The Watchman

I lost my phone to one-chancers. I pray that they will repent from stealing and turn to God, amen

Kathryn Kuhlman died on February 20, 1976, at Hillcrest Medical Center in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

She was 68.

Multiple organ systems had failed in the days prior, yet her heart, which physicians expected to show arrhythmia before stopping, ceased without transition, without the irregular rhythm that precedes death in nearly every clinical case. The monitor went directly from normal sinus to silence.

The nurse who last attended her recorded a final request in the chart: that she would die on February 20th at 1:13 a.m., and that only roses be placed at her funeral.

Fifteen minutes later, a nurse beginning her first shift entered the room to check for a pulse. She found the body neither cold nor warm but distinctly hot to the touch. The room carried a heavy fragrance of roses, pervasive enough that she stopped. When the ICU head nurse arrived shortly after to record the time of death, both women found it difficult to remain standing in the room. They read the charted notes. The time written in Kuhlman's own final request matched the hour of her death exactly.

The last words recorded before she lost consciousness were: "Love. Love. Love. Love Jesus."

Neither nurse professed faith at the time. The younger one, still seated in the room, wept and converted on the spot.

Kuhlman's funeral was held with roses, as she had asked. She had requested nothing else, and nothing else was needed.

What a saint! What a way to go!

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I came across this post and sincerely I don't know how to justify this. Read and let me know your opinion: was Apostle Arome wrong to address Pst. Adeboye as "Brother"?

Here's the post:

Dear Apostle Arome Osayi, Pastor Adeboye is not your mate. He is a father in the faith, not your colleague. Please learn to address him with the honour he deserves.

You posted a birthday tribute to Pastor Adeboye on Facebook.
You called him “Daddy GO.”
You praised his humility.
You said his life touched you deeply.

But after all that, you ended the message with “Your brother, Arome Osayi.”

I find that confusing because that sign‑off does not match the honour you were giving.
When you say “your brother,” it means you see yourself as his equal — someone on the same level.
But Pastor Adeboye is far ahead of you in age, calling, and spiritual impact.
He is a father to millions, not a mate.

Honour is not only in the story you tell.
Honour is also in the way you address a man who has walked with God for over 50 years.

Bishop David Oyedepo, Bishop Wale Oke, Pastor Tunde Bakare and Dr Paul Enenche still call him their father publicly and would sign off any tribute or letter to him with “Your son” . These are clerics older and bigger than you. Even Adeboye’s first son, who is also a pastor is older than you!

And let us be honest:
A man who once said God did not heal his facial palsy so he would not become proud should be extra careful with his tone.
Because pride does not always shout, sometimes it shows in small words and small actions.

I like you Arome but I will advise you as a fellow labourer in the vineyard of Christ to pray hard about pride. Fornication/adultery is not the only sin that is taking people to hell. God bless you.

I need to do this correction publicly because your post was public and it could have far reaching negative consequences on the many young people that look up to you.

SCRIPTURE FOR REFLECTION

“God resists the proud, but gives grace to the humble.” James 4:6

Dae Jumong 15/3/26

End of post. Let's know your thoughts on this in the comments.

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If you think Pharaoh was the real enemy at the Red Sea, you’re reading the story too quickly.

Most of us look at the Red Sea story like it’s a victory lap; God opens the water, Pharaoh’s army gets wiped out, and Israel walks away free. We treat it like the "happily ever after" moment of the Bible.

But if you actually look at the Scripture, something far worse hunted the Israelites than Pharoh’s pursuit.

In Exodus 14, as soon as they see the dust from the Egyptian chariots, they start losing it. They weren’t just panicking; they literally ask Moses, "Was it because there weren't enough graves in Egypt that you brought us here to die?" They actually told him it would have been "better" to stay as slaves.

Keep in mind, these people just saw ten plagues. They saw the Nile turn to blood. They watched the land go dark. But the second things got tight, fear deleted their memory of the miracles.

And we do the exact same thing.

How fast do you start romanticizing your past when your current situation gets uncomfortable? How quickly do you start missing the things God actually rescued you from, just because the future feels a bit blurry?

Even the miracle itself wasn't instant. Exodus 14 says God drove the sea back with a strong wind "all night." It was a slow, step-by-step walk. It wasn't a magic trick; it was a process.

But look at what happens just one chapter later in Exodus 16. They start complaining about food. They start talking about how they "sat by the meat pots" and had plenty of bread in Egypt.

That’s a lie. They were in forced labor. They weren't enjoying a buffet; they were being worked to death. But anxiety is a hell of an editor. It makes you remember the "comforts" of your old life while completely cropping out the chains that kept you there.

Then you get to Exodus 32. Moses is up on the mountain for forty days. No updates, or any signal he’s coming down soon. So the people go to Aaron and say, "Make us gods who will go before us."

They didn't stop believing in God you know, They just couldn't handle not seeing Him. Egypt had trained them to only trust what they could touch. So when God didn't move on their timeline, they went back to what felt familiar.

That’s the real issue here. They were out of Egypt, but Egypt was still in their heads. They were physically free, but they were still using a slave’s toolkit to handle fear and delay.

So, when things stall in your life, what do you start building? When you don't get the answer you wanted, what "golden calf" do you reach for? Is it a drink? Is it an old relationship? Is it just a desperate need to control everything around you?

The real threat wasn't the Egyptian army behind them. It was the urge to run back to what was predictable.

The beauty of this story isn't just the parting of the sea. It’s that God didn't walk away when they started acting out. He kept sending the manna and kept showing up for them. He didn't just pull them out of a country; He stayed with them while He pulled the "slave-thinking" out of their hearts.

Leaving your past is a one-time event. But learning how to be free? That takes time.

Be honest with yourself; What part of your "Egypt" are you still defending? Are you rewriting your history because you’re scared of the unknown? If God took away every problem you have right now, would you still be a slave on the inside?



Courtesy: Ellis Enobun

Right now in Nigeria, one of the most difficult things to be is a genuine pastor, a man who simply teaches Christ, preaches repentance, and refuses to turn the altar into a stage.

If you preach truth, you struggle.
If you refuse to manipulate, you look “unanointed.”
If you won’t promise cars, visas, contracts, and instant breakthroughs, you are called dry.

Meanwhile, the fálse prophet arrives in town with noise, security, and spiritual branding. He throws around dramatic prophecies, tells people what they want to hear, and suddenly the same members who claim they are struggling financially appear with thick brown envelopes (money), eager to “connect to grace.”

It is not poverty that makes people withhold support from sound pastors.
It is preference.
Many church members don’t want doctrine, they want drama.
They don’t want discipleship, they want destiny shortcuts.
They don’t want corrections, they want confirmation.

So the pastor who labors in Scripture, who studies to teach accurately, who refuses to monetize prophecy, is left looking unsuccessful, while the one who commercializes anointing is successful.

Funny enough, some believers are not deceived, they are complicit. They know exaggeration when they see it. They know manipulation when they hear it. But as long as the prophecy flatters them and promises speed, they will fund it.

And we wonder why the number of genuine pastors are decreasing?

Listen, you cannot finance deception and pray for revival.
You cannot starve truth and expect maturity.
If the church keeps choosing excitement over substance, we will raise crowds, not disciples.

The real tragedy is not that false prophets exist. They have always existed. The tragedy is that many believers prefer them.

Until members value sound teaching more than sensational prophecy, genuine pastors will keep struggling to stay in ministry and the church will keep mistaking noise for power.

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