A number of people are familiar with the 'scribble pad' analogy of my life. For a long time, I have thought myself to be some sort of scribble pad where God writes His first drafts and makes all the adjustments to particular stories He tries to tell before sending them out for mass print. There [...]
Category: Scribble Pad
Guest Writer Post: Godfidence
Please help me welcome my darling sister, Astra, to Alethea's Mind. She's our first guest on our guest writer series. She writes this beautiful post: GODFIDENCE!
“Yielding”
"Who should I send? Who will go for us?"
When Obedience Hurts
I came across a movie on YouTube titled 'The Train', based on the life of one of Nigeria's prolific Christian movie makers, Mike Abayomi Bamiloye. Although it's a Yoruba movie and considering I'm the fakest Yoruba girl ever, I still enjoyed every bit of this true-life story (thank God for subtitles, the Yoruba they spoke [...]
Non-refundable Love
"Daddy, in my obedience, You tantalize me more than any man can afford. You remain the best Father I could never afford." Tosin This year, a lot has happened in my quaters, as much as it has with the rest of the world. I wouldn't know where to begin if I decided to tell it [...]
. . . of Simplicity, Service and Love
I've been on a special journey with the Lord since that grey Monday. On this journey, many walls I have built over the years have been pulled down and layers of veils torn apart as He gently strips me down to the original state He intended when He created me. I wish I can write [...]
The Journey to My Testimony
Please, come with me . . .
Simple Obedience
In a still small voice . . .
Reckless Abandon – A ‘Ravens’ Story
At this point, my roommate became quite worried, wondering why I was crying. So I narrated to her the story of my walk from dance class one afternoon . . .
Crossroads
Where are you?
Panel Beat Me
You see, the thing about being panel beat is the possibility that no one might know that you are hurting. On the surface, you're all clean, but the fibres of your being can still feel the dent . . .