Maranatha’s Substack

Day two: 13/07/26. 12:05

My health has been playing football with me. It’s why I haven’t remembered to write as much [until, of course, I received threats]. You people keep me on my toes! 🤣

It’s way past the date now, but I want to relive my birthday just a lirru bit. I smile as I type; it was easily one of the best times I’ve had this month—and the month was only starting.

My husband started my day with [an English] breakfast in bed—the whole nine yards. I don’t know about anyone else, but I can have breakfast in bed all week and never get tired. That’s the combination of two of my favourite things in the whole wide world: food and sleep—back to back.

After I ate [with my stinky mouth, of course, because I was not in the mood to get up to brush my teeth just yet], he found a way to cajole me to the restroom, and when I returned, my eyes rested on the cutest black box with a bow sitting pretty on the bed.

My heart melted.

The days before, two of my best friends had sent my birthday presents off my wishlist, and I got to unbox them that morning. I even made an unboxing video after much cajolement from Amanda. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

My husband banned me from the kitchen and afterwards revealed the three-course meal he’d made for me. I have to give it to him—the food didn’t just taste good; he put on his chef’s hat and presented each meal with the stories behind them before serving it to me.

It was so heartwarming and funny.

I randomly open my Photos to watch the videos, and the same joy floods my heart. I’ll forever treasure that day.

I remember waking up the next day with so much glee because the fridge was calling my name. There was so much to eat! He bought a lot of my favourite stuff.

The birthday I didn’t know I needed? This was it.

I fret about taking calls on my birthday. I don’t know why. They always felt like an extracurricular activity beside whatever major plan I had. But this year was different; the calls, wishes, and extended conversations were THE celebration.

I am too grateful for family, friendships, and community. They have always carried me when my strength fails.

Day three: 21/07/26. 14:13

I have been longing for open skies, endless greenery, and maybe a beach.

Living in Lagos is not my ideal life. I saw a post the other day about how the average Lagosian needs a budget just to step out of their house to touch grass [which grass sef?]

Parks are scarce and commercialised.

The transportation system is hellish.

Cafes are overpriced and way too cold for a warm-blooded human like me.

Yesterday, I was on the phone with one of my friends, Ody, and after I shared what I was longing for, she said: ‘Someone like you should definitely not live in Lagos.’

[How I miss Cotonou.]

Again, those people stealing Lagos beaches from us, may they all crumble!

17:27

Ever since I got married, I have had an increased number of conversations with married people. The other Sunday, I confided in one of my newly married friends how my newest joy was having a lot of food at home.

Again, I am not like my mother. I am my mother. 😹

It feels really fellowship-py. Like I’ve joined a new association. [Bad gang?]

Many conversations make me realise I am not alone. It is too good for my soul. And it gives me courage and encouragement.

The entire experience has made me think about something I’d often heard before I got married: the one where the woman is told to lay off her unmarried friends so they don’t ‘spoil her mind‘.

I’m sure there are many reasons, but none holds in my experience.

And I don’t think years of true friendship should be thrown away over a change in estate.

With my friends, in what way have they not been there for me? True, it is not every marital topic they might understand experientially, but they are vastly rich in many others. And they always speak to me first from the Word; experience is not really needed for that.

If you’ve ever thought about it, I hope this gives you some perspective.

Day four: 22/07/26. 14:38

Recently, I’ve been feeling a little blue, and I think the cure is in the first paragraph of yesterday’s entry.

But oh, how far it seems.

Somehow, holding that wanderlust in my heart made me take for granted this answered prayer that I am living in. Once upon a time, all I wanted was to be in the same space with my husband, freely.

Human needs are truly insatiable. Lol.

Coupled with my recent illness, it’s safe to say that my husband and I are navigating a new, weird kind of season. One with more than a sprinkle of suffering.

We’re suffering in different ways.

We both fell sick a couple of times while we were dating, but it’s really not the same thing as being in the same house and having to take care of an ill partner.

On my end, my weakness has taken a toll on my body and mind. And I’ll admit that there are more than a few times where my behaviour has been nothing like Christ’s own.

I doubt it’s easy on any person’s part; we both have weaknesses. But it does bring to mind where the Bible says that it has been granted to us to not only believe but suffer with Christ (Philippians 1:29).

It takes Christ not only to suffer, though.

It also takes Christ to suffer well.

With Him, our seasons of suffering will not be wasted; they’ll build in us endurance and a character that glorifies God. No matter what kind of suffering it is.

With respect to a marriage or romantic relationship, I believe it’s a little easier to face suffering with a loving partner than alone, but I also think it can go very south if both parties treat each other, rather than the situation, as the enemy.

It can build offence and resentment when both partners feel, ‘I’m the one suffering more.’

True, one might indeed be suffering more in their particular experience. For example, Spouse A is ill and thinks Spouse B doesn’t understand because they’re not living with the physically weak body. But in the same way that the one who bears the brunt of your sins the most is your partner, Spouse B will also feel—more than anybody else—the effect of Spouse A’s suffering. Their work and time are affected; they have to care and worry for Spouse A; they have to take up additional responsibilities, etc.

This is a covenant we are talking about. Two becoming one. There should be no way that one spouse suffers and the other is immune. No. Something is definitely wrong if that happens to be the case.

Still, there is absolutely no need for your partner to suffer in the same way as you are to feel empathy for you. It is also unnecessary for one spouse to keep trying to prove that they are the most afflicted. To what end would that be?

[I must add that in times where there is truly a disconnect in how care is administered due to a lack of understanding, then there should be proper communication. Assume the best always: that your partner really cares for you and is not intentionally trying to mistreat you—they just might not know better. I’ve sat my husband down (and vice versa) to tell him how I like something to be done or how I’d prefer to be treated when I am a certain way or at different points.]

The better way is to suffer like Christ.
He suffered well.
He suffered and still loved.
He suffered and still looked out for others around Him.
He suffered like One with hope, and so must we.

The worst way to suffer is to suffer in a way that leads you to sin; when you look back, you will be filled with regrets.

Do not let your suffering discolour your soul.

Do not let it make you ugly.

It is certainly not easy. But it is the best way.

Christ provides [and is] a hope that transcends every suffering. I believe that a spouse can [and should] be a mirror that reflects to their partner Christ’s nature—one who is not alien to our suffering and yet calls us to come up higher despite these sufferings.

It does not matter as much who is suffering more, as much as that both are helping each other glorify Christ through their suffering.

May the Lord help my heart.

May He help us all.

Mara Baby,
aka Lover Girl. ❤️

∞ I’m on Substack from time to time, but I live at Visitmaranatha.com.

PREORDER LOOK AT GOD HERE

Hi again!
[As you might know] My book, Look at God Look like God will be launching in two weeks and I cannot wait for you to share in what has been my delight for the past couple of months. This is a ‘THANK YOU’ to you for buying, sharing and supporting as well.
The preorder closes this week (31st July) after which the discount (20% off) will no longer apply. So, now is the best time to get it while saving money as well. You can get it whether you’re in Nigeria or abroad; pay locally, buy on Selar, or get it on Amazon.
If you’re wondering [or this is the first time you’re hearing about Look at God Look like God], the book is exactly what its name implies: a presentation of Christian sanctification in a practical, yet simple way that strips us of self-righteousness and causes us to really BEHOLD Him that we may BECOME like Him. It is, as Ebele puts it, a book for those ‘who are tired of labouring in the flesh but know that there is a labour required regardless.’
And maybe you truly do not need this book, please support by buying a copy for someone else (simply indicate in the order note provided or use this link to sponsor directly).
Look at God is available for preorder at a discounted price here: https://visitmaranatha.com/lookatgod/
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My first birthday in my husband's house. XI

Ogonna ‘Maranatha’ Nnaemeka — Thu, 02 Jul 2026 12:03:21 GMT

It’s 8 am.

[Akanchawa is playing in the background, and I am singing and praising my God.]

I’ve never been more thankful for life than today.

For the past three weeks, I’ve battled with health issues. In the last three weeks, my clean streak of never being admitted to the hospital was broken.

But here I am, not just breathing but celebrating.

Every year, on my birthday, I usually have a well-thought-out plan of how I want to celebrate—even if all I’m doing is staying home, it’s curated. Last year, my friends and I travelled to Benin Republic. Oh, how the Lord helped us, protected us, and filled our hearts with joy on that trip. I miss the beach with all my heart.

[The people stealing Lagos beaches from us, may you all crumble!]

This year, however, I had nothing in mind. I think it’s a good thing because if I had made plans and been unable to go because of ill health, I’d have been so mad. 😭

Mehn. I know pain hurts physically and it messes with the mind too; I’ve struggled to just exist these past couple of weeks, but gosh… I LOVE life. I’m so happy to be here.

Maybe sickness is actually good. If it turns the heart, prone to deceit and wickedness, to God and gratitude, then ‘come disaster, scorn and pain.’ (A line from the hymn, Jesus I My Cross Have Taken).

I had a dream last night. It certainly was a gift from God for today. In the dream I was with my brethren but not in church. We were fellowshipping and feasting, only it felt like Christmas.

It felt like heaven too. There was no fear, hurt, or sadness. It didn’t feel like life on Earth. I woke up with a very light feeling in my chest.

It reminded me of a place I’ve only heard of, but never been to: heaven. A place where there will be no sickness or death. I cannot wait. 🥺

But while I am here, I say, God, thank You. See how far You have brought me.

Can I write anything without mentioning my husband? God forbid. He said he’s making me a continental breakfast and I shouldn’t so much as come close to the kitchen today. Since yesterday, he didn’t let me lift a finger to do anything.

Same person who said, ‘There’s no greater dictator than a woman on her birthday,’ simply because I was bossing him around to adjust the curtains and positions so I could take a perfect picture of the gift he got me. I’m only learning from my leader. 🤷‍♀️

Yesterday, I was at my mom’s, and she bought me ube and corn and unshelled groundnuts and bananas, and she almost gave me Ogbono soup, but I couldn’t wait for it to be done before leaving ~~home~~ [my husband said I should stop calling my family house ‘home’ because he is my new home]. So I’ll collect it on Saturday.

I was elated. I love ube and corn so much. You need to understand, God speaks to me through ube. I can’t wait to eat them today. Today cannot get better. If it does, I might go dizzy with excitement.

I’m stupid happy. To breathe, to write, to feel pain… I am graced to be here.

Jesus, thank You. Daalu Nna.

I don’t know how the rest of the day will go. But I’m content to binge-watch movies with my husband and get some more rest. I don’t know if I’ll remember to journal; if I do, it’ll probably become an entry under my next article in the series on my marriage.

Another exciting thing about today is the gifts. I’ve gotten some very beautiful presents already, and more are on the way. Gifting is my top love language, both giving and receiving. I’m quite honest about my preferences and have gotten very good at making demands from my friends; it’s God that made me like this, nothing to be ashamed of. 🤣

I’ve made this very plain to my family and friends—me I don’t like excuses. I already shared my birthday wishlist about three weeks ago so everyone could reserve their gifts. As I said, I don’t like excuses.

For you, I also have a gift. If you preorder Look at God Look like God before midnight today, you will get a random free gift included in it. Just for today.

Look at God Look like God is a book that will redirect you to obey God by doing the first thing He requires of us above all else—to look at Him. For it is in beholding that we become.
It will slow you down enough to think about God.

Look at God is available for preorder at a discounted price here: https://visitmaranatha.com/lookatgod/

You can also click the button below to preorder:

Preorder Look at God Here

Thank you for being here.
May the Lord gladden your heart today and forevermore. ❤️

P.S.: If you want to get something for me off my wishlist, just because you feel like buying my book is not enough to celebrate me, here you go. ✨

P.P.S.: I checked my email and saw this invitation from my husband. Definitely not sleeping throughout today. 🤭

If you see my dim, help me thank him o.

A man cooks, a woman eats [Gender roles in marriage]. X

Ogonna ‘Maranatha’ Nnaemeka — Mon, 22 Jun 2026 17:01:38 GMT

Day one: 03/06/26. 08:01

Today, my heart is heavy. I cannot stop thinking about those children who were kidnapped in Ogbomosho.

I often have very vivid dreams that my husband believes I should turn into fictional novels. Maybe I will. I guess I don’t take it seriously because there are too many of them—I’ve been having storybook dreams since I was a teenager—and I’m currently more interested in theology than fiction at this stage of my life.

In one of those dreams, I was at an IDP camp. The town had been raided by bandits, and we, the people, had taken all kinds of losses. To tell you how horrifying an experience it was, this dream is one that has never left me. I remember everything: being surrounded by other helpless people, contemplating escape, then realising that ‘this’ was the escape, and that having that harrowing feeling of ‘my life is not in my hands’ settled in my chest—because anything could happen at any moment.

I’m in my home now. My husband is making the fluffiest banana pancakes ever. To the best of my knowledge, my family and loved ones are safe. In my reality, I don’t always sit to think about the future, but when I do, it is filled with many hopes and dreams. This is now making me realise something else about that dream: In the dream, I didn’t contemplate a future. It was bleak, literally.

These children have been kidnapped. They cannot be pilots or doctors—or get a chance to write UTME and be slapped by the harsh reality of the Nigerian educational system, then eventually learn Digital Marketing or Software Engineering.

They cannot do anything.

Because they are not free.

Ebele made a video about this, and she gave an apt diagnosis. That the problem, beyond our corrupt politicians and decaying values? Is sin. It is sin.

We cannot forget.

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Last week, at midweek service, P Maj preached on James—“What causes quarrels and what causes fights among you? Is it not this, that your passions are at war within you?” (James‬ ‭4‬:‭1‬ ‭ESV‬‬)

The reason Nigeria is where it is today is because of the raging passions within our leaders—sin.

These children have been kidnapped by people whose passions weren’t tempered, people whose hearts have been hardened. Where does a hardened heart begin? From a little sin.

We can say many things, but every one of them will lead to the one cause—sin.

Sin is deceitful. It makes you think, ‘Just because I lied? It can’t be that deep.’

But it is.

Hebrews 3:13 says not to be hardened by sin’s deceitfulness. Every sin hardens the heart, no matter how little.

This is a serious issue. God told Cain that sin was crouching at his door (Genesis 4:6–7), and it is the same thing for us today. We must rule over it. We cannot let it in, let alone let it stay.

Let us weep like it is our children and brothers and sisters who have been taken, because it is.

When we are done crying, let us do two things:

Let us pray: God hears. He does. Let us not stop praying. Let us not live our lives and forget those whose lives have been stopped, though it hasn’t ended.
Let us temper our passions: It is people like us in Government, it is people like us spilling blood. One day, a man was angry, and he slept with malice in his heart. The next day, the angry man picked up a gun. One day, a woman held lust in her heart. The next day, she hated her husband. The day after, she committed adultery.

Sin is a vicious cycle. The only way out is through the blood of Jesus, the One who has provided atonement so that He can call us His brothers and sisters.

“For it was fitting that he, for whom and by whom all things exist, in bringing many sons to glory, should make the founder of their salvation perfect through suffering. For he who sanctifies and those who are sanctified all have one source. That is why he is not ashamed to call them brothers,”
‭‭(Hebrews‬ ‭2‬:‭10‬-‭11‬ ‭ESV‬‬)

In all we do, let us consider Him. Please.

Day two: 11/06/26. 16:17

I have a new hobby.

Instead of getting a stool to access our top kitchen cabinets, I summon my husband to lift me.

After the second time today [where I had him lift me to return the things I’d taken the first time he lifted me], he said mockingly [but with the biggest smile on his face as I giggled nonstop], ‘You’re such a child. At this point, I deserve a gift for Father’s Day.’

He doesn’t know he has a big surprise coming. 🤣 [Update (22/06/26): The wives at church pulled off the cutest Father’s Day prank by making all our husbands wear the same kind of shirt without them realising. The reactions were so priceless!]

Here’s a picture if you want to see what that looked like.

Earlier today, I received the first samples of my new book, Look at God Look like God. By God, it is beautiful. My husband and I both voted on the best combination [of the cover and interior type] to mass produce. I’m thinking I’ll shoot a video to announce the preorder by tomorrow.

Is 100 preorders too low to hope for, for a start? I mean, I am very content with just obeying the nudge to go ahead and write the book. It has done so much for me alone. But the writer in me would totally love for it to be read as well.

N.B.: You can preorder here if you’d like a copy. It is a book that will redirect you to obey God by doing the first thing He requires of us above all else—to look at Him. For it is in beholding that we become.

It will slow you down enough to think about God. You can get it at a discount now since this is the preorder season.

*inserts content sigh* I love my life.

The World Cup is starting today. My husband is so excited.

I’m going to take a long stroll with Damini a few minutes from now. I’m so exciteddd. I’ve missed the girl a lot.

My husband is going to see a friend nearby. [After I told him I was stepping out, he quickly made plans of his own. In his words, ‘What will I be doing in this house if you’re not here?’]

Such a cute man. He said he’ll be making me a special meal tomorrow.

We will all see what God can do.

Day three: 15/06/26. 08:24

I find it necessary to say that my marriage is not perfect, nor is it the ideal for anybody else. Please don’t compare yourself to me, or your partner to my husband.

When we gain little insight into the lives of other people, we must bear in mind that it is only a snippet of the whole.

There are many things I do not write here. There is simply no need to—I am not trying to prove anything, just doing something I genuinely enjoy and that others seem to enjoy too [and benefit from]. I really, really thank God for this; I do not take it for granted.

My dear reader, take this all first as a peep into the life of another [like a public diary] and maybe also as encouragement. I am barely three months married anyway; what do I know?

Just take what you need.

Now, to the subject of this article: One of the ways I started feeling weird about marriage was with respect to gender roles. Before we got married, we’d agreed to certain chores for each of us. Primary among mine was cooking.

Now, I loveee cooking. I do. I’ve also been very health-conscious for a long time—I’ve been a certain weight before that I’d rather become a man than return to. Eating well [homemade food, portion-sizing] is one of the ways I’ve kept my weight in the same bracket for over four years.

Recently, we were speaking, and we realised that we’d never ordered takeout since we got married. I really like that. I do.

To be fair, even while we were dating, I preferred he ordered snacks like parfait and ice cream rather than actual food [unless it was something I couldn’t make, like amala]—and even that, I limited. Mass-cooked food scares me. In fact, I remember the last time my husband [then fiancé] ordered food for me, a certain BBQ rice that was really sodium-lathered sauce with a sprinkle of rice. I nearly puked. Mbanu.

But if you’re familiar with cooking, you know how taxing it can be. My love for cooking no reach to cook every day.

I started carrying some loathing in my heart because it seemed like my husband had the easier chores.

Thankfully, God reprimanded me, and I opened up about it. When I did, I realised something I'd always known: my husband was always there for me. I just didn’t ask for help.

Now, there are some things that my husband knows to do and take initiative on without being asked. Cooking just wasn’t one of them. When I found out the reason, I was reminded again why assumptions are such a terrible thing.

The reason? The man just lacked confidence in his cooking skills, compared to mine. He feared that his food wouldn’t taste as good as mine. 🤣

Valid, ok? You need to eat my food to understand this fear. Also, I did tell him very early on in our relationship that I eat for enjoyment, not for survival. It’s true. Food is one thing I’m not good at managing.

I should also admit that I have perfectionist tendencies with respect to how my our kitchen is used. 💀

Now, I should have known—or at least, not assumed that he had bad intentions. While we were dating, my husband often cooked for me. I actually never cooked for him. Even when he came over to my house, the food was usually prepared by my mother. At his house, we would be in the kitchen, and I’d be more like an assistant.

So, what did I do to help his confidence?

I sent him recipes. Because I’m quite organised, I have a note where I keep all the step-by-step preparations and ingredients needed for all the meals I make.

This is one of the times I’m thankful to be born in the age of Instagram. He made this chicken and beef sauce [from a recipe I sent him] the day before, and when I ate it, I passed out immediately. Literally. It was so good. So freaking good that I’ve gone to hide the leftovers; I hope he thinks it’s finished so I can have the rest. 😭

I have said all that to say that when a person loves you, I believe that they will do everything within their power to reduce your suffering as much as they can.

We still have primary chores assigned to us, but I won’t see something in the house and not do it simply because it’s my husband’s chore.

First, second, third, and all of all, it’s OUR house.

P.S.: I should add, again, that I have perfectionist tendencies. Sometimes, it shows up in always wanting to have a perfect homemade meal [even when I’m bone-tired, which often leads to me feeling angry at him for my own decision to cook] when we could have just had a simple bite for dinner.

I think my husband noticed this because lately, he started to insist on alternatives that don’t involve me cooking when I’m tired. If I insist because it’s a craving, he either does it himself or we do it together.

It’s funny. One of the things on my Husband Checklist was a man who was flexible enough to be at home often. I didn’t want a strict 9–5er.

Thank You, Jesus.

You have done me well. 🥺

Day four: 19/06/26. 20:58

I feel the need to end this article here and now, or I’ll give in to the temptation I’ve been fighting all week.

The temptation? To come here and gush about my husband. 😭😭😭

I’ve been unwell all week. But things took a turn for the worse on Friday, and my husband had to rush me to the hospital in the wee hours of this morning. I got admitted [against my will, but it was better than looking at death that was staring me in the face]. Ok, I’m being dramatic.

My husband has been taking care of me. It triggered a memory about something someone told me—also something that I’d heard online several times and in different ways.

I was told, and had heard, that women were the nurturers. And that the men were the providers, yes, but they were babies and not very capable of nurturing. In sum, as a wife, I’d have to immediately double as a mother to my husband, but my husband wouldn’t double as a father to me, per se; he’d be more like my child.

I am here to say that this is not my experience.

Preorder Look at God Here

Of course, my husband is my baby. Duh.

But I nurture him as much as he nurtures me. Over the last few days, he has done everything I can do and even more. This doesn’t even apply only to when I’m sick; it’s being sick that has allowed me to notice.

I feel like a child when I’m with him. Like a little girl. I’m smiling right now because I’m remembering when I played Barbie’s 12 Dancing Princesses and he rolled his eyes at me. Only to start humming along at some point. 🤣

[He did look a little worried when I started trying to pirouette.]

I was raised to believe men should only provide, especially financially. That masculinity was equal to the sole ability to do so. During our marriage counselling, our pastor bluntly said: ‘Perish that idea.’

Yes, a man is the provider, but he provides much more than materially for the family. He provides emotionally, mentally, physically, and every other ‘ly.’ However, the woman is also responsible for the family. And if, in any way, the man becomes unable to fulfil his obligations in any aspect, the family should not immediately suffer. The same thing applies when the woman is unable to fulfil her obligations. We’re partners.

On another aspect of gender roles, submission did not come easily to me either. I’m quite opinionated and believe that I’m usually right in most matters. But what that started to look like to my husband was that I always liked to have the final say.

Oh, how I was dancing shaku shaku in a minefield.

We’ve started reading another book on marriage, and this quoted line is something that I consciously trying to remember and settle in my heart:

A wife is in “in a lower rank, no matter how much she domineers over her husband.”
Building a Godly Home, Volume 1: A Holy Vision for Family Life by William Gouge

The biblical standard is that the man leads. As the woman, submitting means that, even though I might have brighter ideas, my husband is the one whose word is final.

Just like God is my friend and still my King, my husband is my guy and still the authority over me. Not like a dictator, of course not. But if we had two different solutions to a problem and he insists on his own, I must defer. And I must defer with Jesus-joy.

Kathy Keller [in The Meaning of Marriage] described submission as being the most like Jesus. Our Lord Jesus was literally guys [one] with God, and yet He didn’t hold on to His deity but came to die for the sins of humanity. He submitted with joy. His life wasn’t taken from Him; He laid it down.

In this regard, what helped us was having serious conversations about preferences:

What does respect look like to him?

What does love look like to me?

It made it way easier to understand each other. It allowed us to disobey God and hurt each other less.

There’s so much I can say here about gender roles, but I’d rather recommend The Meaning of Marriage by Tim and Kathy Keller to anyone seeking the biblical view of gender roles in marriage. Regardless of how you were raised, there is the truth which is sustainable. Seek out that truth and don’t let your [childhood] traumas or public opinions dictate how you see these things.

And pray a lot too. God will help. He always does.

When we started setting up our home, my husband was largely uninterested. It wasn’t because he didn’t care; it just wasn’t his strong suit. So he allowed and indulged me, especially with the curtains [considering their hefty costs 😭], trusting my judgement.

On the day our couch arrived, he entered the house and shouted, ただいま [Tadaima]. It’s Japanese for ‘I’m home.’ [He loves anime.] His face was all lit up. He said that our house had really started to feel like a home, and he praised me for all my effort in making that happen. And from that moment on? He began to be more involved with that aspect of our family life.

What I’m really trying to say here is that we must serve with joy, not murmuring. And when things do not go our way, we must be gentle. I’ve found gentleness to be the best way to woo a person over. Did our Lord not gently insist on us until we saw His light?

I’ll end this with the best marital advice I received [from my boss]. He said: ‘To love is not to be blind to your partner’s flaws. It is to protect their vulnerability.’

Mara Baby,
aka Lover Girl. ❤️

∞ I’m on Substack from time to time, but I live at Visitmaranatha.com.

Ever wanted something so badly, you thought you’d die?

Ogonna ‘Maranatha’ Nnaemeka — Sat, 20 Jun 2026 17:01:45 GMT

‘I used to have this habit of constantly ordering stuff online, not because I particularly needed them, but because I loved the thrill of expecting a package. But the moment the parcel arrived, the desire evaporated, and I’d head back to Instagram looking for the next thing to buy.

Such is the perpetual cycle of earthly living under the shadow of sin. Everything here is laced with corruptible pleasures; the satisfaction from whatever we find here does not last. This is why we often find ourselves chasing one high after another; craving the next thing, the next thrill. But in Heaven, boredom is impossible. Our inheritance is ‘... imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you’ (1 Peter 1:4, CSB). Believe this, it is the surest promise you will ever receive!

Sin turns us into users. God designed us to steward the earth according to His will, loving Him and loving our neighbours, but we crave domination over other human beings. Think of how often you hear of people maltreating other people. Think of the slave trade, and how something so grotesque, so fundamentally evil, could have happened and persisted.

Sin makes us evaluate people not as image-bearers of God, but as commodities. We think of others in terms of the value they bring into our lives; how their presence might polish our own image, and how good we would look if they were with us. It is why we gravitate towards the beautiful or the wealthy, because their beauty and wealth add to ours by association. It is why we maintain ties with that wicked uncle, because he gives money, and we can say our uncle is ‘so so and so’ whenever we need to brag and establish our relevance in the world’s hierarchy. We want to add value to those who are valuable because it feels like a safer investment. That way, we have assurance of ROI since they have a track record. Sin teaches us to see human beings as leverage, as stepping stones, as assets … because ‘your network is your net worth.’

(What a net worth Jesus must have had!)

We do not know how to be good, like God, who is good just for the sake of being, who loves wretched sinners like us that could offer Him nothing in return. Our finest efforts are, as St. Augustine puts it, ‘splendid vices.’ Measured against one another, we might even look impressive, seemingly perfect, but comparison with people is a broken scale. It is only against God’s holy standard that we see the truth: we all fall short.

We do not know how to delight in goodness for its own sake. We even use ourselves! We use our bodies, the beauty, intelligence and other gifts God has given to us, to perpetrate evil. Even our relationship with God often becomes one of constant grasping, where we attempt to use Him or force His hand for blessings. We do not worship God because He is worthy to be worshipped; we come before Him in exchange for blessings, upholding a transactional Christianity—blatant legalism. We linger in God’s presence not to enjoy Him, but so we can say we prayed long. We stay to extract answers, spiritual strategies and blueprints, as though God does not know what we need anymore and must be directed. We want to ‘pay the price,’ the cost of entry; our worship is our capital, and God is an investment from which we expect a return.

We attach ourselves to groups and communities that make us feel good, giving alms only to virtue-signal. We attend churches where the Word of God is freely added to and subtracted from, where His holiness is diminished, yet we do not leave because we love the prestige of belonging to a popular church and its anointed man of God. We stay because we believe our testimony is ‘on the way.’

We organise crusades not for salvation but for signs and wonders that point not to Christ but to the man of God. The man of God needs the hall full, and we need our miracles delivered quickly. God becomes a means to an end, the church another idol. The man of God does not truly care for us, and we do not truly care for him. It is why when a scandal breaks in church, our first impulse is not to pray but to gossip; and even when we pray, it is often only to protect our own interests. We never truly cared. It is why we find it easy to leave our Christianity at the door when our boss asks us to inflate figures at work or an opportunity appears to satisfy our lustful desires. We never really loved God or His commands.

We practice a Christianity that does not reach our hearts; our hearts stay stony. We lift holy hands in church on Sunday and practise wickedness every other day.

We are such terrible people because of sin, such deeply selfish people. But the tragedy is not merely that we are this way; it is that we do not even realise it! Our notorious, inflated self-image blinds us to the far-reaching consequences of our sin, and so we underestimate it. C.S. Lewis, in Mere Christianity, explains God’s relationship with time, and his insight helps us understand, if only a little more, just how dreadful sin is:

‘Almost certainly God is not in Time. His life does not consist of moments following one another. If a million people are praying to Him at ten-thirty tonight, He need not listen to them all in that one little snippet which we call ten-thirty.
If you picture Time as a straight line along which we have to travel, then you must picture God as the whole page on which the line is drawn. We come to the parts of the line one by one: we have to leave A behind before we get to B, and cannot reach C until we leave B behind. God, from above or outside or all round, contains the whole line, and sees it all.´

This concept of time is crucial in understanding why we so easily downplay our sins [and we should not]. We think in terms of past, present and future, but because God, the One whom we sin against, does not exist in time, He sees all our sins for all time at one time. Our past, present and future sins are already known by God. Since sin is not just the action but the potency, we must realise that when we see a seed, God sees the forest. With Adam, for example, God saw within his single act of disobedience the sins of the entire human race from the beginning until the Second Coming—his rebellion affected all. In the same vein, Christ’s eventual sacrifice also atoned for the sins of all and for all time (Romans 5:14–15).

This is an excerpt from Look at God Look like God: Maturing in Your Resemblance to Christ, my new book. It is a book that will redirect you to obey God by doing the first thing He requires of us above all else—to look at Him. For it is in beholding that we become.

It will slow you down enough to think about God.

Look at God is available for preorder at a discounted price here: https://visitmaranatha.com/lookatgod/

You can also click the button below to preorder:

See you on the other side. ✨

Oh shoot, I don’t know Jesus

Ogonna ‘Maranatha’ Nnaemeka — Thu, 18 Jun 2026 17:01:23 GMT

In 2021, I got born again after experiencing a romantic heartbreak.

Was it really a heartbreak if I cried while eating fried rice at my best girl’s place?

She thought I was unserious.

But I wasn’t. I needed enaji to cry.

It was also from her that I got to read my first, official Christian book—Good Morning Holy Spirit, by Benny Hinn.

Knowing what I know now, I’m not certain it’s a book I’d recommend to anyone. However, the principle is not lost even though the material I started with wasn’t the best.

Reading good Christian books is something like exploring. Think of being in school; each class has a curriculum and recommended texts for each subject. However, star students with big heads [like my little sister] don’t just stop at the recommended texts, they take it a step further by getting more books that explain the same topics in order to broaden their understanding of the subject.

THAT is it. That is IT.

The Bible is such a big, big, book. It is fascinating and I always imagine movies out of books like Samuel, Kings and Chronicles.

Yet, it takes the Spirit of God to read the Bible and not remain like a spectator at a museum, who sees everything but takes nothing when leaving.

I have been a Christian for about five years now, but I am only just realising that I don’t really know who Jesus really is. Just like, at some point, I didn’t really know who the Holy Ghost was—I thought He was a lesser version of God, not God Himself. My Lord.

It took me reading R.C. Sproul’s The I Am Statements of Jesus and John Piper’s Seeing and Savouring Jesus for me to see that my version of Jesus was more like a Greek demi-god than the actual Son of God.

I doubt anyone who hasn’t experienced this could get what I mean. And that’s ok. I do wish I could explain better.

I’m trying to say it took a book.

I’m trying to say that the Bible is the curriculum, and there are those God has blessed with theological curiosity and knowledge to help us really understand what the Bible is saying.

I’m trying to say that you shouldn’t limit your understanding of the Bible to what you understand, you should also seek to expand your understanding of the Bible.

Don’t get me wrong, our pastors are doing great, but even school required five days in a classroom and it was oftentimes a struggle to finish a curriculum. One day in a week doesn’t cut it. It doesn’t.

Christianity is an intellectual religion. It is one that positively expands the mind and broadens our capacity to assimilate true good and beauty. Such scholarship must be upheld. We don’t have to be theologians to read theology. We only have to be Christians.

In another article, I’ll write on why I believe every Christian should not only read but write.

For now, I’m inviting you to a new adventure—a place to start from. My new book, Look at God Look like God, is an exploration for the person struggling to understand Christianity or their Christian identity.

In Ebele Light’s words, ‘This is a material for those who are weary of labouring in the flesh but know that there is a labour required regardless.’

It is a book for those yearning for more… to know more, to understand more, in life, through Christ.

Get yours today at the discounted preorder rates with this link: https://visitmaranatha.com/lookatgod/

You can also use the button below:

Preorder Look at God

I cannot wait to have conversations about this book with you. ✨

Subject to futility

Ogonna ‘Maranatha’ Nnaemeka — Fri, 29 May 2026 19:30:48 GMT

I think it’s funny that humans are the only beings that can talk.

In fact, I think God made it intentionally so. He has such a sense of humour.

“Why does a good, all-powerful God allow suffering and evil?”

This is the most popular theological question in the world. And it’s humans asking it.

We wonder:

Why is there such pain and turmoil?
Why do our loved ones die?
Why do fortunes often change for the worse in an instant?
Why do both good and bad people get what they do not deserve?

The problem is that the problem is looking for the cause of the problem. And the problem thinks the problem is everyone and everything else but them.

The reason why there is evil and suffering in this world is that Adam, our first father, chose to sin against God, ripping us, his descendants, away from God’s plan and purpose for our lives.

I explain this in detail in Look at God Look like God, my soon-to-be-released book:

The end of the beginning unfolded in Genesis 3, when Adam and Eve devoured the fruit that contained death in its mesocarp. That tree was more than a forbidden delicacy; it was a choice—a decision to rule over themselves and do life apart from God, guided by their faulty wisdom. It was death, for a life without God is death. The results of eating the fruit would produce both spiritual and, eventually, natural death.

The world we live in now is a painful place to be in—a sharp contrast to the peace and joy in Eden. Every day, we face the loss of both people and things precious to us, and we wonder why. Good and evil wrestle, and good seems to lose more often than it wins. We witness injustice after injustice, and we wonder if there is a God in Heaven allowing all these things to happen.

However, the evil in this world has an origin: a choice made a long, long time ago by someone given the freedom to choose. This is why the battle between good and evil rages not just all around us, but most importantly, within us. In fact, we can trace the source of many evils around us to the evil within us.

Chapter four: Something’s Off
Look at God Look like God

If creation could speak, perhaps it would tell us the truth.

If the skies that beheld Adam on that treacherous day could bear witness, perhaps they would recall the sadness that hung heavy as Adam’s incisors bit into that fruit.

If the ground that held Eve’s feet could unveil its memory banks, perhaps it would disclose the terror it felt as they saw the rebellious glint in Eve’s eyes.

Perhaps.

For in sinning, creation also bore the brunt of humanity’s sins.

God cursed the ground.
God cursed the serpent above other animals, which means that animals also participated in the general condescension from their once-perfect state. In the narration of Noah, God put the terror of humans in animals so they feared us.

In sum, everybody collected.

What if we killed humans then?

So many superhero movies or cartoons revolve around the narrative of a villain trying to wipe out humanity, so the world can survive, while the antagonist tries to save the world.

Haha. If only.

Here’s why that will not work—it’s not God’s will.

Logically speaking, too, if there were no humans, who exactly would steward the earth? I admit some are doing a terrible job, but that doesn’t make the exception the rule.

The good thing is that we don’t have to figure any of these things out.

We only have to wait. We only have to wait for the salvation of the Lord.

18 For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.
19 For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God.
20 For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope
21 that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God.
22 For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now.
23 And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.

(Romans 8:18–23, ESV)

Let us wait. In our waiting, let us be kind to creation too.

Let us not curse the clouds for not bringing forth rain according to our will, nor the sun for not shining when we want it.

Let us be gentle with every good thing that God has put in our hands. For when the Master returns, we will give an account of how we have taken care of [or harmed] God’s creation. God does not joke with any of His creations.

My forthcoming book, Look at God Look like God: Maturing in Your Resemblance to Christ, is one that will renew your mind and set your heart ablaze with respect to the things of God.
It will refresh you.
And, if you allow it—by God’s grace—it will transform your capacity to [and the frequency with which you] ponder on the things of God.
At its heart, it is for the Christian who is struggling with understanding their identity as Christians and the freedom that comes with that identity. If you think deeply, many problems we face as Christians often come from a dearth in our knowledge of our identity in Christ.
The book launches soon, and I’d love your support. 🥺
First step? Joining the waitlist [linked below] to:
Support me
Have godly conversations and encouragement about our Christian journey (the great and not-so-great parts)
Get all the tea on this process as we move towards launching the book

What do married people do? IX

Ogonna ‘Maranatha’ Nnaemeka — Mon, 25 May 2026 19:31:03 GMT

Day one: 17/04/26. 17:43

‘I miss being in a relationship.’

My husband gave me the weirdest look.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I don’t know. I feel like we spoke a lot more when we were dating than now.’

‘Babe. It’s literally been all of two weeks.’

I started laughing. He’s not wrong. I’m the impatient one.

In truth, I don’t miss the dating stage in itself; I miss the part where there were fewer responsibilities. Now? I’m an entire wife and a living, breathing man [who loses oxygen whenever I’m not close to him] is my housemate.

Wiun.

The past weeks have been rigorous and a little isolated, with a lot of settling down. I miss my family. I miss church. I also suddenly have a problem with picking up calls immediately because there’s so much figuring out to do with setting up a house that more than half the time, I’m so exasperated, and I wait to be in a better frame of mind before having a conversation.

My friends have been so supportive, though, calling me and checking on me. I feel sooo loved and cared for.

It’s crazy. So crazy. I can’t wait to be reintegrated into society.

And why did nobody tell me about the price of curtains???

Mrs Kenneth-Jatto, Mrs Moro, and Mrs Akinosi, please come outside—on a straight line.

Day two: 19/04/26. 14:58

Again, this is strange. We’re at my parents’ after church—which was beyond wonderful, by the way—and I feel so sleepy. But knowing my current location is not my final bus stop is a new feeling that strangely gives me a weird kind of comfort.

Yesterday, at the market, I came to a startling realisation: I wasn’t like my mother; I am my mother. We’d finished with our purchases, and my husband just wanted to go home. I wanted to go home too, but it was not more than my desire for a good bargain.

Tsk tsk. Definitely not having him follow me to the market again.

I’ve taken a couple of things from the house: my mother’s mini mirror, my sister’s Italian wafers and some apples from the fridge—my family is baffled, and honestly, you’d think I’m homeless and have no food at home. But I’m still the child of my parents, whether they like it or not.

My mother is the sweetest. Lol. Despite her complaints about my open pilfering, she still offered us two takeaways of Sunday rice. She’s just lucky I already have some in my fridge.

I guess becoming a wife doesn’t mean you stop being a child, especially to your mother.

Day three: 07/05/26. 07:20

I’ve been trying not to lose my mind regarding my overhauled schedule. Our, actually, not just mine.

Yesterday, we were one month completely married, and it’s been a rollercoaster with aligning our schedules to work in a way that doesn’t make us feel like we were being dragged along by life instead of being in tune with it.

Both my husband and I had a sit-down to fix specific times for routine elements like sleeping, cooking, devotion, etc.

Who knows if it’ll work, though? 🤣

I’m learning to take things with a little bit of levity and lightheartedness, especially with the things we’re trying out for the first time in this housemate arrangement.

It’s definitely always better to try, but I have to remind myself, too, that failing isn’t an indictment. It only means discovering ways that don’t work—it’s not a sign of incompatibility, nor is it the end of the world.

And that’s ok. We do have forever to figure it out [by God’s grace].

Day four: 13/05/26. 10:01

I’m a very happy woman.

Today is one of those idyllic, perfect mornings that I wish I could have every day, but know I can’t, so I learn to live in them [and try to capture them] so I always have them near.

Abbie Gamboa’s Love Note is playing from the Home Pod. I just finished doomscrolling on Temu for household items [setting up our house is so much fun, until it comes to the payment part, of course]. I have a new dish I want to try making today, and, hopefully, I make it to church by evening. I’m thinking of spending some time with Tobiloba (our washing machine) if I can gaslight myself enough into multitasking.

My heart is full. God, thank You.

The painter came around yesterday and, I beg you, never paint your house after you’ve moved in—especially when it involves sandpapering. I almost regretted my decision because of the amount of cleaning I had to do, but the overall results were very, very pleasing. Pinterest 1, Maranatha 1; win-win.

It’s such an odd thing to really be delivered from workaholism.

It’s such a humbling thing to realise that putting family first looks like prioritising house chores and cooking over the work that pays me.

That my work suffering a little, or me being behind schedule with respect to my personal goals, is preferable to my family suffering.

It’s such an odd thing to settle it in my heart that my husband and I each have a designation in our home, and that those responsibilities must always come first—God is, after all, our first provider, but He won’t sweep my house for me.

I like it.

I only got to live alone for about a year before I had to return to my parents’. It was so cool. But living with my husband is even cooler than I ever expected.

My husband is such a friend.

I don’t know how to even explain it.

It’s like living with my best friend.

The man is a clown [but don’t tell him I said so].

And this is so much fun. So unreal, but still so much fun. When my husband is home, I often forget that other people even exist.

I don’t know if I’ll ever stop pausing mid-stroll, looking into his eyes, and saying, ‘I can’t believe we live together now; we’re going back to the same house. I can’t believe you’re my husband.’

When we’re out at night, nobody is calling me to question my whereabouts and ask when I’ll be back home.

Is this what growing up is like?

I feel like I need something I cannot now name to seal this my new reality.

Hehe.

Day five: 18/05/26. 21:31

I’m back here because I got trolled at church for abandoning this place. Loool. What have I gotten myself into?

[Shoutout to Folurin, by the way—he not only trolled me, but also trolled my husband. It’s the persistence for me 🤣].

Now, I’ve decided I should complete this piece as soon as possible.

By another way, it might be true that those having the most fun are not the ones documenting it. They’re way too busy having fun.

The question is: ‘Am I having fun?’

There are two things I wish were covered during our marriage counselling—or maybe if someone had told me.

How time-consuming marriage is.
How ordinary marriage is.

[Now that I think about it, my dad did imply number one in a couple of his pieces of advice to me. But I was shy, please. My dad is a marriage counsellor, by the way, it was too close to home, ok? 🫠].

Marriage is time-consuming:

Not in the sense that it takes so much time, but in the sense that my time is no longer just mine. It’s a very humbling thing to know that you are no longer fully your own person.

After salvation, marriage is the final step to losing your autonomy.

When I lived alone and with my parents, I owed my time to a great extent. I could eat when I liked, sleep when I liked, etc. It wasn’t like I didn’t care, but I have no covenant with my siblings or parents [to the best of my knowledge].

Not with my husband.

Everything that he does affects me, and vice versa.

If he sleeps early, it affects me.

If he sleeps late, it affects me.

If he has a stomach upset, it’s also my problem.

It’s like being a conjoined twin? I don’t know what that experience is like, so maybe my description is far-fetched.

It’s like being tethered to another person, for life.
[Have you watched Jordan Peele’s Us?]

Maybe it sounds a lirru’ scary when I say it like that, but it’s also the most beautiful thing when you think about how it’s a two-way street.

I’ve been on some eye medication this past week, and guess who has been waking her husband at 4 am to apply eye drops for her?

The craziest part is that I do not expect him to complain because, in this weird way, I feel entitled to it, like it’s my right.

Isn’t this whole marriage thing just funny?

At some point, I started to feel a little irked by the whole [lack of autonomy] thing and the family always coming first, but things have gotten much better with time and good counsel. Praise Jesus.

One of the funniest moments during counselling was when our pastor asked us both to say, ‘I am not my own, I belong to [insert partner’s name].’

It’s safe to say the reality of that statement is just sinking in.

Marriage is also very, very ordinary:

Life is the same. I still eat. I still sleep. I still tell dad jokes and eat apples with peanut butter. But I’m just doing it with a whole ‘nother person who is, for the first time, witnessing my ordinary life unravel before them.

Sometimes I do something normal, and my husband stares at me in disbelief. I have to remember that while it’s no news to me, it probably is to him.

It’s like seeing yourself through new eyes, and it is the most wonderful thing. It is.

But these moments are not necessarily daily occurrences, and even if we were to uncover something new about ourselves every day, most of the time would be spent doing regular-degular stuff.

It threw me off at the beginning, the ordinariness of it all.

It was something I’d been looking forward to, but I just didn’t think it would be that sudden. That constant. That near and frequent.

But I think it’s good.

Day six: 20/05/26. 13:20

I suppose it is time to bring this to a close.

Earlier, after another episode of my bad behaviour and in my husband’s forgiving embrace, I said to him: ‘It’s sad that the ones we love the most get to see the worst of us.’

He said, ‘Hm, I don’t think so. It only makes space for grace. If I see your flaws and do not forgive you, as I have been forgiven, then I am a hypocrite. My responsibility is to be predisposed to forgive you.’

I told him he was such a wise man.

He scoffed and said, ‘You’re only trying to get into my pants.’

Loool.

What do married people do?

All of a sudden, you’re married and can do all the things you were formerly forbidden to do. That’s crazy. Feels surreal. How do husbands and wives even act? The whole world knows what you’re up to. 🤭

While it feels like a lot has changed externally, it doesn’t feel the same internally. It feels like nothing has changed between my husband and me. Apart from the free body massages, it just feels like I get to spend a lot more time with my guy.

What do married people do, then?

I don’t know, I am still finding out.

They experience and embrace a new kind of comfort. The one that gives you so much, but also takes so much from you. My husband is quite tender, especially with me. His tenderness is the kind that has grown an optimism about people in my heart to replace my previous pessimism. The way my husband acts towards me has me expecting everyone to treat me with the same grace and optimism. But that won’t happen unless I too learn tenderness.
They have everything in common. It’s not my house, it’s our house… and so on. [When my dad handed over our wedding presents, he said to me, ‘Don’t think these are for you alone, everything we’ve given to you is for you and your husband.’ The man even went as far as putting both our names on the receipt. I PakiSTAN.]
They nurture each other to more life. I am seeing my husband grow and evolve in a way that nobody else ever will. I am experiencing new phases of my own life with him and his own life with me; it is the most beautiful thing. I really love my husband; he’s so precious to me. Once he leaves the house, I miss him immediately.

[Oh, daughter of Zion has fatally fallen, but fear not—she isn’t fatally wounded.] ✋

On Valentine’s Day this year, at the cinema, a [single] girl watched a throng of couples pass and shouted vulgarities at them. I’d like to think it was playful (in a worldly way)—the kind that happens on Valentine’s Day. But I also thought about how that was me, too, at some point. I longed for love and hid behind sharp, cutting words jesting at those who’d found it. Now that I have found it [or it has found me], I am so happy. I am so happy for those who get to experience being loved, wanted, and desired by that one person. I pray for those who seek it to find it too.

Love is beautiful.

While the wedding industry has been infiltrated by wolves, I believe it’s why people really gather—to celebrate love.

My wedding day wasn’t a meet and greet as I’d expected it to be. To date, I am surprised when someone who I didn’t see tells me they were at my wedding. To be honest, I barely saw anyone.

But it still means so much to me, every single person who came.

We received sooo much, so much from our community.

Apart from the gifts were the endless counsel. I initially felt so shy about the whole matter, but in hindsight, I see how serious this whole thing is—especially with how we’ve had strong disagreements over the silliest things. In the multitude of counsel, there is wisdom.

Coexisting in the same space with the one you love can be hard. But when I look on the bright side, it’s really bright. I’ve got new parents, new siblings, new family…a forever best friend.

God is good.

And all is well.

I am well.

An update: In case you missed it, I have been sharing about my soon-to-be-released book called Look at God Look like God. It is a book inspired by theological curiosity, sparked by the question, ‘How much can a Christian actually look like God?’ ‘ To what extent can a child look like the Father?’ ‘Or would it always be the on-and-off struggle with sin until we leave the earth?’

At its heart, it is for the Christian who is struggling with understanding their identity as Christians and the freedom that comes with that identity. If you think deeply, many problems we face as Christians often come from a dearth in our knowledge of our identity in Christ.

The book launches soon, and I’d love your support. 🥺
First step? Joining the waitlist [linked below] to:

Support me
Have godly conversations and encouragement about our Christian journey (the great and not-so-great parts)
Get all the tea on this process as we move towards launching the book

See you!

Mara Baby,
aka Lover Girl. ❤️

∞I’m on Substack from time to time, but I live at Visitmaranatha.com.

My Book Cover Design Mistake

Ogonna ‘Maranatha’ Nnaemeka — Fri, 22 May 2026 17:01:40 GMT

If you’ve wondered why the ‘God’ on my book cover for Look at God Look like God [my forthcoming book] is bald, here’s why. 😭

1.

Mistakes teach us in so many ways; this was mine, and it taught me that no matter what you think you know, a second pair of eyes is priceless.

In fact, God has given us many brothers and sisters in Christ so that, unless we absolutely must, we do not walk alone. I invite you, my sibling, to join me on this journey that we may look together.

JOIN THE WAITLIST!

Does God speak to you? How do you know?

Sat, 16 May 2026 10:45:52 GMT

I have never heard the audible voice of God before.

If I did, I do not remember.

Which is why I doubt that I have, because who forgets such a phenomenon as the voice of God?

Many people do not know that Maranatha is not my given name—at least not in the way we understand given names. I used to bear a different nickname [which I will not be sharing, for fear of public ridicule from those who knew me at the time I bore the taboo], but when the Lord wrapped me in His arms, He gave me a new name.

I did not hear it, nor did I perceive it in my heart.

I stumbled upon it in a place I usually wouldn’t be, and at a time I usually shouldn’t be there.

I was in school during my final year, in a hostel room that I shared with four other girls. At the time, I’d have wrapped up prayers to get ready for class, the only other person in the room stepped out, and I couldn’t resist the temptation to stay longer in prayer.

That was when the conviction regarding my old nickname came. I sat there and wondered what came over me to have accepted being called by the name. A name that meant nothing good. A name that affirmed an inherited loneliness that was never mine.

I knew it had to go.

But I also felt like something else had to take its place. As I started to read my Bible again, I recalled a sermon I’d written in an old jotter. I retrieved the jotter and initiated a search.

Because of my somewhat—I doubt it was as sharp as when I was in secondary school—photographic memory, I had a vague idea of where the sermon was. So, I flipped through the note fairly quickly. That was when I saw the name, Maranatha. Funny thing is, I had no memory of ever seeing it before that time, but apparently, I’d even written it down along with the Scripture I’d culled it from.

I knew it was IT.

It wasn’t an audible voice, God didn’t ‘say,’ or order me to change my name; but I did it because it seemed like a good thing to do—that I not only forsook a name that didn’t glorify God, but that I took up a new one that reminded me [and others] that ‘The Lord is coming.’

But besides this, there was a larger factor that sealed my confidence.

I am writing this for that person who doesn’t know how to know when they’ve received counsel from God. Or if what they’re doing is God’s will.

The one factor that assured me I was on the right path was the PEACE that came with making the decision.

God cannot be unheard when He wants to be heard. He speaks in so many ways, but the loudest of them, I think, is through the peace He gives.

If you make a decision and grow restive in your heart any time you think about it, it might not be God. For there cannot be turmoil where the Prince of Peace dwells.

That’s just how you know.

Wisdom is also vindicated by her children. When time passes, and the results of a decision contradict the Word and will of God, it becomes more apparent to all that such a conclusion was not sanctioned by God.

But this is not a POV we have at the point of decision-making. What we do have, what we always have access to, is ‘the peace of God that surpasses all understanding.’ The peace that keeps our hearts and minds in Christ. The peace that unburdens us, and we cannot explain how, but we know that all is well.

This is what God gives to all who come before Him with their frettings to lay them down before Him.

Yet, there is an even better way to know the will of God, to know for sure when God is speaking.

The best way to know God’s will is to know God.

My mother knows better than to ask me if I’m going to eat swallow at night. I always say no [Instagram dietary culture may or may not have me in a chokehold]. However, I never reject it when she puts a little in my mouth so I can ‘taste’ it.

That’s someone who knows me.

In 2 Chronicles 12:14, the Bible records that Rehoboam did evil because ‘he had not set his heart on seeking the Lord.’

Not because his mother, Naamah, was an Ammonite.
Not because his father, Solomon, became an idolater.
Only because he himself had not set his heart on seeking God.

When we reduce God to a genie, using Him like urim and thummim, for decision-making alone, we steal His position in our lives, and we commit evil.

Christ is our King.

And the Christian way is to be immersed in God and His Word in you. It is to seek God out to know Him so that His will becomes yours, and even in nuanced scenarios, you know so well the character of God that you are not in limbo trying to figure out if it’s God or not.

The Christian way is to LOOK.
To behold God and study His character.
Then transform and be conformed to that same image—whether or not there is a big decision to be made.

If we don’t, we will certainly commit evil.

For every step we don’t take towards God will lead us farther away from Him.

If we embrace the godless character of only seeking God out when we need to make an important decision, are we truly Christians?

My forthcoming book, Look at God Look like God: Maturing in Your Resemblance to Christ, presents an old perspective on seeking God, albeit in a fresh way.

It is an invitation to do what the Scriptures have always asked us to do: to behold God, so we become like Him. It is this one task that if we fail at, but succeed in everything else, then we have truly failed in life.

Come and partake in this gazing feast with us. I have opened a waitlist where you can join to:

Support me in this process (putting out a book like this is not beans, believe me)
Have godly conversations and encourage each other on our Christian journey
Get exclusive updates and bonuses as we move towards launching the book

As I always say, it is so good for our hearts when we combine a genuine curiosity about God with frequent conversations about Him.

Let’s look together.

Shall we?

Please feel free to copy the waitlist link from the button below and share it with your friends. Let’s grow together in Christ.

Look at God Look like God is a book about maturing in resemblance to God. It is what He made us and has saved us for–to look like Him, and to conform to the image of Christ.
The question is: How do we grow in this resemblance in our daily, mundane living?

And one last question, how do you know when you’ve heard from God?

Thank you for being here.
Your sister,
Maranatha. ✨

I cannot remember my first mirror, but it wasn’t a thing

Ogonna ‘Maranatha’ Nnaemeka — Thu, 14 May 2026 03:30:50 GMT

At a younger age, I firmly believed that I didn’t look at any of my parents.

My father was fair-complexioned.

My mother was darker, but she had tribal marks on either cheek, so I wasn’t in the mood to look like her. I surmised that I was a combination of different features from either of them.

But I grew older and realised that I not only looked like my mother, but this resemblance was also beyond the physical.

I laugh like my mother.

I can be quite introverted like her.

I also like to cook just like her.

When I first wrote the introduction to my forthcoming book, Look at God Look like God, that was what I had in mind—a resemblance beyond the physical, albeit one that gives the Christian a hope beyond the physical.

“See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him.”
1 John 3:1 NIV

Children should look like their parents.

Children often do.

When we examine our lives as Christians, we should have rest in our hearts from knowing that we are at peace with God and He is at peace with us.

We might not explicitly think, ‘I look like God,’ but this is what such a peace really connotes—the progression of our sanctification is geared towards conformity to the IMAGE of the Son.

Brethren, this is why we are here.

This is the sum of it all.

For better context, here is a snippet of my book’s introduction:

The Amplified Version of 2 Corinthians 3:18 says, ‘And we all, with unveiled face, continually seeing as in a MIRROR the glory of the Lord, are progressively being transformed into His image from [one degree of] glory to [even more] glory, which comes from the Lord, [who is] the Spirit.’
Look at that! Just as we’d look into a mirror to find our reflection staring back at us, we can look in the same way to behold the glory of God—and be affected by it! The power of the Holy Spirit transforms God’s children to look more and more like Him.
When we come before God, we seldom realise that we’re gazing at the face of the One whose image we bear—our first Father who shared Himself with us to make us who we are. In truth, God is the mirror that reveals not just what we think we look like but who we really are, in Him, each person to themselves. As Scripture implies, our vision of His glory is only mirror-like—imperfect [incomplete] and limited, just as our [spiritual] sight is. Yet in His love, God steps in to help our sight, by faith, until the perfect comes.
Reader, beware: we are not looking into this mirror expecting to see our own reflection. We are not staring at God to find our anxious, self-absorbed selves, scarred by the burdens of this broken world, looking back at us. We do not behold God to have our opinions confirmed or our assumptions blessed.
No. We behold God for the revelation of our truest self—the one not defined by the world, but by His Word. We look at Him so we may look like Him—filled with and living out love, joy, peace, and every fruit of His Spirit, radiating holiness. We fix our gaze on our Father to learn who we truly are as His children.

I’m particularly encouraged by the words in my book, and I believe that any Christian who truly desires to crucify their flesh will find it edifying.

Linked below is a waitlist where you can join to:

Support me
Have godly conversations and encouragement about our Christian journey (the great and not-so-great parts)
Get all the tea on this process as we move towards launching the book

As I said before, it is so good for our hearts when we combine a genuine curiosity about God with frequent conversations about Him.

Let’s unravel together.

Shall we?

Please feel free to copy the waitlist link from the button below and share it with your friends, let’s grow together in Christ.

Look at God Look like God is a book about maturing in resemblance to God. It is what He made us and has saved us for–to look like Him, and to conform to the image of Christ.
The question is: How do we grow in this resemblance in our daily, mundane living?

Thank you for being here.
Your sister,
Maranatha. ✨

—

Another angle I’d wanted to start this piece with, but it wasn’t connecting:

Our dog at home cannot see himself in a mirror. I didn’t know this explicitly; I just knew that whenever I put him in front of a mirror, he was more disinterested in it than in a familiar scent.

So, I did a Google search, and I found out that: ‘dogs can see their reflection in a mirror, but they generally do not understand that it is them. They often treat the reflection as another dog, leading to reactions like barking, play-bowing, or ignoring it. Because dogs rely primarily on scent rather than sight to identify others, a scentless reflection usually loses their interest quickly.’

Interesting, isn’t it?

———

You can boast in God, but not with Him

Ogonna ‘Maranatha’ Nnaemeka — Tue, 12 May 2026 17:01:42 GMT

I like things cute and tidy.

Like my books arranged in ascending order by height.

Like the bottles in the fridge on the same line.

Like the eggs in the crate evenly spaced out.

Like clothes on the line facing the same direction—my husband doesn’t get this, and frankly, I doubt he ever will. 🤣

Like publishing one book every year [since I got born again], exploring my theological curiosities and helping others where possible.

I got born again in 2021.

On my first anniversary, I released my debut book, The Devotional Cheat Code. It was one about establishing consistency in Christian devotion—especially prayer and Bible study.

The next anniversary, I published All you have to be is Light, a book about evangelism at the grassroots—from the Christian’s daily, mundane life.

By my third anniversary, I’d put out my first poetry collection, Staying Soft, a collection exploring different emotions and traumas, and how we can always find God at the centre, softening our hearts even through pain, suffering and all the million other emotions we don’t understand.

Then I noticed the pattern, and I jinxed it.

More accurately, pride entered my heart. It became a sales line for me in my writing business, something to impress people with.

Like I was the one who did it.

Like God was only an accessory to the fact of my genius.

I wasn’t boasting in Him, I was boasting with Him.

And that’s when things got blurry.

You see, I’d finished writing this book in 2023, and I TRIED to put it out. I tried.

Somehow, it never worked. Even now, I struggle to explain why it never happened, and I cannot. I just know it never did.

After finishing with Staying Soft in Q1 2024, it felt like I’d never write again. I had many ideas, but nothing clicked. So I stopped trying.

I’m a firm believer in writing without inspiration, but not when it comes to faith-based books. A theological book is not the Bible, certainly not, but you always need a good level of faith, as well as divine inspiration and guidance, to explain spiritual things even to yourself—how much more strangers?

You cannot do these things without God.

And it was in realising these things that I saw the error of my ways.

The Lord had mercy on me, and gradually, the desire to put out this fourth book was rekindled in my heart.

This was mid-2025. I think.

I invited my seniors in the faith to look at my manuscript—something I’d never done before—and when I saw the level of errors in it, I sat and wept. Some of them were akin to blasphemy.

Nkan be.

I started again.

I started again and, by God’s grace, this fourth book has done its work first in my own life.

Look at God Look like God is about setting our gaze on God, so we grow in our resemblance to Him—we are called to conform to the image of His Son. It is a book that will change your devotional life and the way you approach fighting the good fight of faith, if you let it.

It is a book that makes you look. And it is when we look that we really see.

I don’t say this out of confidence. After my earlier discipline, and till now, I have lost all confidence in myself. But the people whom God sent to guide me have given me feedback that doesn’t coddle my feelings but encourages me to do this good work that God has put in my hands.

So, here I am.

What can you do with all this information?

For one, there’s a waitlist [linked below] where you can join in to get all the tea on my journey through this process as we move towards launching the book.

I’d also love to have conversations about the different parts of this book as I share snippets and quotes from it.

It is so good for our hearts when we combine a genuine curiosity about God with frequent conversations about Him.

Let’s unravel together.

Shall we?

———

How to fight when you’re in love. VIII

Ogonna ‘Maranatha’ Nnaemeka — Fri, 17 Apr 2026 11:03:03 GMT

Day one: 07/03/26

I’ve been feeling bad about something. It’s my lack of foresight in this whole wedding planning thing.

I pride myself on being a good planner. But in this entire process, my lack of prescience in many areas, especially concerning the traditional wedding ceremony, has really stunned me and made me feel somewhat like a failure.

I know I’m not. Especially as this isn’t something I’ve done before. Having to plan my wedding and still work as usual haven’t been the greatest tasks to juggle at once. I’m barely keeping my head above water on some days. [I’m profoundly grateful for my family and friends stepping up to fill the gaps I cannot. I’m grateful for how this isn’t just my wedding, but our wedding.]

In this regard, I have to give profound kudos to my sister. For everything I didn’t see, she already saw and made plans for. Dhee, you’re amazing! If there’s anything I’d like to do for my first daughter, it’s to make her feel—at the right age—that I’m not only her mother, but something like her big sister, just as Dhee is to me.

Isn’t it amusing—how my logical explanation for my perceived failure still has no impact on my decision to withhold from me the grace I know I should give myself?

Tsk tsk.

Over 20 years with me, and I don’t understand myself on most days. I wonder how Lover Boy will manage. 🤣

Day two: 09/03/26. 10:20

I think I lucked out with Lover Boy. I don’t know how it happened, but I did.

We’d just finished resolving a conflict, and you know what this man says to me?

‘Can I say a few words before you go?’

Huh? I felt my Jericho heart walls perform a Lazarus, and I struggled to remember that this man is my partner, not my opp.

‘You’re such a good partner. You’ve been a good girlfriend and fiancée, and I am so blessed to have not ended up with anyone else. I think you’ll make such a great wife. I can only pray that God helps me be a good husband to you.’

Everywhere first blur.

I lucked out. I most certainly did.

I used to hate conflicts with Lover Boy. Whenever we had an issue, he became my enemy, and I’d retrieve whatever ammunition necessary to win the war—especially when I knew it would hurt him.

Eventually, I realised that I was fighting myself by fighting him. Unlike me, Lover Boy is a much better team player. He’s been teaching me, and I didn’t realise how much I’ve gotten better at it until…

We had marriage counselling the week before, and Lover Boy randomly praised how I handled a certain situation where he had offended me. That affirmation of my good behaviour did something for my heart. I cannot explain it. Which is why I think it’s a tender and essential thing to tell someone when you feel good or loved by something they have done. Reward—open praise, acknowledgement, a gift—assures a continuance more than silence.

Because of his praise—ngl, I was shy, but then again, this is the same man who, on a date, randomly looked at a waiter and asked him, ‘Isn’t my babe the most beautiful woman in the world?—I tried to follow the previous framework, and it actually worked. It worked.

Now I’m beginning to see that the point of conflict shouldn’t be to cause chaos but to improve order—after all, you’ve learnt one less thing to do to piss your partner off. It shouldn’t feel worse after a conflict, but better.

Day three: 10/03/26. 14:50

I’m at the airport, heading to my village after over 20 years.

I don’t think this will stop feeling surreal until maybe six months into my marriage? I’m about to be a wife!

For the first time, it’s really occurring to me how people work at the airport. I’m a huge fan of people-watching, but having to watch people not just getting about their day, but travellers leaving or coming into the city all day long feels weird.

No, not weird.

I just wonder what it’s like. I would make up a lot of wild stories.

I’m sleepy. I hope I don’t miss my flight.

Day four: 11/03/26. 12:35

My heart is full. Literally.

I’m in my village, a place I haven’t been in 20 years. When we first entered, it was like we were in a time warp—a place stuck in between the present and the past. Yes, there were modern buses, but there were more thatched roofs than the kind I was used to seeing.

So this is where I’m from?

It didn’t feel like home.

At least not until I got home.

The first person I saw was my little sister, my lookalike; she stood at the edge of my father’s compound trying to find network. My heart leapt within me. She left home to start school this year, and I missed her so much. I jumped out of the car to hug her. She’d gotten much darker, too.

‘Chai. Are you sure you made the right decision by going to school?’

She laughed and hugged me tighter.

I saw my brother next, who’d also been in school, and he smiled so widely as he collected my bags from me and said, ‘Prepare to be one with nature.’

My tush brother was barefoot, and it was quite dusty. If he, of all people, was saying that to me, then it had to be true. 🤣

Home definitely wasn’t the place. It is the people.

I met an aunt my mum had always been on and on about. And another uncle from my dad’s side. It’s quite nice to meet people like these. And they’re so welcoming even though they don’t actually know me.

It’s good to be home. Really home in every sense.

I’m about to follow my mum to the market now. My little sister said I’m behaving like a tourist. Me that won’t go to any market in Lagos if you bribe me.

Well, maybe. Byeee.

Day five: 17/03/26. 10:35

I cannot explain the current state of my life. It feels like limbo, and if there’s one place I detest, it’s limbo. Nothing looks like it used to. Not my devotion, not my work, not anything that are major markers of my daily life.

It’s not my favourite place to be.

I love a good routine. And if there were to be any disruption, I would like to be the primary cause. In this phase, there are so many disruptions outside my control, and it’s taking so much from me not to lose it.

I’ve gone past enjoying this whole thing. I need it to end. I thought I liked this break between my traditional and church wedding ceremonies, but mehnnn…

Last week in my village was good. It felt purposeful. I did some journaling:

It’s nice being at home. I wish I had got to come here more often [on short stays] before being given away in marriage. It’s quiet and peaceful. Maybe it’s something about seeing a lot of trees? I like it here. I really do. It feels like home, in my father’s house—of course, with family.

I wish to give my children something like this.

Daddy showed me Emeka’s grave. I’d asked my little sister, but even she didn’t attend the burial because she had to take entrance exams. He was buried close to daddy’s daddy’s house as per tradition.

The sun is red. We all slept outside on the verandah yesterday, which was cool—literally and figuratively. This has been quite the experience. Familial relations are really something, and it’s a good thing we don’t only get to experience it with blood relatives—some friends stick closer than siblings. It felt like we were in union. The boys are taking pride in working; fetching water, clearing grass, and just being generally useful, even my little brother, who doesn’t like work like that. Maybe it’s the lack of a good internet connection.

Most houses here have no fences. I wonder what it’s like to live life in a place like this.

Yesterday, at the market, I saw a blind man who didn’t look pitiable. If he weren’t with a stick, I wouldn’t have known he was blind. His face was lit up with a warm smile that made me feel like he was far better off than I was, just for his demeanour. For I had become weary with fatigue and longed for my mother to return so we could leave the pot seller’s stall. This woman, called my mother, eventually asked me to carry a chicken, and when I gave her the ‘it’s-you-and-your-husband-that-chose-to-raise-me-in-Lagos-why-are-you-asking-me-to-carry-a-chicken’ look, she shook her head and started laughing.

I’m looking forward to my fiancé and friends arriving today. It should be fun. I hope they’re not too worn out by the trip.

It was nice meeting Aunty V, mummy’s cousin. She’s a bit frail, and it’s obvious Mummy loves her so. It was her mum who raised Mummy.

I’m looking forward to seeing my second cousin, Ify—we met his mum at the market yesterday, and she gave us udara—who’s been so helpful, coordinating wedding planning locally, and some other relatives I haven’t seen in a minute. The house is getting fuller by the minute.

Maybe it’s the transition to Lagos life and capitalism that’s doing my head in. I don’t know. I was so restless yesterday that I cleaned out the fridge at midnight after wafting in and out of sleep the whole day.

God help me. I know this is all for my good.

As P Maj said, God knows how much enjoyment or suffering each of His children needs to look like Him. May He help me keep being godly in all I do, redeeming the time, for only godliness has value for all things both in this present life and the one to come (1 Timothy 4:7–8, NIV).

Maybe my devotion now lacks the structure that makes me feel good, maybe most of what I do is pour out my tears, but at least it is still God I’m crying to every morning.

It is well.

Day what? 05/04/26

I should be sleeping now. Ebele specifically warned me to sleep.

How can I? My mind is a mess.

I feel like I missed Easter this year—like Jesus died, and everybody got the memo but me.

It’s been so busy it feels ungodly. If I could undo one thing, it would be having an Easter wedding date.

Something odd is happening, too. There are more ticked items on our wedding planning checklist, and that means we’re getting to the end of this wedding season.

I can hear the silence that’s coming. It’s what I’ve yearned for these past months—for this to finally be over. Yet, as it nears, it feels … not good or bad, just new [like finally getting a break but not knowing what to do with it].

And I’m not sure how to prepare for that.

How do I prepare for what I do not know?

I feel like things are changing too quickly around me, even though I thought I was ready. Even though I’ve had months.

Even though I knew this was coming.

I guess the study materials aren’t the exam.

Earlier today, my mum was in my room when I put the finishing touches to my packing. After explaining my itinerary to her, it hit her that her house wasn’t my house anymore, not like before. I could see something [I cannot now name] on her face.

It made me wonder what the coming weeks would look like.

When you’re getting married, it’s like the world stops to behold you, and the spotlight is on you. Everyone is so supportive and graceful. I suppose it is fitting, given how stressful planning a wedding is. But why is wedding planning even stressful in the first place? It shouldn’t be. So maybe society is just paying its dues to me.

After our traditional wedding, we went to visit his parents, and upon my entry, his mum and grandma started singing a wedding song in their local dialect and spraying me with money. It was so delightful. So wonderful. I remember that now with a smile on my face.

My friends threw me a shower today. It was such a nice closer to the crazy week I had. I’m quite pleased.

I was telling Ebele about how a kind of suffering I’ve had to endure in this season is my plans going in the extreme opposite direction of how I’d set them.

In all of these, God has remained righteous, and I, His child, well taken care of.

There’s something about the newness of this season that makes me wonder, a little, though I know God will give me what is good. It is how my needs have started to change, and I wonder how my existing social and mental structures will evolve or dissolve in response to those needs.

New name.
New address.
New life.
New routines.

I don’t know mehn. I don’t know.

It’ll be my wedding day in three minutes. I should really get some sleep.

Day what again? 10/04/26. 10:01

We’re heading home today. ~~Lover Boy~~ My husband and I.

I woke up feeling blue. We’ve been in a bubble since after the wedding, and now we’re going home.

I don’t wanna go to Laygursss. I don’t want real life right now.

My husband noticed, and he tried to make me laugh. As usual. We entered the bathroom to brush our teeth, and after he put toothpaste on my toothbrush, I put out my hand to retrieve it.

But he already put it under the tap to wet it first, and I said, ‘I don’t do that.’

To which he responded, ‘Well, now you do. You’re not a wild animal.’

I think I broke a rib laughing. I cannot explain in English why I found that so funny.

Some days back, I was speaking with my mum, and she told me how she’d come out of her room that morning expecting to see me at my table studying my Bible and when she didn’t, it hit her how I wasn’t her tenant anymore.

Wiun.

On Tuesday, I realised something a little devastating. I asked my husband:

‘Am I short-tempered?’

He laughed in that is-this-woman-tryna-set-me-up kind of way. After much denial of his assumption, he goes, ‘You cannot just be realising that.’

It’s an arrow to my chest. Especially because I’d often complained about this same thing with respect to my dad. How could I possibly be the same way? Why me? The apple didn’t even try to stray far away from the tree.

Then I look at him even more incredulously now.

Why are you here?

The other day, I saw a cat at a frozen food shop. It was sniffing a crumb of chicken under the table. Instantly, I felt pity. But almost immediately, I remembered that the God of the universe opens His hand to satisfy every living thing. I must not pity His ways of showing mercy.

P Sam always says that marriage is a means of grace. Would I need grace if I were perfect?

Day Valar Dohaeris: 13/04/26. 15:35

I have to ask for your forgiveness at this point.

When I write, I sometimes get carried away, and now, I am only just remembering the point of this piece.

In any case, I’m thankful that I have never positioned myself as an artful provider of questions that plague the human heart concerning love.

I can only give my paltry two pence. Let me quickly get to it now:

On the matter of conflict, it is always easier to walk away. But the hard thing is what one usually needs to do. One needs to stay.

Staying is how you fight when you’re in love.

You’re not fighting each other, you’re fighting for the relationship.

My husband is a better person at this conflict resolution thing than I am. When we have issues, I see him as an opp and call him by his government name, but he still calls me ‘babe.’ He should be the person writing this, if any. But since we are now joined together as man and wife, I believe I can wield his thoughts and communicate the things he has shown me.

My husband rarely leaves when he is angry or upset. He stays. It reminds me of my devotion to God. Sometimes I have nothing to say when I want to pray. Sometimes it’s sorrows and sighs. Sometimes it’s tears. But the Holy Ghost encourages me to stay. And the longer I stay, just sitting at His feet, the better I feel. I literally feel my heart getting lighter with each passing second.

I cannot explain the mechanics of the healing power of staying. But, by Abba, it works.

During conflict, staying gives you time. While time doesn’t heal, it can dim the heartache you feel [as long as you’re not determined to hold on to anger] and soften your heart to let go and forgive.

I used to feel like my time was wasted in staying and having hard conversations—couldn’t we just sweep it under the carpet or address it later? I used to feel that I could use the time to do something more productive—but where does every sin begin? From a heart filled with weeds rather than good fruit. How productive could such a heart even be?

God Himself asks us to forgive and resolve pending issues with others before bringing ourselves or our gifts to Him. You see that it is crucial to weed the heart of every possibility of sin. If malice is breeding within us, it is in the heart that it first domiciles.

What happens when we stay is that we begin to table every issue that led up to the conflict until we get to the root. We lay it all out. Eventually, it starts to feel airy again, and usually, my husband tells an inappropriate joke to break the ice. Then I ask if he’s eaten and share random updates.

Along the line, I get to the point where I remember that this person is the apple of my eye. [If I don’t, well… that’s another conversation.]

A hardened heart is a dangerous thing.

I highly recommend resolving an issue as soon as possible. Whether you’re the type who takes time to process things, and you have a partner who likes to resolve issues immediately, find a way that works for both of you. It could be the time cap method, where either person gets maybe an hour or two to process things before they have to talk about it. For extra spice, whoever defaults can undergo a kind of punishment as a deterrent.

Don’t let the sun go down on your anger.

Don’t sleep with hurt in your heart. The heart is such a fragile thing; help it as much as you can by not giving the devil a foothold and letting the wrong things fester.

The Bible’s directive is to forgive 70x7 times. To hold on to unforgiveness, or to take time to let go, is to hold on to an idol whose approval is more important than God’s. [Tim Keller said this about false guilt, and I think it also applies here; for if we do anything contrary to God’s Word, we are also saying there’s an approval other than God’s that we seek.]

Here are things I’m learning in conflict resolution:

After apologising, learn to fix things. Tell a joke. Make them smile. Buy them kiwi frozen yoghurt from Pinkberry [my husband, this one is for you, ICYMI].
Watch your tone.
Don’t bring up your issue with them when they bring up theirs with you.
Watch your tone.
Don’t call them their government name because you’re unhappy with them. Attach endearments to every sentence. It helps. ‘Babe, I don’t like that thing you did,’ is very different from, ‘Maranatha, I don’t like that thing you did.’
Watch your tone.
Don’t be harsh or say things just to hurt the other.
Watch your tone.
Never assume. Ask. Don’t have conclusive thoughts when you don’t have the whole story. Invite them to defend themselves. Instead of, ‘You did that to spite me,’ say, ‘I feel like you did that to spite me. Or even better, ask, ‘Did you do that to spite me?’
Watch your tone.
Watch your words during conflict. Remember, things cut deepest from the one you love the most. ‘I’m sorry’ is easy to say, but scars don’t fade as easily.

‘A gentle answer turns away anger, but a harsh word stirs up wrath.’
(Proverbs 15:1 CSB).

‘The mind of the righteous person thinks before answering, but the mouth of the wicked blurts out evil things.’
(Proverbs 15:28 CSB).

Walk by the Spirit, and you will not fulfil the desires of the flesh. Let God remain your greatest good, and you will treat your partner with the love they deserve because you will be overflowing with the love of God.

In the end, the only reason we won’t kill another is by pleasing God.

One thing my husband does to snap me out of my wickedness is when he asks me, ‘This thing you’re doing, is it Christ-like?’

It hurts. But it works.

We can only find the perfect fulfilment of earthly joys in God. So when our loved ones fall below expectation, we must look to God. Not as a one-off, but as a practice. We must reflect God, especially when pushed to the edge.

In the end, to love is to send pain an invite to your heart, saying, ‘Make yourself at home.’ Let us not shrink in fear when it shows up.

—

My husband’s reaction to this article (after a month’s hibernation):

—

Mara Baby,
aka Lover Girl. ❤️

∞I’m on Substack from time to time, but I live at Visitmaranatha.com.

Is marriage changing my desires? VII

Ogonna ‘Maranatha’ Nnaemeka — Sun, 22 Mar 2026 11:45:36 GMT

Day One: 14/02/26. 10:01

Today is Valentine’s Day. My first proper Valentine’s. Yesterday, Lover Boy asked if I was looking forward to it, and I realised that it wasn’t what I’d have handpicked.

I’ll explain.

This entire week and the weeks leading up to it have been filled with wedding-planning activities, as expected. I’ve been so overwhelmed this week. I got on a work call with my boss and started crying. The man was too stunned to speak. I thank God for such a kind boss as I have; he simply rescheduled for Monday and checked in on me later that day.

Again, the financial burden is not comparable to the weight of expectations from either side. It’s not.

Wedding planning hasn’t allowed me to doom-scroll and consume love content on the internet—while simultaneously cringing at relationship people and hating on single people—or banter my single friends, or post that ‘Where’s your Valentine, he’s unavailable…’ video as I always do.

This is Lover Boy’s first Valentine’s Day in a relationship. But not mine. However, mine was a terrible experience that ended in tears. I should be more excited, just because of that, but…

Lover Boy’s excitement is so palpable, though. I’m on the phone with him; he’s playing FIFA on his PS with his twin, and the joy seems to be infecting me.

I spent all night on Thursday putting his gift together. I hope he likes it.

Day two: 23/02/26. 09:54

I’m getting married in less than a month! My traditional wedding is in less than three weeks.

My analytical brain is firing into action, which means a checklist:

Take the week off at work (for both the traditional and church weddings)
Put things together at The Writer’s Writer so the business doesn’t suffer. Thank God for Summer
Start packing!

I’m happy. I’m so happy. In all the pressure of wedding planning, it hasn’t once crossed my mind that, ‘What if he’s not the one?’

Lover Boy is such a precious gift to me.

He’s so kind. He looks at me with a kind of tenderness I could do nothing to deserve. He cherishes me. He cares for me. He adores me.

It’s the smallest things: how he looks at me with disdain when I try to get any door 🤣, how he helps me without hesitation … When I was younger, my parents and siblings always said that I had to marry a king, or at least a doting man, because of my seemingly endless need for acts of service.

It’s safe to say that I’ve met my king.

Thank You, God, for this man.

Thank You.

Day three: 27/02/26. 21:38

Today, I had the first fitting for my court and church wedding dresses.

I actually love Eunice [@eikoni]. I only told her that I wanted a 2-in-1, halter-neck dress for my wedding. If you see what she produced?

Lover Boy and I have agreed that we don’t want visitors in our house for the first six months, but Eunice is definitely an exception.

I’m so happy.

It’s been quite the stressful week trying to get ahead with work so that the week of my traditional wedding is work-free. This has been such a highlight.

I’m so happy. Gosh. Stupidly happy.

Earlier in the week, my dad called me, and said I sounded like I was ill—because I was. So he asked, ‘You’re having wedding fever, abi?’

I actually started laughing.

After this week, I have less than a month in his house, and I can’t even wait!

Wedding fever ke?

If anything is stressing me, it’s the planning itself. Especially after the photographer my dad recommended for the traditional wedding sent me a portfolio of his work, and some of the couples were posing in heaven. I wonder how he’s still on earth.

But, to be honest, this wedding planning phase has gone so well because of the kind of partner I have. It’s like the more the days go by—and they don’t go by fast enough, in my opinion—I love him more and can’t wait to be married to him.

In the midst of all this, something that’s really helped is finding an independent way to de-stress; for me, it’s reading just before bed, and for him, it’s playing games—although I’d recommend a hobby that doesn’t depend on NEPA.

More importantly, I think it really helps that Lover Boy and I talk about everything. Because the more connected we feel—and are—to each other, the fewer offences are taken, or issues spiral.

In this wedding planning phase, there are so many decisions being made within a small timeframe that it’s inevitable for friction to occur and offence to spring up.

So, something we try to do is be even more intentional about staying connected by doing things together. Even for important stuff like work that creates the urge to quickly get things done, I’ve found that a more efficient way is to ask for help or involve him:

It becomes our problem, instead of my problem
Lover Boy feels prioritised—which is primary—regardless of whether I have a thousand and one things to do
Even if it seems to slow things down in the beginning, it actually propels things faster, and most importantly, we’re both happy at the end of the day

I have to keep remembering that I love this person. That nothing matters—after God—more than him. That even when I’m caught in deep work and trying to get things done, as I often am, I have to involve him so I don’t get to the other side with regrets. For my desire is no longer to just get things done, but to get them done in such a way that gives my heart rest.

I have to remember that God has given me this person not just for his sake but for mine. So I must treasure him. Treasure his heart. Treasure his time. Care for him. Be tender with him, especially in my speech.

Day four: 04/03/26. 22:18

Skia called me earlier today. Adulthood means multitasking with work and catching up with your friends because the free time you get is not enough to catch up with everyone.

I told her I was tired. Because I really was. I’d been at my desk since 9, only rising to get breakfast, then lunch, and it was almost 5.

But she didn’t allow me to be. Especially when I raised my concerns about going to the village. Eventually, by virtue of her persistence, I began to see the bright side of things:

One week without my computer? That’s a holiday. I want it. I need it. [Even though I wouldn’t be trying to accelerate things if I wasn’t travelling anyway. But let’s pretend. 🤣] In 2024, Skia and I went to Redemption camp on a retreat, and it was one of the most restful periods I’d ever had. I love anything that allows me to get away from technology and be closer to nature. The girl knows.
I’m also looking forward to seeing Emeka, my brother’s, grave. When we lost him, I was writing exams, so I only got to know after he was laid to rest. I know he’s not in the ground, but still …

Yesterday, I spent the day at my friend’s, Temi’s. I still cannot believe how restful it was, and how much fun I had carrying her baby boy and building Legos with the older one. The mistake I made was carrying my computer with me; I should have left it at home.

I used to think I didn’t like children, so I shied away from even interacting with them. I wonder if it’s marriage that’s changing my desires. Temi and I were talking about how a major bulk of the trauma we carry into adulthood is from our upbringing. More than anything, this realisation strengthens my desire to be present for my children and raise them in the wisdom of God.

And it makes so much sense.

Half the work in your spouse's life is done by their parents.

Day five: 05/03/26. 21:45

Today has been a long day. This has been a long week of long days.

I was at the salon earlier to touch up my hair colour. I wanted ginger, like before. I got wine.

I really tried to move past it. I did. I headed to the nail salon to get my nails done, and they turned out quite fab.

But guess who started crying when Lover Boy unexpectedly showed up at hers because she’d randomly said, ‘I miss you. I want to see you.’

Of course, he said I was still the most beautiful woman on God’s earth. Of course he did. Lana wouldn’t have had to sing that song if she had a man like Lover Boy.

I didn’t think the colour made me look uglier, it just wasn’t me. Ginger was me. But after all the money I paid? It’ll be fine. It’s ok. Besides, I hold my life in my hands every time I colour my hair. It is well.

Wine or ginger locs, I’m about to be a wifeee.

Hm.

Maybe it’s not bad that marriage is changing my desires. It’s a new season, why should I remain the same? May the Lord give me ease, I pray.

I was on the phone with one of my friends, and he was expressing his desire for marriage and how he hopes to settle down in the near future.

It was beautiful to contemplate the whats and hows. I knew this person when this desire was not even on his horizon—at least, not to this extent.

We’re growing. We’re really growing. And I’m so happy for everyone.

Something Lover Boy often says is that he doesn’t want us to get to our destination tired, but with joy and glee, with excitement and love. God help us.

I believe it really starts with how we handle the process. Especially understanding that we will face many imperfections or failures in the process—like wanting ginger-coloured locs and getting wine—but God will use it for our good and His glory.

Which is really all that matters.

Besides, Lover Boy said he’s always wanted to date a redhead. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt in this relationship, it’s that doing something solely for my partner’s happiness can be enough. It is enough.

P.S.: Why is he calling me his redhead baddie? Someone remind this man I’m a daughter of Zion.

Mara Baby,
aka Lover Girl. ❤️

∞ I’m on Substack from time to time, but I live at Visitmaranatha.com.

Friendship in romance: a slippery slope. VI

Ogonna ‘Maranatha’ Nnaemeka — Wed, 11 Feb 2026 13:24:21 GMT

Day One: 15/01/26. 11:50

I have a meeting in ten minutes, but there’s a thought tugging at my chest that I have to entertain. I did promise myself to be more present and mindful this year.

After our last article, and celebrating 100 subscribers on Substack courtesy of this series, this familiar temptation showed up—the one where I feel the pressure to be more consistent [and post more] for the sake of the numbers. I told Lover Boy, and he said, ‘Luckily for you, you need me to create your content.’

So prideful, that man. He doesn’t know I’ve made him a celeb.

Anyway, I didn’t think it was anything, but apparently, alluding to wedding planning in my last piece got me more than a handful of congratulations. I thank everyone. It was so encouraging. Thank you.

Earlier in the year, Lover Boy and I were doing a review of the past year of our relationship using this template we found on Instagram. It was quite eye-opening. Something stood out to us: how we had become very good friends.

We had become very comfortable bantering with each other and just being each other’s nemesis (especially me, most importantly)—just as friends would.

It’s been very cosy. But it can be dangerous too; a slippery slope. I once saw a video about how tricky it can be when a couple start out as good friends before becoming romantically involved. God forgive me, I sneered. I didn’t get it. It felt like a rich person telling the poor that ‘money is not everything.’ I was simple. God forgive me.

Now I see, I actually see.

Being friends with your partner means being very familiar with them. Guess what familiarity breeds? Contempt. While contempt can be an extreme way to describe this phenomenon, and it often doesn’t get to contempt immediately—though it can, eventually—I think I can describe it, at least superficially, as the possibility of taking each other for granted.

It doesn’t show in very obvious ways, but here are some I’ve noticed:

A hurtful jab at your partner based on information you have only because you’re their partner. While it can be innocent banter, it can very often cross the line.
Friendship overpowering romance, where you get very comfortable being friends with your partner that you forget to put intention into making them feel loved. The effect of this is that they start to feel under-appreciated and/or taken for granted. And this is the crux of my thoughts this morning.

I’ve been quite guilty of the second point. Instead of being intentional about romancing this man that God has given to me, I just do the things that naturally occur to me. The bummer is that we don’t have the same love languages, so while he would appreciate these things, it doesn’t quite hit the target.

So, what do we do?

Day two: 17/01/26. 07:40

I’m smiling as I write this. I’m barely awake, but I just got off the phone with my dad. I’m actually laughing now because it’s so cute to realise, again, how much my father loves me.

He’s fussing over this entire thing much more than me!

He’s the one person consistently asking for updates, and he keeps reminding me to keep him in the loop about the wedding planning. It was just like this with him, too, for my first book launch early last year, how can I forget? It’s been priceless and very comforting knowing that this thing is not in my hands alone.

I wake up to his calls almost every morning now. I think I’m going to miss that after this wedding season is done. My dad is my literal first love. I’m a writer and bookworm just like he is. He bought me all my first books. I’ll admit there was some friction at the beginning of this thing, but with more clarity and direction, it’s been fantastic.

I’m going to miss the priceless support from my friends, too, not to forget our constant exchange where I tell them to be nice to me or I won’t give them real-life relationship advice (I’m the first in my circle to be married, so this is a very heavy responsibility on me), and they plead with me, sarcastically of course, to have mercy on them.

My girls are the best.

I believe God used at least two things I’m aware of to prepare me for this:

Being a bridesmaid at my friend’s wedding: This opened my eyes to the reality of weddings. Before then, I’d never been at the backend of a wedding—things are literally just yearning to go wrong! It’s non-negotiable to have people who will make you laugh and create good memories, even about the bad parts.
Some advice a recently married friend gave me: She said, ‘No matter what happens, do your best to manage your emotions.’

Day three: 01/02/26. 19:23

The sun is setting; I can see its orange glaze as I look out my window. My vision is quite clear because I have my prescription contacts on. I’ve been out the whole day, and I have to take them out soon because the longer I wear them, the more I can feel that something’s in my eyes—almost like the passage of time increases their weight.

I wish I didn’t.

I wish I wasn’t shortsighted and could always see clearly.

I wish I didn’t have to depend on glasses and contacts to attain clear vision—it’s like a light goes off and the world goes dim when I take off my glasses.

I wish clear vision wasn’t something I had to attain. I wish I could see clearly.

Lover Boy is calling me now. Gotta run.

Day four: 05/02/26. 07:31

I’ve found myself listening to Audrey Assad’s It Is Well With My Soul at least three times in the morning and singing it throughout my day.

Wedding planning is testing my sanctification.

I saw online, the other day, a video where someone argued that the cause of wedding stress is mostly monetary. I strongly disagree. Even Temi Otedola and Mr Eazi, who can be used as a template of over-average financial capacity, shared on their podcast about how stressed they were because of family expectations—that’s the real stress.

Bride and groom want A.

Bride’s father wants B.

Groom’s mother wants B and F.

Bride and groom are stressed.

I’m not undermining the role of money, but money problems, in this context, can be mitigated with proper planning, a disregard for comparison and societal standards, and adequate budgeting.

Besides, it’s not today that money started showing me pepper.

I think a reason why people blame money is that, on the surface, money can solve many problems, especially if one has a lot of it. You won’t have to think too much to make certain decisions. I wholly agree.

However, I believe the real cause of financial stress [for the average man of which I’m part] is that not having so much money to splurge forces you to figure out what you actually want, not just go with what society—or the ostentatious wedding industry in Lagos—prescribes.

At least, it did that for me.

The alternative is to spend money you do not have on the things you do not actually want. And I’d honestly rather tear my money and eat it.

At every point now, especially when I get an invoice, I have to remember to ask myself if this is what I want or just what I think is normal. I favour the shame and foolishness of rescinding a decision upon the descent of wisdom over the angst of regrets.

It’s not been the easiest thing, but here’s what I’ve discovered—who I am hasn’t really changed. I’m still that girl who didn’t have visions of her dream wedding day. Heck, at some point, I thought I’d never get married.

Beyond theory to the practical, I’ve always known that I didn’t want a regular Nigerian reception, and every wedding I’ve attended has solidified that resolve. After spending all that money on decorations alone, my guests should entertain me and not the other way round. I’ve also always known that I didn’t want to wear asoebi or have my girls wear it. It just wasn’t my aesthetic.

In practice, though, wanting these things is apparently ludicrous and substandard. My tailor did a double-take when I told her I wasn’t wearing the regular asoebi lace for my wedding. I nearly cowered under her shock and displeasure, but then I asked myself, ‘Who is she to tell me what is good for me?’ This is a question I’ve had to ask myself about every piece of advice I’ve received—and I’ve received a lot—in this phase. Why can’t they just send me money instead?

Don’t misunderstand me, this question must not be asked condescendingly but humbly, so here’s a better rephrase: ‘What credentials does this person have to tell me what is good? Is their advice really in consideration of what is good for me or what is comfortable for them? Are they projecting? Will this be worth it in two months? Will I look back and be glad I did this?’ I think if one can honestly and prayerfully answer these questions, they’ll find in the answer what is actually good for them.

Shey you can see how this entire thing has become a battle for my faith?

Toh.

Day five: 09/02/26. 15:59

I know this shouldn’t be news at this point, but I actually love Lover Boy. I don’t even recognise myself at this point.

We had a fallout recently, and the heartache I feel whenever we’re not good has intensified. I’m not joking now.

I’m wondering if this is how it’s supposed to be.

Indeed, to love is to suffer.

Yesterday, he was sick and couldn’t make it to church, and I felt like I was all alone. Every day, I’m realising that I’d rather face this trying wedding planning phase again than be without my love.

What am I even typing at this point? Forgive my ramblings, I feel like the lady in Songs of Solomon. All these relationship people. 🙄

Let us get back to the matter at hand: about friendship in romance. The thought first occurred to me one morning after praying—and that’s how I know God totally loves my man 🤭—and it got me thinking.

In our Christian walk, we are plagued by forgetfulness, but the Bible gives us a way out: the Holy Spirit brings to our remembrance.

In my devotion, one thing that always happens is that I am led to do things daily that glorify God: it could be sharing His Word, fulfilling a promise I made, reaching out to someone [with encouragement], praying for someone, etc.

What if I apply this to my relationship: what if I do something every day to make Lover Boy feel special [based on his love languages, not mine]?

It could be an epistolary declaration of love, a random gift, lunch, etc. Just something that says, ‘I see you.’

We all have this need to be seen—to be naked before another person without judgement and to have our lives be witnessed by them. Because of this need, love requires that we pay attention. In fact, how do you will the good of another if you do not pay attention to them?

Tim Keller said, in The Meaning of Marriage, that if your partner is not next in your heart after God, they’ll feel it. I thought it was odd, but by God, it is true. It is true.

It’s so novel to me how much a relationship demands.

How one person has to be the apple of your eyes.

How we must outdo one another in showing love.

Being in a relationship can be quite freeing because there’s no pressure to perform. True. But at the same time, love shows in action.

Since life doesn’t get any easier as we ascend in adulthood, a structure helps, especially in tough times.

Why do we have KPIs at our jobs?

Lover Boy and I started reading a new book in December, William Gouge’s Building a Godly Home: A Holy Vision for Family Life, and something the author said struck me:

If family duties be well and thoroughly performed, they will be enough to take up a man’s whole time. If a master of a family is also a husband of a wife and a father of children, he shall find work enough.
Therefore, if they who have no public calling, be that much more diligent in the functions of their private callings, they shall be as well accepted of the Lord as if they had public offices. Besides, who knows not that the preservation of families results in the good of church and nation?

If all we do is dedicate our lives to our families, we’d do the world a greater favour than working at a tech startup. I believe my folks did their best, yes, yet there are many flaws in me that I can directly trace to how I was raised. I want to do better for my family.

As someone who’d been worried about whether wanting a simple life caring for family is enough, this calms my soul. I don’t think anything can compare to the godly task of raising a godly family.

I don’t think so.

God help us all.

N.B.: My first poetry collection, Staying Soft, is on sale this week until Valentine’s Day [extended to 21st February now]. It was Staying Soft that led to my journey of vulnerability, as expressed in my pieces. It was Staying Soft that opened up in me a dam of emotions I didn’t know I had and freed me enough to feel safe [in my King] to express these often unspoken thoughts without feeling like it was a weakness.

I think that this is easily a beautiful [standalone] gift to self or a loved one on the journey to finding healing, vulnerability and softness in Christ; each copy bought within the slated timeframe will be autographed with a personal note from me to the recipient. I’ve also decided to fix the delivery rates based on location so that the fees do not fluctuate.

Do head to: Visitmaranatha.com/product/softie to get yours, or tap the button below.

Get Staying Soft Here

Mara Baby,
aka Lover Girl. ❤️

∞I’m on Substack from time to time, but I live at Visitmaranatha.com.

Staying Soft: how does that even happen?

Ogonna ‘Maranatha’ Nnaemeka — Wed, 28 Jan 2026 17:37:37 GMT

Around this time last year, I’d just launched my poetry anthology called Staying Soft. It was a culmination of a year of noticing the work the Lord had been doing in my heart: breaking down walls, softening me, and teaching me again what it meant to love both God and His people.

People who follow my writings about my love life often ask how I can share so intimately. I do not know how to answer because I am as surprised as they are. Every time someone tells me they follow my Substack, I can feel my face burn with embarrassment—thank God for melanin—because I myself am still getting used to expressing these feelings. They’re new to me, too.

I share mostly as an act of obedience, as well as my desire to preserve, even as I teach others what I am learning. The price of embarrassment is worth it, I believe.

Today, as I reflect on my book launch of last year, from the support of my family and friends, the guest speakers who edified us, to the wonderful reviews this book has gotten, another piece of the puzzle snugly fits in—it was Staying Soft that started all these! It was Staying Soft that opened up in me a dam of emotions I didn’t know I had and freed me enough to feel safe [in my King] to express these often unspoken thoughts without feeling like it was a weakness.

Staying Soft taught me to feel. How could it not?

I would wake up with tears in my eyes, and all I’d be able to do was write another poem.
I would wake up with joy in my heart and voila! Another poem.
I remember going down so many hurtful memories that I never really healed from and getting closure when I finally wrote them down.
I remember deciding to write some of the poems in Igbo and the beautiful moments I spent with my father as he helped me translate.
I remember my decision to add the date of creation to each poem, because it provided a winding path of healing to journey through.

It was novel because I never considered myself a poet, and I did roll my eyes at myself from time to time for becoming what I’d often mocked. Literature in secondary school made me hate poetry. But look at this, only poetry could describe the songs my soul was singing. So, poetry I wrote.

It was a miracle. I tell you. You have to read the book to understand.

Get your 50% off Staying Soft here

I was what you’d call a ‘hard guy,’ and I took pride in it. I didn’t know or like to show any feelings or emotions. Lover Boy calls me stoic now, but God knows he would have seen premium shege if he’d met me before Staying Soft.

Gosh. God helped me with this book. He helped me beyond what I deserved. I shake my head as I write this because hardness stole so much from me. I had so much healing to do, but I hid behind books and theology that I almost missed the point of theology: loving God and His people, and doing so vulnerably.

There is simply no other way to love God. No other way but vulnerability. No other way.

If you’re reading this and thinking,

‘Is this me too?’
‘Is hardness stealing from me?’
‘Am I putting up a tough front to protect myself?’
’Is my theology more about performance without intimacy?’

Then I think this book will do you a lot of good. If you’re averse to poetry, I assure you that this is one you’ll barely notice is poetic—the content will do you good regardless of its form. Apart from highlighting softness and healing, there are endless themes it explores, from food, sickness, situationships, unforgiveness, to many other mundane things that make up what we call life. It tries to be exhaustive. It tries.

From now until the 14th of February, Staying Soft will be available at 50% off. I’ve also decided to fix the delivery rates based on location so that the fees do not fluctuate.

Valentine’s Day is coming, and I think that this is easily a beautiful, standalone Valentine’s gift for a loved one; each copy bought within the specified timeframe will be autographed with a personal note from me to the recipient.

Do head to: Visitmaranatha.com/product/softie to get yours, or tap the button below.

Get Softening here

I think it is fitting to end this with a favourite poem from the book:

FUNERAL OF DREAMS

My dreams in one hand
and a shovel in the other.
If you’re wondering what,
you’ve happened upon a funeral.
There is a cemetery nearby.

I’ve been carrying the weight
that I was commanded to lay down.
Did He not say His yoke is light?
Then this my burden has to go;
be my audience as I lay it to rest.

Do not judge me yet;
I do not carry filth in these bags.
My Lord washed me clean long ago.
There is nothing here not of Him.
But let me tell you my mistake.

Why this funeral must happen is:
That I thought my will and His
could live side by side
That I thought I could do His thing
and do my thing as well.

You happened on this funeral,
but I did not happen upon this freedom.
My Lord directed me here in mercy.
For can I tell the One who has given me life
what to do with it?

The tears from my eyes
have washed away my ambition;
every dream and goal is dead—
six feet under.
The cold earth nods as I give it one last pat.

Let my only dreams be those
He has given me.
No more ambitions, no goals
just what He wants.
Let my life be marked by
things I could never have imagined
because I gave it to Him.

I pick up obedience and availability and hunger
but I also carry the shovel home—
perhaps I’ll see something else
that needs to be buried.

29/Feb/24.

Cheers to more softness. ✨

∞I’m on Substack from time to time, but I live at Visitmaranatha.com. If you have any questions, feel free to reach out to me at mara@visitmaranatha.com.

To love is to settle...for less. V

Ogonna ‘Maranatha’ Nnaemeka — Mon, 12 Jan 2026 14:30:34 GMT

Day one: 16/11/25. 14:14

Today is my two-year locversary—it’s been two years since I got my hair loc’d. As I always tell anyone who cares to listen, it’s the best decision I made after Christ.

I was going to make a post about it, but I forgot. Now I’m wondering if there’s a need to. [In any case, here are two images showing where I’ve been and where I am now.] If you’ve been waiting for a sign to loc your hair, this is it!

I’m at a filling station, post-church, waiting for my Bolt ride. The sun is hot outside, and as I look at the fair-complexioned man dispensing fuel into a customer’s car, I’m overwhelmed by a sudden feeling of sonder. I wonder how many children he has, if his wife loves him and how long he’s worked as a fuel attendant.

Life is strange. One day, you think you understand your life and how it’ll go, the next, you’re on the path to having a different surname.

My dad texted me earlier today with some marital advice, and my inner child cringed in irresponsibility. ‘How did we get here? I’m just a child!’

An ancient institution like marriage is bound to make us feel very small. Especially when we consider the gravity of that one decision, which is why it is not a decision that an individual can make on their own, just like it takes a village to raise a child, it should ideally take the same village—with wisdom and lived experiences—to choose a spouse—a forever person.

Forever.

Such a heavy word. It communicates permanence. Amanda and I were talking about the ’grass is greener’ syndrome the other day; how it’s a little too natural for human nature to long for what we don’t have. I can easily keep doing something for a long time, even when I have other options. But once all the other options are taken away, something within me rebels.

It got me wondering. ‘Am I really ready for forever?’

Day two: 23/11/25. 09:56

Something in the dynamics of a relationship changes when friendship, not just romance, is intentionally built.

I’ve found it especially essential for the sake of purity. When you’re attracted to someone and get to spend a lot of your time around them, or even if you don’t, intimate thoughts start to pop into your head that you would like to see come to pass.

This isn’t inherently a bad thing. I believe it’s, again, that human desire to be fully known even in the body. God knows us fully, true, but not intimately in our bodies—in that sense. A marriage is the only relationship where a person can be known not just in heart but in every part of themselves by being joined to another person whom they also have the opportunity to know in the body.

As soul/spirit that inhabits a body, our inner selves are not separate from our outer selves. We are spirit-soul and body. And God indeed has put that desire within us to be known. Yet, outside a marriage, it is like uncontained fire.

What helps? Friendship. True friendship sets the foundation of a great marriage. From what I’ve read, many youthful passions and desires fade with time, but friendship is the one thing we can bet will grow stronger with time.

But it must be intentionally built. I don’t have all the tips, yet I’ve found genuine curiosity and interest in the other person to be a tool of great help.

[The pictures you’re looking are HERE for are on my Instagram.]

Day three: 08/01/26. 16:36

It’s been over a month since I started writing this piece. And now, it’s a new year. So, Happy New Year. 🥳

Time indeed flies when you’re having fun. But I think it is also true that time passes, regardless.

I must admit that things are a little more serious than when I left off writing. By serious, I mean that the cocoon [that ‘just the two of us’] phase of my relationship is over.

I mean, it was never just the two of us, but it’s a different story when talks of planning a wedding start entering the conversation.

An entire wedding.

I’ve never been the girl who had dreams of what her wedding should look like. If I’m being very honest, I see it as a necessary evil, and the best parts for me are that I get to glam up and celebrate with my friends. Guess who has to deal with what my parents want, what Lover Boy’s folks want, what our friends want, and, of course, what Lagos economy feasibly permits.

But let’s not get this boring with my opinions.

Back to our previous discourse, I think that I am now ready for forever. I think I am a little bolder today than I was in November 2025. Not because I am any more certain about Lover Boy, but because the maths is starting to math.

I see now [and my relationship has taught me], by the grace of God, that when we decide to love, we synonymously also decide to settle. I’d like to highlight two important connotations of the term ‘settle’ in this context.

To settle down: referring to the [continuous] action of establishing permanent roots in a relationship. It can also connote the beginning of a stable, routine life in the context of marriage. Generally, it is expected that marriage enforces a kind of [healthy] restriction that was hitherto absent before the joining, before two become one.
To settle: referring to the decision to compromise, which is present in the very act of choosing. This is the heart of this piece.

No matter how great a choice we are, and no matter how great a choice in a partner we make, we all settle in a way. And we do settle for less—even as the one we choose settles for less in us.

Hear me out: of course, there are certain non-negotiables we must insist on when choosing a partner. Since mostly Christians might stumble on this, I’ll assume the standard is already known. But if, for any reason, an unbeliever gets to see this, I’d simply recommend an evenness in spirit and mind with whom they choose to yoke themselves. If one loves to party, let them choose a partner who loves clubbing. In the meantime, I’ll also highly recommend that they repent and give their life to Christ.
For what is the point of a ‘great’ marriage that doesn’t lead to an eternity with Christ?

But, non-negotiables aside, we will all settle for less in our choices. And why? Because we’re all imperfect people with flawed standards and perceptions. We are not good, we do not know what is good, and we often misuse what is good because we do not know better.

This is not necessarily bad news. In fact, it is good news. It is a suitable antidote for our tendency to demonise the flaws of others while pretending to be oblivious to ours. We need to stop saying of our flaws, ‘They’re not that bad.’ They are. For every imperfection is a sign of a defect.

Lover Boy could have had a prim and proper woman as his wife-to-be, but he’s got an unceasingly sarcastic, part-time agbero on his hands. I wanted a dark-skinned, tough guy, but I got the sweetest, caramel-skinned lover boy in my heart.

What can we say to these things?

The other day, I was praying for Lover Boy, and I heard these words stir up within me—that though I might want many things in Lover Boy, and he might sometimes fail to give me these things, the best version of him for me is the him who always chooses God.

This is what is enough. And it will be enough for me if I let it be.

Day four: 09/01/26. 11:30

On some further arguments for forever—

Think about this: should childbearing be done anywhere else but within the loving stability and permanence that only a family unit can provide?

I didn’t think about procreation as a purpose of marriage until we had our first counselling session [again, I’d never felt so grown up in my life].

The counsellor asked us what we thought was the purpose of marriage. We both gave answers along the lines of companionship and an eternity with Christ. But he highlighted that while those were necessary and implicit, for every Christian marriage, procreation was just as purposeful.

He pointed to Malachi 2:15 (ESV):
“Did he not make them one, with a portion of the Spirit in their union? And what was the one God seeking? Godly offspring. So guard yourselves in your spirit, and let none of you be faithless to the wife of your youth.”

God is seeking Godly offspring. It’s so countercultural yet completely Godly. We want to depopulate because the world is so evil; we think that the fewer people who are alive, the fewer people who have to suffer.

But God, who is life, wants life.

Being will always be better than not being. But that’s another discourse by itself. I’ve said all this to say that the reward of marriage is commensurate, if not more than, the responsibility it imposes.

It is worth it. Forever is worth it. Where would I be if I didn’t have my family right from my infancy to now? When I think of my parents carrying their grandchildren, I am filled with joyful glee.

On another thought…

I love and look forward to forever with God, especially because it’s not dependent on me.

So maybe it’s not forever that I am afraid of. Maybe it’s really my sinfulness I’m afraid of. My envy, my lack of discipline, my lust—I doubt my ability to handle another person’s heart with the intimacy and intensity it requires for the length of time marriage demands.

I read somewhere that omniscience brings good cheer to those panting for the Lord. Not sinners who know their actions are in rebellion to a holy God. I love the presence of God when I know He is pleased with me. When I sin, my mind pretends He is absent even when I know He is not.

Similarly, I’m afraid of my own sinfulness, just like Adam and Eve hid from each other after eating the fruit, knowing what evil now lay in their hearts.

But God, who instituted this will keep us, I’m sure. The journey to wholesomeness is not easy, but it is worth it. Love is truly the greatest, for in it is contained faith and hope.

—

Last Christmas was potentially my last Christmas with my father’s name.

It’s surreal.

I don’t know. I feel like life is going to start happening very fast. I’m excited for the shape the festive season took; from my plans with Lover Boy and my plans with my best girls (Amanda and Olivia) to attending the weddings of two dear friends of mine, Ebele and Oluebubechukwu.

At Ebele’s wedding, Lover Boy pointed out that being in a relationship can be quite freeing because there’s no pressure to perform.

Maybe. Maybe not. Perhaps, I’ll legibly ponder on that in another piece.

Anyway, I’ll end this with something funny someone said about marriage. She said that her mother once told her that if she always wanted to have her way, she should not get married. I thought that was funny. Especially for a coconut head like me.

Here’s a prayer I’ve been praying:

Lord, help me to love like it’s only You in the room. Help me not to care about man’s standard and external validation. Help me to love like it’s only You in the room.
In Jesus’ Name. Amen.

Mara Baby,
aka Lover Girl. ❤️

∞I’m on Substack from time to time, but I live at Visitmaranatha.com.

What if there’s someone better? IV

Ogonna ‘Maranatha’ Nnaemeka — Wed, 12 Nov 2025 12:41:01 GMT

Day one: 27/09/25. 22:19

Lover Boy and I attended a wedding today. It was a typical Yoruba wedding: a large hall, more old people than young, and a lot of drumming.

My head started to spin. Large crowds overwhelm me, especially when it is filled with faces I do not know. Seeking some comfort and relative stability, I put my head on Lover Boy’s shoulder and roamed the event centre with my eyes while we made small talk.

That singular act was very special, especially for me.

Three months ago, I’d never have done that. I could barely bear to hold Lover Boy’s hand in public at the time.

I’m not sure why.

Was it the fear of what people would think? I’ve always prided myself as someone who couldn't care less about external validation.

Eventually, I realised that it was my fear of vulnerability showing up in a new way.

Day two. 28/09/25. 12:13

A few days back, I posted a screenshot of a Lover Boy’s response to an Instagram story I’d posted.

Again, it should be nothing. But for me, it was a step further in this vulnerability that I’m coming to embrace.

When a previous relationship ended, I was glad that I’d never gone public with it. It’s one thing to deal with heartbreak and another to deal with heartbreak mixed with shame. There is this implicit ridicule of having to respond, for the umpteenth time, to, ‘I thought you guys were still together…’

Now, when I was in that relationship, it never occurred to me to be public with it. I did not think much about it. It was just what happened. In retrospect, I see it as God’s mercy that things happened the way they did.

When I posted the first article about my current romantic relationship, it was because it occurred to me to do so. I generally do not overthink decisions that have to do with execution. If it involves doing, then I go right ahead and do it. Ebele calls me a ruthless executioner for this reason, among many.

All I wanted to do, by writing, was communicate how loved I was and how I felt about being loved—I wanted to document my transformation. I truly haven’t been loved in such a manner, and private journaling didn’t seem to suffice. Because I’m also a teacher at heart, perhaps I wanted to tell someone out there that, ‘This love thing, this marriage thing…it’s not just good, I think it’s great!’

You’re probably thinking of the ‘What ifs’ again, and to that I say, ‘If this, for any reason, “ends in tears,” then how fortunate I am to get to experience such a wonderful phenomenon in my lifetime. I certainly do not deserve such love, if any.’

What I didn’t expect was that my documentation would make me bolder and more open to receiving love in new ways. Including PDAs.

Sometimes, when we do certain things, we don’t realise that, in a way, we permit others to do so, too. It’s incredulous, the human need for external validation.

I haven’t received courage from my writing alone. When I see a couple at church holding on to each other, unafraid of peering eyes, or I see my friend boldly declaring her love for her beloved, it warms my heart, and another layer of my armour performs a Jericho.

Loving openly is telling the world where to find your heart. It is such an admission of vulnerability; it is not the kind I am used to. But, I must also give honour to whom it is due and say that Lover Boy makes it too easy to be soft and dependent.

So, Lover Boy, here’s to you. 🥂

N.B.: It’s not free. Send me money when you see this. ~~*blows powder*~~ I don’t need to do that.

Vulnerability is not a chore, it is a choice—one that really frees you.

But at a deeper level, you’re finding out who you really are. You’re seeing him as your other half. You see how God is completing you in your husband. The result of completion is personal ease.
— Kathy Keller, The Meaning of Marriage

Day three: 04/10/25. 17:57

Lover boy and I have just finished Bible study. I cannot remember the context now, but he told me that if I tried to die before him, I would have a taste of resurrection before the resurrection.

I hollered. 😹

We’d looked at 1 John 4, that chapter about love. It’s given me some liver to express some ideas I’ve been ruminating on, but this especially:

I don’t think that a person can fall out of love.

I’ve heard about the phenomenon severally, and I always wondered about it. Can I truly believe that a person was my soulmate, and the next day think otherwise? Was this love that people often gave their lives for that fickle?

No. No, it’s not.

When God commands love from His children, He is not commanding a feeling but a duty. We cannot always help our feelings; we can rarely control how we feel—we can only manage them after the fact. Given this lack of control, certain circumstances can tend to make us feel more in love than others.

But the love that God calls us to is not only a matter of sentiment but of duty. In the same way we obey God even when we do not feel like it, we can love even when we do not feel like it. Delight often grows out of duty.

A dutiful love is a secure one. Of course, I want to know that my partner will do right by me, whether or not he feels like it; for to love is to will the good of another, and this could not be dependent on feelings. However, I would cherish a delightful love too, else I’d become something of a taskmaster to my partner.

Duty begets delight and delight elevates duty. They are both sides of the love coin.

N.B.: On a second thought, maybe the real issue is in the falling, rather than in the choosing. Nobody falls intentionally, so that act of falling can seem involuntary—‘He swept me off my feet.’ However, a choice, even if coerced, is always voluntary, and we often find ourselves standing by it even when the odds are against us.

Now it makes more sense why a person would [arguably, but] justifiably say that they fell ‘out of love.’ Their falling in love was not voluntary either.

We have no clue how love will approach us. We may indeed fall first, but for a love that will last, we must get up to choose.

Day four: 13/10/25. 23:14

Lover Boy is geeking out about the Milky Way, how light travels (it took me so long to understand it and my sisters have had a good laugh at my unscientific brain 😹), Black holes (he has a theory about this being the bottomless pit), dark matter (he has a very wild theory about this that is connected to Colossians 1:16-17 but he expressly said not to quote him anywhere)—and me?

I felt like an olodo, but boy, does it feel titillating to hear him speak like that!

I wasn’t in the greatest mood at the start of our conversation, but my heart felt so much lighter afterwards. I am grateful for a kind of love that holds me up when I cannot find my feet.

I don’t know that my sins have confronted me anywhere else, like in my romantic relationship. It surprises me every day how much evil ~~the~~ my heart is capable of.

So I pray. And often.

I look to God with the one request that He help me love Lover Boy in the way that he should be loved. It felt weird initially, when I prayed in this way, but not when I started seeing the answers.

It’s not easy to love. It’s not easy to keep forgiving one person. It’s not easy to care. But God can help. Only God can help because it is He that we draw from.

Two different people trying to merge their lives is no small thing. But it could be the best thing.

There have been several times when things got tough and I wondered if, maybe, there was someone better for me. Someone who understood me more (tough call, given that I barely understand myself sometimes 😅); someone who I didn’t have to tell what to do or how to do it.

The truth? We’re all someone better, if we choose to be.

What changes a man is not solely a man’s desire to change but God at work in his heart. Any man who has God could really be anything [good].

Tim Keller, in his book that I’ve been reading, said that there’s no ‘better person’ but your partner. No two people might not have the same problems, but we all have flaws, and close examination will surely reveal them. The good thing is that a person who has Christ can surely change because they’ve already undergone the most drastic transformation of all, from darkness to light, from sinner to son of God, so the prospects are excellent.

So, the better person we often hope for is really the same person, only at a different point in their journey of transformation—but that person is in there, somewhere.

In this regard, we must be courageous and emulate Christ’s despising of the shame for the joy that was before Him. How? By putting in the hard work [obedience, humility, forgiveness, gentleness] required to get to that joyful end of a partner that is truly better—even perfect, eventually, on that perfect Day of the Lord.

I think we must also renew our minds and make peace with what may never be—especially as our idea of perfection can be so vile. What should be most important is conformity to Christ, evidenced by exhibiting similar fruits as He: whoever excels in this is the better person. That is the person who is good for our souls.

Mara Baby,
aka Lover Girl. ❤️

∞I’m on Substack from time to time, but I live at Visitmaranatha.com.

Romancing with a prostitute | letter

Ogonna ‘Maranatha’ Nnaemeka — Fri, 10 Oct 2025 22:45:26 GMT

Last week, I took some much-needed time off work. Oh, it was refreshing. I think about it now, and I miss it so. Especially because I suffered from food poisoning the weekend before and my body would have given me bombastic side eye if I’d dived into work.

But this week? Omo.

My siblings—especially MJ, my little sister—have been mocking me all week because they saw how hard it’s been for me to get back to work. I spent the previous week lazing about, watching movies, and just being. How do I move from such grace to the grass of capitalism? As a result, every other minute I found myself sighing like a widow, lamenting like Jeremiah or philosophising like Aristotle about how capitalism is not God’s design.

But I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t been a good week.

At work, I didn’t have to hit the ground running. I gradually eased into work, and by Wednesday, I was more than ready; I was already rumbling.

One of the best things I did to close the week was that I rearranged my entire schedule to accommodate time to wind down after work because I realised that it was equally as hard to get out of work once I was in the zone! What a double-edged sword. 😹

As I wound down this evening, sipping some Viju milk chocolate (would you believe it now costs N1,100??? I remember when it was about N150!), I remembered this space, and a thought hit me like a rock.

I am a very scheduled person. If you want to get me to go anywhere or do anything, just send me a calendar invite—I know, I know, it’s old age. But the funniest thing is that I do not have a reminder anywhere that beckons me to write these letters to you.

It’s a miracle!

This place has become more than a weekly letter to you. They’ve become a way to convey my thoughts and feelings, thus unburdening my soul. They’ve become a symbol of God’s mercy to me because through them, God reminds me of what is most important—Him. I am only here to return the favour, if possible.

There are so many things to do. There will always be so much to do. But there are not so many things that matter. There are not so many things that cannot be taken away from you.

“But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her.”” ‭‭ Luke‬ ‭10‬:‭41‬-‭42‬ ‭(ESV‬‬)

As our Lord said about Mary, I ask you, that which you have chosen, can it be taken away from you? Look at the things in your hands right now, which of them will you take with you if today happened to be your last?

At home, during the week, a discussion came up about the new tax laws in Nigeria and how it would seem like our chief citizen wants to rob the country rather than reform it—that much seems evident, at least from the suffering of the masses. I thought to myself, ‘I hope all that money leaves this Earth with him when his eyelids close in death.’

But we all know it won’t be like that.
We both know that those items you spent hours shopping for on Temu will not disappear with you when your soul leaves this earth.
We both know that your most expensive wig will not follow you to your grave.
We all know that even the clothes on your back will not go with you.

Let us not deceive ourselves, then.

I have experienced grief firsthand, and when my late brother’s things were returned home to us, his family, all they became were keepsakes. And how many keepsakes can one really keep? Each of us just picked a thing or two to hold on to, and the rest we had to give away–for what space is there for the dead in the land of the living? However, even if I lost all these material reminders, I could not forget him—he is in my heart, you see. I will carry him with me until I die.

Forgive my plain speaking and hear my heart:

The best thing you can leave behind is who you are; who you were to people, how you treated your neighbours, how you lived a life that honoured God, and blessed others. Not money. Not that hot dress. Not even all your work experience. Certainly not your smartphone or your social media followers.
The best thing that you can take with you is Christ. For the most terrible thing that can happen to a man is to meet God on the other side of the grave without Christ standing before him as a mediator.

What else can I say to you? It is the same thing that I have said before. The truth is not always an exciting thing. But it is what will take us home to the Father when we meet Christ or He meets us.

So,

Hold on to what will not be taken away.
Fight the good fight of faith.
Guard your faith jealously.
Work out your salvation with fear and trembling.
Take every opportunity to sit at the feet of Jesus.
Seek Him out. Desire to know God by spending time fellowshipping with Him, in the Word, in prayer, in worship–whether individually or communally.

Today, my joy is that I am one day closer to being with my King. I know that the days seem long, especially when we are waiting. But my dear sibling, eternity is longer. Let us not make the mistake of chasing what is fleeting, that we let go of what is eternal.

Yet, I trust my King.
He bought us with His blood.
He will keep our feet from stumbling.
He will not allow us to be moved in fear.
He will hold us fast.

These are the things He has done. But there are also things that we must do.

I beseech you, right now, if there are ways you have started trading your birthright, like Esau, for stew that will eventually become stool, REPENT.

Repent and return to your first love.
If it is lukewarmness, find your way to the Saviour’s embrace and ask Him to renew His zeal within your heart.
If it is that you have so much to do that you do not know what to do, ask Him to lead you to where you need to be.
Drop everything at His feet and only receive what He puts in your hands per time.
If it is that you do not desire Christ’s return, ask Him to make the reality of an eternity with Him real to you.

Christ is waiting.
It is when you open the door that He will come in and dine with you.
Christ is waiting.
Real life starts when our entire lives revolve around Him.
Real life starts when we make Christ our true end, and not a means to an end.

I pray that the Lord constantly uplifts your heart to behold His loving and unwavering gaze, even as He moves your hands to do His perfect will.

Your sister, Maranatha. ✨

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Look at God Look like God, my upcoming book, is the hardest book I have ever written. I asked my partner to help me review the entire manuscript, and when he was done, he was impressed. He sang my praises for the amount of work I’d put in. I appreciate him deeply.

But it made me think, should the servant be praised for doing her work? I am simply doing my duty. This is an honour: to contemplate the things of God and document them. I am so grateful to do this. I will spend the rest of my life doing this, as He allows me.

I do not intend you to feel impressed with me when you read this book, though. I pray instead that this book helps you look at God in all the ways possible. Today’s letter reminds me of a paragraph in the book:

Looking at God entails carrying our crosses. Christ clearly said that the one who will follow Him must deny himself and take up their cross daily (Luke 9:23). We cannot know self and know God. We cannot hold on to our dreams and ambitions and cover them up with God. Looking at God means surrendering our entire beings to Him and saying to Him, ‘Do with me as You will.’ But we must really mean such requests, because those are the kinds of petitions our King loves, and He does not fail to act quickly in the matter.
If we cannot give up everything we have, we cannot follow Jesus (Luke 14:33)—praise be to Him, for we have much more to gain! If the thought of losing anything for God makes us sad, like that rich, young ruler, then we have unduly embraced the world–we have romanced with a prostitute–and we must let go.
— Maranatha, Look at God Look like God

Look at God Look like God is a book about maturing in resemblance to God. It is what He made us and has saved us for–to look like Him, and to conform to the image of Christ. The question is: How do we grow in this resemblance in our daily, mundane living?

If you’re thinking, ‘This is a book I’d really like to have,’ you can signify your interest by joining the waitlist. You know me, early signups always get rewarded.

If you have any questions, feel free to reach out to me at mara@visitmaranatha.com. Cheers! ✨

P.S. - This entire piece was originally sent to a closed mailing list, hence the use of phrases like ‘this space,’ ‘this letter,’ etc.

Preview image sourced from Pinterest.

Men will leave you in the desert…without water. III

Ogonna ‘Maranatha’ Nnaemeka — Wed, 10 Sep 2025 10:52:24 GMT

Day one: 21/08/25. 10:11

I once heard it from the mouth of a Christian sister that men are dogs. Now this knowledge threatened the core of my being because there is someone amazing whom I call a father, and he is a man. If he is a dog, as all men are (via deductive reasoning), what does that make me? Dogs also give birth after their kind, abi?

Dogs are mostly cute, aside from when they behave like rascals. There’s one that’s living rent-free in my house, so I know. However, the Nigerian context of this phrase does not refer to the cuteness of dogs. Now that I think about it, I do not even understand the reference. A minute, let me check Google.

[Cana, the dog living in my house]

10:22

My Google search of ‘how are men dogs’ displayed various results, but these, which happened to be the last two, pique my interest. The Amazon link didn’t make much sense to me. The YouTube video, on the other hand, was complete gibberish (in the sense that I disagreed with it).

[My search results]

For the sake of locality, I added ‘Nairaland’ to my search query (iykyk) and boy, that is not a place a lady should be at 10:25 in the morninggg. My senses have been troubled, and my sensibilities have been shaken. Ugh! *throws pretty head back in feigned anguish and agony*

Here is my conclusion. Men are not dogs. You’d think that would be obvious to an average, un-blind human, right? I’m myopic, and I could see that much.

When women say this, I’ve perceived a distaste in their tone that communicates what they really mean. It could be different things. My general conclusion is:

That the man should be tamed like a dog often is, with snacks and treats, so that they behave.

If I have to treat a fellow human being like this, why am I even with them? In a similar conversation, same context, a lady said that women have to keep men on their toes so they don’t get comfortable. I get that the idea is so the man does not take them for granted, but I’ll be very honest, if you’ve ever tried to stand on your toes (and you’re not a ballerina or any other affiliated endeavour) for more than a moment, it hurts like hell. Why would I want to do that to another person?

This is not really about men and their perceived dishonest ways; scum has no gender. The heart of the issue is: why would anyone want to spend forever with a person they do not trust?

16:24

I’m on a call with Lover Boy, wrapping up work, and he’s fallen asleep. All I can think of is how fine our children will be. Hehe.

But there’s something else I see. It’s the ordinariness of it all.

One of the things I’ve come to love about my relationship is the ordinariness of it. How this person who was once a stranger has become a staple in my life, how we’re slowly falling into a rhythm that is my new normal.

I first heard the phrase ‘hedonic adaptation’ from P Sam. Google AI defines it as ‘the tendency for humans to quickly return to a relatively stable level of happiness despite major positive or negative life changes. This means that while initial joy from a big purchase or sadness from a setback may be strong, these feelings tend to fade as we adjust to the new circumstances, and our happiness levels tend to revert to their previous baseline.’

I was having a conversation with Amanda yesterday about choosing a partner, and we talked about how wrong it was for people to make life decisions based on fleeting things like looks or finances. This is because what you settle down with is not a person’s looks or money, it is their inner person. If a person’s core is tainted—for example, they’re unkind or selfish—no amount of money can make up for that.

When hedonic adaptation sets in, the money won’t matter. What hedonic adaptation also means is that we humans may actually need very little to be happy, but I digress.

Romance, sex, laughter, and plain fun are the by-products of this process of sanctification, refinement, and glorification. Those things are important, but they can’t keep the marriage going through years and years of ordinary life.
— Tim Keller, The Meaning of Marriage

What this means is that you must first gun for friendship, and even if it does not exist initially, it must be formed. And it makes so much sense because the ecstasy or excitement we experience in relationships (and life in general) undulates, but if we find friendship, it’ll keep the relationship forever.

It is friendship that will hold us, take us through the many ordinary days of life. And the ordinary days will be many; those days we cannot quite remember why we’re here, and we need the cosiness of friendship to be there, speak softly to us, listen to us, and resuscitate our joy—or at least our hope.

Back to the first part, of men as dogs and keeping people on their toes; another element of this narrative is that people who think this way also have to put up a front, which means they’re not really themselves.

How long can anyone do that for?

I think about my daily life with the people I love. I wake up with my hair all over the place, sometimes looking like a vagabond. I see my family at their worst. But I don’t even see that because when I think of my mother, I see her inner person first, and that makes her beautiful, not her physical appearance. Best believe, though, the woman is fineee. I mean, have you seen me?

Something that convicts me about where I am is that I see myself doing this forever. I don’t have to put up a presentation. I don’t have to think of being, I just am. It is freedom.

But if you marry someone more for these things (sex, looks, wealth) than for friendship, you not only are setting yourself up for future failure— wealth may and sexual appeal will decrease—but you are also setting yourself up for loneliness. For what Adam in the garden needed was not just a sexual partner but a companion, bone of his bones, and flesh of his flesh.
— Tim Keller, The Meaning of Marriage

Day two: 27/08/25. 07:07

I have just come back from a morning walk with Lover Boy. The raw idea was to jog as a form of exercise, but going out at 5 am was not the greatest idea for a young lady living in Lagos. So, Lover Boy volunteered to do it with me.

The only thing is, we ended up having quiet, fun, and sometimes raw conversations on those walks; no, we didn’t quite jog, and we did try—at least, he did 😹. There’s something about being surrounded by dawn, coupled with all that breeze in your face, that is so cosy and comforting; it makes you want to spill.

This morning was our last walk together, because Lover Boy is moving away. I have not fully processed what this means, but I’m sure I’ll get there.

I tried to take it all in for the last time, but I couldn’t. And there wasn’t any need to. The streets weren’t special, the walks weren’t spectacular; it was walking with him that meant anything.

So instead, I did what I do best, I shape-shifted into my most comedic self and made him laugh—he might have broken a rib or two, but that’s fine because he’s found me. Although he might disagree because he was the butt of many jokes (Hi CEO! 🤭), I still think I did a good job. He won’t be forgetting this in a hurry. Hehe

We talked about many things, especially the future: being married, living together, etc. It triggered something.

In a conversation with Amanda, last week, she’d asked why unbelievers in marriage seem to be ‘getting it right’ even more than the believers, and why the Christians who seem to be getting it right aren’t speaking up about it—to this latter question I thought, maybe they’re having too much fun to speak and maybe those who speak are not as entertaining. To the former question, I thought, how right can a person get it if it doesn’t end in an eternity with God? But I might be wrong too.

Even though there aren’t proven statistics for this assumption, many people think this way. One thing I know for sure is that marriage is a matter of common grace, and one doesn’t need to be saved to make that commitment and try to live up to it. Christian and non-Christian marriages are all valid before God.

This verse also comes to mind, Romans 2:14-16:

‘For when Gentiles, who do not have the law, by nature do what the law requires, they are a law to themselves, even though they do not have the law. They show that the work of the law is written on their hearts, while their conscience also bears witness, and their conflicting thoughts accuse or even excuse them on that day when, according to my gospel, God judges the secrets of men by Christ Jesus.’

Day what now? 06/09/25: 13:06

I’m lying in bed listening to Biggi Hilmars’ Ponds when I remember that I have an unfinished article calling my name. It’s been such a Saturday, from chores to more chores since I got up.

I had a conversation with my mother yesterday, and it made me pause. We were in the kitchen, and I asked her what she would do when we, her children, all left her. She said she’ll get a help.

Now, this wasn’t unfamiliar terrain. I grew up with many siblings who weren’t my biological siblings. They were cousins or relatives whom my parents decided to train or help out by accommodating them and sending them to school or putting a trade in their hands.

I smiled at the thought. ‘At the very least…’ But now, as I write, I wonder why her response was that quick. Had she been thinking about it before now? Will I, too, grow up and have children, then wonder how to continue with my life when they all leave to begin theirs?

Yanni’s Enchantment is playing now, and I remember how that conversation ended. I said, ‘So it’ll be just you and your husband again. Thank God you married a good husband.’ With a wide grin, she responds, ‘Thank God o.’

I love my parents’ friendship. It’s the kind that still makes us, their children, feel like third wheelers even after all these years. It’s such an enigma. I remember one time when my dad returned from a trip, but my mother wasn’t home. When my mother returned, I went to help clear and arrange the things she bought. She did something random, and I asked, ‘Aren’t you giving that to daddy?’ Puzzled, she asked, ‘Daddy is back?’ At my ‘yes,’ she literally jumped to her feet and went to disturb his sleep like a little girl.

Forever would be hell without friendship, this is my conclusion.

What if, however, you began your marriage understanding its purpose as spiritual friendship for the journey to the new creation?
— Tim Keller, The Meaning of Marriage

I think it would be really good.