Reflections on spirituality, mindfulness, and personal growth in the tech world
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Picture, if you will, a world where people are more concerned about feelings than facts. A world where rebuke is seen as 'harsh,' 'intolerant,' or—heaven forbid—'unloving.' But in the dimension of biblical reality, there exists a different standard, one that does not sway with cultural trends or Twitter outrage.
Moses was a legend—a man through whom God worked mighty signs and wonders. He spoke with God face to face, parted seas, and led an entire nation out of slavery. He was the Lawgiver, the prophet, the leader who shaped Israel’s destiny. A true giant of faith.
But guess what?
Moses was still just a man.
And now? He’s dead.
Christians sometimes come up with the most bizarre interpretations of Scripture. I nearly fell out of my chair when I found out that some use Lazarus and the Rich Man to preach a "gospel of poverty." 🤦♂️
Imagine reading a passage about heaven and hell and coming away with "God wants you broke." What kind of brain gymnastics is that? 🤸♂️ Let’s fix this by tweaking the story a little.
If love were just a feeling, we'd all be in serious trouble. Imagine if "Love your neighbor as yourself" simply meant "feel some affection toward them"—so long as you feel warm and fuzzy, mission accomplished! 🎯
But hold up—does that mean I can watch my starving neighbor suffer, as long as I have affectionate thoughts about him? "Aww, poor guy. I hope he gets food soon!" Then I walk past, munching on my suya. 🤦🏽♂️
See the problem? If love is just an emotion, it is unreliable, inconsistent, and outright dangerous.
Let’s get one thing straight—Christians are still human.
We still eat 🍔, sleep 😴, go to work 💼, and pay bills 💸 (unfortunately). Like everyone else, we age 🧓, stub our toes 🦶, and sometimes even forget why we walked into a room 🤔.
But don’t let these superficial similarities fool you.
You’re at a coffee shop. Or a family BBQ. Or trapped at a church potluck you can’t politely escape.
A friend leans in. Their voice drops by exactly three decibels. Their eyes scan the room like they’re checking for surveillance cameras. Then they say the five most dangerous words in the English language:
“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but…”
It begins on a Tuesday.
Not a dramatic Tuesday. Not a high-stakes Tuesday. Just a regular, fluorescent-lit Tuesday where the coffee tastes slightly burnt and everyone is pretending to work while actually checking messages.
You’re standing near the printer. Or the coffee machine. Or sitting in a meeting that could have been an email.
Someone leans in.
It's honestly a shame how much people hate reading.
And no, this is not a "book snob" rant. This is a reality check.
We live in a time where information is cheap, accessible, and literally begging to be consumed—yet people avoid reading like it's a communicable disease. The tragedy is not ignorance; it's chosen ignorance.
Picture, if you will, a planet called Earth. A place where everyone — from your mama to your mechanic — is on the same holy mission: to collect your money. They may smile while doing it. They may even cook you jollof first. But trust me, everybody wants a slice of your financial meat pie. Even the devil himself has a budget line with your name on it.
💵 Money, dear reader, is not evil. It is the amplifier of life’s comfort. With it, NEPA light suddenly becomes less epileptic, your fridge hums like a lullaby, and you can buy suya without checking your wallet first. Without it? Ah. Welcome to the land of postponed dreams, hot sun, and unsolicited motivational quotes from people who own generators.