Adura

[Adura @da_kamald]

@GunnerPuls Di Maria

[Adura @da_kamald]

@LegacySiu Di Maria

[dele osunmakinde @deleosunmakinde]

Blessed,broken...

[dele osunmakinde @deleosunmakinde]

To the prophets and teachers i write.

There is a tension in ministry that must be addressed

On one side, prophets are blowing trumpets.
The warfare is intensifying. The heavens are heavy. Something must be broken in the spirit.

On the other, teachers are standing firmly on Scripture.
Christ already won. We are seated. Confess the Word. The devil is defeated.

Each camp sees something real.
But the body is weakened when we act like we must choose between the two.

This is not a contradiction—it’s a coordination issue.

The problem isn’t prophecy.
The problem isn’t teaching.
The problem is isolation. The solution is Antioch.

Antioch: where the Spirit wrote a blueprint for alignment

Acts 13 verse 1 says,
"Now in the church that was at Antioch there were certain prophets and teachers..."

Don’t rush past that line—it is pregnant with divine strategy.

Antioch was not just a location. It was a launchpad. A prototype. A prophetic-teaching convergence that birthed apostolic power.

This was not a prophetic conference.
This was not a doctrinal school.
This was a local church—a real congregation.
And right there, prophets and teachers ministered under the same covering, at the same altar, hearing the same Spirit.

They didn’t just co-exist—they co-laboured.
They didn’t compete for the pulpit—they built the same house.

Let the teacher find a prophet. Let the prophet find a teacher.
That is what births apostolic Christianity—men that can be separated for the work.

Until this alignment happens, there will be no true sending, no apostolic thrust, no accurate commissioning.

And moreover, like Antioch, we can be both—prophets that teach and teachers that prophesy.
We do not have to live in divided categories. The same Spirit that gives utterance also grants understanding.
Some are called to carry both fires. Some will weep over the now and explain the why.
Some will see the mystery and steward it through instruction.

So what did they do together in Antioch?

They fasted together.
There was spiritual hunger, not ego hunger.
The prophet didn’t think fasting was just for spiritual warfare.
The teacher didn’t reduce fasting to doctrinal symbolism.

They prayed together.
They didn’t pray in silos.
The prophet stirred the atmosphere. The teacher guarded it with the Word.
Together, they hosted divine instruction.

They ministered to the Lord together.
They weren’t building platforms—they were hosting presence.
Prophetic flames burned, and doctrinal altars stayed steady.
The atmosphere wasn’t weird. It was weighty.

They heard the Holy Spirit together.
"Separate unto me Barnabas and Saul..."
Prophets didn’t override teachers. Teachers didn’t silence prophets.
The Spirit moved where both graces were honoured.

And again, I say—let the teacher find a prophet. Let the prophet find a teacher.
Because what God separates for the work flows out of what he first joins in fellowship.
That is apostolic order. That is divine strategy. That is how movements are born.

And others could come—because the house was whole

The unity of prophets and teachers didn’t just bless Antioch internally—it made Antioch magnetic.

People like Agabus, a respected prophet, could come in and out freely.
He was not seen as too prophetic to be welcomed.
And he didn’t look down on structure.

Even Gentile believers, untrained in Jewish law or temple patterns, were discipled and empowered there.

Why?
Because Antioch wasn’t a camp—it was a kingdom model.

It was solid enough for teachers.
It was spiritual enough for prophets.
And it was safe enough for the outsider.

This is what happens when the fire and the foundation dwell together.
This is what happens when we don’t split the house by giftings.
This is what happens when the Spirit is not grieved by doctrinal pride or prophetic arrogance.

Final charge: build the house right—the world is watching
Antioch teaches us this:
Prophets and teachers must not just tolerate each other—they must trust and train with each other.

[Adura @da_kamald]

@deleosunmakinde Well said!

[dele osunmakinde @deleosunmakinde]

And not every “word” that comes during your waiting season is instruction—some are seductions.

Not every pressure is a prompting.
Not every stirring is Spirit-led.
Some fasts are not about hearing something new—they’re about strengthening what has already been spoken.

Let this thunder in your spirit:
It is not every wait that produces something fresh—
Some waits build the backbone to stand in what the Father already said.

[dele osunmakinde @deleosunmakinde]

Let’s settle this once and for all: God’s mercy is not pity. Most people hear “mercy” and picture a soft sigh from heaven, a divine pat on the back, or God merely feeling sorry for you. But mercy is not a feeling. It’s a force.

Pity feels bad for you.
Mercy pulls you out.
Pity watches you beg.
Mercy lifts you to your feet.
Pity sympathises with your condition.
Mercy rewrites your conclusion.

Take Blind Bartimaeus—he didn’t just cry, “Have pity on me!” No, he cried, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” That was a covenant cry. That was the sound of someone who knew mercy was more than compassion—it was a covenant-backed system of transformation.

And what did mercy do?

Mercy made him discover what he still had—he couldn’t see, but he had a voice. He used it.

Mercy reminded him he had hands—and he used them to remove the beggarly garment of limitation.

Mercy empowered his legs—and he walked toward Jesus, unassisted.

Mercy produced faith—not tears, faith!

And Jesus didn’t say, “My mercy healed you.” He said, “Your faith has made you whole.”

That’s what mercy does—it activates faith. It doesn’t leave you weeping at the roadside; it empowers you to walk into your wholeness.

So hear me, child of God:
Mercy is not just God feeling something. It is God doing something.
It is not emotional weakness—it is divine intervention.
It endures forever because it continues to transform forever.

Pity might notice your condition, but mercy changes your position.
And that mercy is your portion—today, right now, in Christ!

As you read,walk into your mercy moments.

Amen!

[dele osunmakinde @deleosunmakinde]

Brother minister,

Honouring other streams doesn’t mean you must water down your own. Respect is not compromise. Esteem does not mean erosion. In trying to sound “balanced,” many have lost the cutting edge of their assignment. You were not sent to be acceptable; you were sent to be accurate.

Hear this: Not every stream is compatible—some are simply complementary. And you must discern the difference. The Apostle Paul was unapologetically the apostle to the Gentiles, and he said clearly, “I magnify my office.” That’s not arrogance—it’s divine alignment. He respected Peter, James, and John, but he did not let their calling to the Jews define his calling to the Gentiles.

And when men crept in teaching, “Unless you are circumcised according to the law of Moses, you cannot be saved,” Paul didn’t try to blend or dilute it to stay in good books. He refused to compel Titus to be circumcised. He wasn’t trying to sound cross-stream appealing—he was defending the integrity of the gospel committed to him. That’s apostolic fidelity.

There will always be “Pharisees who believe” and “men of the circumcision” who think you’re too sharp, too different, too clear—but stand your ground. The boys may murmur, but the pillars will stretch forth their hands and recognise grace when they see it.

Let’s be clear: I honour every stream that’s of God. But I won’t preach what every stream is preaching just to appear safe or “well-rounded.” That’s not balance; that’s confusion. Even the Lord Jesus, in His earthly ministry, said He was sent to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. And when a Gentile woman came, the disciples were uneasy, and the Lord made a statement that would offend any unprepared ear. Yet she got her miracle because she discerned something deeper.

You’re not called to mix everything like a spiritual buffet. You’re called to minister your dispensation in the gospel of Christ. Preach it whole. Preach it bold. Preach it pure.

It’s the gathering of wholesome messages—not the mixture of watered-down convictions—that matures the Church.

Stay loud. Stay true. Stay aligned.

Regards

DD

[dele osunmakinde @deleosunmakinde]

Another very serious question from the ongoing school.of ministry pregnant with solid lessons.

...posted with permission.

Question-

'Sir, my wife and I are in a situation in which one of my mentors told us to end a relationship with another minister who is a friend of ours ...my mentor threatened to end his relationship with me should I continue to relate with this friend of mine ...he specifically instructed me to cut all ties and never invite him to our ministry again...my wife and I are heartbroken about this because on one hand we honour our mentor and at the same time our relationship with our friend has been a great kingdom relationship.
When we asked our mentor why he refused to tell categorically why, but in hush tones, something about 'living in sin'
We confronted our friend about the matter , and he denied it... We got back to our mentor, who now claims he has proofs ...
We asked if he was willing to confront him so that we could bring all parties together...our mentor refused...
Before all these, we have invited both for our upcoming conference, and our mentor has said he would not attend for as long as our friend will be there

Sir,what do we do...my wife and I are depressed'

My answer-

Beloved,

Sadly,this situation is not new. I have faced something similar but slightly different, and many have faced this in life and ministry...

I will be scriptural and practical in answering this as a way of helping you and madam out of this painful situation

1. Honour is Kingdom Culture, but Control is Carnal Culture

“Not that we have dominion over your faith, but are helpers of your joy…” – 2 Corinthians 1:24

A true mentor helps your joy, not hijacking your judgment. A father in the Lord is not called to play the Holy Spirit in your life. His role is not to substitute your spiritual discernment but to sharpen it.

When someone says, "Cut off this friend or I cut you off,” they are not mentoring you—they are manipulating you. And when someone imposes silence instead of offering clarity, they are not protecting you—they are controlling you.

Honour is beautiful. But when it is built on fear, silence, threats, and blind loyalty—it stops being honour and becomes idolatry.

2. No One Deserves to Be Disfellowshipped by Whisper

“Against an elder receive not an accusation, but before two or three witnesses.” – 1 Timothy 5:19

Your mentor claims someone is “living in sin,” yet refuses to:

Offer clarity or transparency

Confront the person

Submit to Matthew 18's redemptive process

This is what we must call it—character assassination in priestly robes.

When we tolerate whispers without witnesses, we allow rumours to replace righteousness.

The friend you confronted stood his ground. You went back to your mentor in humility. Yet all you received was, “I have proof”—but no justice, no process, no confrontation. That’s not how truth behaves. That’s how gossip hides.

3. Confrontation is Love, But Withholding Truth is Spiritual Cowardice

“If your brother sins, go and show him his fault, just between the two of you…” – Matthew 18:15

If the sin is grievous and proven, the biblical path is confrontation and restoration—not cancellation.

But if a spiritual leader hides behind vague allusions, backs out of confrontation, and still expects you to act on suspicion—they are asking you to burn bridges without seeing the smoke.

The Lord taught us that anything done in darkness will eventually come to light. But here, your mentor is demanding you "cut ties" based on secrets he won't disclose and refuses to test in the light of the Word.

That is not righteousness. That is rank manipulation.

4. Your Platform Is Not a Playground for Personal Politics

Let’s talk about your conference. Both men were invited before this tension began. Now your mentor is using his invitation as leverage: "If he comes, I won’t."

This is not spiritual maturity. This is passive aggression with clerical polish.

[dele osunmakinde @deleosunmakinde]

When the Lord asks the man at the pool of Bethesda
, “Do you want to be made whole?”, He’s not just talking about symptoms.
He’s confronting:

Your mindset.

Your narratives.

Your cycles.

Your story.

Your secret attachment to that condition.

Wholeness is a violent disruption of the story you’ve been telling yourself.

You see, pain can become familiar.
Cycles can become comforting.
Lying down can become safe.
Suffering can become sacred—when it keeps you from the pressure of purpose.

That’s why this question is so necessary.

Wholeness is More Than Healing

Healing deals with your body.
Wholeness deals with your being.

Wholeness is not just standing on your feet—it is being transformed in your soul.
Wholeness is not a better version of bondage—it is freedom from the very narrative of captivity.

That’s why the question was not:

“Do you want your legs healed?”
But:
“Do you want to be made whole?”

The Lord was addressing the entirety of his condition, not just the visible part.
The condition that made him lie down.
The internal world that taught him to wait.
The belief system that told him angels and men were more powerful than the Word.

[dele osunmakinde @deleosunmakinde]

Let me share with us one of the questions from the ongoing school of ministry...it speaks to a lot of ministry things...I have the permission to share...but name withheld.

Sir, I’ve been following you for years now, but I must say what really drew me in was during that heated moment when Pastor XYZ was being attacked on Twitter. You stepped in to defend him with calm, scripture, and honour—even when the attack shifted towards you. You were misquoted, misjudged, yet you never retaliated. No insults. No drama. Just calm, truth, and maturity. That incident marked me. Since then, I’ve read all your posts—even though I don’t comment. I’ve noticed you never ride trends, you don’t attack others, and your posts always go deep into Scripture, sometimes in ways I’ve never seen before. My question is: what is the secret to this level of maturity, consistency, and restraint in your online ministry?
(This question came from a senior minister in Nigeria.)

My response:

Thank you for this thoughtful question. I remember that moment vividly—when Pastor XYZ was being dragged publicly. I didn’t speak to score points. I spoke because I live by a deep conviction: if love can’t guide your truth, then your truth is incomplete. I wasn’t trying to win arguments. I was trying to maintain alignment—with Scripture, with the Spirit, and with the integrity of ministry.

And to your question: this is not just a social media strategy. This is my life philosophy. It is a posture. A consecration. A way of seeing people, truth, correction, and conflict through the lens of Christ—not culture.

1. I don’t post to react—I post to reveal.

Social media thrives on speed, outrage, and applause. I don’t. I post to reveal Christ, to establish truth, and to edify the body—not to respond to noise.

“We have renounced the hidden things of shame… not walking in craftiness nor handling the word of God deceitfully, but by manifestation of the truth…” — 2 Corinthians 4:2

If I respond to everything, I’ll lose the rhythm of what heaven is truly saying. So, even when my silence is misunderstood, I choose it—because silence is sometimes louder than shouting.

2. I’d rather restore than react.

When I disagree, I don’t attack. If I know the person, I’ll call. If I don’t, I pray. And most times, I hold my peace. Why? Because I’ve seen people double down in public, then confess privately months later: “We thought this was right, but now we see…”

> “A brother offended is harder to win than a strong city…” — Proverbs 18:19

So I’d rather win a brother than win a battle. I believe in confronting with truth—but I don’t believe in wounding the Body of Christ to prove a point.

3. I don’t build a ministry on trends—I build on truth.

Trends are loud. Truth is lasting. Every time you speak, you plant a seed—either in the flesh or in the spirit. That’s why I don't chase what's hot—I pursue what's holy. Because years from now, someone will still read that post. Will it still be edifying?

“Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away.” — Matthew 24:35

4. I speak from consecration, not competition.

I know why I was sent. That clarity keeps me consistent. I don’t need to trend. I don’t need to clap back. I’m not called to everything. I’m called to build, equip, and align. I stay within that grace zone.

When you know who sent you, you’re not moved by who misunderstands you.

5. I’ve seen what haste and fire-for-fire spirit produces—it’s not Christ.

I’ve lived long enough in ministry to see people cancel others in one season, then apologise in another. I’ve seen hashtags turn into heresies. I’ve seen fire-for-fire defenders become later remorseful. So I don't take everything people post today too seriously—they may change their minds tomorrow.

Mercy teaches you to wait. And love teaches you to listen.

[PowerPoint Tribe @powerpointtribe]

"If you faint in the day of adversity, your strength is small." — Proverbs 24:10 reminds us that pressure doesn’t just break us, it reveals us.

📍The pressure inside you created by the joy of the Holy Ghost should be greater than any external pressure!

#powerpointtribe

[dele osunmakinde @deleosunmakinde]

To every young believer on campus and beyond:
The blood of Jesus didn't just pardon your past, it purchased your purity.

The cross doesn’t just justify you, it sanctifies you.

And grace doesn't just get you in, it trains you to stay in and walk worthy of the calling you have received.

Guard your heart. Guard your doctrine. And grow in the grace that trains you, not tricks you.

You don’t outgrow repentance. You don’t outgrow brokenness. You don’t outgrow obedience.

And you don’t get to redefine grace just to accommodate rebellion.

[dele osunmakinde @deleosunmakinde]

There are many unique factors that shape how long someone prays. Your burden, your season, your understanding, your spiritual maturity, and even your assignment all play a role. One size does NOT fit all.

If Lagos is the destination, some will walk, some will drive, and some will fly—but the goal is not to match speed or steps, the goal is to arrive in faith. Likewise, if someone prays for 6 hours and another prays for 20 minutes—heaven does not reward noise, it rewards faith.

“Without FAITH it is impossible to please God…”
—Hebrews 11:6

Let those who pray for 10 hours not act as if they earned a spiritual trophy.

Let those who pray for 10 minutes not feel bullied, belittled, or branded as unspiritual.

We are praying to GOD, not to ourselves.

Prayer is not a performance. It is not a competition. It is not a platform to announce, “See how long I stayed!” He that comes to God must come in faith—not in flaunting.

Let no man turn the secret place into a stage.

Let no one measure others by the length of their groaning instead of the purity of their faith.

Let no one use prayer time as a bullying stick to guilt others into spiritual slavery.

Jesus said, "When you pray, go into your room and shut the door"—not, “Go and tell the world how long you prayed so they can feel less holy.”

Final Charge:

Your prayer life is not validated by your clock.
It is validated by your faith, your yielded heart, and your fellowship with the Father.

Don’t compare your journey.

Don’t intimidate others.

Don’t spiritualise what the Lord never commanded.

Pray in faith. Walk in love. And never turn your secret place into a stage for applause.

[PowerPoint Tribe @powerpointtribe]

We interrupt your day to bring you a good word❗️

Listen, you can't be compassionate and judgmental at the same time.

When we take out judgmental mindset and pick up compassion, God sees us as a more conducive conduit for Him to flow through and be a blessing to the world.💫

[dele osunmakinde @deleosunmakinde]

Beloved,

Luke 18:10–14 is not just a parable—it is a divine audit. Jesus wasn’t casually telling a story. He was sounding the alarm on a posture that many still carry today—praying themselves out of grace while believing they’re operating in deep spirituality. This is not about the words of the Pharisee—it’s about the heart posture that heaven rejects.

Look closely. The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself. Not with God. His prayer didn’t rise—it was self-contained. Why? Because when your entire communication with God is centred on your superiority, your disciplines, your sacrifices, and your ability to outdo others—you’re not praying to God, you’re praying to yourself.

Hear his so-called thanksgiving:
“God, I thank You that I am not like other men…”
That’s not gratitude—it’s veiled condemnation. It’s a spiritualised attack masked as a praise report. And the object of his scorn? “Other men.”
In today’s language:
“I’m not like those other believers…”
“I’m not like that pastor who’s always begging…”
“I fast twice a week, I tithe faithfully, I’ve never compromised the way others do…”

You see the problem?
Whenever your spiritual practices become a scorecard and your justification is built on the flaws of others, you have completely exited the justification lane. Jesus said this man—though fasting, praying, giving—went home unjustified. Think about that!

It’s loud. It’s legalistic. It’s proud. But above all—it’s rejected.

This is where many today err: they build a platform out of someone else’s weakness. They showcase their consecration by displaying someone else’s failure. They dress their condemnation in the garments of thanksgiving. But God is not deceived.

Let me be clear:
If your Thanksgiving depends on the downfall or inferiority of others—then it is not gratitude. It is pride.
If your prayer is a display of superiority and not a cry for mercy—then it is self-worship.

Verse 14 delivers the verdict with thunder:
“Everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.”

This is no light matter.
It is not about publicans and Pharisees—it’s about you.
Are you brandishing your fasting, your praying, your giving—not as a response to mercy, but as a means to stand apart from others?

Stop. Drop the act. Heaven is not moved by spiritual showmanship. God resists the proud—even when they’re praying, fasting, and giving.

Check your posture. Justification is not given to those who perform. It’s given to those who bow.

[dele osunmakinde @deleosunmakinde]

Experience is not doctrine.
Experience is not doctrine.
Experience is not doctrine.

You can cry, pray, fast, and journey with God in a thousand unique ways—but your experience, no matter how powerful, is not the benchmark for divine protocol. Say it loud: Your experience is personal, not universal. The best way to teach others from what you’ve encountered is to say, “This is what I did… this is what helped me… this is how I prayed.” That’s powerful. That’s authentic. That’s testimony.

But the moment you shift from sharing your experience to doctrinising it—saying, “If you don’t pray like this, you are shallow… If you don’t fast like this, you are carnal… If you don’t roar like this, you don’t know God”—you have crossed a sacred line. You’ve taken a personal method and tried to make it a divine requirement.

That’s not humility. That’s spiritual tyranny.

We are not saved by methods. We are saved by grace. We are not matured by mimicking one another’s emotions. We are matured by the Word, rightly divided and accurately lived.

Let it ring again:
Experience is not doctrine.
No matter how many angels showed up.
No matter how long the vision lasted.
No matter how loud the atmosphere became.

Experience is not doctrine.
It may move mountains in your life, but it is not the mountain of truth for everyone. Don't build a monument where God gave you a moment.

Experience is not doctrine.
Share it. Celebrate it. But never enthrone it. Only the Word is doctrine. Only Christ is the standard. Only grace is the way.

Teach from your scars, but preach from the Scriptures.
Declare your testimonies, but define your truths from the gospel.
Because in the final analysis, only what is written governs what is true.

[dele osunmakinde @deleosunmakinde]

Dear minister,

You must never be found interceding 'against' the Church, no matter how deep your grief or how justified your frustration may feel. Yes, you will encounter troubling trends. Yes, you will hear teachings and see behaviours that cause your spirit to ache. Yes, there will be moments where you will be tempted to say, “What is left of the true Church?”

But I urge you—do not let your pain speak louder than the voice of revelation. Do not turn sorrow into accusation. And do not assume that the 'visible' Church is the totality of what God is doing.

This is where you must sit with Elijah. Elijah was a prophet. Passionate. Bold. Devoted. But also human. James reminds us that Elijah was a man of like passions (James 5:17). That is not a casual phrase. It means Elijah carried the same emotional framework you carry—the same longing for purity, the same holy zeal, and yes, the same vulnerability to sorrow and fatigue.

1. In Romans chapter eleven, Paul brings Elijah into the conversation—not merely as a reference to history, but as a prophetic mirror for ministers who grieve deeply for the people of God.
Romans 11:3 – “Lord, they have killed Your prophets and torn down Your altars, and I alone am left, and they seek my life.”

This was Elijah’s lament—not spoken to men, but to God Himself. He was sincere. He was in anguish. But his conclusion was off. Elijah was not lying; he was limited. His perspective, clouded by despair, convinced him that he was the only one left. And this is where many young ministers today must be careful: we must not let deep sorrow blind us to divine activity beyond our line of sight.

2. Elijah’s grief was real, but it led to a flawed conclusion: “I alone am left.” He interpreted his exhaustion as evidence that no one else was standing. That is a dangerous assumption.

Grief, when not surrendered, becomes isolating. And isolation begins to whisper lies—that your voice is the last faithful voice, your theology is the last sound theology, your ministry is the last remaining hope. But such thoughts, though they may feel weighty, are not prophetic—they are projections of exhaustion. Elijah prayed with the burden of a prophet, but he also projected the blindness of a weary man.

3. But then came the divine response—gentle, sovereign, and corrective.
Romans 11:4 – “But what does the divine response say to him? ‘I have reserved for Myself seven thousand men who have not bowed the knee to Baal.’”

This is heaven’s holy interruption. God did not debate Elijah. He revealed truth. He said, in essence, “You are not the only one. I have preserved many others. You do not know them, but I do.”
And that one sentence silences every prophet’s panic. You are not alone. You were never alone. The remnant may be silent, but they are standing. They may be hidden, but they are holy. They may not be known to you, but they are known to God.

4. This is where every young minister must pause. Because before you form conclusions about the Church, you must ask: “What does the divine response say?”

God has always had more than what we can see. His work is deeper than our discernment. His remnant is broader than our radar. To speak prematurely out of sorrow is to risk speaking against what God is still building. Before you say, “This is not the Church Christ is coming for,” you must let God say, “I still have seven thousand.”

5. What Paul does next is brilliant. He uses Elijah not just as an illustration—but as a resolution to the grief he introduced in Romans 9.
Romans 9:2 – “I have great sorrow and continual grief in my heart.”

Paul’s sorrow was deep. He wept over Israel’s disobedience and blindness. But unlike Elijah, Paul does not spiral into isolation. He processes his grief through God’s covenantal faithfulness. This is the mark of mature ministry: to weep, but not waver; to grieve, but not accuse; to hurt, but still honour what God is doing.

[Paris Saint-Germain @PSG_English]

HISTORY MADE 📸

[dele osunmakinde @deleosunmakinde]

Friends!

Just because someone wronged you—betrayed you, hurt you deeply, or caused you pain—does not mean that God has cancelled His plan for their lives. Let that sink in.

Your personal pain, however valid, is not the lens through which God sees the people who hurt you. God's dealings are higher, deeper, and more redemptive than our emotions. You may not be on speaking terms with them. You may be done with them. But God isn’t. He does not discard people because they failed you.

He doesn’t take sides based on your wounds—He takes over with the intention to redeem both the wounded and the one who inflicted the wound. "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the LORD. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts” (Isaiah 55:8–9).

God’s justice is not your revenge, and His plan for them may still be intact—whether you like it or not.

Wishing them evil, harbouring resentment, or secretly hoping they fail contradicts the very nature of the New Testament believer. You can’t claim to be led by the Spirit and yet be fuelled by vengeance.

The cross of Christ teaches us that mercy triumphs over judgment (James 2:13). “Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult. On the contrary, repay evil with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing” (1 Peter 3:9).

Forgiveness is not a favour to them—it’s a freedom for you. It’s not saying what they did was right; it’s saying you choose not to be imprisoned by it. “Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you” (Ephesians 4:32).

Your bitterness cannot interrupt God's plan for them, but it can block His peace from flowing in you.

So what do you do instead? You pray. You intercede. You lay their names before God, not for vengeance, but for transformation. “Bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you” (Luke 6:28). That’s where true spiritual maturity lies—not in having the last word, but in having the right heart.

That is what makes you a solid believer—when you’re more interested in God’s will being done in their life than in your hurt being avenged. That’s when you know Christ has conquered your heart.