The Process Path TPP

The one who bears God’s instruments must tremble at what he carries, for heaven entrusts weight that hell envies. To walk with God and work for Him is an honor beyond words, yet it is also a battlefield. The devil does not always fight you by stopping you; sometimes he fights you by corrupting what you carry. Mammon, power, and position are subtle monsters that creep into the heart of the called. They do not announce themselves with horns; they enter dressed as opportunities, favor, and promotion. And before long, what was once a holy vessel becomes a polluted altar. As God’s oracle, beware. There is a thin line between stewarding God’s Word and using it to feed self. There is a danger in carrying the ark without carrying the fear of the God of the ark. What makes you a vessel is not your gift but your surrender. What sustains your ministry is not the trend but the oil that abides. Many have carried God’s instruments and, by trend, became agents of darkness. They failed to discern the ...

One of the greatest truths in the journey of faith is this: when I stop what God is doing in me, I tamper with what He is doing for me.  The story of Abraham makes this truth come alive in a powerful way. God gave him a promise, not only of a son but of Himself as his exceeding great reward. Yet, between the promise and the fulfillment, there was a process. That process was not merely about producing a child; it was about producing a man who could carry a covenant that would bless generations. At the age of 86, Abraham chose a shortcut. Instead of waiting for the divine timing, he attempted to secure the promise by human means through Hagar. In that moment, the delicate work God was doing inside him  was interrupted. And because what God is doing within you determines what He can release to you, Abraham’s impatience brought a delay. Heaven went silent. Scripture records that for thirteen years there was no new word from God until Abraham was ninety nine. When the Lord finally ...

We are in a time where the sacred has been made casual, and the consecrated place is now a playground. Jesus warned about days like these. Days when men would make a trade out of truth, and the gospel would become a means of gain. That warning is no longer distant prophecy; it is the daily reality we now see unfolding before our eyes. The pulpit has become a stage for performers, not a platform for the broken. It is now a place where comedians stand to crack jokes rather than tremble at the Word. Where motivational speakers replace the convicting voice of the Spirit. Where charisma is mistaken for calling, and numbers are mistaken for anointing. These are charlatans and pretenders, who wear the cloak of godliness but deny its power. They speak fluently the language of Zion, but their hearts are driven by Mammon. They even rob on the pulpit. They plant churches like business chains, preach sermons like brand campaigns, and manipulate crowds with carefully curated theatrics. And worst of...

When God prepares a life for impact, He does not begin with the crowd. He begins with the journey. Elisha followed Elijah through a series of places that looked ordinary on the map but were prophetic in meaning. First, they came to Gilgal, a place of history, where the reproach of Egypt was rolled away from Israel. It was a place that reminded them of what God had delivered them from. Every young person that will carry salt for a generation must pass through Gilgal. You must come to the place where you confront your history, where you allow God to deal with the weight of your past, your upbringing, your cycles, your hidden pride, your identity struggles, and your traumas. You cannot carry healing to others while you are still bleeding from yesterday. Gilgal is where God rolls away shame, cuts away flesh, and breaks your dependency on self. It is not exciting. It is painful. But it is the beginning. From there, they moved to Bethel, the house of God, the place of angelic encounters. But...

There is a weight on my heart today. Not a sermon. Not just a message. But a burden, a stirring deep within me for the young people of this generation. I sense God calling a generation to Himself, not for performance, not for prominence, but for purity. Not many lack potential today. In fact, many of you reading this are loaded with abilities, divine insight, vision, and passion. But the cry in God’s heart is not “who is gifted?” It is “who is clean?” Because to stand in the holy place, you must have clean hands and a pure hearts . That is not poetry. It is a divine protocol. We do not enter destiny by effort alone. We enter by alignment. And alignment demands purification. Before God launches a man, He first lays him bare. He does not anoint flesh. He purges it. I am drawn to the story of Moses, not just the mighty deliverer, but the man who had to first be delivered from himself. A man whose journey shows us that even if destiny is written over your life, you must be refined before ...

Naphtali was born in the middle of conflict. His name, given by Rachel, means “my wrestling” or “my struggle.” He came into the world as a product of competition, pain, and human effort. That beginning tells a deeper story, one that mirrors the reality of many people today. You may be pushing through life, fighting for your place, laboring to succeed, yet never truly resting, never truly satisfied. But years after Naphtali was born, something changed. When Moses was blessing the tribes of Israel before his death, he said something different, something divine. He declared over Naphtali that he was satisfied with favor and full with the blessing of the Lord. In that moment, a man who began life with the label of struggle was prophetically repositioned into a place of divine satisfaction. His new testimony was no longer “I wrestled” but “I am satisfied” not by effort, but by the favor of the Lord. Unless the presence of God rests upon your life, you may live and die in labor and struggle ...