I don't think the Obideint Movement can be incorporated into joining a political party. They can only transform to becoming a Political Party.
Obideints are all over Nigeria. Most may never belong to a political party but they know what they want.
Greetings Everyone, please this person is in need of a kidney transplant he is my friend . PLEASE HELP.. if there is need of further details I can get that from the family. Thank you.
@Wizarab10@aproko_doctor
Ede Tuoyo Adetutu. Gtbank. 0124049021
Greetings Everyone, please this person is in need of a kidney transplant he is my friend . PLEASE HELP.. if there is need of further details I can get that from the family. Thank you.
@Wizarab10@aproko_doctor
Ede Tuoyo Adetutu. Gtbank. 0124049021
Imagine your pastor standing on the pulpit this Sunday and announcing
“Due to gross misconduct, the entire choir is suspended till further notice.”
By next Sunday, half of the choir has relocated to another church where their “gift will be appreciated.”
There was a time responsibilities were privileges.
Now responsibilities are contracts.
A time service was honour.
Now service is negotiation.
I saw a generation where correction was part of discipleship.
Today, correction is interpreted as disrespect.
Before, when a pastor said,
“Step down for a while,”
people went back to prayer.
Now when a pastor says,
“Step down,”
people step out.
This is the reason a choir member can go clubbing post on her social media handles and pastor will like...
We have moved from raising sons to managing talents and the difference is loud.
Sons can be corrected.
Talents must be maintained.
Sons stay for alignment.
Talents stay for allowance.
Sons ask, “Where did I miss it?”
Talents ask, “Who do you think you are?”
I saw a generation where you could be sweeping the church floor faithfully, and the pastor says,
“You disobeyed instruction. Don’t sweep again.”
And that alone becomes your season of brokenness, repentance, and growth.
Today, remove someone from sweeping and they remove themselves from the church. They tell you how they've helped you and your ministry....
The altar was never designed to run like an office.
It was designed to raise men.
Lord, raise sons again.
Raise men who value correction more than position.
Raise hearts that fear losing alignment more than losing platforms.
Raise servants who understand that the greatest reward for service is not payment, It is preservation.
Amen
any history or debt. A Band C customer. A residential area. A resident. How is this possible. Is this not a case of you intimidating your customer and insisting on an error that should never be?
Please @fccpcnigeria@NERCNG I need your help to resolve this issue.
@EKEDP, please, how do you keep sending you d your response has been FESTAC DISTRICT os working on it, only fo the same FESTAC to send a letter pf disconnection instead of resolving the billing issue. How does a house move from a clean bill to a bill of N1.3M without
"I caught my husband deleting text messages at 3 AM. My hands went cold. The last time he touched me was eight months ago... and I was the one who built that wall."
I told myself I was "teaching him a lesson" after that argument about his mother. Each night I rolled to the edge of our bed, back turned, pride armor-plated.
I wanted him to feel the silence. To suffer. To beg.
He stopped begging in month three.
In our Nigerian homes, we're masters of "managing." We manage disrespect. Manage loneliness. Manage marriages that feel like roommate arrangements with shared bills.
But here's what nobody warned me... a man can live without sex, but he cannot live without feeling wanted. And I had made my husband feel invisible in his own home. The deleted texts? They weren't affairs... they were conversations with a female colleague who actually asked how his day was. I had pushed my husband into the arms of emotional intimacy elsewhere because I weaponized physical intimacy at home.
My mother called it "keeping your dignity." But dignity that costs you your marriage is just pride wearing a gele.
I broke first. Not because I lost... but because I finally saw what I was losing.
That night, I didn't roll to the edge. I touched his shoulder and said the hardest words: "I built this wall. Help me tear it down." We talked until the generator died. Prayed until the tears stopped. Rebuilt until the sun rose.
Love isn't a feeling that survives neglect. It's a choice you make when the feelings are buried under resentment.
If your bedroom has become a battlefield, start tonight:
1. Break the silence before someone else breaks your marriage
2. Ask: "What have I made you feel in this home?"
3. Listen without defending. Then pray together.
What's one wall you need to tear down in your marriage?
I once met a man earning ₦800k/month… who couldn’t afford a ₦20k emergency.
Why?
He was servicing 3 loans.
One for a wedding.
One for a new iPhone.
One for a Dubai vacation with his girlfriend.
When I asked why, he said,
"I didn’t want to look like I was struggling."
There’s a dangerous culture growing in Nigeria, and it’s eating people alive:
We now borrow money to impress people who are also broke.
Debt isn't always bad, but debt for ego?
That’s a trap.
A quiet, bleeding trap.
You don’t have to drive the latest car.
You don’t need a destination wedding.
You don’t have to flex your salary on Instagram.
You need freedom.
And you don’t get freedom by financing a lifestyle you haven’t earned.
Let me share a hard truth with you:
Sometimes, the smartest financial decision you can make is to be underestimated.
Let them think you’re not balling.
Let them think you’ve fallen off.
Let them talk.
While you quietly pay off your debts.
While you save.
While you invest.
While you build.
Then, one day, you show up different.
No loans. No stress. No pretense.
Just peace.
And power.
@Amebosam@PoliceNG@LagosPoliceNG@BenHundeyin@PoliceNG_CRU A friend of mine experienced this on the 13th Tuesday night, on his way home in a public bus at OLUTI bus stop along badagry express way at about 8pm. The stone missed the driver and the passenger in front but got a passenger on the row behind the front seats.