To intimidate and oppress your subordinate is a sign of weakness and not strength.

A PASTOR'S BETRAYAL FINALE The morning sun shone brightly as Grace stepped out of the car, smoothing her dress with nervous hands. Michael stood beside her, his warm fingers intertwining with hers—a silent promise of strength. "Ready?" he murmured. Grace took a deep breath, looking at their children—Sarah, Daniel, and Joy—standing behind them like soldiers ready for battle. "More than ready." Today, the truth would be heard. The sanctuary was packed. As Grace and Michael walked down the aisle together, whispers erupted like wildfire. Heads turned. Eyes widened. Pastor Gideon, mid-prayer at the pulpit, froze when he saw them. His mouth went slack, his hands gripping the podium until his knuckles turned white. Grace met his gaze—and smiled. The pastor's face drained of color. When testimony time came, Grace didn't wait to be called. She stood, her heels clicking against the marble floor as she walked to the microphone. Michael joined her, his presence steady beside her. "Good morning, church," Grace began, her voice clear. "Some of you know me. Some of you... have heard lies about me." She turned to face Pastor Gideon, whose smile had turned sickly. "But today, you'll hear the truth." And then, she told them everything. How Pastor Gideon had preyed on her during her weakest moment. How he'd twisted scripture to convince her to abandon her marriage. How he'd taken her money—every last naira—while pretending it was "God's will." Michael stepped forward then, his voice booming as he revealed the bank statements, the manipulated texts, the other women who'd come forward—widows, single mothers, all victims of the same scheme. The congregation erupted. "Sister Ngozi lost her house because of him!" a woman shouted. "He told me my sick child would die if I didn't give offerings!" another cried. Pastor Gideon stumbled back, sweat pouring down his face. "T-these are lies—!" Then Sarah stood, holding up her phone. "No. This is a lie." And she played the recording—his voice, clear as day, demanding Grace's last millions. The church exploded. Pastor Gideon bolted. He shoved through the crowd, knocking over chairs as he sprinted for the exit. But the ushers—men who'd once obeyed his every word—grabbed him. "You devil!" one roared. The mob surged. Fists flew. A deacon's punch sent the pastor crashing into the communion table, wine spilling like blood across his white robes. Grace didn't flinch. Police sirens wailed outside. The trial was swift. Fifteen years for fraud. For exploitation. For shattering lives under the guise of God. As the judge pronounced the sentence, Grace exhaled—a weight she hadn't known she carried lifting at last. Michael squeezed her hand. It was over. Months later, the Thompson home was alive with laughter again. Michael, once a workaholic, now built pillow forts with Joy on Saturdays. Sarah, no longer sullen, sang as she helped Grace cook Sunday dinner. Daniel, quiet but content, taught Grace how to use social media—"To help others spot wolves in sheep's clothing," he said wisely. One evening, as they sat around the firepit, Grace looked at her family—whole again—and felt tears prick her eyes. Michael kissed her temple. "What is it?" Grace smiled. "I almost lost this. Lost you." Joy climbed into her lap. "But you didn't, Mama." And as the fire crackled, warming them all, Grace knew— No false shepherd could touch them now. The new pastor was kind. Real. Under his leadership, the church became what it was meant to be—a refuge. A family. And every Sunday, front and center, sat the Thompsons. Together. The End. The wolf was gone. The flock was safe. And the Thompson family? They thrived.

Dearest Lord, who commands the morning and sets the boundaries of the seas, let Your perfect love envelop us, that we might be lifted above the tides of fear. In the sanctuary of Your love, may we find the strength to offer ourselves to others, to serve, to love, and to live fully in the reflection of Your grace. When the path is obscured by the mists of uncertainty and we stand at the crossroads of fear and obedience, anchor us in Your truth. Gird our hearts with holy resolve, that we may walk unwaveringly on the path of faith. For it is in Your embrace, under the shelter of Your wings, that we find the courage to fulfill the works You have prepared for us. Through the matchless name of Jesus Christ, we offer this prayer. Amen.

I pray this morning that every negative agenda against your destiny shall be nullified. Your heart desires shall be met without stress, go in peace and return with happiness, and God's blessings and protection will continue to be your strength in Jesus Mighty Name Amen. *FOBCARES ✍️*

*🎁HAPPY FATHER'S DAY, to all our Dad's in the world💙* You are the architect of our resilience and the quiet pillar of our aspirations, ❤️ Your unwavering dedication has been a profound wellspring of inspiration, fostering within us the courage to navigate life's intricate currents and embrace its myriad challenges with grace and conviction. Your presence has not merely been a constant, but a transformative force, shaping the very contours of our being. Beyond the tangible lessons and invaluable guidance, it is the quiet strength of your character and the boundless depth of your love that resonates most profoundly. 🎉 You have illuminated the path forward with an enduring luminescence, bestowing upon us the invaluable gift of unwavering support and an unshakeable belief in our potentials. For all this, and for simply being you, heartfelt gratitude knows no bounds. 🥳Happy day to you once again! *May God keep you safe and strong always* 👏

MY HUSBAND KILLED ME TO REPLACE HIS LIFE BUT MY GHOST WILL HUNT HIM TO DEATH Episode 1 #walexstories FOLLOW ME Walex's Stories BEFORE YOU MISS ANOTHER EPISODE My name was Chinyere, and I came from a small, peaceful village called Umueze. Life in the village was not rich in money, but we were rich in laughter, songs, and stories. I was raised by my grandmother who taught me how to cook, farm, and pray. Everyone knew me as the girl who smiled even when the rain fell too hard on her cassava farm. When I turned twenty-three, I married Obinna, the man who had stolen my heart with his words and good looks. He was tall, muscular, and charming. He could talk like a preacher and sing like a bird. My friends were jealous. They said, “Chinyere, you have found a husband from heaven.” At first, I believed them. Obinna treated me like gold. He helped me in the farm, bought me wrappers, and called me sweet names like my queen, my sunshine, the air I breathe. I felt like the happiest woman in the whole world. But after a few months, everything began to change. The man who once smiled at me every morning now looked at me with cold eyes. He no longer called me sweet names. He would come home late and sleep facing the wall. I would ask, “Obinna, are you okay?” and he would say, “I’m tired.” That was just the beginning. One night, I woke up to drink water. As I passed by the window, I saw a strange light behind our hut. I looked closely and saw Obinna kneeling beside a small fire. He was holding something in his hand and talking to himself. I couldn’t hear everything, but I heard him say: “Spirits of the dark... I have kept my promise. Just wait, she will be ready soon.” My heart nearly stopped. Who was he talking to? What promise? I quickly returned to the bed and pretended to sleep. My mind was racing like a drum at a village festival. That whole night, I did not close my eyes again. The next day, I tried to act normal. I cooked his food, greeted him kindly, and washed his clothes. But fear had already moved into my heart like a thief in the night. The next strange thing happened three days later. While sweeping the backyard, I noticed a patch of loose soil behind our hut. Something told me to dig it. I used a stick and carefully removed the sand. What I saw made my blood turn to ice. Inside a small clay pot, wrapped in red cloth, I found: A piece of my wrapper My old comb A dried lizard And a red feather soaked in something like blood I screamed and threw the pot away. My hands were shaking. My knees became weak. What kind of wickedness was this? What kind of evil charm used my belongings? That night, I confronted Obinna. “Obinna, what is going on? Why is my wrapper and comb buried in a pot behind our house?” He looked at me for a long time—too long—and then smiled. But it wasn’t a smile of love. It was a cold, dry smile like someone who knew something I didn’t. “Chinyere,” he said, “You ask too many questions. Some things are better left alone.” I stepped back. My heart was pounding. I wanted to run, but I was too scared. I couldn’t believe this was the man I married. For the next few days, Obinna changed completely. He hardly spoke. He would stay up at night walking around the house, talking to himself in a strange language I didn’t understand. Then, the stranger came. It was a stormy evening. Thunder was cracking the sky open. Obinna told me to stay inside while he went outside to meet someone. Through the window, I saw the man. He had one eye, a long scar across his neck, and wore a black cloak. He didn’t even look human. The man handed Obinna something small, and they both whispered. I could hear only one thing clearly: “Tonight is the night. Make sure she eats it all.” Eat what? My body began to shake. I locked myself in the kitchen and prayed. Something terrible was coming. That evening, Obinna acted sweet again—for the first time in weeks. He brought home my favorite food: pounded yam and bitterleaf soup. He even brought me palm wine and said, “My queen, eat. You deserve to rest tonight.” But the moment I tasted the soup, I knew something was wrong. It had a strange bitter taste, not like normal bitterleaf. I dropped the spoon and looked into his eyes. They were shining—too shiny, like someone hiding a deep secret. He smiled. “Eat more, Chinyere. You need strength.” I stood up and said I was full. He frowned but said nothing. Later that night, I felt dizzy. My head was spinning. My legs were weak. I tried to call for help, but no sound came out. Everything went dark. --- When I opened my eyes, I was no longer in my body. I was floating above it. Below me, I saw my lifeless body lying on the bed, and Obinna kneeling beside it with a small red knife in his hand. He was not crying. He was smiling. He kissed my forehead and whispered: “Thank you, Chinyere. Your spirit has given me.

Beloved, let us turn to God for protection. We can't rely on our own strength and abilities to keep us safe. We must trust in God's power and grace to guide us. The Bible reminds us that even the most vigilant can stumble, so let us put our faith in God. In these uncertain times, trusting in God is the best way to ensure our safety. (psa 16 v 1) Heavenly father, l am so grateful for all you have done in my life. You have kept me safe and prevented the worst from happening. I trust that you will always shield me from evil and anything that could cause me harm. Please guide me to make wise decisions so l can stay out of harm's way... Amen. Good morning, have a blessed day.

Good morning God's beloved. Thank God for a new day. This is the day the LORD has made, we will rejoice and be glad in it. May this day be your day of divine coronation. On a day like this, ESTHER was an ordinary captive girl but by Divine orchestration, in less than 24hrs she became a Queen. I pray for you, in less than 24hrs, may God change your story. May God take you to. Where your strength, labour nor qualifications can't take you in 20yrs. Joseph was a prisoner some minutes ago but in less than 24hrs, he became next in command in Egypt by God's arrangement. I decree and declare, that by God's arrangement, dise up from that sick bed, be connected to your husband/wife, be pregnant, be promoted, hit a deal in billions, travel abroad, get your visa stamped, go forward, gain the admission you seek, pay off all your owe etc. May evil be far from us all, throughout this new week. Today is your Monday of GOOD NEWS FROM EVERYWHERE IN JESUS MIGHTY NAME.

After a 3-year battle with leukemia, 12-year-old Michael “MJ” Dixon from Killeen, Texas is officially cancer-free. Despite a slim 23% survival chance and no bone marrow match, MJ beat the odds with faith, a clinical trial, and unwavering strength. He now inspires others with his story of resilience and hope. 💪🏾

US has announces relocation of its Africa Command (AFRICOM) headquarters to Morocco. This strategic move aims to enhance U.S. engagement in the Sahel region, strengthening counterterrorism efforts and regional stability in partnership with Morocco, a key ally.

CONFESSION FOR THE DAY. I declare that I am strengthened, energized, endued with power, ability and might. I have been catapulted to a life of victory, success, prosperity, hope, and assurance. I live over and above the natural courses of life, the corruption, evil, and decadence prevalent in this world of darkness. The indwelling presence of Christ is in me, in the person of the Holy Spirit. I don’t lack or want for anything: ideas, inspiration, wealth, prosperity, and all the goodness of God are in my spirit, and I bring them forth from the fullness in my spirit. He is my helper, the One who upholds me with His righteous right hand; the stronghold of my life.

My Father's Day Tribute to every Father in this compound. Brothers, in this Father’s Day, stand tall in the 'quiet pride' of shaping souls. You are imprinting your character upon your children—a work demanding courage, not convenience. Feel the 'weight of your love': the strength to hold close and the wisdom to correct; the presence that anchors and the balance that elevates. May this holy calling ignite in you a 'fervent responsibility'—to shepherd them toward their divine purpose, under the gaze of God and man. Fatherhood is not taught in theory but forged in the fire of daily sacrifice. 'Trust becomes your anchor'. Lean into the Lord’s wisdom as you navigate uncharted waters—learning parenthood 'while living it'. Let your heart seek His guidance relentlessly, so your children emerge as testaments to your faithfulness: godly, unwavering, and ablaze with light (Proverbs 22:6, Matthew 5:16). You are not merely raising children. You are cultivating legacies. Walk in that truth.