In the video below I share insights about catching big breaks from God. Watch and be blessed.

Do you feel like everyone else is getting what they want, while you are not? Do you feel like everyone else is getting blessed, while you are still struggling to fulfill your dreams? I want to assure you that God has not forgotten you. God has a plan for everybody. That plan, however, is not the same for everyone. Even the time He chooses to manifest the plan He has for everyone is not the same. God has not forgotten you. All you have to do to receive what He has for you, when He has it for you, is to trust Him and WAIT FOR YOUR TURN. Find out more in the video below.

I was watching a popular Christian program in which a minister was being interviewed.This man was revered and popular in a major segment of the church. The gentleman mentioned how God brought his wife to him. He simply said that God revealed to him that a particular lady was his wife. He went ahead and divulged this information to the woman in question. In essence, he told her that God said she was his wife. This, of course freaked her out, and she ran for the exits. She bolted! She must have thought he was crazy. I don’t blame her. Eventually, she came back to him. They got married. They seem to be a very happy couple. Apparently He was right about what God told him.

Notwithstanding, I believe that most people who have to tell individuals that God told them they are supposed to marry them, are often off base. The guest in that program, as time has told, was right, on his assessment. His experience in getting his wife is not the norm; it’s the exception.

In life there are certain slangs that we use in order to look cool. In Christendom, there are certain lingos that Christians also use to make them look cool or spiritual. One of those lingos is: “God told me….” It is a wonderful thing to be used of God. It’s self-fulfilling to know that God told you to do something, you did it, and it came to pass. Wow! It’s awe-inspiring. Although God can, and does speak to us personally, it is not always that clear. At least, for me, it isn’t. Especially when the alleged speech from God deals with spending your life with another human being—with a mind of their own.

I think one of the things that get some of us in trouble, especially when it comes to finding a mate, is thinking that God told you something when He did not. It seems God speaks very loudly about someone for you if the person is very attractive to you. Is that God or is it your hormones? Is it the God of love talking to you, or your natural “love concoction” whispering sweet nothings in your ears? Is the Holy Spirit prophesying to you or is your emotional soul “prophelying” to you?

A lot of singles want to do what the guest in the show did to get his spouse. But they’re not willing to do what he did to get to the point where he could here God clearly enough to make that bold declaration. He dated God to find his mate. Some singles just want to date to find a mate, and then throw God in the mix. It doesn’t work like that. Are you trying to find a date to mate? I think the best approach is to find a mate to date; not the other way round.

By date to mate, I mean actively looking for just anyone available to date and then marry. By mate to date, I mean looking out for not just anyone, but someone who demonstrates the characteristics of a husband or wife, a mate, to date and then marry. Perhaps this explains why Proverbs 18:22 starts up by saying he who finds a wife—not he who finds a girlfriend. I believe this also applies to she who finds—or is found by a husband, not she who finds, or is found by a boyfriend. The same passage ends up by saying, obtains favor from the Lord. In other words, God makes this happen. He gives you the favor to find the mate to date. Apart from Him, we exert the fervor to find the date to mate and often end up irate and filled with hate.

The bottom line is that finding the right mate for your life is through God’s help. And if God ever told you that someone was your spouse, it will happen. If God spoke it, He will bring it to pass like He did for the man in the program. I will not recommend that you tell your prospect what God told you though. Not unless God explicitly instructed you to use that approach. If God told you anything, He would also tell the prospect in question. God usually sends a go-between to connect you two. God was the go-between between Adam and Eve. God through Eliezer who somewhat symbolizes the Holy Spirit, was the go-between between Isaac and Rebecca. Naomi was the go-between, between Ruth and Boaz. An angel was the go-between between Joseph and Mary, the mother of Jesus.

Part of the problem is that some people begin a relationship with God today, and begin to talk about God telling them to marry someone, yesterday. In fact, some people who’ve had a relationship with God for years err regarding God telling them to marry someone or do something. How much more those who are just starting a relationship with Him? Furthermore, sometimes God brings someone to your heart just for you to pray for the person, not for you to prey on the person. At times He brings someone to your attention not as your life partner but for another purpose.

1. O. J. Toks, While You Are Single (Paoli, PA: Elevator Group Faith, 2016), 261 – 262.

Years ago, when I was living in Nigeria, I went to a party with two of my friends. I thought my friends were cool, and by the way they carried themselves, I think they thought so, too. However, I didn’t think so about myself, especially when I was around them. In fact the only reason I knew them and occasionally got to tag along with them was because they were my neighbors.

We were all about the same age, lived in the same neighborhood, grew up together, played soccer together, rode bicycles together, practiced Michael Jackson, Hammer, and New Edition dance moves together, as well as shared tips with each other on how to win girls. Actually, they shared the tips; I used the tips. They never worked for me, though. The only tips that worked for me were the ones that I stuck in my ear. Don’t they feel good?

Furthermore, my friends went to renowned and cool high schools. I went to an unknown and “uncool” high school. The main thing that was cool about my friend’s schools, other than the fact that they were popular in Nigeria, was that they were co-ed schools. I went to an all-boys boarding school—so not cool. At the school I attended, we were banned from having assorted haircuts. Every student’s hair was supposed to be plain. No box, trapezium, pentagon or high-top cuts. With this in mind, what we, the students, usually did was wait till a few days before the school semester was over before we had our hair cut into whatever style we wanted. That way we’d look nice when we got back home for the holidays.

As usual, I had one of those Carl Lewis-type cuts about two days before we dismissed for school break. The next morning, during morning assembly, for whatever reason, our Vice Principal went on a “hair-hunt.” I was one of the victims of his unexpected raid. I felt my confidence dashed to pieces like my hair, which was falling before my eyes as the Vice Principal drove his scissors through the middle of the top of my head like a dump truck driving its forklift into a building. Talk about having a bad hair day.

Consequently, I had to get all my hair cut off. In the early nineties, at least in Nigeria, that style was not in vogue. I’m amused that in the 21st century, despite the competition from cornrows, close cuts are still holding strong, at least for African-American males. Even so, my oblong head does not hold close cuts well. Be that as it may, I was back home from school two days after my bad haircut. Once I got home, my friends informed me of a party that was going to take place and I decided to go along with them.

We caught a cab and went to the area where the party was taking place. It was a house party, and, by the way, we weren’t invited. We were going to crash the party. My friends were decked in Bugle Boy shirts, stonewashed jeans, and Timberland boots. Their haircuts, swagger, and wardrobe helped them look like Bobby Brown. The way I was dressed made me look more like Charlie Brown. My friends looked like they were dressed in 90’s garb. I looked like I was dressed in 60’s garb.

I got half of my wardrobe from my dad: a white, gray, and green striped, long-sleeved shirt, and a “square” navy-blue, woolen tie, which was way out of fashion. Was it ever in fashion? I also wore black, baggy, gabardine pants. My pants were so baggy that you could fit two of me in them. The material for my slacks felt silky, and they were so shiny that a lady could use my pants as a mirror to put on makeup.  I was sandwiched between my friends when three attractive teenage girls approached us, and I could feel the butterflies in my stomach. My anxiety was fueled because of a bad experience I had—or never had—with one of the girls. I had a crush on her, and I made a fool of myself in trying to go out with her. Well, she rejected me. (I told you the tips never worked.)

One of my two friends and I had escorted one of the other girls in the trio to her house. She used to live in our neighborhood, too. Though we never chit-chatted, I knew who she was, and she knew who I was, too. The third girl was a mystery to me and to my friends, too. That mystery was quickly dispelled when the girl that my friend and I had escorted introduced my friends to the unknown lady. Again, I reiterate, she introduced my friends to the mystery girl; I wasn’t introduced. My friends did not bail me out, either. I just stood there embarrassed and moping while the girls engaged in a conversation with my friends. Shortly after, I found myself standing alone like the Statue of Liberty, watching my friends and the gals stroll away together toward the house where the party was taking place.

They just left me like I was not there. I was devastated; I felt rejected. My party ended before it started. I managed to pull myself together to go to the party. I wasn’t there long when one of the hosts of the party felt that the guys outnumbered the girls. So he decided to start bouncing unwanted guests. Yeah, you guessed it; I got bounced! I found myself staring at a steel gate which stood between me and the party. I held on to two of the bars of the gate with my head sticking through the bars like an inmate probably once did in Alcatraz. I didn’t really do that—but, can you feel my pain? Fortunately, another friend of mine who also crashed the party kind of bullied and sweet-talked the bouncer to get me back in the party. I appreciated his help, but my party was finished after I felt snubbed by my friends and the ladies who took them away from me.

It wasn’t too long after I got reinstated into the party that I saw my two friends and some other ladies get into a car and leave the party. They left me behind. To be honest, I was happy they did. I did not attempt to stop them because I was not in the frame of mind to handle any slight, especially in front of the girls that they had with them. I had to borrow money from some other friends, who I followed, to catch a bus that would take me home. And to catch the bus, you would have to have the skills of an NFL wide receiver because in Nigeria, “some” of the transportation was such that you’d have to take a dive to catch the bus—still in motion. With that in mind, I was successfully able to pull a Terrell Owens to catch the bus that was going toward my house.

Once I reached my stop, I signaled to the bus conductor, the guy responsible for collecting the bus fare, and alerted the driver to stop the bus. Once I disembarked from the bus I saw a cab also come to a halt at my stop. An attractive young lady stepped out of the cab, paid her fare, and seemed to be heading in the same direction as I was. Coincidentally, I had seen her before. She was one of the prettier girls that I scoped out at the party I had just come from. All of a sudden, the butterflies began to dissipate. The flies disappeared, but they left the butter; in other words, I felt I had some flavor or “flava”. Charlie Brown was given his marching orders, and in came Bobby Brown. With the proper etiquette, I approached the lady, introduced myself, and confirmed that she came from the same party that I just left.

I reasoned with her that since we were heading in the same direction, I hoped she didn’t mind if I tagged along with her. She obliged. I don’t know if she accepted my request because it was late at night and she felt secure with an escort, or she was just being friendly with me; the bottom line is that I got the hook up. My party finally started. We had a friendly and meaningful conversation on our way to our respective homes. In fact, I escorted her all the way to her house before I went to mine. It was about a 30-minute walk to her house and 20 minutes from her house to mine. I don’t recall if I got her number, but that’s beside the point.

My point is that the setbacks I faced with my friends at the party set me up to meet the lady in question. The rejection lured me away from my so-called friends and placed me on the path that led me to someone who accepted me and made my day. This is kind of how God uses rejection to benefit you. I felt rejected by my friends. Since we lived and grew up in the same neighborhood, in a sense, they were like family to me. I still consider them as such. In fact, I don’t hold the incident against them. I was emphasizing more on the rejection I had to deal with.

Though my day at the party started out sour, it turned out to be sweet. My friends, both the males and the females, perhaps unbeknownst to them, clouded me with disappointment, but the pretty girl I met on my way home handed me the silver lining.

[1]O. J. Toks, Rejected for a Purpose (Pennsylvania: Elevator Group, 2010), 97-101.

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