*N‌O‌T‌ A‌ C‌O‌I‌N‌C‌I‌D‌E‌N‌C‌E‌!* 1. ADULT has 5 letters, so does YOUTH . 2. PERMANENT has 9 letters, so does TEMPORARY . 3. GOOD has 4 letters, so does EVIL . 4. BLACK has 5 letters, so does WHITE . 5. CHURCH has 6 letters, so does MOSQUE . 6. BIBLE has 5 letters, so does QUR'AN . 7. LIFE has 4 letters, so does DEAD . 8. HATE has 4 letters, so does LOVE . 9. ENEMIES has 7 letters, so does FRIENDS . 10. LYING has 5 letters, so does TRUTH . 11. HURT has 4 letters, so does HEAL . 12. NEGATIVE has 8 letters, so does POSITIVE . 13. FAILURE has 7 letters, so does SUCCESS . 14. BELOW has 5 letters, so does ABOVE . 15. CRY has 3 letters, so does JOY . 16. ANGER has 5 letters, so does HAPPY . 17. RIGHT has 5 letters, so does WRONG . 18. RICH has 4 letters, so does POOR . 19. FAIL has 4 letters, so does PASS . 20. KNOWLEDGE has 9 letters, so does IGNORANCE . Are they all by Coincidence? This means LIFE is like a double edged sword but the choice we make determines our future. “I LOVE THIS ANALOGY" - When GOD wanted to create FISH, he spoke to the SEA - When GOD wanted to create TREES, he spoke to the EARTH. - But when GOD wanted to create MAN, he turned to HIMSELF. - So GOD said: "Let us make man in our image and likeness". ✳️Note: - If you take a fish out of the water it will die; And when you remove a tree from the ground, it also dies. - Similarly, when man disconnects from GOD, he dies. 🔆 GOD is our natural environment. We were created to live in HIS presence. - We have to be connected to Him because only with Him does LIFE exist. - Let's stay connected to GOD. 🔆 Remember that water without fish is still water, but fish without water is nothing . 🔆The soil without the tree is still soil, but the tree without soil is nothing ... 🔆 God without man is still God, but man without GOD is nothing 🔆 If this message reaches you and you share it with others.

*SCHOOL WITCHES 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥* *Episode One: The Meat of the Innocent* The sun stood reluctantly over Abuja, its golden face veiled in clouds as if it too dreaded what would unfold at Ivory City College. Chinasa sat quietly at the back seat of her parents' car, fingers twisting the hem of her green skirt, her heart pounding like a caged drum. Her eyes darted from her father’s stern silence to her mother’s gentle hands resting over hers. It was her final year in junior secondary school—JSS Three. The year that mattered. The car rolled to a stop in front of Hostel A, and as the door swung open, her mother stepped out first. Chinasa hesitated. Her father came around, opened her door, and handed her the small purple travel bag. "Chinasa, be strong," her mother whispered as she embraced her tightly, her perfume clinging to Chinasa like a memory that wouldn’t wash off. Tears rolled down her cheek before she could stop them. They waved at her from the car as they drove off, and Chinasa stood frozen, her chest crumbling like dry leaves underfoot. Then came the whirlwind of noise— "Na wa o! Chinasa you dey cry?" She turned. Betty, her wild-haired best friend, sprinted across the hostel lawn, flanked by Asia and Chommy. They wrapped their arms around her, bursting into giggles, teasing and tugging playfully at her braids. Chinasa laughed through tears as they grabbed her boxes and dragged her toward the hostel doors. Inside the large hall, the air was thick with the musty scent of bodies and bunk beds. Over two hundred girls shared the space, giggling, gossiping, some already changing into dorm wear. Asia and Betty helped her unpack, throwing jokes as they folded her clothes into the metal locker beneath the bunk. Then the assembly bell clanged. Like soldiers in chaos, students poured out into the gravel paths, flowing into the giant hall with rusted fans and a faint smell of varnish. On stage stood Mrs. Barbara, headmistress of Ivory City College, a woman known for her thick-rimmed glasses and voice that cracked like thunder. "Welcome to a new term at Ivory City!" she roared. "This is not your village. Obedience is not optional. You are young women being prepared for society!" Behind her stood the new prefects, eyes sharp as hawks. Some students clapped. Some stared like hostages. That evening, the dining hall erupted with madness. Noise bounced from wall to wall. Pantry boys and girls served trays of fried rice and chicken, but order was a myth. Students screamed across tables, fought over meat, some devoured food with open mouths, utensils forgotten. At one corner, Chinasa sat with Betty, Asia, Chommy—and three boys from their class. Among them was Victor, tall, quiet, with a face sculpted like it belonged in a storybook. He stared at Chinasa like he was seeing a spirit. She didn’t notice. From her school bag, she brought out a silver flask, its body smooth and warm from the sun. She opened it, and thick chunks of stewed meat slid out, oily, glistening, spiced. The aroma captured the attention of everyone around her. Asia and Chommy didn’t wait—they scooped pieces greedily, stuffing their mouths. The boys reached for some too. All except Victor. He just watched her. Betty nudged Chinasa. “Why you no go chop your own meat? You dey do fine girl?” “I’m okay with the chicken they gave us,” Chinasa replied quietly. “No try that nonsense,” Betty said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Na my mum prepare this meat for you. Anything I eat, you go eat too.” Chinasa hesitated. The meat looked too rich, too tender to resist. Guilt slid off her like a shawl. She picked a chunk and placed it over her green rice. The first bite melted in her mouth—juicy, buttery, laced with flavors she’d never tasted before. “Betty, this meat is mad o! What meat is this?” Betty grinned. “Human meat.” Chinasa stopped chewing. “What?” “I dey joke jare. It’s from my papa’s ranch. Young bull. Special breed.” Chinasa laughed. “Better talk true. This meat taste like sin.” They all laughed. But shortly after, Chinasa’s vision blurred. The world tilted like a room with a crooked floor. She stood up, mumbling something about needing to rest. The walk to the hostel was like wading through fog. By the time she lay on her bed, her bones felt hollow. Then darkness took her. --- She was flying. Her arms were wings—feathers sprouting from her shoulders. She gasped for air. She wasn’t dreaming; she was moving through night sky, trees rising below like jagged teeth. She slammed into a tree. Pain pierced her chest. She spiraled through the wind like a falling star, unable to scream. She crashed into a forest clearing. The open space was lit by hundreds of fire torches, their flames casting shadows on more than five hundred masked dancers circling a throne carved of skulls and bone. They wore brown ragged clothes, chanted in a language older than pain. The drums shook the ground. White men. Black women. Children. Teenagers. Witches. At the center, on the throne, sat the Queen Mother—masked, unmoving, glowing. “Unmask!” her voice rang like a bell soaked in fire. One by one, the dancers removed their masks. Chinasa gasped. Betty. Asia. Chommy. A teacher from school. A kitchen woman. Even the boy who once cleaned toilets. No. No no no. She turned to run. But something was already behind her. Demons. They flew like bats but had the heads and arms of men. Their skin was scaled like crocodiles. Their eyes were blood red, tongues long and split. They grabbed her and tossed her into the center circle like a ragdoll. “Feed her,” the Queen commanded. “No!” Chinasa screamed, struggling, crying. “I won’t eat!” The demons pried her jaw open. A wet, warm piece of meat was shoved into her mouth. Blood. It was blood. They forced her to swallow. Then everything went black. --- She woke up at 2:03 AM, gasping, drenched in sweat. She felt like she had been beaten with iron rods. Her ribs screamed in pain. Her arms had scratches—fresh, real. Her knees were bruised. “God… what is this?” She leaped from her bunk, her chest pounding. She checked her arms. The marks were still there. Her body had brought the dream into the real world. Outside, the night was silent. Too silent. She looked toward Betty’s bunk. The girl was fast asleep… with a smile on her lips. --- To be continued... IF I can get thirty shares today I'll write three episodes tomorrow

Islam affirms the virgin birth of Jesus as a miraculous sign from God. (Qur’an 3:47, 19:20–21)

1 John 5:4 For every child of God defeats this evil world, and we achieve this victory through our faith.

Failure doesn't invalidate the counsel of God for your life.

I'm grateful to God 🙏 for safety in travel He granted to me today and many other people who were in gada.chat seminar today shalom.

Shocking News 🚨🚨 Kanye West reveals that ROC Nation has a Clause that states you can NOT SING about JESUS CHRIST or GOD . You were STRICTLY forbidden. That’s one of the reasons that he left the label cus to him Jesus is KING . Does it mean Ayra Starr can not sing about Jesus or God? But why forbid it ? Do they have a problem with God ? Moral lesson : HMMMM

Psalms 23:6 (KJV) Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever. May God's goodness and mercy envelope me and my household and business all through our lives time with evidence of God's blessings in Jesus Mighty Name At anywhere I walk in shame and rejection may God's grace and favour return me back in honour and fame that will permanently turn all my mockers into my slave and servants for the rest of their life in Jesus Mighty Name God let your mercy and grace do the unthinkable and unimaginable of wonders and miracles in my life and family and business that will make the world to fear God and worship Him for the rest of their life in Jesus Mighty Name Good morning and See You On Top

Before Going To Bed Let's Remember To Appreciate God Almighty For The Exploit

Hello friends, just believe that whenever you say "God" you say *Miracle"

EVERYTIME YOU SAY "GOD" YOU SAY "MIRACLE"

We're all beautifully and wonderfully made in the image of God 🙏🙏