Chapter One: It Is Well
The room was quiet, dimly lit by the amber fingers of the evening sun streaming through half-drawn curtains. Dust motes danced lazily in the golden light, suspended in the silence like forgotten prayers. In the middle of it all sat Sayo—still, withdrawn, and alone.
She was hunched over on the edge of a modest sofa, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as though holding herself together. Her eyes, red-rimmed and weary, stared blankly at the floor. A sigh escaped her lips—long, tired, burdened.
Her thoughts swirled with uncertainty, disappointment, and questions too heavy to voice. But then, from the depths of her soul, a song rose—unsteady at first, like a flickering flame in the wind.
“When peace like a river attendeth my way,
when sorrows like sea billows roll;
whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say,
it is well, it is well with my soul…”
Her voice trembled, raw and fragile, as if every note was pulled from her pain. And yet, there was something fierce in it—something defiant.
“It is well…” she whispered, almost to herself, her lips barely moving. “Oh, it is well. Ha! My God, it is well… It is well. I say—it is well.”
A silence followed. Deep. Heavy. She breathed in again, filling her lungs as though drawing strength from somewhere beyond herself.
Then, she said it again—louder this time, as if insisting on her healing.
“It is well… it is well…” Her voice lifted, resolute now. “IT. IS. WELL!”
Just then, the wooden door creaked open with a low groan. Sewa stepped in, her eyes instantly drawn to her friend. She saw the shadows under Sayo’s eyes, the tension in her jaw, the way her hands clenched unconsciously.
“Sayo,” Sewa called gently, stepping further into the room. “Good evening. Are you okay?”
Sayo looked up, startled for a moment. Then, as if flipping a switch, she forced a smile—thin and unconvincing.
“Ah, Sewa! Welcome back. How was work?”
Sewa didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes studied Sayo closely. “It was fine…” she said slowly, cautiously. “Sayo, have you been crying?”
“Cry?” Sayo scoffed, letting out a dry laugh that carried no humor. “No, never! I am a strong woman. I cannot cry.”
Sewa moved closer and sat beside her. “How was the interview?”
Sayo turned her head away. Her smile vanished. “It is well,” she said again—too quickly, too often.
But Sewa had known her long enough to hear the ache behind the words. She reached out, her voice low but firm. “Sayo, I know you. This ‘It is well’… it’s not just faith, is it? It’s pain. Please, talk to me.”
There was a pause. The sun dipped lower, casting longer shadows. Then Sayo exhaled, slow and deliberate.
“Let me sing first,” she murmured. “It will calm my nerves.”
Sewa nodded quietly. “Go ahead.”
Sayo drew another breath and began again, her voice cracking under the weight of unshed tears:
“Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
let this blest assurance control,
that Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
and has shed His own blood for my soul…”
Sewa, moved by the moment, joined her. Their voices merged in harmony—one bruised, the other comforting, both lifted by something sacred.
“It is well with my soul,
it is well, it is well with my soul.”
The final note lingered in the silence like a benediction. Sewa reached over and took Sayo’s hand in hers.
“Now,” she said softly, “tell me. What happened?”
Sayo closed her eyes, her heart pounding. And in that quiet moment, a memory surfaced—fresh, sharp, and bitter.
Chapter Two: Earlier That Day
It was a sleek office with glass panels, elegant decor, and a faint scent of lavender in the air. Across the polished desk sat Mrs. Beckley, a sharp-featured woman in her early fifties. She wore confidence like perfume—strong, deliberate.
She flipped through Sayo’s CV with slow, measured fingers, the paper rustling like whispers in a tense room.
Sayo sat opposite her, trying to control the tremble in her knees. Her palms were clammy despite the coolness of the air-conditioned space. She kept her posture straight, her face calm—but inside, her heart was a war zone of hope and dread.
Mrs. Beckley paused and looked up. Her expression gave nothing away.
“So… Miss Sayo Alade,” she said, adjusting her glasses. “Tell me, what makes you think you’re the right fit for this position?”
Sayo straightened even more, lifting her chin slightly. “Ma, I believe my background in administrative management, combined with my experience working in both private and public sectors, has prepared me to contribute meaningfully to your organization.”
Mrs. Beckley gave a polite nod. “Mm-hmm.”
She asked a few more questions—technical ones, situational ones—and Sayo answered them with grace. But something felt off. There was a stiffness in the room, an invisible wall she couldn’t breach.
Then came the moment she dreaded.
“We’ll be in touch,” Mrs. Beckley said, standing and offering her hand.
Sayo stood too, smiling as she shook it. “Thank you very much for your time, ma.”
Outside the office, as the glass doors closed behind her, Sayo finally let her shoulders drop. She exhaled sharply, walking away with slow, reluctant steps. Her heels echoed against the tiled floor, each step a silent farewell to another opportunity slipping away.
Chapter Three: A Price Too High
Sayo sat upright in the padded chair across from the mahogany desk, her eyes filled with cautious hope. Her heart pounded with anticipation. The interview had gone better than she had expected, and now, Mrs. Beckley—the Director of Human Resources—was smiling warmly at her.
The office was tastefully furnished, the walls lined with certificates and company awards. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting a soft glow across the room.
Mrs. Beckley flipped through a few papers, then looked up with a gleam in her eye. “Sayo,” she said, her voice measured and smooth, “you are highly qualified. The interview panel spoke very highly of you. In fact”—she leaned back in her chair—“congratulations. You are the best candidate for the job.”
Sayo’s eyes widened. For a moment, she was frozen in disbelief. Then her hands flew to her chest in gratitude.
“Oh, thank you so much, ma’am! I am truly grateful,” she exclaimed, barely able to contain her joy. Relief flooded her body, washing away days of fasting, prayer, and anxiety.
But just as quickly, the atmosphere shifted.
Mrs. Beckley’s smile did not fade, but something darker flickered behind her eyes. She leaned forward now, folding her hands on the desk and lowering her voice.
“Before we finalize your employment, there’s just one… condition.”
Sayo tilted her head slightly, unsure.
Mrs. Beckley’s eyes remained fixed on hers, unwavering. “Spend a night with me… and another with my husband. The job is yours.”
Silence.
It hit Sayo like a slap—sudden, cruel, and unimaginable. The smile on her face vanished. Her spine stiffened. Blood drained from her face as the words echoed in her head, disbelieving.
She opened her mouth but no words came. Her lips trembled. Her breath caught in her throat. Was this a test? A cruel joke?
Mrs. Beckley’s expression remained calm, as though she had just asked her to sign an extra page, not sell her dignity.
Sayo stood slowly, her legs suddenly weak beneath her.
“I… I think I need to go,” she said softly, her voice quaking with restrained tears.
Without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked out.
Chapter Four: Scars and Salvation
Back in the quiet of her living room, Sayo sat beside her friend Sewa, their hands clasped tightly. The sun had disappeared now, replaced by soft indoor lighting. Sayo’s cheeks were wet, not from tears, but from the waves of relief and grief colliding within her.
Sewa looked at her with pride. “Sayo, I am so proud of you,” she said quietly. “You stood your ground. You refused to give in. I know it wasn’t easy, but you made the right choice.”
Sayo said nothing, only nodded as her heart swelled.
Sewa continued, her voice low and reflective. “Jobs that come with sexual demands or any kind of immoral condition… they always end in pain. Let me tell you what happened to me.”
Sayo turned to her, eyes wide with curiosity.
“When I first came to Lagos,” Sewa began, “I was desperate. No family nearby, no job, no money. I stayed with a lady who tried to help me. She connected me to someone, and I got a job. But the truth is… I got that job by sleeping with my boss.”
Sayo gasped audibly. “What?! You?”
Sewa nodded, her gaze distant. “Yes. I felt I had no choice. I convinced myself it was just once, just to open a door. But two months into the job, something happened that changed everything.”
She leaned back slightly, the memory dragging her into the past.
Chapter Five: The Unveiling
It was a warm Wednesday morning in a general office shared by five women. Laptops clicked, phones rang occasionally, and fingers tapped furiously on keyboards. Sewa sat at her desk, busy reviewing a report, when the office door suddenly burst open.
Mr. Roy, the Managing Director, stormed in like a whirlwind.
His face was contorted with rage, and in his hand, he held a manila folder that had clearly suffered his fury.
“JULIET!” he bellowed, slamming the folder down on her desk.
Juliet, a petite woman with soft features, jumped in her seat.
“You brainless fool!” Mr. Roy thundered. “Do you even know how much you just cost this company?! You sent the wrong document to the client and made a complete mess of my meeting! Do you enjoy embarrassing me?!”
Juliet’s lips quivered. “S-Sir, I’m so sorry… I must have—must have mixed up the files—”
“Mixed up?!” he cut her off, his voice rising even higher. “That’s your excuse?! You’re as useless as they come! If not for my generosity, you wouldn’t even be here! Do you think you got this job because of your brains? Hah!”
He barked a cruel, bitter laugh.
Juliet’s eyes brimmed with tears. She looked down at her desk, humiliation burning across her face.
“And I slept with this man for this job…” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “And he still disgraces me like this.”
A hush fell over the room. The other women sat frozen, their fingers paused mid-typing. No one knew what to say.
Then one of them—braver than the rest—spoke up hesitantly.
“Wait… He slept with you too?”
Juliet nodded bitterly. “Yes.”
The room was heavy with shame and silence.
Sewa looked around slowly. Her voice, when it came, was quiet but piercing.
“Let’s be honest. Who here didn’t sleep with him to get this job?”
No one responded. No one needed to. The truth hung in the air, too heavy to deny.
Sewa’s chest tightened. That was the moment. The moment she realized what she had traded, and for what. Power built on exploitation. Wages that came with chains. Prestige purchased with pain.
Two days later, she handed in her resignation.
Chapter Six: Redemption
Back in the living room, Sayo was silent, stunned by what she had just heard.
“I never knew…” she said, her voice hushed.
Sewa smiled sadly. “Most people don’t. But that’s why I wanted to tell you. What you did today? That was strength. Real strength. God will honor your stand. When one door closes in righteousness, another opens in glory.”
Sayo inhaled deeply, the words sinking into her soul like balm.
For the first time that day, she smiled—genuinely.
“Thank you, Sewa,” she whispered. “Thank you for telling me the truth.”
Chapter Seven: Dignity Restored
The air in Mr. Roy’s office was thick with intimidation. Floor-to-ceiling windows allowed a panoramic view of Lagos, but inside, it felt like a prison. The desk between them might as well have been a battlefield.
Sewa stood tall in her modest but elegant dress, hands steady as she placed a neatly folded sheet of paper on his desk. Her heart pounded, but her face was calm, resolved.
Mr. Roy glanced at the paper. Then scoffed.
“What is this nonsense?” he barked, snatching up the letter. His eyes scanned the page quickly, and his brows tightened. “A resignation?”
He looked up, glaring at her with incredulous rage. “Who do you think you are?”
Sewa met his gaze without blinking.
“You think you matter to me?” he sneered, slamming the paper back on his desk. “You are nothing.”
For a moment, a silence fell between them—a silence not of fear, but of clarity.
“I am worth more than this, sir,” Sewa replied, her voice steady, every syllable soaked in truth. “I will not sell my dignity any longer.”
Mr. Roy laughed—a dry, bitter sound, full of mockery.
“Dignity?” he spat. “That’s rich! You think this city cares about dignity? Wake up. Lagos eats people like you for breakfast.”
He pointed toward the door like a judge passing sentence. “Get out of my office before I fire you myself!”
But Sewa didn’t flinch. She turned without a word, straightened her shoulders, and walked out with her head held high. Her heels clicked against the marble floor, echoing with the sound of freedom.
As the door closed behind her, she whispered under her breath: “Thank You, Jesus.”
Chapter Eight: The Reward
Sayo sat on the floor in her living room, her knees pulled up to her chest, still digesting everything she had just heard. Sewa sat across from her, calm and radiant—like someone who had passed through fire and come out shining.
“You quit just like that?” Sayo asked, wide-eyed.
“Yes,” Sewa nodded, smiling gently. “I repented. I turned back to God. It was hard at first, but He never left me.”
She reached for a bottle of water, took a sip, then added, “And guess what?”
Sayo leaned in.
“I just got promoted,” Sewa said, her eyes glowing. “God gave me a new job. One I didn’t have to sleep for. I work in a faith-based NGO now. I counsel young girls. My salary is now seven hundred and fifty thousand naira.”
Sayo’s jaw dropped. “Jesus!” she exclaimed, her hand flying to her chest.
Sewa chuckled. “Yes, Jesus. That’s who did it.”
Sayo was silent for a moment, visibly shaken—not with fear, but with conviction and hope. “You mean… I can still make it? Even after walking away from that offer?”
Sewa reached across and took her hand.
“Don’t give up,” she said softly but firmly. “Forget everything that woman told you today. That job is not yours—not if it costs your soul. Keep trusting God. Keep praying. He will sort you out in ways you can’t even imagine.”
Sayo nodded, tears forming in her eyes.
“God promises peace when we pray,” Sewa added, her voice gentle like a mother’s lullaby. “And not just any peace. A peace that transcends understanding. A peace this world can’t give.”
She squeezed Sayo’s hand. “And He will give it to you.”
Outside, the sky had darkened into dusk. But in that little living room, the light of faith had begun to rise.
Chapter Nine: When Silence Speaks Louder
Weeks passed, and the heat of Lagos gave way to gloomy afternoons. The rain had come and gone, leaving the skies low and gray. Inside the small two-bedroom apartment, the air was heavy—not with humidity, but with unspoken burdens.
Sewa stepped into Sayo’s room, humming a worship song under her breath, but her voice stopped abruptly when she saw her friend.
Sayo lay curled on the bed, pale and frail, her blanket pulled up to her chin. Her face had lost its glow, her lips were dry, and her breathing shallow.
Sewa’s heart dropped. She rushed to her side.
“Sayo,” she whispered, brushing the blanket aside, “what’s wrong with you?”
Sayo tried to sit up but winced, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just… don’t feel very strong.”
Sewa sat beside her, her concern deepening. “How long have you been feeling like this?”
Sayo looked away. “Eight days,” she murmured.
“Eight days?!” Sewa shot up in shock. “Eight days and you haven’t gotten tested?”
Sayo slowly shook her head.
“Why not?” Sewa’s voice tightened, eyes wide with disbelief.
Sayo’s eyes filled with shame. “I don’t have money.”
Sewa stared at her. Something inside her snapped. Without another word, she stormed out of the room.
Confused and weak, Sayo tried to sit up further. She could hear drawers opening and closing, footsteps pacing, and then—slam! The door burst open again.
“SAYO!!” Sewa’s voice exploded like thunder.
Startled, Sayo flinched. “Ah! Sewa! What is it? You scared me!”
“Follow me right now!” Sewa barked.
“I’m tired,” Sayo muttered, trying to pull the blanket back up. “Leave me alone, Sewa.”
But Sewa wasn’t hearing it. She marched over, yanked Sayo’s hand, and dragged her into the living room.
“You want to die in my house?!” Sewa’s eyes were blazing.
She stormed to the drawer and yanked it open so forcefully that the contents inside scattered. Reaching inside, she pulled out a bundle of cash and began counting.
“One, two, three…” Her voice shook with anger.
“…ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred thousand naira!” she shouted, slamming the bundle on the center table.
“This is money!” Sewa screamed. “What kind of stupid talk is this, Sayo? You don’t have money? Are you trying to kill yourself in my house?!”
Sayo stood up abruptly, her body trembling with weakness and fury. “Don’t talk to me like that!”
“You think I don’t know what’s going on here?!” she cried, her voice breaking. “You think everything I have is because of you? That I owe you for everything? I’m tired, Sewa. Tired of being a burden in your house!”
Sewa stumbled backward, shocked.
“Sayo, what are you—”
“I want my own life!” Sayo shouted. “My own job! I want to have something that’s mine—not just live off you like some helpless child!”
Silence dropped like a curtain between them. Sewa’s breath caught in her chest. Her face, once hot with anger, now twisted into something else—pain, perhaps. Confusion.
She stared at Sayo as though seeing her for the first time.
Then, she spoke—low, slow, deliberate. “Now I understand why you don’t have a job, Sayo.”
Sayo frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“You don’t appreciate the little things God has done for you,” Sewa replied. “Yet you expect Him to do the big ones. It doesn’t work that way.”
Sayo scoffed and folded her arms.
“Do you know why appreciation matters?” Sewa asked, stepping closer. “Because it shifts your focus. From what you lack… to what you have. Gratitude opens the heart, Sayo. It deepens your connection with God. It makes room for more.”
“Oh, so now my outlook is the problem?” Sayo shot back.
“Yes!” Sewa cried. “It’s your perspective. Gratitude doesn’t mean you have everything—it means you see the blessing in what you do have.”
Sayo clenched her fists, her body tense. “Stop killing me with your words, Sewa! Yes, I have life, and I’m grateful to God for that. But aside from life, what do I have?”
Sewa pointed at herself, eyes glistening. “Me! I am that little thing you should be grateful for!”
Sayo’s mouth opened in disbelief.
“But I have told you,” she shouted. “Time and time again, I’ve said thank you. What more do you want?! How else do I show you that I appreciate you?!”
Sewa’s voice dropped to a whisper, but the weight of her words hung heavy.
“By accepting what I give you. By eating as much as you want. Wearing any clothes you need. By using the money without guilt.”
She took a shaky breath. “Save your life first, Sayo. Then trust God to bless you in His own time.”
Tears spilled from Sayo’s eyes. She opened her mouth to reply, but no sound came. Her lips trembled, her shoulders shook, and suddenly, the storm within broke.
She collapsed to her knees, sobbing. The weight of shame, guilt, fear—all of it poured out.
“I… I’m sorry, Sewa,” she cried, her words barely intelligible. “I’m so sorry. For my attitude. For my disbelief…”
Sewa remained still, watching her friend crumble under the pressure she’d tried to carry alone.
“I’ve been praying,” Sayo continued, wiping her tears. “I’ve been waiting on God. But every time I ask you for something, I feel ashamed… like I’m asking too much. That’s why I don’t. That’s why I keep quiet.”
She reached for Sewa’s hand and held it tight.
“I’m grateful for you. I mean it, Sewa. You’re God’s gift to me.”
Sewa’s eyes softened. Her anger was gone, replaced by a deep ache of love and guilt. She squeezed Sayo’s hand.
“I’m sorry too,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have lost it like that.”
Sayo smiled weakly. “Maybe I needed it.”
The two women sat in silence for a long while, the storm between them settling into peace. Then, Sewa’s expression shifted.
“Have you been praying?” she asked, her voice serious.
Sayo nodded. “Yes.”
“How?” Sewa asked, leaning closer.
“I tell God I need a miracle. I ask Him to change my situation…” Sayo trailed off.
Sewa looked thoughtful, then her eyes lit up with clarity.
“I know what you need to do,” she said.
Sayo sat up straighter. “What?”
But Sewa didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she closed her eyes, lifted her hands—and began to speak in tongues.
Her voice started soft but grew steadily, each syllable charged with fire and authority. Sayo stared, breath caught in her throat, as the atmosphere in the room changed. Something holy swept in like a mighty wind.
Warmth surged through the air.
Power. Peace. Presence.
Sewa’s prayer intensified, flowing like a river that had been dammed for too long.
Sayo’s tears continued, but this time, they were different—cleansing, full of release. A breakthrough was near. She could feel it.
And she knew in her spirit: God was about to speak.
CHAPTER TEN
A MONDAY LIKE NO OTHER
The sun had barely kissed the sky when SEWA sat, composed and unmoving, in the stillness of her living room. Her fingers were laced gently in her lap, her back straight, her eyes heavy with prayerful anticipation. It was Monday morning—the kind of day when the world bustled, horns blared, and workers marched off into the week. Yet, SEWA remained at home, wrapped in a rare stillness.
SAYO emerged from her room, fully dressed and ready to head out. Her heels tapped softly against the tiled floor as she entered the living room—only to stop abruptly.
She blinked. “SEWA?” Her voice rose in mild disbelief. “Why are you still here? It’s Monday morning—you’re not even dressed for work. What’s going on?”
SEWA turned to her with a serene smile and replied firmly, “I took the day off.”
SAYO’s brow creased. “You took the day off? Why?”
SEWA stood, her voice steady and purposeful. “Because we are fighting this battle together today. We have to handle this job matter the spiritual way.”
SAYO stood there in stunned silence. Her lips parted as if to speak, but the words faltered. She was overwhelmed. SEWA had always been there for her, but this? This was beyond kindness. It was sacrificial love.
“What manner of love is this?” she whispered, her voice catching with emotion. “SEWA, this is unbelievable.”
SEWA smiled again, this time more gently. “You are my friend, SAYO. This is what we do for each other.”
She crossed the room and laid a reassuring hand on SAYO’s shoulder. “Go now. And when you’re about to submit your CV, call me.”
SAYO shook her head, astonished by the depth of care in her friend’s eyes. “I join my faith with yours, SEWA. Thank you.”
As SAYO stepped out of the door, her heart thudded—not from anxiety, but from hope. She felt carried. Covered.
SEWA watched the door close, then returned to her seat. She folded her hands again, bowed her head, and whispered, “Lord, You said we will call on You, and You will answer us. Today is the day. SAYO must get a job.”
She closed her eyes, diving deep into prayer. She prayed with a fierce kind of love—a burdened, groaning intercession. Minutes passed. Heaven was listening.
Her phone rang. It was SAYO.
SEWA picked up at once. “Hello?”
On the other end, SAYO’s voice trembled slightly. “SEWA, I’m about to submit my CV.”
“Good,” SEWA said calmly but with a charge of spiritual authority. “Now, start speaking in tongues. I will be doing the same from here.”
No more words were needed. They ended the call.
SEWA set the phone aside and closed her eyes again, this time lifting her voice. She began to speak in tongues—softly at first, then louder, stronger. There was fire in her words. The atmosphere in the room shifted as power poured out like oil from heaven. She prayed fervently, refusing to stop, refusing to doubt.
Then the phone rang again.
SEWA picked up quickly. “Hello?”
“I’ve submitted the CV,” SAYO said, sounding relieved. “I’m on my way back home.”
“Why the rush?” SEWA asked, curious.
“I’m not rushing,” SAYO replied softly, yet her tone carried something deeper—something certain. “I’m just… done. I submitted my CV exactly where God told me to.”
SEWA smiled, sensing the divine orchestration. “Good. Now, don’t be in a hurry to come home. Stay there for a while and keep praying.”
“Alright,” SAYO agreed. The call ended.
SEWA placed the phone back down, clasped her hands, and prayed again—this time, a whisper of surrender. “Lord, complete what You have started.”
Suddenly, the peace of the house was shattered. The front door flung open, and SAYO rushed in, her face glowing with disbelief and joy. Her breath was ragged, her eyes wide.
“JOB!!!” she screamed. “SEWA, He has done it! The Lord has done it!”
SEWA jumped to her feet. “Tell me! What happened?!”
“I didn’t even stay long after submitting,” SAYO said breathlessly, nearly laughing through her tears. “They called me back almost immediately. The CEO was around… and—SEWA!—they’ve been in desperate need of an IT professional!”
SEWA gasped, covering her mouth.
SAYO reached into her bag, her hands shaking, and pulled out a folded paper. “To cut the long story short… here it is—my employment letter!”
For a brief second, the room froze in silence. Then both women screamed. They leapt into each other’s arms, jumping, laughing, crying—rejoicing in the miraculous. The air was electric with joy. The walls echoed with the sound of thanksgiving.
REFLECTION: The Power of a Friend and the Fire of Tongues
Life is a journey, and no one walks it alone.
The people you surround yourself with have the power to shape your destiny, influence your decisions, and determine how far you go in life. If SAYO’s story teaches anything, it is that friendship is not something to take lightly.
Enough of collecting friends like accessories—be intentional. Choose wisely.
Look at SEWA.
She wasn’t just a friend. She was a pillar. A warrior. A vessel.
She stood in the gap when SAYO could barely stand for herself. She prayed when SAYO doubted. She fought in the spirit when SAYO’s strength was gone. She loved in action.
Ask yourself today:
- Do my friends push me toward God or pull me away?
- Do they help me up when I fall or leave me drowning?
- Do they sharpen my spirit or dull my purpose?
One SEWA is better than ten purposeless friends. Choose purpose over popularity. Choose destiny helpers, not distractions.
But beyond the power of friendship lies another powerful truth—the weapon of praying in tongues.
Too many believers underestimate this gift. Yet, it is one of God’s most potent tools.
Why does praying in tongues matter?
- It strengthens your spirit. (1 Corinthians 14:4)
- It allows you to speak mysteries. (1 Corinthians 14:2)
- It fuels spiritual warfare.
- It invites the Holy Spirit’s help. (Romans 8:26)
- It builds unshakable faith. (Jude 1:20)
When SAYO and SEWA prayed in tongues, they aligned with the divine blueprint of heaven. SAYO didn’t just walk into a building. She was guided by the Spirit into the exact place prepared for her.
So, as you move forward…
- Be intentional about your friends.
- Be intentional about your spiritual life.
- And never forget the power of praying in tongues.
Your destiny depends on it.
Be wise.
Be prayerful.
Be intentional.
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