Jesus is my saviour, is our savior, he saved the whole world, we that Jesus am nothing.

Grace is God's unmerited favour to mortal man. We are saved and redeemed by grace of God. Grace is a separator,a preserver and a lifter.

On the wings of grace, mistakes turn into miracles and obstacles become stepping stones. I am a product of grace. I am saved by grace. I am lifted by grace. By grace I shall excel. Because, I am a grace carrier, disgrace and dishonour shall be far away from me.

WHY IT IS MORE EXPENSIVE TO BE POOR THAN TO BE RICH

Many people don’t realize just how costly it is to be poor…

Very, very expensive!

Being poor is not just a lack of money—it’s a lifestyle filled with penalties, mark-ups, and quiet suffering.

Let’s break it down:

Imagine someone struggling financially buying 5 cups of rice every two days for ₦2,000. Meanwhile, another person buys a whole bag for ₦80,000.

Now, do the math: Over time, that first person ends up spending over ₦100,000 for the same quantity of rice!

The rich buy in bulk while the poor pay in pieces. Poverty forces people to spend more for less, just to survive day-to-day.

It's not just about money—it's a cycle that punishes the most vulnerable for not having enough in the first place.

Here are some examples to illustrate this:

1. A low-income earner may buy a cheap dress for ₦4,000. It’s poorly stitched with low-quality fabric. After 2–3 washes, it fades, and the seams tear, forcing them to return to the market. They may end up purchasing the same type of dress 5 times in a year, totaling ₦20,000.

In contrast, someone else may invest in a custom-made, high-quality outfit for ₦18,000 once—a durable, classic piece that lasts, allowing them to still wear it confidently the following year.

2. The same goes for shoes: A person might buy “affordable” flats for ₦3,500 every two months because they wear out easily. That’s over ₦20,000 a year.

A better-made pair for ₦12,000 could last an entire year or more!

3. A mother working two minimum-wage jobs can’t afford a car, so she spends hours waiting for public transport in rain, snow, and sun—time that could be spent resting, upskilling, or with her children.

She can’t afford to buy groceries in bulk, leading to higher costs per meal. She can't afford quality healthcare, so a small untreated illness becomes a major emergency. Needing to support her family, she goes to work sick, delaying her recovery and worsening her condition.

4. When it comes to wigs, if someone buys ₦5,000 synthetic wigs 6 times a year, that amounts to ₦30,000. Investing once in a ₦25,000 quality wig can last much longer.

5. Nutrition is another aspect to consider. Eating cheap can be double-edged: Every morning, quick, cheap options like akara and puff puff may seem convenient, but by age 40, diabetes or cancer may set in, leading to thousands spent on treatments, medications, and hospital bills.

This cycle of poor nutrition, high stress, and lack of preventive care results in higher long-term medical costs, often paid out-of-pocket.

6. Sadly, there are tragic stories too: Parents who lost a child because they couldn't afford ₦5,000 for needed medications; a man who lost his pregnant wife due to an inability to pay for a necessary operation; or Mrs. Jose, who had to live in a hazardous environment due to limited finances, leading to her daughters being abducted and assaulted.

7. Poor individuals often spend more time commuting on unreliable public transportation and have to juggle multiple jobs or gigs, increasing stress and reducing opportunities for rest or personal growth.

8. A low-income family might take payday loans with sky-high interest just to keep their lights on, spending months paying it back. On the other hand, a wealthy person borrows at lower interest rates to invest in opportunities that increase their wealth.

This is why a corrupt government may prefer its citizens to remain poor—because they profit more from poverty than prosperity.

Cheap choices today can ultimately cost you your life tomorrow.

The moral of the story?

Poverty is expensive. It forces people to “get by” until they end up spending more for less. This is why empowerment and financial access matter; true savings lie in quality, not constant replacements.

Being poor limits your choices, and those limitations create a cycle of additional costs—often making day-to-day living more expensive than it is for someone who has the means to plan, invest, and save.

Don’t give up. Don’t count yourself out. There’s strength in perseverance. Learn to make money, manage your money, and grow your money. Pray for financial abundance, and it shall be well with you. The same God who turned water into wine can turn your nothing into something.

May God help us all to find the right empowerment and finances that elevate us from poverty.

Fasting + Faith = Breakthrough
Moses fasted 40 days—& met God face-to-face.
Esther fasted 3 days—& saved her people.
Daniel fasted 21 days—& his prayer was heard on day one, but delayed in the 2nd heaven as angels warred. Michael broke through. Victory followed persistence.
Jesus fasted 40 days—& defeated every temptation.
Paul fasted often—& received divine direction.
It activates heaven’s help when faith leads the way.
(Daniel 10, Isaiah 58)🙇🏻‍♂️🙇🏻‍♂️🙇🏻‍♂️🙏🏻🙌🏾

Who Gave Arthur Eze Ozo Igbo Ndu Title?

Prince Arthur Eze is widely celebrated and once honored with the title Ozo Igbo Ndu—“Savior of Igbo Life.” But does this title reflect the true economic impact of his business on Igboland? Who is he actually saving( Onye Ka Ona Azo)?

Let’s look at the facts:

Arthur Eze is a native of Ukpo, Anambra State.But his flagship companies—Atlas Petroleum International and Oranto Petroleum—are not located in Igboland.

*The corporate headquarters is in Abuja (12 Chari Close, Maitama) While technical base is in Lagos (Lekki Phase 1). His companies operate across Africa, but not from the East, and there’s no known major office or industrial presence in the Igbo homeland.

So we must ask; Can someone whose business contributes more to Abuja and Lagos than to Igboland truly be called Ozo Igbo Ndu?

True economic salvation comes from those who build, invest, and empower directly within the region. Titles must reflect action. So i ask again , Onye Ka Ona Azo ?

I am Awuzie Frankline - Just asking Honest question. Na God dey save my life now biko

Look unto me and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth: for I am God, and there's non else.

A PASTOR'S BETRAYAL
PART 3
Grace stood in the kitchen, her hands shaking as she stared at the text on her phone. It was from Michael—short, cold, like always.
"Working late. Don’t wait up."
She had spent all afternoon preparing his favorite meal—peppered snail soup with fresh bread. The table was set, candles lit, the house smelling of spices and warmth. She had wanted to talk, to finally tell him how lonely she felt. How much she missed him.
But now, the food would go cold. Again.
Her fingers hovered over her phone. She wanted to type, "Please come home. We need to talk." But she knew what his response would be—silence. Or worse, annoyance.
She took a deep breath and called him instead.
The phone rang three times before Michael answered. In the background, she could hear laughter, glasses clinking. A restaurant.
"Grace, I said I’m working," he muttered, his voice tight with irritation.
Her heart pounded. "You’re not at the office."
A pause. Then a sigh. "I had a business dinner. I didn’t think I needed to explain every little thing to you."
Little thing. Those words cut deep. To her, it wasn’t little. It was another night alone. Another night where she felt invisible in her own marriage.
"Michael…" Her voice cracked. "I made dinner. I wanted us to talk. We—we can’t keep living like this."
Another pause. Then, "Grace, not now. I’ll be home late."
And just like that, he hung up.
Grace stood there, the phone still pressed to her ear, the dial tone buzzing like a taunt.
When Michael finally came home, hours later, Grace was waiting.
The candles had burned out. The food was untouched.
He walked in, loosening his tie, barely glancing at her as he headed for the stairs.
"Michael," she said, her voice trembling. "We need to talk."
He stopped, exhaling sharply. "Grace, it’s midnight. Can’t this wait?"
No. It couldn’t.
"Every time I try to talk to you, you push me away," she whispered, tears spilling over. "Do you even love me anymore?"
Michael turned, his face unreadable. "This again? Grace, I’m tired. I work all day, and I don’t need this drama when I come home."
Drama.
That word shattered something inside her.
"This isn’t drama!" she cried. "This is our marriage! You don’t talk to me, you don’t spend time with me—I feel like a ghost in my own house!"
Michael’s jaw tightened. "What do you want from me, Grace? I provide for you. You have everything!"
Everything except his love.
Grace wiped her tears, her breath coming in shaky gasps. "I want my husband back."
For a second, something flickered in Michael’s eyes—guilt? Regret? But then it was gone, replaced by cold indifference.
"I don’t have time for this," he said, turning away.
And just like that, he walked upstairs, leaving her standing there, broken.
Grace didn’t sleep that night.
By morning, her eyes were swollen, her heart raw. She needed someone to talk to. Someone who would listen.
So she went back to the only person who seemed to care—Pastor Gideon.
In his office, Grace cried as she told him what happened.
Pastor Gideon listened, nodding sympathetically. Then he leaned forward, his voice grave.
"Sister Grace… I fear for your life."
Grace froze. "What?"
He sighed, shaking his head. "A man who treats his wife this way… it’s not just neglect. It’s spiritual warfare. The devil is using him to destroy you."
Grace’s hands trembled. "But—but what do I do?"
Pastor Gideon placed a hand over hers. "God is telling me… if you stay, you will die in that house. Not just your heart—your life."
Grace gasped, her blood running cold.
"The Bible says, ‘Come out from among them and be separate.’ You must leave, Sister Grace. Before it’s too late."
Her mind spun. Leave Michael? After eighteen years?
But the pastor’s words sank deep, feeding her fears.
You will die if you stay.
That evening, Pastor Gideon "coincidentally" ran into Michael at a charity event.
"Brother Michael!" he greeted warmly, clapping him on the back. "How are you, my friend?"
Michael, unaware of the pastor’s conversations with Grace, smiled. "Doing well, Pastor. Keeping busy."
The pastor sighed sympathetically. "I actually wanted to speak with you. Your wife came to me recently… she’s been struggling."
Michael’s smile faded. "Grace?"
Pastor Gideon nodded. "She’s… very emotional. I’ve been counseling her to find peace in God’s word. Marriage is sacred, after all."
Michael relaxed, grateful. "I appreciate that, Pastor. She’s been… difficult lately."
The pastor smiled, hiding his deceit behind holy concern. "We’ll keep praying for you both."
Meanwhile, Grace sat at home, staring at her wedding ring, wondering if removing it would save her life—or destroy it.
TO BE CONTINUED...

Video Of Wike 'Kabashing' Casting & Binding as His Private Jet Develops Fault Mid-air

A viral audio clip is currently making rounds online, claiming that FCT Minister Nyesom Wike experienced a mid-air scare while on a private jet—allegedly due to engine failure at cruising altitude (~34,000 ft). In the recording, a voice believed to be that of the FCT minister can be heard shouting in prayers as the pilots were struggling to balance the plane.

The voice was yelling “Satan you are liar! Father father! Oh Jehovah. Blood of Jesus. Father it is time to prove your self. Jesus you are in charge. — Ohhhh Jehovah. Father!! Satan is a liar. Father save my soul, save my soul, save my soul. Ohh my father Oh my father!”

The voice sounds exactly like the FCT Minister’s voice. In the Bombardier GE jet 5000/6000. Which costs around ₦15bn. From every indication, the jet was chartered.

According to the same report, this private jet—a Bombardier Global Express (alleged ₦15 billion value)—encountered a sudden engine malfunction. Panic ensued in the cabin, and the minister reportedly became overwhelmed with fear, allegedly to the point of soiling himself, necessitating a change of clothes

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