RUNNING ON EMPTY

 

I was thinking this morning… Yesterday, I joined my church group for a street crusade to share the good news. We mounted the public address system on the open-back truck, and a generator was loaded to power the equipment. After the usual “testing, testing the microphone,” we set out for what was meant to be a two-hour mobile rally.

Barely twenty minutes in, the loudspeakers went silent. Power gone. On enquiry, we were told the generator had run out of petrol. What?

How does someone assigned to power a two- to three-hour outreach not check fuel levels beforehand? That single oversight turned energy into embarrassment and momentum into silence.

As I was still reflecting on it, I remembered a recent funeral I attended. Midway through the journey, the hearse carrying the coffin ran out of fuel. Everything stopped. Mourners waited in awkward disbelief while the driver hurried off to find petrol.

It almost sounded unreal. An occasion as solemn as paying last respects to a loved one, yet something as basic as fuel was overlooked by the undertaker. Agreement reached, payment made but no preparation for completion. Chai.

That’s when it struck me. This is how many people live. We start strong, full of energy and confidence, but fail to prepare for the journey ahead. We chase goals without planning sustainability, build relationships without nurturing them, and make commitments without discipline.

And along the way, we run out. Out of energy. Out of patience. Out of consistency. Life is not just about starting; it’s about finishing well. The small, unseen preparations often make the biggest difference. What looks like a minor detail can determine whether you succeed or stall halfway.

Before you begin anything, pause and ask yourself: do I have what it takes to sustain this? Because starting well is good, but finishing well is everything. Luke 14:28 says “For which of you, intending to build a tower, sitteth not down first, and counteth the cost, whether he have sufficient to finish it?”

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

THE PRAYER OF AGUR

 

I was thinking this morning.... Days ago, I was in mourning because a good friend lost the daughter. It was a devastating time for everyone that was close to them. Since I was still coming to terms with the loss of my dad, the passing of this young lady threw me again into deep introspection about life. I was still in this mood when I got an invitation to attend an Easter comedy show. I imagined how anything could make me laugh at this period and decided to turn down the invitation.

Everyone prays to be in merry mood, but it is foolishness to perpetually be in that mood. I have learnt not to pass by any opportunity to mourn with the bereaved because the lessons in the house of mourning can never be found in the house of feasting. No wonder Ecclesiastes 7:2 says "It is better to enter a house of mourning than a house of feasting, since death is the end of every man, and the living should take this to heart."

Similarly, I have always prayed, worked and still working hard to be wealthy. I grew up the hard way and always wanted to live the soft life. My first time on going on a cruise gave me a glimpse of what it means to live the life of the rich and famous. But I have come to realise that while I have enjoyed seasons of abundance, my seasons of lack has taught me greater lessons.

I learnt recently that both poverty and riches are trials. A good man passes both tests. It was Agur's attempt to avoid both trials that made him pray in Proverbs 30:8-9 "Give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with the bread that is my portion. Otherwise, I may have too much and deny You, saying, ‘Who is the LORD?’ Or I may become poor and steal, profaning the name of my God."

Most people in life will experience one or both trials, but not everyone is passing the test. Some started poor, became wealthy and became unrecognisable in their insensitivity. They failed. Some faced the trial of poverty and used it as excuse to steal, prostitute or kill. They failed.

I am still contemplating if I should adopt the prayer of Agur, but for now all I can do I put my hand on my head and say "O God, I beggeth thee."

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

SEASONS CHANGE - HOLD ON

 

I was thinking this morning… A few days ago, I decided to check on a few friends in Canada to find out how they were doing. My first call was to one in Ontario. After exchanging pleasantries, I asked what the weather was like, and I was told it was sunny, with temperatures around 17 degrees Celsius.

Minutes later, I called another in a different province and discovered they were still in the thick of winter, with temperatures at minus 13 degrees Celsius. Same country, different experiences.

A few moments after that, I reflected on how both locations entered the winter season around the same time. Yet months later, while one was already in spring and preparing for summer, the other was still enduring the harshness of winter. Life is in seasons. While almost everyone goes through different seasons, how long those seasons last varies from person to person.

However, one thing I have come to realize is this: when I eventually step into my summer, the sun shines so brightly that some people assume I have been basking in it all my life. The rush of favour becomes so evident that they have no idea how long I endured the winter.

It is not how long one stays in winter that determines how bright the sun will shine in summer. Some experience a much brighter sunshine than others. No wonder the pidgin proverb says, “Palmwine nor smell reach faeces, but naim fly dey rush pass.”

Easter reminds us that after winter comes spring and summer. After Good Friday comes Resurrection Sunday. As Psalm 30:5 says: “For his anger endureth but a moment; in his favour is life: weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.”

So if you are in your winter right now, don’t give up. Don’t lose your faith. Don’t judge your life by the present season. Winter is not your destination—it is only a phase. Hold on. Your spring is forming. Your summer is certain. And when your morning finally breaks, the same people who saw your struggle will stand in awe of your shine.

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Easter!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

BECOMING AN FBI

 

I was thinking this morning… I grew up fully committed to being an FBI — a Full-Blooded Itsekiri. I carried the identity with pride. If you asked me where I was from, I would answer boldly. If anything touched my roots, I would defend it with passion.

But here is the irony… I hardly dressed like an Itsekiri man. I wasn’t fluent in speaking the Itsekiri language. The culture I claimed so strongly, I barely lived out.

Yet in recent months, something has been shifting inside me. I now find myself drawn to wearing the Itsekiri attire — not out of obligation, but out of genuine appreciation. The same outfit I once overlooked now feels like a badge of honour. And it made me pause and ask: Why did it take me this long?

As I reflected, an African proverb came to mind: “Cow wey dey in a hurry to go Europe go come back as corned beef.” In simple terms — when you rush away from your roots chasing what looks more attractive, you may lose your essence in the process.

Identity is deeper than declaration. It’s one thing to claim who you are; it’s another thing to live it. Culture is not just in the mouth — it is in your lifestyle, your expression, your daily choices. Many of us are proud of where we come from, but we have not taken time to experience it.

Today, wearing the Itsekiri attire feels different. It is no longer just clothing — it is connection. It is not just fashion — it is identity expressed. And maybe, just maybe, the journey was necessary… Because sometimes, you have to grow away a little — to truly appreciate where you come from.

Jeremiah 6:16 (NIV) says “Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls.”

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

Na Thief! Na Thief!

 

I was thinking this morning… Last week, I set out for an hour of early-morning brisk walking around my old Warri neighbourhood ahead of a busy day preparing for my dad’s funeral.

I breezed past Okere Road, Robert Road, Okandeji Street, Igbi Street and connected Ometan Street towards Bazunu Road. As I got to the junction between Ometan and Bazunu, I took a left turn into Lower Erejuwa Road and headed towards Upper Erejuwa. Just a few steps in, I saw people running across the road, shouting “Ole! Ole!” as they dashed into a narrow street. A woman taking her son to school, who had been walking away from the direction of the scene suddenly made an about-turn on hearing the shout of “ole,” and they both ran to join the growing crowd of onlookers and beaters.

“Warri!” exclaimed another woman walking beside me. “Instead of mama and pikin to go school, dem dey run go look thief,” she concluded. As I smiled and continued my walk past the scene, where the crowd had already descended on a young man, I remembered a near-miss incident from years ago.

An ijesha/Ijebu lady spotted an old friend at a popular market in Warri after many years apart. In excitement, she began shouting and pointing, “Nateef! Nateef!” calling out to her friend Lateef. But everyone around thought they heard “Na thief! Na thief!” In seconds, the atmosphere changed. People grabbed planks and rods and began running toward poor Lateef. When the woman realised what was happening, she screamed at the top of her voice: “No be thief o! Na Nateef!” Thankfully, the misunderstanding was quickly clarified before the situation escalated.

The story, though humorous in hindsight, is also a sobering reminder of how easily people can become victims of mistaken identity or wrong labelling. Lateef could easily have been beaten to death simply because someone heard Nateef as “Na thief” in a volatile neighbourhood. And that is not just a Warri street reality; it is also a life lesson.

In life, many people carry labels that were placed on them by rumours, assumptions, misunderstandings, or the loud voices of the crowd. But the truth about a person is not always found in the noise of public opinion. The Warri street reminds us that not every shout of “thief” reveals a thief, and not every label tells the truth.

James 1:19 (NIV) "Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry." Because sometimes, the difference between “Nateef” and “Na thief” is simply the patience to listen carefully before we react.

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

THE GIFT OF MEN

 

I was thinking this morning… Life has a way of reminding you that one of the greatest gifts God gives a person is not money, not position, not even opportunities… but people. Truly, the gift of men.

In the days leading to my dad’s funeral and throughout the ceremonies, I saw this gift displayed in ways that humbled me deeply. Friends travelled from far and near. Some called constantly to check in. Some quietly sent support. Others stood beside me from morning till night making sure every detail went well.

Some people showed up with their strength 💪, some with their time ⏰, some with their prayers 🙏, and some with their resources 💝. But every single one came with love.

What touched me the most was that many of these people did not wait to be asked. They simply showed up. In the middle of grief, they became pillars.

It reminded me that no matter how strong a man thinks he is, God never designed us to walk life alone. At certain moments in life, God sends people to carry you when your own strength is small.

Looking back now, I realise that the funeral ceremony of my father was not just a moment of mourning. It was also a powerful reminder of the wealth of relationships God has blessed me with. And as we say for Warri, when the time reach, na people go stand for you. ❤️

To everyone who stood with me and my family in prayers, presence, encouragement and support, I saw the gift of men through you.

This morning, my heart is simply full of gratitude. 🙏

"Two are better than one… for if they fall, one will lift up his fellow." — Ecclesiastes 4:9–10 ✨

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey

MY FATHER'S CARS

 

I was thinking this morning… ☀️ I was in junior secondary school when my dad got his first car. It was a cream Volkswagen Beetle. That was in 1981, six years after Volkswagen started production in Nigeria. Prior to that, he was content with his bicycle. 🚲

He loved his Volkswagen Beetle and cared for it like the other valuables he had. He washed and polished it so often that I began to think he might one day ‘starch’ the car. Years later, he sold the Volkswagen Beetle and bought a Mercedes-Benz 230, this time yellow in colour. He loved his Benz just as much. 🚗✨

My dad’s cars were not simply for mobility; they were also his status signature. I saw how owning the cars made him feel and how they changed his status. Like many of his friends’ children, we joined the class of people who rode to church in our father’s car. ⛪

My grandfather didn’t have a car, but my dad understood the proverb that says a man who drives his father’s car has no authority to sit in a council of men who own bicycles. As a result, he worked hard and made sacrifices so he could own a car and sit with his peers.

As I became an adult and graduated from the university, I never had the privilege of driving my dad’s car. I waited to get a job and make my own sacrifices so I could own my own car. I understood as well that driving my father’s car wouldn’t give me a seat in the council of men who own bicycles.

In 1997, I eventually got my first car, which my cheeky friends later tagged “Kevwe.” According to them, I would always call my mechanic, Kevwe, to be on standby whenever I planned to travel out of town with the vehicle. Can you imagine? 😄

My dad is no longer with us, but I will always remember him and what his cars meant to him. Most importantly, I will never forget the lesson that everything has its time and that one should not borrow to pose. Cutting your coat according to your cloth is one way to put it, but in the context of my dad’s cars, I would say that a man who drives his father’s car has no authority to sit in the council of men who own bicycles. As Ecclesiastes 3:1 reminds us: “To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.”

Stay hopeful. God's got our back.

Happy Sunday!

......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey