Before the crown sits, the head must bow. Before the name becomes a fragrance in the nations, it must first pass through fire and silence. Destiny never arrives in a hurry, but when it lands, it does not beg for space—it announces itself in grand style. There is a prophetic law in the Spirit: delayed purpose is not denied glory. The child that heaven sponsors may tarry behind, but when he stands, even his enemies will clap with trembling hands. For those chosen by divine ordination, obscurity is never the conclusion—it is the womb of coronation.
Joseph dreamed in Genesis, but he reigned in Egypt. David was anointed in the bush but enthroned before nations. Esther was hidden in a strange land but rose as queen over an empire. “You will fulfill destiny in a grand style” is not a motivational phrase—it is the language of divine patterns. Heaven does not raise stars to decorate the night but to command the darkness. Every child of prophecy must walk through strange fire before strange favour is poured. Prophet TB Joshua once declared, “If God gives you a great destiny, He must first teach you humility through trials.” Greatness without the wilderness is counterfeit.
The tragedy of this generation is our obsession with speed. But speed is not success; direction is. A man who runs in the wrong direction will only arrive at regret faster. God is not mocked by time—He owns time and steps outside it. Apostle Joshua Selman once said, “When God delays you, it is not punishment. It is a system of training kings.” You may not be married at 30, you may not have built a house at 40, your mates may mock your pace—but watch what God makes of those who wait. Igala elders say, “The tortoise may be slow, but it never forgets the path to the throne.” Delay is not denial. The blueprint of destiny is written with the ink of patience.
Even when men forget you, destiny remembers. Ask Mordecai. He sat at the palace gate for years, unrewarded. But one night, heaven disturbed a king’s sleep for his sake. God knows how to interrupt protocols when your season comes. “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of my enemies” (Psalm 23:5) is not poetry—it is divine justice. When your time comes, even those who mocked your fasting will queue to eat your crumbs. When destiny matures, explanations become unnecessary.
Nigeria is a land where many destinies sleep because men give up too soon. The dream dies at the border of weariness. We abort purpose when funds dry, when friends withdraw, when applause disappears. But purpose is not sustained by popularity—it is carried by prophecy. When God called Moses, the Red Sea bowed. When He called Elijah, fire fell. When He calls you, the world will rearrange. But first, He breaks you. He hides you. He teaches you that success is not in platforms, but in principles. Until your soul aligns, your stage is delayed.
Many reading this have cried in secret. You’ve sown seeds no one saw. You’ve endured betrayals. You’ve watched others rise with lesser oil. But hear this: “Your destiny is not in the hands of men; it is in the mind of God.” Dr. Paul Enenche thundered, “You can’t carry prophecy and end in mediocrity unless you drop the mantle yourself.” The greatness you carry is older than your fears. It existed before your name. Destiny is not made by chance—it is discovered through obedience. You will not fade out. You will not go unnoticed. Your time will come—and it will come with thunder.
Sometimes, God allows you to be last so your entry will silence every argument. The stone the builders rejected must become the chief cornerstone. You may be mocked now, but soon, you will become a reference point. There is a fire that follows those who endure—the fire of relevance. You are not a mistake. You are not forgotten. You are not behind. You are in formation. Destiny is taking shape, even in your ashes. The womb of obscurity is birthing a giant. Keep walking. Keep believing. Keep burning. The God of restoration does not end stories in shame.
Do not envy those who speed ahead of you—they may be driving borrowed destinies. Stay rooted. Stay yielded. When God finally opens your chapter, it will be too loud to whisper. He doesn’t raise kings to compete—He raises them to reign. And when you emerge, your life will become a textbook in divine alignment. People will study your scars as scriptures of encouragement. Your story will cast shadows in history. Your name will become oil on the lips of generations. Because when God writes, He writes for eternity. And He has written your name among the destined.
So rise. Wipe your tears. Tie your sandals. You’re not at the end—you are in between. Every wilderness has a river. Every fire has a fourth man. Every tomb has a resurrection. You were born to shine—not in a corner, but on a hill. You will fulfill destiny in a grand style. You will not bow to shame. You will not expire in mediocrity. The trumpet of your manifestation is preparing to blow. You are rising—not as a survivor, but as a sign and wonder.
– Inah Boniface Ocholi writes from Ayah – Igalamela/Odolu LGA, Kogi state.
08152094428 (SMS Only)
