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his barn, but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”
In the Bible, the threshing floor represented different things—God’s judgment (Judges 6, Matthew 3:12), blessing (Joel 2:24), and redemption. It was at the threshing floor that the Lord halted the judgment He brought upon David for taking a census. (Read 2 Samuel.) It was on that floor that the Lord instructed David to build an altar. And Solomon built the Temple on the threshing floor. (2 Chronicles 3.)
I don’t intend to go into any deep teaching to avoid a lengthy article. However, I want to highlight Luke 3:17 and what it means to us, believers in Christ.
“His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor… According to another writer, “‘to winnow is to blow air through grains to remove the chaff.’
The Lord holds the winnowing fork. And it is His duty to separate the wheat from the chaff. He preserves the wheat for good use while the chaff is burned up— because it is worthless. The chaff may certainly have served its purpose in the planting/growing seasons. But once the farmer harvests the grains, the chaff must be blown away, as it can’t be mixed with the grains.
In truth, we are still undergoing that separation, John foretold. For His Kingdom’s sake, the Lord will not have a mix of chaff and wheat in His barn. It will never serve His purposes, let alone sustain His sheep.
I looked up the picture of the winnowing fork, and I’m certain that the Lord uses it to sift through our hearts, consciences, attitudes, and lifestyles. He reveals to us that certain ways of living are like chaff— dead, worthless, and without value to the Kingdom of God.
Whatever the chaff is in your life may be different from mine. The Lord may be winnowing the company/friends we keep, books and movies we watch, and He’s saying, “son/daughter, ‘separate’ yourself from these lifeless things that impede growth.”
A year ago, we may have had attachments to certain things that didn’t look like chaff. But today, He is highlighting that the very things unsettling our hearts are the ones that don’t belong in the kingdom. They are distractions, stopping us from being fruitful. God’s intention is to mill our lives into “fine flour”, seasoned, toasted and made lively and ready for His kingdom work.
Recently, the Lord has placed His winnowing fork on some chaff I must urgently let go of. As I write, I can almost feel the Lord separating the wheat from the chaff in my heart and soul, separating me from everything that’s unfit for His kingdom. By His help, I’ll continue to yield to Him.
I’m also asking you, my dear reader, “What is He telling you to separate yourself from?” Let’s cooperate with Him.
Last week, I posted an article titled “Refill.” I emphasised the importance of continually refilling our lives with the Word and Spirit. I made some analogies regarding the items we refill today, such as our cars, bottles, and canisters. By now, we may realise again that every container or vessel has its own use, and what we put into them matters.
This week, the question on my mind for believers is, “What are we filling up on? What is going into our vessels (vessels here meaning our spirit, soul, mind, heart, body)?”
As thirsty as we can be, we wouldn’t drink oil to quench our thirst. Oil wasn’t made to quench the thirst.
Filling up the petrol tank is essential for the car. In fact, many of us hate driving on an empty or half-tank. We always want to have enough petrol. Just because we’re too tired or lazy to stop at a petrol station, or indifferent about what goes into the tank, doesn’t mean we would fill it with sand, engine oil, water or cereal. We already know the outcomes of doing that.
The same goes for those of us who are big on storing dry food. When we return from the store with our grains, cereals, etc., we are careful to pour each one into the designated containers. Some of us have our canisters labelled. We wouldn’t for a second decide to mix our rice and cereals in one container, no matter how much we love the taste of both.
Health or fitness enthusiasts are quite cautious about what they put into their meals or mouths. Not every food and drink makes it to their shelves, pots and shakers. A lot of them study food labels and count calories.
If we can be this careful with the externals, I believe serious-minded believers have a responsibility to be mindful of what we consume—food or drink.
2 Peter 1:5-9 NIV says;
For this very reason, make every effort to add to your faith goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; and to godliness, mutual affection; and to mutual affection, love. For if you possess these qualities in increasing measure, they will keep you from being ineffective and unproductive in your knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. But whoever does not have them is nearsighted and blind, forgetting that they have been cleansed from their past sins.
I do not have time in this short article to expand on the above scripture. However, the few things I want to say are: there’s an intentionality (“intentional” is a buzzword today; in Paul’s day, we could have said “earnestly”) and effort involved in applying these virtues to our lives daily.
How do we do that?
We must draw near to God through the Word and prayer, consciously carving out ample time to seek Him alone. As we abide in Him, He will pour His life and Spirit into us. It’s only as we press into Him that we would be pouring into our vessels the ability to stay patient in an impatient world. It’s in Him we learn love, peace, joy and more. These virtues and disciplines keep our vessels cleansed and nourished. You can never say you poured in these virtues five years ago and don’t need to do so again. It is a daily thing to keep drinking of the Spirit of life.
We find in today’s world many things that discourage us from abiding and filling up on the life of the Spirit. The world normalises certain behaviours and patterns to the detriment of our spiritual walk.
There’s so much “junk” to fill up on at short notice. We have been handed over certain terms like binging and getting hooked on things that add very little value to us. We find ourselves binge-watching, binge-reading, etc. Not that there’s anything wrong with watching or reading books, but when we get hooked on things to the point where we lose control, we inadvertently fill up our vessels with them, and these things form our habits, actions, conduct, and lifestyle. Too many externals, entertainment and fun make us lose spiritual sensitivity. Binge-watching and binging as a whole is the thief of time and desire to be with Father God. We shouldn’t permit externals to define us.
In Ephesians 5:18 ESV, Paul says;
“And do not get drunk with wine, for that is debauchery, but be filled with the Spirit…”
Getting drunk with wine can mean many things to us today. It can be a warning against too much alcohol consumption. It can also mean not getting intoxicated with entertainment and the like.
“To be filled with the Spirit” will require many sacrifices from us, which includes the use of our time. Yes, our time. Our lives can often be overwhelmed by excessive screen time, including social media, TV, novels, laptops and more. Even though we also need a dose of this entertainment, too much of these things makes us spiritually dull. We start to look like a mix of oil and water.
Some of us are careful (in our daily routines) to avoid eating certain foods that offer little nutritional benefit or are harmful to our bodies and health. Then, we must be even more discerning about our spiritual lives.
To grow and mature as spiritual men and women, we must make sacrifices. This often requires cutting back on or completely removing things that consume our time. You will not be filled with the Spirit if you do not give time and attention to seek the Lord and spend time in the secret place.
I’ll stop here today. See you again next week. Thank you for reading.
The word “refill” is one we use in almost every moment of our lives.
Each day, we are all refilling something. It could be a car owner refilling his or her engine with petrol or oil. We refill our bottles, buckets, vessels, jars, pots, flower vases, glasses, and even perfume bottles, cream bottles, and canisters of dry foods.
I’m sure it may or may not have occurred to us how repetitive the above activities can be.
Once our water bottles are empty, we refill them to stay hydrated. Tea or coffee lovers can attest to this exercise. They drink and keep refilling the pot or cup.
Also, we never want to run into trouble with an empty tank of petrol, so we “top up”. We also ensure we have enough to cover any future eventualities.
Consider this: when you’re not refilling any of the items I’ve mentioned above, what happens to them?
Can we eat or cook when our canisters are empty?
What happens when we keep drinking water from a dispenser and never refill it?
One day, there will only be droplets, then a drop of water. Soon, the container will be completely dry, so much so that you’ll wonder if water was ever in it. Some dispensers even look dirty and gather dust, or develop a peculiar smell because of disuse.
Now these illustrations explain something deeper. As believers in Christ, we can become spiritually dry if we don’t hydrate ourselves by consistently engaging with the water of God’s Word — and prayer (Acts 6:4).
We all know that we drink water daily to keep our physical bodies refreshed, cleansed, and hydrated. So also does God’s word do even more in our lives. The more we drink of Christ, the more we are “full” — of Him. And we will give to those who are thirsty. People can come and literally press the knobs in us to drink what God has stored up in us.
When we do not refill our lives with the Word and Spirit, we will become rusty, dry, and unusable. We start stinking… We won’t be able to dispense life to anyone because nothing is going into us, and vice versa.
Isaiah 55 gives us a warm invitation. And this invitation never expires or runs out.
“Come, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and he who has no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.”
Also, Jesus extends this invitation to all of us to come and drink from Him.
John 7:37-38 ESV
[37] On the last day of the feast, the great day, Jesus stood up and cried out, “If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. [38] Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.’”
So, I invite you and me to the source of life that never runs dry. The Lord is inviting us at all times to drink and drink and keep drinking unendingly.
A Happy New Year to YOU, you and you from my writing desk 🙂
January is here, and six days gone.
We thank the Lord for favourably giving us another year, months, weeks, days and seasons to live out our calling and to be diligent, to love, seek and serve Him in this year.
One of my mottos for January is: “Don’t (ever!)turn a Joyful January into Januworry. Instead: Trust God and DO GOOD.
Before I go on, I want to warmly welcome my new subscribers and to sincerely thank everyone for downloading my collections (of poems), especially PsalmSongspiration. Over the holiday season, I joined a group of writer friends to offer giveaways, and so many people downloaded the book. It was quite impressive. Thank you again 🙂
This year, I am excited to say I will release my first novel in the second quarter of the year. I hope to provide more details about the writing project. Two of my books will be based on two prominent Bible characters. As a writer friend put it, they’re both “loose retellings” of the familiar stories we all know. More news coming soon…
Later in the year, I will also share with you a few short stories I’ve also worked on and will eventually publish as a collection.
I would stop here for now. Remember to “Trust in the Lord, and do good; dwell in the land, and feed on His faithfulness.” Psalm 37:3 NKJV.
It’s been quite a long time since I sent you an email. I have many excuses to make; please accept my apologies 🙂
My debut book, Paulina’s Thorns, a collection of short stories, marks a year today. And she is “expecting” another sister early next year (Yay! very excited. More news coming soon). To celebrate her birthday, I am giving away PsalmSongspiration, a compilation of thirty poetic expressions—songs of gratitude inspired by the Psalms and the words of the Messiah. It is more than a collection; it is a call—a stirring of the heart toward intimacy with God.
(A short devotion and a prayer accompany each poem.)
PsalmSongspiration is a term coined from three words: Psalms, songs, and inspiration—rooted in Apostle Paul’s exhortation in Ephesians 5:18b–19 (NIV): “Instead, be filled with the Spirit, speaking to one another with psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit. Sing and make music from your heart to the Lord.”
You can read one poem each day for a month. Every poem in this collection will stir your heart and uplift your spirit.
Please click the link below for a digital copy. Currently, I don’t have the e-book available on Amazon (I do have the paperback on Amazon). Would you please download your copy through Selar? Thank you. I have been told that Selar sends unsolicited (marketing) emails once you’re subscribed. Please download the collection and unsubscribe from Selar once you’ve got yours.
Write the songs of heaven with tunes from the Lord’s heart Make it a delight to God’s ears, a blessing to his people Let its words restore souls to the path of light And its harmony awakens His sons as the day draws nigh
With the strings, tell of His holiness, strength, and might Blow the trumpets, let it gather His children to the feast Every heart will lift its melody, And every foot will sway in synchrony As the oceans go back and forth in worship
Sing the songs of heaven with voices like angels As they resound over the mountainside, And echo over the surface of seas and seas beneath
Sing into the ears of sleeping giants Pull them out of the wells of despair and grief Sing a new song, let it revive the bones of the weak Let its keys open the doors of captives As you hear from Him, write notes on the hearts of men
You uttered not a word, like a king accustomed to praise
As lots were cast, and your royal robes divided
A homage well paid, stored in treasuries of mercy
Outside the gates, you hung in pain
You were dared to come down and be Jesus to yourself
Challenged to unmask the Messiah
Behind the shame your face wore for all men
Hour after hour
“Father, forgive them,”
You said, perceiving your final breath, head bowed
“None, not one, knows how ignorant they truly are.”
Alone you hung, and in the sixth hour
Darkness coated the earth as men cowered
“It is finished!” you cried, your piercing voice broke the earth’s heart.
The graves unlocked, and the dead walked into life
One soldier saw and believed
“Truly, you are the Son of God.”
Hail the lamb, the king of all kings
See what enduring love you’ve revealed to mankind
Triumphing over sin and death
Hail the Saviour of all men.
Wordspiration
This poem is adapted from Matthew 27 and Mark 15.
We call Jesus the Lamb because He was the atoning sacrifice for our sins. John the Baptist proclaimed in John 1:29, “Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!”
In the Old Testament, lambs were offered as sin offerings and for the consecration of Priests (Exodus 12; Leviticus 4–5). But these sacrifices could never fully cleanse man of sin. That’s why Jesus came—to do what the blood of bulls and goats could not. He became the Lamb who was slain once for all (Hebrews 9:11–14; 10:1–10).
We are eternally grateful that Jesus, our Messiah, came in the flesh (John 1:14). In Revelation 5, He is revealed not only as the Lamb, but also the Lion of Judah—the only One worthy to open the scroll and its seals.
Thank you, Jesus.
We hail you, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.
Prayer Father God, I thank you for Jesus, the spotless Lamb, who bore my sin and shame. I join the voices in heaven declaring: “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power, wealth, wisdom, strength, honour, glory, and praise.”
May my life be a song of worship to you. Let me live as one who has truly seen the Lion and the Lamb. Amen.
Adapted from Psalms 15, 24:3–5, 101; Isaiah 33:15; Galatians 5:22; and Ephesians 4.
“Live such good lives among the pagans that, though they accuse you of doing wrong, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day he visits us.” – 1 Peter 2:12 (NIV)
Our character must reflect the One we belong to. The world should look at us and see Jesus, not because we seek to impress them, but because we live for the Lord. We are in the world, but not of it. Our nature is different; our fruit is different. Like those first disciples in Antioch, we are called “Christians” because we are like Christ.
Jesus taught in the Sermon on the Mount that our light must shine, not as a display of power or religiosity, but through a life marked by meekness, mercy, purity, peacemaking, and perseverance. Our closeness with Him will always show in how we live.
We are partakers of His finished work. We are kingdom-minded, slow to anger, filled with love, patient, gentle, and kind. This is not fiction. This is who we are becoming. We must be vigilant—watching, praying, and walking in step with the Spirit. A holy life is not outdated. It is our witness in a rebellious culture.
So, let us be different. Let us be His.
Prayer Father God, help me live a life that reflects You. May I strip off the old nature and put on the new character found in Christ. Let my life shine as a true reflection of your light. May those around me testify that I am yours, not just in word, but in the way I live. In Jesus’ name, amen.
This poem is adapted from Deuteronomy 6, Psalms 37:31, 40:8, and 119:11.
In Deuteronomy 6, the Lord commanded His people to write His words upon their hearts, to tie them on their hands, inscribe them on their foreheads, doorposts, and gates. Today, our hearts, minds, and souls are those inner doorposts and gates. God still desires that we inscribe His truth deeply within.
As believers, we are not just to read Scripture for the sake of familiarity or memorisation but to meditate on it consistently, until it lives and breathes in us. When God’s Word is truly stored in our hearts, it transforms us from within. It begins to shape our thoughts, emotions, choices, and conversations. The more grounded we are in His Word, the more we live by faith and not by fear.
Keeping God’s Word close requires wholehearted devotion. But when we build our inner lives upon it, like a sturdy house, it becomes our anchor in every storm.
May we be diligent to inscribe His Word on the walls of our hearts, and may our lives reflect the One who dwells within.
Prayer Father God, help me to nail Your truth to the doorposts of my heart. Let your Word dwell richly in my soul, shaping my thoughts, guiding my steps, and transforming my life. May it build my faith, silence fear, and stir up courage. Help me to delight in your commands and find joy in doing your will. Let my life become a reflection of Jesus, steady and radiant through every season. In Jesus’ name, amen.
Wordspiration: I wrote this song while studying Psalm 29(I added Psalm 118:14 to the last line.) I do not yet have a tune for it yet. Psalm 29 contains many messages. But I want to focus on verse 10 and 11 – the aspects that nudged me to write the song.
I remember visiting a beach last year with my family. It was a great delight watching the ocean. We waded into the water, but once the strong winds whipped up the waves, we ran to the shore. We watched the calm waters, suddenly stirred by the wind. It roared and churned, turning turbulent. Interestingly, that is why it’s an ocean. It has to do its thing.
I reckon the believer’s heart is like an ocean. One minute, it is as calm and at rest (full of faith) as the evening sea. Unguarded, the heart becomes worried and doubtful, and fearful and overwhelmed by life’s issues, tossing it like a tempestuous ocean.
Our heart shouldn’t be like the raging ocean. We should ask the Lord to help us to remain quiet, at rest and full of faith. I can say that we can only have a quiet heart when we allow the Lord to be enthroned over its affairs. Talk to him.
Today, I pray the Lord will rule over us and calm every flood and raging storm within our hearts. May he reign over us and bring us peace, regardless of what happens around us.
“Now faith is confidence in what I hope for and assurance about what I do not see.” – Hebrews 11:1.
By faith, I am a prophetic storyteller I am a skilful poet filled with grace and truth My fingers and tongue are that of a ready writer.
By faith, I write and promote the good news My ink writes hope and courage on hearts As God speaks, I doodle. As I hear, I write.
By faith, the Lord instructs me through visions of the night and day With my trained fingers, I carve the words on pages I proclaim peace and good tidings.
Lord, I thirst for more and these are no mere words There’s a longing inside me, for your water, bread, the wine and pure milk. When my cup is dry, I ask you to fill me to overflow
Wordspiration: The poem is inspired by Psalms 62:1 and 2, 63. Psalm 63 is said to have been written while David was in the wilderness in Judah. It could have been before he ascended to the throne (1 Samuel 22: 5, 23:15) or his brief exile from Absalom.
Many times when I read a Psalm, I like to research and understand the circumstances that inspired it. I love these two Psalms and the depth of the words. (Take your time to read through the Psalms and ask the Holy Spirit to reveal his word to you.)
Though he was a warrior king, David’s life was one of many battles and troubles. Before he ascended the throne, David was on the run from Saul for more than a decade. He lived in cages and hid in rocks to be kept safe from Saul and his cohorts. If we apply our imagination, we may understand (from the troubles we face) how discomforting it was for him to be in a state of chaos for several years without respite. In those challenging moments, David found comfort in God’s presence and longed for even more of it.
Don’t we say we are thirsting for God, but easily resent Him when he allows us to pass through distressing situations? Don’t we often realise that some hardships and difficult situations have taught us endurance, patience, and perseverance and have matured us and driven us into seeking him? That is to say, we must never pray or wish away any battles. And that doesn’t mean we are to permanently embrace afflictions or sit back and think problems will fade away, taking on the mindset of Que Sera, sera. Sometimes the Lord will want us to arise and fight to overcome the afflictions because David did. But at other times, we must, like King David, learn to rest and not be agitated (because our human mind is always trying to sort out our challenges by ourselves and efforts). We must rest in the one who goes ahead of us and fights every battle because “power belongs to God.” May we continue to thirst and find rest in God through our different (trying) seasons.
The Chief Potter picked up the clay. He rested it in his palm, imprinting the clay on it. He smiled with approval. “Before you were formed in your mother’s womb, I loved you and made you for a day like this, for this age and the next.” He took the piece and formed me, placing me upon the earth. I grew up tough and hardened inside and out as I traversed the world, mingling with dust and rocks. Chief Potter picked me up again and moulded me. He pressed me to a board, remoulded, looked at it, and broke it up again. Then, he rolled me in his palms, following a rhythm. Ha! I yawned, squirmed, murmured and cried. “You’re taking too long, sir.” The Chief Potter worked in silence. Shaped! Formed! Marred!
He mixed the clay with water, making a fine lump. His large hands massaged it so gently. He shaped, shaped and shaped He stretched the lump, stretched, stretched, stretched and massaged it.
“Why’s he wasting time?”
Softening my head and heart, Chief carved me into a masterpiece. “Daughter, you are my handiwork created in Christ to do good works.” He put me on the path of life with his signet ring on my finger, a sword upon my thigh and in my mouth, a ring in my ear and garments for different occasions. “Go in my might,” He said, “Stay on the path.”
"Oh! that the power of God would set my heart and pen at liberty while writing, and fill your hearts while reading, that we may rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory." (John Newton)
ABC days of being a penwoman 