In the sacred corridors of destiny, question papers are not universal. Each soul is handed a tailor-made script from heaven’s registry — unique, coded, sealed. Yet, in a generation overdosed on comparison and plagued by borrowed blueprints, many fail woefully, not because they are not gifted, but because they copied the wrong neighbour’s answer in life’s ultimate exam.
“When God ordains your steps, any detour becomes a delay, not a destiny,” said Juanita Bynum. But today, too many feet are marching to borrowed rhythms, beating drums that reverbrates from someone else’s spiritual village. We have become a generation obsessed with replication, not revelation. A people who carry divine fingerprints but hide them under someone else’s gloves.
Just like in a WAEC or NECO hall where invigilators warn, “No copying!” destiny too cries aloud, “Originality or nothing!” When you start copying another’s marital style, career path, spiritual gift, even dressing pattern without divine instruction, you may win Instagram but lose eternity’s applause.
Apostle Ayo Babalola, whose ministry was birthed not from imitation but divine encounter on a mountain, once thundered: “If your call is from men, you will end in men’s applause. But if God sends you, you will survive men’s rejection.” Look around — how many are running a race never assigned to them? How many are fighting Goliaths meant for someone else’s family? Saul’s armour does not fit David, no matter how shiny.
Even Jesus, our eternal model, never healed the same way twice. Sometimes He spoke. Other times He spat. Once He touched. Another time He just passed by. Heaven teaches variety. Earth rewards authenticity. But we, like children in a copycat contest, have traded our original design for societal templates.
In the words of Prophet TB Joshua: “The way of God is unique. If you follow others blindly, you end up in the pit.” Yet many are buried in spiritual confusion because they forced themselves into mantles never designed for them. Some are fasting for destinies they were never called to birth. Others are shouting like Elijah when they were born to whisper like Esther.
Nigeria is full of misfired arrows — people aiming at fame instead of purpose. Our pulpits are jammed with echoes instead of voices. Social media has become a masquerade festival — everybody wearing borrowed masks. You see a brother selling Ankara and suddenly the entire street opens Ankara shops. No revelation. Just replication. No prayer. Just pressure.
Igala people say, “The day you eat with the gods is not the same day your neighbour does.” But copycats forget this ancestral truth. They want to marry when their friend marries. Travel when others travel. Buy land because they saw someone post allocation papers online. So they enter covenant grounds God never assigned, and later wonder why their seed withered.
Dr. Paul Enenche once lamented: “Many are suffering not because of satanic attack but because they followed the wrong divine schedule.” This is the bitter bread of imitation — it feeds the ego and starves the spirit.
Destiny is not group work. Your neighbour’s script may be written in Greek, yours in Arabic. So how dare you copy blindly? What if the question on your life is about pain, and theirs is about peace? What if your process requires wilderness, while theirs requires water? Heaven marks individually, not collectively.
We were not created to be carbon copies. Even identical twins don’t have identical fingerprints. So why do we force ourselves to walk someone else’s path, say someone else’s prayer, or mimic someone else’s pattern? The tragedy of this age is not a lack of anointing — it is the lack of authenticity. People fear originality because it is lonely at first. But imitation is not only crowded, it’s cursed when not divinely inspired.
“Originality is the seed of dominion,” Bishop David Oyedepo once declared. Indeed, those who create paths reign, those who follow blindly perish. It was not Noah’s neighbours who survived the flood, it was Noah who obeyed an uncommon instruction — build an ark when no drop of rain had fallen.
And now, in the age of “trending,” many destinies are being traded. People now post breakthroughs they don’t have, just to match a neighbour’s filtered testimony. They wear shoes they borrowed from destiny thieves. Some fast for platforms, not purity. Others pray for fame, not fire.
Bishop Abioye warned: “Don’t be a mimic of men; be a mirror of God’s voice.” Until we understand that divine instruction is superior to popular opinion, disappointment will continue to be our inheritance.
Look at Samson. A man born for victory, but who followed Delilah’s script instead of his consecration manual. His hair was not just a fashion — it was a covenant. But because he copied the Philistine lifestyle, he became a prisoner to their gods. Many have gone blind spiritually like Samson, because they copied a lover’s way instead of following the Lord’s way.
Prophetess Juanita Bynum also once said: “There’s a price for your oil. Don’t use someone else’s receipt.” But that’s exactly what we do — using prayers we didn’t pay for, declarations we didn’t dig for, mantles we didn’t fast for. No wonder fire is scarce in our churches and depth rare in our relationships.
Beloved, beware of spiritual plagiarism. It looks innocent at first — same voice, same style, same ministry name — but soon it becomes a snare. God does not anoint impersonation. He breathes on inspiration.
Even in business, career, or parenting, your child is not their child. Your marriage is not their marriage. The questions they are answering may never appear in your exam. So stop copying. Your calling is custom-made. Your journey is handmade. Your path is handwritten. Why sacrifice divine uniqueness on the altar of societal pressure?
Heaven is not looking for duplicates. It is searching for originals. The earlier you embrace your divine script, the sooner your result will appear.
So hear this trumpet call today: burn the photocopies. Tear the templates. Return to your manual. Pray your own prayer. Follow your own leading. Love your own spouse. Raise your own altar. Sing your own song. Because in the end, when we all stand before the Throne, the only question that will echo through eternity is: Did you run the race assigned to you?
Let us, then, as a generation, return to the sacred wisdom of our fathers and the fresh fire of our prophets. Let us be trailblazers, not trend-followers. Let us choose consecration over competition. For only then can we stand tall when destiny rings the final bell.
And when that final exam is marked — may your answer sheet carry the signature of authenticity, not imitation.
– Inah Boniface Ocholi writes from Ayah – Igalamela/Odolu LGA, Kogi state.
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