From you to me…3

Hello people, how’s life with you? Hope great? Wishing you God’s very best…
Catch what lovely readers of the blog have sent so far on this series: here, and here
Then proceed to read another unedited entry from another lovely reader…


By Philip Amiola

The subject of spiritual growth is one that is very important to every believer because it is central to our walk of faith. If we are going to live the life that God has called us to live, be all that He wants us to be and do all that He expects us to do, then we must grow up spiritually.

While many of us know this for a fact, we often get discouraged or simply slack off as we pursue the intentional process of spiritual growth through studying and meditating on God’s Word, praying, maintaining fellowship with other believers, serving in ministry units and sharing our faith with others as we live it out on a daily basis.

My goal in this piece is to share some benefits of spiritual growth which I gleaned from a study of the book of Daniel and the epistle of Paul to the Ephesians. I believe that keeping these benefits in our consciousness will spur us on in our spiritual journey.

As you think through the following list which is by no means exhaustive, you will realise that the pursuit of spiritual growth is a highly profitable investment:

  1. Spiritual growth empowers us to become active participants in fulfilling God’s purposes on earth. (Daniel 9:1-3)

  2. Spiritual growth gives us access to the mysteries of God with revelation knowledge, skill, wisdom and understanding. (Daniel 2:19-23, Daniel 9:21-22, Ephesians 1:8-9)

  3. Spiritual growth gives us capacity to proffer solutions to problems that have confounded others. (Daniel 2, Daniel 5)

  4. Spiritual growth empowers us to stick with our convictions even under the most terrifying circumstances. (Daniel 1:8, Daniel 3:8-18, Daniel 6:4-10)

  5. When we grow spiritually, we are equipped to follow God’s plan for our lives as we understand the hope of His calling and get strengthened in the inner man. (Ephesians 1:17-18, Ephesians 3:14-21)

  6. Spiritual growth raises our net worth. It empowers us to add value to other people’s lives through service thereby making us relevant across board. (Daniel 5:13-17, Ephesians 6:5-9). This eventually gives us influence and wealth. (Daniel 2:46-49, Daniel 5:29)

  7. Growing up spiritually helps us to exercise our God-given authority and establish dominion on the earth. (Ephesians 1:17-23)

  8. Spiritual growth helps us to overcome the weaknesses of the flesh and withstand the wiles of the devil. (Ephesians 4:17-23, Ephesians 5:1-5, Ephesians 6:10-18)

  9. When we grow spiritually, we are not being blown away with every wind of doctrine. Rather, we are able to recognise and stay with the truth. (Ephesians 4:14-15, Ephesians 5:6)

  10. The degree of love and unity in the church is affected by the level of spiritual growth of the members. In the same way, the degree of love and unity in the universal body of Christ increases when each member grows spiritually. (Ephesians 4:11-16).

As I was recently reminded by Pastor Mobolaji Adam-Adeyemi, physical assignments require physical abilities, mental assignments require mental abilities and spiritual assignments require spiritual abilities. The only way to develop spiritual abilities is to grow up spiritually.

​Philip Amiola is a teacher, writer and campaigner of empowerment. He blogs at and tweets from @PhilipAmiola.​

From You to me… 2

Hello people. Here is the second entry on this series by @Isaacola. Enjoy the first, then, follow suit with another unedited version:

My case is unique and I know you might have a terribly different opinion but that is your opinion and everybody no matter how big or small is entitled to his or her opinion. Like I noted, you are the General Overseer and General Superintendent of your opinion but hear me out before you take me to the gallows.
I am the only female in a family of three. To say my family was dysfunctional only understates the obvious. Hardly did a day pass without a bout of fighting in our home. We grew up seeing exchange of fisticuffs as normal most times one sided fistful fight.
My fierce looking father had this warped thinking that using your wife as a punching bag is a parameter for measuring manliness.
Whenever he arrived from work in the evening, we scurried, scampered and scattered in different directions to avoid the wrath of a permanently angry man. It was always in our interests to avoid the living room whenever he was around. It was so bad we avoided him like a plague, which he actually is. Like they say, he is the terrorist, the lion of the tribe of his dysfunctional familia.
My poor mother was a case study of wretchedness and emotional wreck. She took in all the pummeling with stoic resignation to her fate. She never complained, not even once. He forced her to stop working when we were young and that made her totally dependent on him financially. He was the sole provider so she had no choice but to be absolutely submissive and totally subservient to him. I think he relished the situation and it tickled the fancy of his sadism.
We were stuck to this man like leech and there was no way to avoid it. Mother soon ended up in the psychiatric ward due to the terrible emotional and psychological trauma arising from her constant pummeling by the beast she called husband, same one we called father.
Love was a strange thing in our lexicon because we all grow up without any trace of the human emotion called love. My older brothers left home as fast as possible leaving me behind with my monster father.
I also gained admission three years after my immediate elder brother. The irony of the matter however, was that I kept getting attracted to the so-called bad boys, like moth is drawn to a flicking light. As at this time, sex was out of the question because I was preoccupied with building myself up and creating a niche for myself as an independent lady.
I lived off campus in the high brow area of town because my monster father saw to it that my bank account was fat due to the fact that mother was ‘incarcerated’ in her psychiatric ward and my elder siblings attended a different school. My neighbor in the BQ (boys quarters) was one of the baddest boys in town. Big, bearded, well toned muscle and rich. All the wrongest combo that got me reeling and mushy, the closest I have ever been to emotional.
It happened one night while I was busy battling with my Generator. He offered to help despite us not being on talking terms aside the normal “hello”. He tried but as fate would have it, the generator just sputtered and hiccupped numerous times before packing up for the night. He tried to persuade me to come to his room to get my electricity needs met but I refused politely. Noticing that I was no going to yield ground, he joined my room to the power from his generator.
It was a cold evening littered with drizzles and the occasional rain. After going through the electrical connection process, he was a little drenched and started coughing. It was more like wheezing to me and I was right. I asked him what happened but I didn’t need to be told. He managed to tell me where to find his inhaler and I ran into his room to get it. I was surprised to see him follow me into his room and in a very swift motion, before my brain could process anything, he grabbed me. What I saw in his eyes in those few seconds rivalled what I saw in my monster father’s eyes whenever he was in his psychotic state, beating us or my mum up.
The terrible flimsy thing I saw disappeared and I saw something I could not really decipher. He brought out his well-muscled member, stripped me and forcefully had me. My protests were meaningless as he pinned me down and had his way. After some minutes, he collapsed in a heap and his wheezing returned. His bloodied member lay limp on his thigh as he grabbed empty air. I saw life slowly ebbing out of him and the desire to save him despite the fact that he violated me overcame. I stood up, even with virginal blood trickling down my thighs and I searched frantically for his inhaler.
Sighting it, I thrust it into his twitching hands. After a few minutes that look like eternity, he became normal. The full impact of what he did settled in.
I hate to love him, but in my more than two decades of living, he is the first person I am falling in love with despite the wrong footing on which it all started.
I have a feeling that you are judging me, calling me all sort of names that you deem fit. I really won’t want to care about that but all I know is that, he raped me to deflower me, and now I am terribly in love with him. I think I read it somewhere that if you don’t learn to forgive you will be living a life that is better forgotten.
Someone once told me also, that “to live, we must learn to forgive”. My conclusion is that, though the relationship started on a sour note, I must forgive or end up being like my dad living in perpetual bitterness and burden of anger.
Isaacolaa AA

From you to me… 1

Hello people. A very big good morning/afternoon/evening to you.
I sent a mail of thanksgiving to each ‘commenter’ on this blog for the grand support I have received from the beginning till now.
I accompanied the mail with a request for further support, by asking that you send in helpful articles/words/pictures/stuff to be run on the blog.

I have received a number of entries from some people, and for that, I say a BIG THANK YOU.

Please, I’m still expecting entries from those that are yet to respond, and you can send in as much as you can
I would run them unedited on a series titled ‘From you to me’… Enjoy!

Here is the first from Sopuru Christian:

I have one brother and one sister and of course two parents. I was born in Aba, Abia state and my family was a very happy one. I lived my childhood running around the streets with my friends, many of whom I do not know where they are now. I loved my family and enjoyed coming home until my final year in Secondary School.

The school I attended for my Secondary education was actually an average school- average in the sense that the students there were not from rich families. We were all basically equal financially so to speak. At the time, I could take 50 naira to school and it would take care of all my needs. In fact one of my friends once fought another of my classmate for 10 naira.

As the time for my School Certificate Examinations came closer, my parents enrolled me in a school that the students were relatively rich. My classmates in this new school had the latest phones. Some of them came to school with monies that I had never handled before. In fact it looked like I was the poorest of them all. We finished our exams and I entered the university, however the feeling of inferiority still did not leave me. I was just too local in my own eyes. The truth was that I steadily grew less and less in my estimation of myself. I had a terrible low self esteem then and avoided associating with people. The only place I could channel my grouse to was my family. Repeatedly I asked myself:

“Why is it that my father does not have money like other parents?”

“In fact what was he doing when his mates were busy making it in life?”

“If he knew he was too poor to give birth to me, why could he not have prevented my birth?”

The consequence of this was that I became more and more withdrawn. And of course I was bitter with my family. One day, I was invited by my friends to an event. The place was called WREALS. Immediately I stepped in, what I heard from the speaker was:

“Your parents do not owe you.”

Now that was some thunderbolt for me!

I reasoned it out, my parents really did not need to send me to school but they did; my parents did not need to provide food for me but they did. If they had considered me a useless baby, they would have killed me immediately I was born but they did not. My problem was that I was busy comparing myself with others who I did not even know their various experiences and was busy growing bitter. I was not even thankful for the mercies and goodness of God that was abundant in my own life.

As this reality dawned on me, my attitude changed. I started seeing all the efforts my parents put into making sure I enjoyed life. How they denied themselves of several luxuries just because they wanted a better life for me.

Slowly and steadily I was no longer bitter but grateful. I became grateful to God for giving me a loving family. I was also grateful to my family for giving me life and making my life enjoyable. After all, the sweetest thing in life is not having material things since they never satisfy, but in having a loving family where the simple things of life can be enjoyed in love.

His email(in case you’d like to get across to him):
He also runs a Facebook account with his name: Sopuru Christian