Labz

An Incredible God deserves Incredible praise....

[dele osunmakinde @deleosunmakinde]

Flee!

When examining the biblical exhortation to flee from sexual sins, we encounter two distinct modes of fleeing: remote and immediate. Failure to grasp the art of remote fleeing can render immediate fleeing arduous, often with dire consequences.

To flee remotely is to adopt a resolute stance: Do Not Begin!

1. Certain calls exist that one should abstain from initiating or returning to individuals of the opposite sex. It is paramount not to initiate such communication.

2. Specific times of the day, particularly during the late hours or bedtime, should be considered off-limits for calling or engaging in chats. These moments, by default or design, serve as a starting point.

3. Particular types of conversations should not be encouraged, especially those that conclude with seemingly "innocent" symbols and language of affection. These seemingly innocuous interactions mark the beginning of perilous paths.

4. Discretion is key when employing phrases like "I love you," "I miss you," "I care about you," "You can always talk to me," and similar expressions. It is imperative not to embark on such linguistic journeys.

5. Certain visits should never transpire without accompaniment. When interacting with individuals of the opposite sex, always have a companion present. If you are married, inform your spouse about such visits. The inception of secretive behaviour in this realm signifies the onset of dangerous territory.

6. Concealing chats, texts, emails, and phone calls from individuals of the opposite sex, or engaging in late-night conversations hidden within cars or bathrooms, should evoke a cry for divine intervention. In truth, these are signs that one has ventured down a treacherous path.

7. Embrace the concept of accountability to your spouse—a commitment that effectively prevents the seeds of temptation from sprouting.

The wisdom lies not in embarking on these perilous journeys at all, for their cessation becomes an arduous endeavour once begun. Therefore, learn the art of remote fleeing—do not initiate these paths!

No better time to flee, if you have not fled!

[POJU OYEMADE @pastorpoju]

Worship is an art. It is like cooking a meal to serve your king. Time is taken in getting the right ingredients. Our construct is with words, we take time to find the right words inspired by the revelation which has given us about himself in the scriptures.

Jesus said "we know whom we worship"

The revelations are the ingredients that we carefully arrange with our words back unto him directed to him giving him all of the glory.

Worship is a meal you serve unto your Father, the King, the Creator of all things, your high priest after the order of Mechizedec. Where true worship is offered, God's manifest presence resides and that is evident by the presence of unseen beings(angels) assisting that person or people in all they do.

[dele osunmakinde @deleosunmakinde]

Grace removed the barrier. It did not remove the altar.

The veil was torn, not so that men would stop coming, but so that men could finally come boldly.

Grace did not abolish prayer. Grace abolished the distance.

Grace did not abolish fasting. Grace abolished the idea that fasting purchases what Christ has already paid for.

Grace did not abolish consecration. Grace changed its motivation. We are not consecrated to become accepted. We consecrate because we have been accepted.

And here is the scandal of our generation: we have more access and sometimes less appetite.

Men who believed they had to climb mountains climbed them. Men who thought they had to tarry all night tarried.
Now we preach that the veil is torn, the blood has spoken, the throne is accessible, and yet we barely enter.

Something is wrong when superior revelation produces inferior devotion

[Jean-Michel Lemieux @jmwind]

I interviewed Mark Carney for a job.

It was 2021. We were looking to bring in a board member or executive who could help us think about entrepreneurship in the context of the global economy.

I was asked to interview a guy named Mark. I Googled him. He had a decent CV.

In our call after brief introductions, he jumped straight in and said, “I see on Strava that you’re a runner and you live in...” It threw me off a bit. He had clearly done his homework. Borderline stalking. We talked about running for a while. He was good at small talk. He casually mentioned that he runs marathons now and then.

Mental note: he does his homework. Also, is he distracting me so I do not get to my questions? I started worrying he would try to schmooze me instead of getting into anything substantive.

In my defence, I had done some homework too. I had not stalked him on social media, but I had read several articles he had written. I learned that he leaned strongly globalist and believed that most of our challenges do not respect borders and will only be solved collaboratively.

I wanted to see if he could argue against his own position. More specifically, I asked when countries should invest in self-reliance. For context, I explained how, in software, we have learned that purely centralized systems fail in obvious ways. But overly distributed systems fail too, when small issues propagate across too many dependencies.

I asked whether societies behave the same way. Are we sometimes too decentralized? When should countries accept less efficiency and invest in more centralization or self-reliance?

He smiled. I could not tell whether he thought the question was childish or whether I had annoyed him. Then he broke the silence and said, “This is a great parallel. Give me a second to think about it.”

We ended up having a great conversation. That said, it took him a lot of words to make his point. Professional talker.

He liked the exercise. I could tell he had spent so long defending global collaboration that he had not fully prepared for this angle. I did not know it at the time, but he was in the middle of writing Value(s), which is essentially an ode to global cooperation.

We went over time. It did not faze him. He cared about finishing the discussion. At that point he was improvising, and it felt natural and fun. It was a genuinely thoughtful discussion. I learned a lot.

In the end, he did not join us. But we all wanted him to.

When I see him in his current gig, a small part of me laughs that I might have helped warm him up.

The more I think about that conversation, the clearer it becomes that he probably did not want his current Prime Minister role. Not in the way people want promotions or titles. Some people spend a lifetime preparing for problems they hope never arrive. When the moment shows up anyway, they step in. Not because it is appealing, but because it is necessary.

This just happened to be his moment.

[Faithfulness Okom @AttorneyF_]

I went back to Luke this morning just to revisit the story of Christmas… and Luke 2:7 hit me like an arrow to the chest:

“She gave birth to her firstborn son. She wrapped him in cloths and laid him in a manger because there was no room for them in the inn.”

We romanticize that line so much that we forget how brutal it actually is. If the gospel narrative is true, then that’s not a cute nativity detail. That is the most explosive statement in human history.

The God who created galaxies entered His own creation… and there was no room for Him.

No royal welcome, no palace, no safety, no honor, not even a bed. He comes into the world He made, and the doors are closed in His face.

This is the single greatest scandal of Christianity: God doesn’t supervise salvation from a throne. He steps into it. He doesn’t arrive in glory. He arrives vulnerable. He doesn’t come intimidating humanity into submission. He comes as a child who can’t even hold His own head up. If you were inventing a religion, this is not the story you’d write.

Luke is quietly showing something staggering about God’s character:
He wins, not by force, but by love.
He saves, not by domination, but by self-giving. He comes close, not as a King demanding space, but as a Savior entering even when there is “no room.”

And that manger isn’t sentimental. It’s confrontational.

It confronts our pride, cos humanity has always had space for power, wealth, celebrity, and status… just never space for God unless He serves our plans.

It confronts our illusions of strength cos God is showing that real power isn’t the ability to crush. Real power is the courage to empty yourself for the sake of others.

It confronts religion, cos God bypassed temples and elites and arrived where animals feed… then announced His coming not to emperors, but to shepherds.

Luke 2:7 tells us who God is.

He is not distant, He is not indifferent, He is not cold sovereignty. He is the God who chooses weakness so He can stand with the weak. He is the God who walks into human pain instead of observing it from afar. He is the God who would rather be rejected with us than reign without us.

If this verse is true, Christianity isn’t just another belief system. It’s a radical claim that the deepest power in the universe is love; not might, not fear, not spectacle.

So yes… this verse broke me today.
Because if this is who God is… then hope isn’t sentimental. Grace isn’t theoretical. And Christmas isn’t “cute.”

It’s God stepping into history quietly…
exposing us gently… and saving us completely. Luke 2:7 isn’t a children’s story. It’s a revolution.

Merry Christmas 🎄❤️

[TSN @TSN_Sports]

THE SASKATCHEWAN ROUGHRIDERS WIN THE 112TH GREY CUP! 🏆

#GreyCup

[CFL @CFL]

The Saskatchewan Roughriders are your 112th #GreyCup Champions.

[CFL @CFL]

The Riders run the prairies AND the country. 112th #GreyCup Champions.

[Labz @labz1227]

Gooooo Riders!!!!!!!

[Saskatchewan Roughriders @sskroughriders]

At the half!

[Toronto Blue Jays @BlueJays]

THE BARGE 🚢 #WANTITALL

[POJU OYEMADE @pastorpoju]

Why we don't pick up the signals in the spirit realm.

[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]

Dear minister,
Let this echo loudly in your spirit: before the Spirit moved, the Scriptures opened. Before hearts erupted in utterance, they were ignited by understanding. Before revival came rushing in, revelation was patiently poured out.

The Upper Room was not just a space in history—it was Heaven’s blueprint for birthing authentic ministry.
It wasn’t just a waiting room for power—it was a classroom of light.
It wasn’t hype—it was hermeneutics.
Not just a countdown to a public move—but a curriculum of the Kingdom taught by the resurrected Lord Himself.

And what did Jesus do with His final earthly moments before the great outpouring of the Spirit?
He didn’t host a healing crusade.
He didn’t gather a crowd for signs and wonders.
He opened the Scriptures. He expounded Himself. He grounded His disciples in truth.
For forty days, He walked them through things pertaining to the Kingdom of God—not surface devotions, but deep, prophetic walkthroughs of the Law, the Prophets, and the Psalms.

He lit the Word on fire in their hearts before He ever sent fire on their heads.

Because the Upper Room teaches us this:
He opened the Scriptures before He opened the heavens.
He opened their understanding before He opened their mouths.
He gave them grounding before gifting. Identity before influence. Depth before demonstration.

Let that settle into your ministry philosophy.
Before the wind, there was the Word.
Before the flame, there was light.
Before the sound, there was Scripture.
Before the release, there was revelation.

This is the divine order.

And here’s where many of us are missing it today:
We want movement without meditation.
We want manifestations without maturity.
We want to run on fire without being rooted in the Word.
We crave spiritual expression without scriptural excavation.

But Heaven does not pour out Spirit on empty vessels. And any fire not born from revelation becomes wildfire—uncontrolled, ungoverned, and ultimately unfruitful.

So hear this as an encouragement—not a rebuke:
If you desire a move of the Spirit that endures…
If you long to see revival that builds, not breaks…
If you yearn to walk in power that is precise and pure…

Don’t skip the Upper Room.
Don’t bypass the 40 quiet days for the one loud day.
Don’t rush to the wind—sit first in the Word.
Let the Word burn first—then the wind will follow.
Let Christ be revealed in Scripture—then the Spirit will come with a flame that doesn’t destroy, but establishes.

Because:

Only the Word can set boundaries for the fire.
Only the Word can give weight to the wind.
Only the Word can anchor the groanings of revival in the government of Christ.

Anything else?
Noise.
Wildfire.
Unsent zeal.
Ungoverned wind.
Unanchored passion.

But when light precedes fire, and truth shapes tongues, and Christ is the lens of our understanding—we’re not just part of a move…
We are building one.

So let the Scriptures open.
Let your heart burn.
Let Christ be your curriculum.
Let the Word light the altar.
Then let the fire fall.

Because where the Word builds foundations, the Spirit builds futures.
This is how revival doesn't just start—but stays.
This is how ministries don't just burn—but burn rightly.
This is how churches don’t just gather—but grow.

We are unpacking all of this and more at the Mathetheuo School of Ministry.
Come ready. Come grounded. Come hungry.
Because the Spirit is moving—and it begins with the Word.

[dele osunmakinde @deleosunmakinde]

Let’s face it—prayer is one of the most talked about yet most misunderstood practices in the Christian life.

We’ve all heard teachings on persistence, faith, authority, and intimacy in prayer. But if we’re honest, many still leave the place of prayer with one lingering question:
Did anything really happen?

Jesus, in His Sermon on the Mount, answered that question by pointing us to two different outcomes every time we pray. Two very different rewards. One is shallow and self-satisfying. The other is spiritual and supernatural.

And we must choose between them.

Two rewards—one choice

In Matthew 6:5, Jesus said:
“They love to pray... they have their reward.”

This is the first kind of reward.
These are people who love the act of prayer—the feeling, the rhythm, the image. They love being seen as spiritual. They love how prayer makes them feel.

But that feeling is the only reward they get.

Jesus wasn’t condemning prayer. He was exposing a motive: loving the motion more than the outcome.
And He contrasts this with the second reward in Matthew 6:6:
“But when you pray... your Father who sees in secret will reward you openly.”

This is the reward of answers, of spiritual reception—where heaven responds, peace floods the heart, wisdom is downloaded, and situations begin to shift.

At the end of every prayer, you receive one of these two rewards:

The satisfaction of praying.

Or the manifestation of what God has already provided.

Your Father already knows—prayer is how you receive

Jesus followed this with a powerful truth in Matthew 6:8:
“Your Father knows what you need before you ask Him.”

That means prayer is never about informing God.
He’s not disconnected. He’s not surprised.
He’s not waiting to be convinced or emotionally stirred into action.

He already knows. He already provided.
Prayer is how we receive what has already been done.

This one truth should forever shift our posture:
We don’t pray to activate God’s will—we pray to align with it.

We don’t beg. We don’t twist His arm.
We don’t shout to awaken Him.

We pray because grace has already gone ahead of us, and faith is how we draw it into time.

But what about long prayers and repetition?

Now, this doesn’t mean all prayers should be quick or emotionless.

Jesus Himself prayed all night (Luke 6:12).
He repeated the same words in Gethsemane (Matthew 26:44).
Elijah prayed seven times before the rain came (1 Kings 18:42–44).
Daniel fasted and prayed 21 days before angelic intervention arrived (Daniel 10).
Paul pleaded three times concerning the thorn in his flesh (2 Corinthians 12:8).

So yes, there are times when prayer must be persistent.

But not out of panic—not because God is hesitant—but because sometimes our souls are slow to align, or the atmosphere around us resists what has already been declared.

In those moments, repetition isn’t doubt—it’s surrender.
Persistence isn’t striving—it’s faith refusing to quit.

The balance we need

There are two dangerous extremes in prayer:

Striving: where prayer becomes a ritual, a pressure to “make something happen” through intensity or repetition.

Presumption: where prayer is reduced to passivity because “God already knows,” so we approach it casually or not at all.

True prayer lives between these two tensions.
It’s bold and restful.
It’s passionate but peaceful.
It’s both confidence in God’s finished work and commitment to engage with it until it shows up in your life.

Pray to receive—not just to feel spiritual

Here’s what it all comes down to:

If you walk away from prayer and your only reward is that you prayed, that’s not enough.

Jesus invites us to pray in a way that receives—to pray in alignment with what the Father has already willed, already released, and already settled through Christ.

So yes:

Pray long when you must.

Repeat when you need to.

Travail when led.

Wait when required.

But in all of it, pray with this conviction:
“I am here to receive.”

[dele osunmakinde @deleosunmakinde]

Dear minister,

In every sound doctrine, there will always be outliers—those whose lived realities don’t fit neatly into the core principles we preach. Doctrine sets the ideal, the framework, the unshakable truth. But ministry is not just about proclaiming ideals; it is also about navigating real lives with compassion and discernment.

A wise man of God doesn't dismiss the exceptions to uphold the rule. He studies the doctrine deeply enough to explain the outliers, not explain them away. He doesn’t slam people with doctrinal dogma that ignores their pain—he aligns their experiences with divine truth, carefully and redemptively.

Because real people are not textbook case studies. They are walking complexities, bruised reeds and smouldering wicks. And the Lord does not break the former or quench the latter. Ministry must reflect the heart of the Master.

As a teacher, what I do is to teach the ideals as a way of problematising the situation. Once this tension is created, I then work to build an emerging synthesis between the thesis of doctrine and the antithesis of lived experiences. The ideal must be declared boldly, but never detached from the messy realities of human struggle. That’s where true ministry begins.

Take for instance the Pauline epistles—Ephesians and Colossians present the doctrinal thesis, the pristine picture of identity, grace, authority, and union with Christ. Corinth, on the other hand, is the antithesis—the lived chaos of carnality, confusion, and contradiction. But Paul didn’t abandon the Corinthians. Instead, in 1st and 2nd Corinthians, we witness an emergent synthesis—doctrine brought down from the lofty to the local, applied in real-time, with apostolic patience and pastoral skill. The doctrines taught in Ephesians, Colossians, and Romans are pragmatically negotiated and incarnated in the lived Corinthian experience. This is not compromise. This is apostolic genius.

We must hold the line of truth, yes—but with eyes that see, ears that hear, and hearts that feel. That’s not compromise. That’s Christlikeness.

The ideal must be upheld, yes—but always within the broader context of outliers, whose stories challenge us to teach with more clarity, reach with more empathy, and lead with more wisdom.

Doctrine is strong enough to embrace tension, and true shepherds must be skilled enough to explain without condemning—so the sheep are not lost in the gaps.

[Mark Carney @MarkJCarney]

Elbows up, Canada.

[POJU OYEMADE @pastorpoju]

So so true @drandyosakwe

[The Covenant Nation @CovenantCCentre]

“What brought Daniel before the King was his intellectual capacity and his skill set.” It explains why in our world we are in need of “Change Agents”

#TCNServices #SundayService #Insightsforliving #PastorPoju #GodsWord #TheCovenantNation

[YouVersion Bible App @YouVersion]

Psalm 121:1-2

[Cam Robinson @Hockey_Robinson]

🍁