Wednesday, June 17, 2026

THE APOSTLE OF JOY_PIDGIN SERIES 1

 Abeg...I don come again. Make we talk truth again today.


E don tay small since we yarn—and I know say many of us don enter that zone where the dreams wey we carry for January don begin to look like distant relatives wey only show face for funerals.


But wait.


Before you pack am up and throw am for dustbin of "maybe next life," make we reason small.


You see those people wey dey shout "Trust me, my guy!" anytime you carry matter reach them? Dem go tell you "2026 go be your year" with so much chest beating, you go think say dem get direct line to heaven. But my brother, my sister, their own heaven get population control—and their earth don begin to shake since last Tuesday.


Dem go promise you coconut head today, tomorrow dem go come give you garri without sugar. Dem go say "No shaking, I got you," only for you to shake alone when trouble show face.


Meanwhile, God no dey promise and forget. He no dey send "Sorry, I just saw this now" for 3am when your heart dey race and your mind dey do gymnastics.


2026 still dey wait for you.


Not because the road go be smooth like butter. Not because man no go try to discourage you with their "be realistic" sermons. But because the One wey hold the calendar no dey sleep.


Him eye dey your matter—even when your own eyes don close from tears wey don choke you.


You think say Him forget the dream wey He plant for your spirit? The one wey make you wake up at 2am with fire for your bones? The one wey your friends call "too ambitious" but your soul call "assignment"?


Him no forget o.


Na only man forget. God? His memory na eternal SSD—no corrupt, no crash, no "system failure."


So enjoy your real friends this season. Celebrate even the small wins wey your don get so far. Even if you think say you never win anything, at least na you dey read dis one now. E mean say you still dey here, you still they breathe for the land of the living. E mean say hope scatter for ground for you!


I wan advice you small today: laugh until you forget say you get age. Eat the last gizzard without apology. Flush all the jagbajantis wey dey your mind comot one time. Your mind too precious to dey fill am with junks. No worry, you go level up!


Anoda tin, abeg celebrate the ones wey still dey there through your many character revolutions—because na small proof of God's goodness. Na glimpse of how God love you: with evidence, with blackmail material, and with shared madness.


Drink laughter. Eat joy. Enjoy with wicked enjoyment—the kind wey no dey shame, the kind wey make your enemies wonder "Who be him sponsor?"


Make I yarn you the ultimate truth today,...anchor your ship for God's dock.


Because honestly—why you go trust man wey dey call you "brother from another mother" just because una share one plate of suya, when your actual brother nor even pick your call?


Man go still be man. Dem go change, dem go shift, dem go forget. But God? His number nor go change, His presence nor get low battery, and His promise na eternal data plan with no downtime.


The only Ally wey no send "I dey busy" when your heart dey race at 4am. The one wey never ever disappoint.


Man go promise you light, but na God dey give the generator plus fuel when NEPA take light.


Man go tell you "I go stand with you," but na God dey stand when everybody don siddon.


So this season, celebrate.


But no forget say na God dey make the friendship sweet, and na Him hold the umbrella when rain of disappointment fall.


And that dream wey don dey sleep since January? Wake am up. Dust am. Talk to am. Because 2026 no be promise from man—na appointment with the One wey never miss a single date.


My friend, where the thanksgiving dey happen this month?


Make we go praise the One wey never fail us, even when man don fail us reach syllabus.


The One wey still dey hold your 2026 with hands wey no dey drop anything wey belong to Him.


Your portion dey secure.


Your season dey come.


No shaking.


Amen and wicked enjoyment to your spirit! 🕊️



— @theapostleofjoy

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