A person who truly loves you will protect your peace, not sacrifice it at their parents’ altar. Emotional maturity is not optional in marriage — it is the foundation. If every disagreement ends with his mother making the call, her father giving the verdict, or family members deciding your future, then you are not in a relationship — you are in a committee. Watch how they handle conflict. Watch who they run to. Watch how much of your relationship they share without your permission. These are not small things. These are previews. And to the parents raising sons and daughters — teach them to leave and cleave. It is not abandonment. It is obedience to God’s design. And to the sons and daughters — maturity is knowing when to honor your parents without handing them control over your home. "Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife." — Genesis 2:24 Save this. Share it with someone who needs it. 💛 #Back2Eden #MarriageMatters #ChristianSingles #GodlyRelationships #HealthyRelationships #Choosewisely #LeaveAndCleave

TWO MONTHS BEFORE Part 9 : What I Actually Learned (Not the Instagram Version) This isn't a neat testimony with three points and a prayer. This is a messy truth from the trenches of a hard decision. Here's what I really learned: 1. Spiritual discernment isn't mystical—it's often just wisdom dressed in prayer. My father couldn't articulate what was wrong with Chris because it wasn't one big obvious thing. It was a thousand small things: The way Chris's smile didn't reach his eyes when he thought no one was looking. The way he deflected every time someone asked him a direct question about his life. The way he needed constant validation from women but called his fiancée insecure when she noticed. The way his charm felt performative, like a show he'd practiced. My father's "lack of peace" wasn't spiritual mysticism. It was decades of observing people and recognizing patterns that I, blinded by hope and desperation, .couldn't see. Sometimes the Holy Spirit speaks through the discernment of people who've lived longer and seen more than we have. 2. "God told me" can be spiritual manipulation—even when you're doing it to yourself. I convinced myself God had sent Chris because: - He appeared when I needed help (timing!) - He was a Christian (church attendance!) - He quoted scripture (spiritual!) - The proposal felt like a movie (romantic!) But I confused coincidence with providence. I confused Christian culture with Christian character. I confused emotional highs with spiritual confirmation. God also gave me: - Parents with wisdom - A mentor with discernment - Red flags I kept ignoring - A lack of peace that never went away But I only wanted to listen to the "signs" that confirmed what I already wanted. That's not faith. That's wishful thinking with a Bible verse attached. 3. Breaking up is not the same as giving up. People told me I gave up too easily. That relationship takes work. That I should have tried harder. But here's the thing: You can't "work on" someone who doesn't think there's a problem. I tried for five months to: - Communicate concerns (he called me controlling) - Suggest counseling (he called it unnecessary) - Point out red flags (he called me insecure) - Set boundaries (he called it lack of trust) At some point, trying harder just means tolerating more. Walking away from Chris wasn't giving up. It was wisdom. It was self-preservation. It was choosing reality over potential. And it took more strength than staying ever would have. 4. The red flags were always there—I just kept repainting them green. Month 1: "He doesn't want me earning more than him" → He's just traditional Month 2: "He wants me away from my family" → He just wants more time together Month 3: "He flirts with other women" → I'm just jealous Month 4: "He refuses accountability" → He's just private Looking back, I can't believe how creative I was at making excuses. But that's what happens when you want something badly enough. You become a defense attorney for someone who doesn't even deserve a trial. 5. Peace matters more than plans. For months, I had no peace. Not a day. Not an hour. Not even a moment. Every time I thought about the wedding, my stomach knotted. Every time Chris and I fought, I couldn't sleep. Every time my father looked at me with concern, I felt sick. But I kept pushing forward because: - The venue was booked - The dress was being made - People were expecting it - I'd already said yes I valued my plans more than my peace. And I almost paid for it with my entire life. Here's what I learned: When you lose peace about a decision and it doesn't come back even after prayer, that's not anxiety. That's an answer. The absence of peace IS God speaking. And I'm learning to listen to it, even when it costs me everything I thought I wanted. 6. God's "no" is not punishment—it's protection. I used to think God was withholding good things from me. Keeping me single while blessing everyone else. Now I understand: He wasn't saying no to marriage. He was saying no to THAT marriage. There's a difference. God's "no" to Chris was protection from: - Years of walking on eggshells - A lifetime of gaslighting - Children raised watching their mother shrink - A home without peace - A marriage without partnership - A life without joy When God closes a door, stops a relationship, blocks a path—it's not because He's mean. It's because He sees what's on the other side, and He loves you too much to let you go there. 7. Your family's concerns aren't always about control—sometimes they're about care. I spent months thinking my father was being overprotective. That he didn't trust me. That he wanted to control my life. I was wrong. He was trying to protect me from something he could see but couldn't prove. And when I finally walked away, he didn't say "I told you so." He just said, "Thank God." Our parents aren't perfect. They won't always be right. But when multiple people who love you—who have no agenda except your wellbeing—are all saying the same thing? Listen. They might see something you can't see when you're in the middle of it. These lessons cost me: - ₦1 million in lost deposits - Six months of my life - My reputation in some circles - Relationships with people who took his side - The dream of being married by 30 But they saved me from: - A lifetime of misery - Children in a toxic home - Losing myself completely - Living without peace - Never knowing my worth So when people ask if I regret calling off the wedding, my answer is simple: Not for one single second. The lessons hurt. But they didn't break me. They made me who I am today. © Adebimpe Obafemi #TwoMonthsBefore #LessonsLearned #ChristianSingles #Back2Eden #SpiritualGrowth

Please don't copy, edit, or republish without permission. Want to share? Just credit the author: Adebimpe Jumoke Obafemi. Thank you! 💕 TWO MONTHS BEFORE Part 8 ; The Aftermath (The Part Nobody Talks About) Breaking off an engagement two months before the wedding was emotionally devastating and logistically nightmarish. The venue: We'd paid ₦500,000 as a deposit. Non-refundable. The manager was sympathetic but firm. "It's in the contract, madam.” The dress: Half-sewn, half-paid. The tailor tried to be understanding, but she'd already bought all the fabric and lace. I lost ₦150,000. The caterer: They'd already ordered supplies. Another ₦200,000 gone. The photographer: Booked months in advance. Couldn't refund the deposit. In total, I lost close to ₦1 million. Money I'd saved for years. Money that represented countless shifts, late nights, and sacrifice. Gone. Then came the calls. I had to personally call each of my aunties and uncles who'd planned to travel from Lagos, Abuja, and Port Harcourt. "Aunty, the wedding is off." "What? Why? What happened?" How do you explain in a phone call? How do you convince them you're not being rash when they've already bought their aso-ebi and booked their hotels? Some were understanding: "Omolabake, if you're not sure, it's better to stop now." Others were... less understanding: "But the dress is already made! Can't you just work it out?" One uncle actually said, "Omolabake, marriage is not a bed of roses. You have to compromise." I wanted to scream: This isn't about compromise. This is about survival. But I just said, "I understand, Uncle. I'm sorry for the inconvenience." Church was the worst. The first Sunday after the breakup, I almost didn't go. But I couldn't hide forever. I walked in and felt every eye on me. People whispering and pointing. Some tried not to stare but failed. During announcements, our names were supposed to be called for final marriage class registration. They weren't. The silence where our names should have been was deafening. After service, some people avoided me completely. They literally crossed to the other side of the corridor when they saw me coming. Others came up with fake sympathy: "Oh, Omolabake, we heard. Are you okay?" Translation: Give us the gossip. A few were genuinely kind. One older woman, Sister Funke, pulled me aside and said, "Better a broken engagement than a broken life. Well done." She was one of the few. Chris moved to another church within two weeks. I heard through mutual friends that he was telling people I'd broken off the engagement because I was "too controlling" and "had trust issues." He painted himself as the victim. The good man who'd been wrongly rejected. And some people believed him. The months that followed were dark. I'd wake up some mornings and forget, just for a second, that I wasn't engaged anymore. Then reality would crash back in. I stopped going to weddings. I couldn't bear it. Every bouquet toss, every first dance, every "you're next!" comment, felt like salt in an open wound. I avoided baby dedications too. Because someone always asked, "So when is yours coming?" Work became my escape. I threw myself into my projects at ACE, stayed late, volunteered for extra assignments. Anything to avoid thinking about what I'd lost. My weight fluctuated from the stress—I lost 10kg, then gained it back. But what grew more than my weight was my faith. I threw myself into prayer, into serving at church, into seeking God's face. He became my comfort. His word became my anchor. And slowly, I began to heal. Except I hadn't lost anything real. I'd lost an illusion. But grief doesn't distinguish between real loss and imagined loss. It all hurts the same. Six months after the breakup, I heard Chris got engaged to Sister Bimpe. My friend showed me the Instagram post. The proposal photos looked eerily similar to mine. Same garden. Same sunset timing. Same pose. He'd recycled our proposal. Part of me felt vindicated. See? I was right. It wasn't just friendship. Part of me felt like an idiot. How did I not see this sooner? Part of me just felt... sad. Sad for Bimpe because she had no idea what she was walking into. Four months later, they were married. Quick engagement, quick wedding. Like he was in a hurry. I didn't go, obviously. But I heard about it. I heard it was beautiful. I heard that Bimpe looked happy. I prayed for her that day. Genuinely prayed. Because I knew what was coming. And about a year into their marriage, I started hearing whispers. Bimpe had stepped down from ministry. She wasn't posting on social media as much. Seemed withdrawn at church and had gained a lot of weight. I saw her once at a wedding we both had to attend. She couldn't look me in the eye. And I understood. She knew now. She knew what she'd signed up for. And my heart broke for her. Because that could have been me. Two years post-breakup, I'm still single. I'm 30 now. The age I thought I'd be married by. Some days, I'm at peace with it. I've rebuilt my life. My career is thriving. My relationship with my family is stronger than ever. I have good friends. I'm involved in church. I'm... content. Other days, I panic. The biological clock is loud. Very loud. I attend another wedding and feel that familiar ache. I watch my friends with their babies and wonder if I'll ever have that. I field questions from well-meaning aunties: "Omolabake, you're not getting younger o." Thanks, Aunty. I'm aware. But here's what I know now that I didn't know then: Being single is not a failure. Being 30 and unmarried is not a tragedy. Choosing peace over plans is not weakness. I'd rather be 30, single, and whole than 30, married, and broken. I'd rather wait for the right person than rush into a lifetime with the wrong one. I'd rather trust God's timing than force my own. And honestly? I'm grateful. Grateful I listened to my father. Grateful Pastor Mrs. Adeyemi pushed me to pray. Grateful God opened my eyes. Grateful I had the courage to walk away. The aftermath was painful. But nowhere near as painful as a lifetime of that marriage would have been. So yes, I'm still single. But I'm free. And that's worth more than any ring. © Adebimpe Obafemi #TwoMonthsBefore #LessonsLearned #ChristianSingles #Back2Eden #SpiritualGrowth

Please don't copy, edit, or republish without permission. Want to share? Just credit the author: Adebimpe Jumoke Obafemi. Thank you! 💕 TWO MONTHS BEFORE - Part 6 The Unraveling God answered my prayer. Not all at once, like pulling back a curtain. More like... slowly turning up the lights in a dark room. At first, you don't see much. Then shapes start forming. Then details. Then the whole picture becomes painfully clear. Week 1 of my fast: Chris came over for dinner on Friday evening. My mother had made jollof rice and chicken—his favorite. We ate with my parents at the dining table, making small talk about work, church, and the weather. After dinner, Chris and I sat in the living room while my parents gave us space. We were discussing finances for the wedding—deposits, vendors, budgets. "So I've been thinking," Chris said casually, scrolling through his phone. "Once we're married and you finish this Master's program, maybe you should think about stepping back from work a bit." I looked up from my notebook where I'd been tallying expenses. "What do you mean, step back?" "I mean, maybe go part-time. Or just... not pursue any big promotions. You know, so you have time for the home, for me, for kids eventually." "Chris, I love my job." "I know, babe. But we can't have you becoming the breadwinner. That would emasculate me. I need to be able to provide for my family." "You would be providing. We'd both be providing. That's what partnership means." He looked up from his phone, and for a split second, I saw something in his eyes. Something cold. "Omolabake, I'm the man. The head. When we're married, my word is final. You can have your opinions, but at the end of the day, I lead. That's biblical." My stomach turned. "Chris, biblical headship doesn't mean dictatorship—" "I'm not arguing about this," he said, his voice suddenly sharp. Then he seemed to catch himself, softening. "Look, babe, we'll figure it out. No need to stress about it now." But I was stressed. Because this wasn't about career anymore. This was about control. And I didn't explain it away this time. I felt it. The wrongness of it. Crystal clear. Week 2: It was a Tuesday evening. I'd left work late and was driving home when I passed by the church. The lights were still on in the media room. Chris had mentioned he'd be working late on Sunday's presentation. On impulse, I decided to surprise him with food. I'd stopped at Sweet Sensation and picked up his favorite—meat pie and a vanilla milkshake. When I got to the church, his car was in the parking lot. So was Sister Bimpe's small Honda. My pulse quickened. Don't be paranoid, I told myself. They're probably just working. I walked to the media room and knocked. "Come in!" Chris's voice. I opened the door. Chris and Bimpe were sitting close together at the editing desk, both looking at the laptop screen. Not touching, nothing inappropriate. But the atmosphere... something felt off. "Omolabake!" Chris said, surprise flickering across his face. "What are you doing here?" "I brought you food. I saw the lights on and thought you might be hungry." "Oh. That's... thanks, babe." He didn't get up to hug me. Didn't come take the food. Sister Bimpe stood. "I should go. We're almost done anyway." "No, you don't have to leave on my account," I said, my voice tight. "It's fine. I have an early class tomorrow." She grabbed her bag and left, barely looking at me. After she was gone, I set the food on the desk. "You two seemed very focused." "We're editing the announcement slides. It requires concentration." "She's here a lot late, isn't she?" Chris sighed. "Are we doing this again? The jealousy thing?" "I'm not jealous. I'm observant." "Same thing." He closed his laptop. "You know what? I've lost my appetite. I think I should just go home." "Chris—" "No, Omolabake. I'm tired of defending myself. I'm tired of you questioning everything I do. If you don't trust me, maybe we shouldn't be getting married." The words hit like a slap. He grabbed his things and walked past me without another word. I stood there in the empty media room, holding a meat pie I'd bought for a man who'd just threatened our entire relationship because I noticed him with another woman. That night, I cried myself to sleep. But this time, the tears weren't confusion. They were clarity. Week 3: I decided to visit Chris's parents. We hadn't spent much time with them—Chris always had excuses for why we couldn't go see them. But I insisted, and he finally agreed. Their house was in Oluyole, on the other side of Ibadan—about a 45-minute drive from Bodija. Nice compound, well-kept. His mother welcomed me warmly—almost too warmly, like she was trying extra hard. After lunch, while Chris was outside with his father, his mother pulled me aside in the kitchen. "Omolabake, you seem like a good girl." "Thank you, ma." She hesitated, then: "Chris can be... particular. He has his ways. Marriage is about compromise, you know. Learning to adapt." I felt a chill. "What do you mean, particular?" "Oh, you know. He likes things a certain way. Doesn't like being questioned. But that's just him. His father is the same." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "You'll learn to work around it." Work around it. Not "work with him." Not "he'll learn to compromise too." Work around it. Like he was a permanent fixture I just needed to adjust myself to accommodate. Later, as Chris and I were leaving, his younger sister—Nkem, 24, sweet girl—walked me to the car while Chris talked to his father. "Can I tell you something?" she whispered. "Of course." "Chris doesn't take advice well. From anyone. Even Daddy can't talk to him without him getting defensive." She looked nervously toward the house. "Just... be prepared for that. He's my brother and I love him, but..." She trailed off. "But what?" "Just be careful. That's all." The drive home was quiet. I kept thinking about what his mother and sister had said. They were warning me. In their own careful way, they were trying to tell me something I needed to hear. Week 4: I needed to print something for work. My printer at home was out of ink, so I texted Chris asking if I could use his. "Come over," he replied. "I'm home." When I got to his apartment, he was in the shower. "Go ahead and use the laptop," he called out. "Password is 1234." I opened his laptop and went to the printer settings. That's when the Instagram notification popped up. DM from someone named "Tola 💕" "Last night was fun 😘" My hands froze on the keyboard. I shouldn't look. That's an invasion of privacy . But my fingers were already clicking. The messages loaded. There were multiple threads. Multiple women. Flirty messages. Compliments. Inside jokes. Photos they'd sent him. Photos he'd sent back—nothing explicit, but the energy was all wrong. Sister Bimpe was there too. "You're such a tease" with a heart emoji. Another woman: "Can't wait to see you again." Him to another: "You looked beautiful today. As always." Nothing technically crossed any clear lines. No explicit content. No evidence of physical cheating. But this was emotional infidelity. This was a man who was engaged, planning a wedding, and maintaining flirtatious relationships with multiple women. I was staring at the screen when he came out of the bathroom, towel around his waist. "Find the printer settings?" he asked casually. Then he saw my face. Then he saw the laptop screen. "Are you—did you go through my messages?" His voice went from confused to furious in seconds. "It popped up. I didn't mean to, but Chris, what is all this?" "What is what? Private conversations you have no right to read?" "Flirty conversations with multiple women while you're engaged to me!" "They're FRIENDS, Omolabake! Friends! I'm allowed to have friends!” "This isn't friendship!" My voice was shaking. "This is... this is wrong and you know it!" "You know what's inappropriate? Snooping through someone's private messages! I can't believe you violated my trust like this!" The audacity. He'd violated our entire relationship, and I was the one violating trust? "So you're not even going to acknowledge that this is wrong?" I asked, feeling something break inside me. "The only thing wrong here is you!" He was yelling now. "You're controlling. You're insecure. You're jealous of every woman I interact with. Maybe your father was right. Maybe you're NOT mature enough for marriage!" That line. Again. Using my father's concerns as a weapon. I stood up, grabbed my bag, and walked to the door. "Where are you going?" he demanded. "Away from you." "Omolabake, if you walk out that door, don't come back." I stopped. Turned around. Looked at this man I'd almost married. And I saw him. Really saw him. Not the helpful man in the rain. Not the charming visitor who brought gifts. Not the romantic proposer with sunset and flowers. But a manipulative, controlling, emotionally unfaithful man who would gaslight me for the rest of my life. "Goodbye, Chris." I walked out. He didn't follow. God had answered my prayer. He'd shown me the truth. And it shattered me. But it also set me free. © Adebimpe Obafemi #TwoMonthsBefore #ToxicRelationship #RedFlags #KnowYourWorth #ChristianSingles

Please don't copy, edit, or republish without permission. Want to share? Just credit the author: Adebimpe Jumoke Obafemi. Thank you! 💕 TWO MONTHS BEFORE : Part 5 THE PRAYER I WAS AFRAID TO PRAY By Month 5, I couldn't sleep properly anymore. I'd lie in bed until 2, 3, or sometimes 4 AM, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing with thoughts I couldn't shut off. Why doesn't Daddy like him? Why did Chris react that way when I mentioned the master's program? Why does he want me away from my family so badly? Why won't he do premarital counseling? Am I being paranoid? Am I self-sabotaging a good thing? What if I'm wrong? What if I'm right? The anxiety was eating me alive. I had gained 7 kilograms in two months from stress eating—chin-chin, puff-puff, and anything I could mindlessly munch on while pretending everything was fine. My performance at work started slipping. I'd catch myself zoning out during meetings, having to ask colleagues to repeat things. My supervisor pulled me aside once to ask if I was okay. "I'm fine," I lied. "Just wedding stress." "Well, take care of yourself," she said kindly. "Marriage is supposed to make you happy, not make you sick." But I was sick. Sick with doubt. Sick with fear. Sick with this gnawing feeling that I was making a terrible mistake but couldn't admit it. My parents noticed too, of course. They tiptoed around me like I was made of glass. My mother would make my favorite foods—trying to feed the stress away. My father would just look at me with these sad, knowing eyes that made me want to scream. Say something! I wanted to yell at him. If you know something I don't, just tell me! But he didn't. He just prayed. I'd see him in his study sometimes, eyes closed, lips moving silently. Praying for me, probably. Praying for wisdom. Praying that God would open my eyes. Finally, on a Wednesday afternoon, I couldn't take it anymore. I left work early, told my supervisor I had a migraine (which wasn't entirely a lie—the stress headaches were constant now), and drove straight to church. Pastor Mrs. Adeyemi's office was in a small building behind the main sanctuary. I'd been there many times for Back2Eden meetings, but never like this. Never desperate. I knocked on her door. "Come in!" When I opened the door, she looked up from her laptop, and her face immediately changed. "Omolabake." She stood. "What's wrong?" That's all it took. Those two words. I burst into tears. Not delicate, pretty crying. Ugly, gut-wrenching sobs that shook my whole body. The kind of crying that comes from months of holding everything in. She came around her desk immediately, pulling me into a hug, letting me soak her shoulder with tears. "Let it out," she said softly. "Just let it out." I cried for what felt like hours but was probably only ten minutes. When I finally pulled away, she handed me a box of tissues and sat me down on her couch. "Tell me everything," she said. And I did. I told her about my father's concerns. About Ogo's questions. About the comments Chris made concerning my career. His resistance to counseling. Sister Bimpe. All the little things that were bothering me. I told her about the sleepless nights, the stress eating, the zoning out at work. I told her about the voice in my head that kept whispering, Something is wrong, and the other voice that kept shouting, You're just being paranoid. She listened to everything without interrupting. Just listened, her face calm, her eyes kind. When I finally ran out of words, she was quiet for a long moment. Then she asked, "Omolabake, have you prayed about this? Really prayed?" "Yes," I said immediately. "I pray all the time. I pray for peace. I pray for clarity. I pray for God to bless our marriage." "That's not what I mean," she interrupted gently. "I mean, have you prayed for the truth? Have you asked God to show you who Chris really is, not who you want him to be?" I froze. "No," I admitted quietly. "Because I'm afraid of what God might show me." She nodded. "That's honest. But Omolabake, you can't marry someone you're afraid to know the truth about." "But we've already..." I gestured helplessly. "The venue is booked. The gown is being made. The introduction has happened. People are expecting—" "People aren't marrying him," she said firmly. "You are. And expectations and deposits are not reasons to commit your life to the wrong person." I started crying again. "What if I'm wrong? What if there's nothing actually wrong with him and I'm just self-sabotaging because I'm scared of commitment?" "Then God will show you that too," she said. "But Omolabake, listen to me. I've been watching you for the past few months. You used to light up when you came to Back2Eden. You had peace. You had joy. Now? You look exhausted. Anxious. Like you're carrying a weight you can't put down." "But wedding planning is stressful," I protested weakly. "This isn't wedding stress," she said. "This is soul stress. Your spirit is trying to tell you something, and you're working very hard not to listen." I wiped my eyes. "So what do I do?" She leaned forward, taking both my hands. "I want you to pray a dangerous prayer. Ask God to reveal Chris's true character to you. Not the version Chris shows you in public. Not the potential you see in him. But who he really is. And ask God to give you the courage to act on whatever He reveals." My heart was pounding. "I don't know if I want to know." "I know," she said gently. "Because knowing the truth might mean doing something hard. But Omolabake, living with a lie is harder. Trust me." She prayed with me right there in her office. A simple, terrifying prayer: "Father, show Labake the truth about Chris. Not what she wants to see, but what You want her to see. Give her eyes to see clearly. Give her the courage to act on what You reveal. Remove any blinders she has put up. We trust You with the outcome. In Jesus' name." When she finished, I whispered, "Amen." But inside, I was screaming. That night, I couldn't bring myself to pray that prayer again. I went home, told my parents I wasn't feeling well, and hid in my room. The wedding was in three months. Three months. We'd already paid the first installment on the venue—₦500,000—that we couldn't get back. My wedding dress was being sewn by one of the best tailors in Ibadan. The guest list was finalized—248 people. My aunties had already started buying their aso-ebi. Chris's extended family from Lagos and Abuja had booked their flights. And I was supposed to pray a prayer that might unravel all of it? I looked at my engagement ring, catching the light from my bedside lamp. It was beautiful. But wearing it felt like wearing handcuffs. For three days, I avoided the prayer. I made excuses. I told myself I was too busy. Too tired. That I would pray "when I have time to really focus." But on the fourth day, I woke up at 3 AM with that familiar knot in my stomach, tighter than ever. And I knew. I couldn't keep running. I got out of bed, knelt on the floor of my room, and whispered the prayer again: "God, show me the truth about Chris. Even if it hurts. Even if it ruins everything. I need to know." I didn't feel anything dramatic. No lightning. No audible voice. No sudden revelation. Just a quiet whisper in my spirit: Watch. And pay attention. So I decided to fast. Not for God to change my circumstances—but for God to change my sight. I told Chris I was doing a 7-day fast for "spiritual growth." He shrugged and said, "Okay, babe. Just don't get too spiritual on me." I should have heard the warning in those words. But I was already beginning to see. And what I was about to discover would change everything. © Adebimpe Obafemi #TwoMonthsBefore #ChristianSingles #SeekingGod #Back2Eden #DangerousPrayers #GodsWill

Before You Choose a Partner Proverbs 3:5–6 — “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.” Choosing a life partner is one of the most important decisions a person can ever make. Marriage is not a temporary relationship—it’s a covenant that joins two lives together before God. Many people rush into relationships led by emotions, beauty, wealth, or pressure, but forget that God must be involved from the beginning. Before you choose a partner, you must first know God’s will and allow Him to lead you. 1️⃣ SEEK GOD FIRST Matthew 6:33 — “But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.” Before you seek a partner, seek the Lord. If you are not rooted in God, you can be easily deceived. God must be the foundation of your life before you can build a lasting relationship. Many relationships collapse because they were not founded on God’s direction. 🕊 Let God be your first love before you seek human love. 2️⃣ PRAY FOR DIVINE DIRECTION James 1:5 — “If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.” Prayer opens your spiritual eyes. Don’t rely on feelings alone; feelings can fade. When you pray, God will reveal the right person, and sometimes He will show you who to avoid. Divine direction prevents lifetime mistakes. 🕊 Prayer is the key to clarity. Never choose without consulting Heaven. 3️⃣ CHECK CHARACTER, NOT JUST BEAUTY Proverbs 31:30 — “Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.” Physical attraction is good, but character sustains marriage. Many have been deceived by outward appearance, only to regret later. A godly partner should have integrity, humility, self-control, and the fear of God. 🕊 Don’t marry a face; marry a heart that loves God. 4️⃣ BE PATIENT AND DISCERNING Ecclesiastes 3:1 — “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.” Impatience has led many into the wrong relationships. Waiting for God’s timing is not a delay; it is preparation. God uses the waiting season to build you spiritually and emotionally for the right partner. 🕊 Patience is proof of faith. If it’s truly from God, it will wait for you. 5️⃣ DON’T IGNORE GODLY COUNSEL Proverbs 15:22 — “Without counsel purposes are disappointed: but in the multitude of counsellors they are established.” Before you make the decision, seek advice from spiritual mentors or godly parents. They can see what you may not see. Don’t isolate yourself or hide your relationship from those who love and guide you in Christ. 🕊 Point: Wise counsel helps you avoid emotional blindness. 6️⃣ KNOW YOUR PURPOSE BEFORE CHOOSING Amos 3:3 — “Can two walk together, except they be agreed?” Before you choose, understand your divine assignment. God will not give you a partner who will pull you away from His purpose for your life. A godly partner will complement, not compete with, your calling. 🕊 The right partner helps you fulfill destiny, not destroy it. Before you choose a partner, choose Christ. A partner chosen without God often leads to pain, but a partner chosen through prayer, patience, and purpose leads to peace. Marriage is not just about happiness—it’s about holiness and destiny. Let God write your love story; He never makes mistakes. PRAY THIS PRAYER Lord, give me wisdom and patience in choosing my partner (James 1:5). Lord, remove every distraction and deception from my path (Proverbs 14:12). Lord, connect me with a partner who will strengthen my faith (Amos 3:3). Lord, let Your perfect will be done in my relationship and marriage (Matthew 6:10). Lord, build my character and prepare me to be the right partner (Psalm 51:10). Pastor Abiodun Kadri Support us: Your love can go where you can’t. Every gift you give sends food, hope, and faith to those in need. Let’s restore lives together — give cheerfully today and let your love reach the world. Click here to SUPPORT: https://flutterwave.com/donate/1gkr3px8m1u0 #BeforeYouChooseAPartner #GodlyMarriage #ChristianRelationship #MarriageGodsWay #SeekGodFirst #DivineDirection #ChristianSingles #WaitOnGod #PurposefulMarriage #FaithAndLove

For a limited time only we are offering a 25% discount on a facilitator membership for the Healthy Christian dating course! Sign up to a free facilitator plan and navigate to Facilitator Sign Up in the members area to get your discount code. We'll also give you a 25% discount code for participants who purchase a participant plan and register for your course. Get in quick! If you would like to participate in this course and don't have one running in your area, why not consider offering to help your church leaders facilitate it? https://www.heavenlyrelationships.org/facilitators #christiandating #christiansingles #SinglesMinistry #youngadultministry #churchresources @followers @highlight https://youtu.be/eZ3o_6FMLbk?si=h0r08Hfz_wy38j04

Sandra Douglas Thu 24 Apr, 12:35 (22 hours ago) to me For a limited time only we are offering a 25% discount on a facilitator membership for the Healthy Christian dating course! Sign up to a free facilitator plan and navigate to Facilitator Sign Up in the members area to get your discount code. We'll also give you a 25% discount code for participants who purchase a participant plan and register for your course. Get in quick! If you would like to participate in this course and don't have one running in your area, why not consider offering to help your church leaders facilitate it? https://www.heavenlyrelationships.org/facilitators https://youtu.be/eZ3o_6FMLbk?si=qhtVURdDALrk7bgR #christiandating #christiansingles #SinglesMinistry #youngadultministry #churchresources @followers @highlight

I am pleased to announce the Healthy Christian Dating course is now available internationally! To find out how to participate in this course or facilitate this course at your church, head over to https://www.heavenlyrelationships.org/healthy-christian... to find out more. Again, a big shout out to our incredible instructors who have added so much wisdom and richness to this course: DragonFly Flying Free with Natalie Hoffman Steph Penny MyCounselor.Online Hopeplus Counselling and a huge thank you to Varma from moments_cophotography for working wonders with my amateur videos! #christiandating #christiansingles #SinglesMinistry #youngadultministry #churchresources @followers