Unusual Stories Blog

The King and His City

Once upon a time,
there was a king…
who ruled over a beautiful city.

It was the kind of city that made you stop and stare —
peaceful, bright, full of life.
People travelled from far and near just to taste its wisdom,
to drink from its peace,
to feel its light.

The king had everything.
Fame. Power. Prosperity.
He was blessed —
and he knew it.

But then… the clouds began to gather.
Slowly. Quietly.
And before anyone could tell,
a storm was on the way.

The king… started to drift.
He became proud,
distracted by the glitter of his own success.
Little by little,
he let the gates of his city open —
to temptations.
To pleasure.
To things that looked harmless,
but slowly weakened his walls.

And then,
it happened.
Like a tornado tearing through beauty,
the city fell.
Its towers cracked,
its gardens burned,
its peace disappeared.

Hey,
let’s come back for a moment.

That king you imagined?
He represents you.
And that beautiful city?
It’s your body…
your life…
your soul.

Addiction doesn’t always come with a warning.
It starts with a taste,
a thought,
a habit that feels too small to destroy anything.
Until it does.

The enemy walks quietly,
searching for cracks in your foundation —
a weak gate,
an open door,
a distracted heart.

But listen —
even when the city falls,
there’s still hope.

Because the same God who builds cities,
can rebuild ruins.
For there is hope for a tree that is cut down —
it shall sprout again.

So, guard your gates.
Protect your walls.
Do away with anything that gives the enemy permission
to invade your peace.

You are the king.
And your body —
your mind,
your heart —
is your city.

Rule it with wisdom.
And your city…
will rise again.

Big shout out to my newest top fans! Stella Tolorunju

The Grace to Last

Yomi passed beside the beach.
Her mind was full of so many questions.

Looking at the waves before her, it felt as though she was staring into her own thoughts — wild, restless, and crashing against one another. The raging water looked like her mind being pictured before her eyes. She couldn’t help but wonder what went wrong.

As she stood there, she began talking — rambling, really — and it felt like her thoughts had found a voice of their own. They were racing in her head like soldiers fighting a war.

And then, one question kept coming back again and again: How did I get here?

What happened to this once vibrant, fireful, and prayerful Christian? Back in those days when she was still a child, when she was a teenager, she could pray for hours with her Bible beside her. She would listen to messages, take up responsibilities, and fast like her body wasn’t even made for food.

But now, it all felt like a dream — a distant dream that never really happened. The more she thought about it, the more she realized it’s not about starting, it’s about finishing.

Then she understood — this doesn’t just happen on its own. There is something that helps a person to finish, and that something is grace. Only God gives it.

And the more she thought about it, the more she realized she didn’t really know God. Maybe it was the God she had heard people talk about, the God she had learned about in Bible school, or the God she had listened to in messages. But she didn’t truly know Him for herself.

If someone were to ask her, “Who is God to you?” she wasn’t sure she could give an answer.

Now, there’s this hunger — a hunger that has turned into a kind of holy madness, if that’s allowed to be said. A hunger that made her decide to know God for herself.