Creforge Academy

The training expression of @creforge

[Reads with Ravi @readswithravi]

I’m in love with this sentence:

“One of the most underrated skills you can learn is the ability to ignore your mood and stick with the plan.”

[Adeyinka J. Adeleke @RevYinkaAdeleke]

Do not visit your neighbour's house too often. He may see you too much and he will start to hate you.
Proverbs 25:17 EASY

[Adeyinka J. Adeleke @RevYinkaAdeleke]

THE CLAIM: "The Bible says that the shouting side is the winning side."

THE TRUTH: Nowhere in the Bible is this said!
It is a modern Pentecostal soundbite that has been falsely attributed to God.
Of course, there are instances in the Bible where God asked His people to shout as a battle strategy, but it worked ONLY because God commanded it in those instances, not because shouting has any inherent spiritual power.

THE CAUTION: Do not attribute to God something that sounds "deep", but that is not written, because HE WILL NOT BACK IT UP! God is committed ONLY to His Word, and not to high-sounding, rhyming psychobabble.
Selah!

#LiesTheyToldUsAboutTheBible
#AskPastorYinka

[Adeyinka J. Adeleke @RevYinkaAdeleke]

Football is called "the beautiful game".
Paraguay just turned it into an ugly game.
Shame on them.
And shame on the referee - that was a horrible performance that needs to be investigated for betting irregularities.
Thankfully, football won.
Sigh.
#PARFRA

[Creforge Academy @CreforgeAcademy]

@RevYinkaAdeleke Haram-ball!
Compared to these guys, Arsenal are just learning work.

[Adeyinka J. Adeleke @RevYinkaAdeleke]

France are trying to play football.
Paraguay are fighting UFC.
By the way, why does it seem as if the "lesser" South American teams play like thugs (Uruguay is another classic example)?
And why does the referee seem unable to cut down on the blatant fouls and unsportsmanly behaviour? #PARFRA

[Adeyinka J. Adeleke @RevYinkaAdeleke]

Welcome to July!
May this second half of the year be filled for you with an abundance of love, joy, peace, and all the riches of God's goodness, in Jesus' holy name.
Cheers to a glorious second half!

[Adeyinka J. Adeleke @RevYinkaAdeleke]

Happy Father's Day from me, the missus @MrsJeshurun, and the photobomber.

[👑S.A.L.A.K.O🕊 @UnkleAyo]

If you don't have the means to fund your vices, you're not a good person - you're just poor.

Morality isn't proven by absence of temptation but choices made in it's presence

You're not a faithful husband - you've just not been privileged to walk the streets of Madrid at night.

[Creforge @creforge]

Some days, the hardest thing you'll ever do is keep going.

Not because you're weak, but because you're tired.

Rest if you must. Cry if you need to. But don't quit.

The breakthrough you're praying for may be one more step away. 🔥

#KeepGoing #NeverGiveUp

[Adeyinka J. Adeleke @RevYinkaAdeleke]

Huge and devastating moral failures are always built on a foundation of small and seemingly insignificant moral compromises.

Every "it doesn't matter" ends up mattering in the long run.

Watch and pray!

[Adeyinka J. Adeleke @RevYinkaAdeleke]

MERCY WILL SPEAK FOR YOU!
So then God’s choice is not dependent on human will, nor on human effort [the totality of human striving], but on God who shows mercy [to whomever He chooses—it is His sovereign gift]. Romans 9:16 AMP

As you step into this week, I pray that God's MERCY will speak on your behalf.

May God's MERCY choose you, keep you, lift you, and preserve you.

May God's prerogative of MERCY override every judgement, sentence or opinion over your life.

What human will, effort, and striving have not been able to do or get for you, may MERCY secure it for you.

May the totality of your experience this week be that of an overwhelming expression of God's MERCY, in Jesus' holy name.
Amen!

#newweekblessings
#prayasyougo
#tvanigeria

[Adeyinka J. Adeleke @RevYinkaAdeleke]

@SergeMike1 Getting married is NOT an achievement.
Staying married, on the other hand, that's a monumental achievement.

[Olájídé Bámidélé @JideSpark]

It’s Monday Again!

One of the biggest mistakes businesses make is creating content based on what they want to say instead of what their customers need to hear.

People on the internet engage with content that speaks directly to their daily experiences, challenges, and goals.

[Adeyinka J. Adeleke @RevYinkaAdeleke]

WELCOME TO JUNE!
2Co 9:8 (AMPC) And God is able to make all grace (every favor and earthly blessing) come to you in abundance, so that you may always and under all circumstances and whatever the need be self-sufficient [possessing enough to require no aid or support and furnished in abundance for every good work and charitable donation].

As you step into the month of June, God will cause all GRACE to abound to you.
In every area of your life, GRACE (God’s power of ease) will be at work in your life.
So you will not labour in vain, nor bring forth for trouble!

This month, every favour (from God, men, angels, systems and institutions) and earthly blessing will gravitate towards you in abundance - there shall be no shortage, no lack, no deficiency, and no need left unattended in your life.

Irrespective of the circumstances or your needs, this month you will be self-sufficient!
Your hands will be sufficient for you!

God will bless the work of your hands so graciously and lavishly that you will not require aid or support from others, nor will you look up to others to eat, survive, or meet your basic needs.

Rather, God will turn YOU into a source of blessing, support, and charitable donations to others.

It is a blessed month for you and all yours, in Jesus’ holy name.
Amen!

#newmonthblessings
#tvanigeria

[Adeyinka J. Adeleke @RevYinkaAdeleke]

Whatever you want to venture into, start with the Word of God because it is the foundation of everything in creation (Heb 11:3).

If this has blessed you, please like, share, and follow for more.

#tvanigeria
#askpastoryinka
#rain

[Adeyinka J. Adeleke @RevYinkaAdeleke]

FOR ALL OUR LOST CHILDREN, AND FOR THE ONES WHO HAVE LOST THE JOY OF CHILDHOOD
This one is for all the lost children:
the ones swallowed by forest and silence,
the ones whose names their mothers still cry
into the hollow throat of midnight,
waiting for an echo that never returns.

This one is for Chibok, for Kagara, for Zamfara,
for Kwara, for Ogbomoso,
for every village that woke one morning
to find its future missing,
to find small sandals left behind in the dust
like punctuation marks at the end of a sentence
nobody wanted to finish.

Somewhere in the belly of a forest
a child who should be laughing
is learning the grammar of terror instead
the language of cold ground for a mattress,
of hunger that gnaws like a patient animal,
of hands bound where hands should be raised in a classroom,
of nights so dark they have swallowed
every star she ever wished upon.
She remembers her mother's voice.
She holds it like a coal in her chest
to keep from freezing.
She does not know if anyone is coming.
She does not know if anyone remembers.
She is nine. She is twelve. She is fifteen.
She is every age that terror does not discriminate against.

And the mothers,
God, the mothers.
There is a particular madness
that lives in the body of a woman
whose child has been taken.
It is not grief alone.
Grief has a shape. Grief has a season.
This is something older and more savage:
a howling that starts in the womb
and finds no exit,
a hunger that no food can answer,
a reaching that meets only air.
She still sets a place at the table.
She still folds the little uniform.
She still listens for footsteps
that sound like her child's footsteps
in every stranger passing on the road.

The fathers sit in silence with broken hands
men who could not protect what they loved most,
carrying that failure like a stone in the ribcage,
heavy as the country that abandoned them.

And where are the ones we elected?
Where are the ones who stood at podiums
and beat their chests and said our children, our future?
They are in Abuja.
They are in their cold, humming offices
while the forest burns.
They are at dinners with clean napkins
and imported wine and easy laughter,
while a child in a camp in the north
is deciding which pain is worse
the hunger, the cold, or the not-knowing.

They issue statements.
They constitute committees.
They inaugurate task forces
that never find a single child.
They produce reports
that no one reads,
that gather dust
beside the photographs of the missing
that no one distributes.

This is the governance of ghosts,
a state that shows up only in your suffering,
that taxes your poverty,
that counts your dead
and calls it a census.

This is the death of innocence,
not in one single moment,
not in one dramatic falling,
but in the slow, daily erosion
of what a child is owed by the world
that summoned her into being.

It is in the school with no roof
where rain falls on exercise books
and washes away arithmetic and alphabets.
It is in the hospital with no drugs
where a mother watches fever take her son
while the governor commissions another road
to nowhere.
It is in the child hawking water
at a junction in the sun,
barefoot on boiling asphalt,
who should be conjugating verbs,
who should be learning that the square root of sixteen is four,
who should know the unbothered joy
of an afternoon with nothing to do
but exist.

It is in the ten million children
out of school, uncounted, uncared for,
drifting through a nation
that has decided their futures
are acceptable losses.

Misery, your name is Nigeria!
Not because her soil is cursed,
not because her people are less,
but because those entrusted with her
have chosen again and again and again
to feast on what should feed the young,
to build estates in Dubai
on the hunger of children,
to fly their daughters abroad for school
on budgets that could have built
a thousand classrooms in the dust.

Nigeria, a land where hope goes to die
where the bright student wins a scholarship
and does not come back,
because why would you return to a fire
when you have finally found open air?
Where the child who dares to dream
is told, gently and then roughly,
that dreaming is a luxury
this country cannot afford her.
Where generation after generation
buries its best years
in the shallow grave of survival,
never quite living,
only enduring -
and calling it a life.

But.
But.
I have seen the children who remain,
and they are not defeated.
Not entirely. Not finally.
I have seen the girl in the tattered uniform
sitting under a tree with a borrowed textbook,
reading with a hunger so fierce
it frightens me.
She is not waiting for the government.
She is not waiting to be saved.
She is building her rescue
one sentence at a time.

I have seen the boy who walks six kilometres to school
every morning in rubber slippers,
who arrives late and sits in front
and asks the question nobody else dares to ask,
because something in him knows
that curiosity is the one thing
they cannot tax, cannot kidnap,
cannot bury in a committee report.

I have seen the mothers who refuse to stop looking,
who march with placards even when the cameras leave,
who speak their children's names
at every microphone, every gathering,
every moment of silence that threatens to become permanent.
They will not let the silence win.
They will not let this country
turn their children into footnotes.

So we are still here.
Broken in places, yes.
Scarred, absolutely.
But here.
We will not give this government
the satisfaction of our total surrender.
We will not let them convince us
that the death of our children's futures
is the natural order of things,
that poverty is destiny,
that suffering is culture,
that this is simply how it is,
has always been,
will always be.
No!

We name the missing children.
We say their names like prayers:
not because prayer alone will find them,
but because naming is resistance,
because to be named is to be real,
and the powerful count on us forgetting,
count on exhaustion doing
what policy refuses to do.

We will not forget.
We will teach our children, despite everything,
that they are owed dignity,
not by luck, not as charity,
but as the first and final right
of every human being who draws breath
on God's green earth.
We will build the schools ourselves if we must.
We will tend the sick ourselves if we must.
We will remember the taken
until the taken are returned.

And when this country finally becomes
what it has always had the capacity to be,
when the children can simply be children,
laughing in the rain,
careless with their joy
the way children are meant to be,
we will stand in that future
and we will say:
we held on.
We held on.
For all the lost children,
we held on.

Happy Children's Day, Nigeria.
May we become worthy of them.

© Adeyinka J. Adeleke
Ibadan, Nigeria
27/05/2026

#ChildrensDay
#HappyChildrensDay
#BringBackOurChildren

[Adeyinka J. Adeleke @RevYinkaAdeleke]

WELCOME TO MAY!
This month, may you enjoy God's kindness, an abundance of the rain of heaven, timely testimonies, inexplicable blessings, ordered steps and propitious circumstances, the reality of heaven's abundance, and may your heart be filled with joy. (Acts 14:17 NIV)

[Adeyinka J. Adeleke @RevYinkaAdeleke]

This month, may God be good to you and life kind to you. May the Almighty give you rest on every side, so that there shall be no adversary or evil occurrence, and may all go well with you, in Jesus' holy name.
Amen!
Happy New Month!

[Adeyinka J. Adeleke @RevYinkaAdeleke]

Dear Child of God, if you don't learn to travail in prayer, you will toil fruitlessly in life. Pray o!