Lord Help me, to stop measuring
My worth, my life, by all these things
The money i have, or really don’t have
Or to think i’m cool, cos i fly first class

Lord help mebenz, to stop thinking
‘Oh I’m blessed’, just b’cos of my Benz
Or to hope the guys can actually see
That I have arrived, when i do arrive!

Lord help me, to not judge men
By how they smell, or what they wear,
To know that crooks sometimes smell nice
And Lazarus was wrongly despised

Lord help me, to not despair
Not despair, if things disappear
Help me to look for you and rest
To know it’s in you I’m truly BLESSED!

Lord help me, to think like you
To see like you, and talk like you
To see all men, in heaven’s light
And treat all things, as Jesus might.

(c) Chukwudi Adepoju. 04 April 2014 [Inspired by Pastor GoodHeart Obi Ekwueme’s … “The Heart Series”]


No, Satan, this lie won’t hold!

I am a sheep in my shepherd’s fold
And It’s His love that makes me bold
Summer, Winter, Hot or Cold
Nothing can snatch me from his hold

No, Satan, this lie won’t hold!

To wander, yes, i know i’m prone
But you can’t claim me for your own
His blood shed cost much more than gold
The depth of his love is yet untold

No, Satan, this lie won’t hold!

I won’t conform to this world’s mold
Or live life like I’m all alone
My shepherd’s near, wherever i go
Baa, baa, your old lies still won’t hold

No, Satan, your lies won’t hold

I won’t repeat them, ancient foe
Its an old trick, I’m reliably told
Whatever i let from my mouth flow
Will go to my future, and will show

That’s why, Satan, this lie won’t hold
My Master’s word is what I’ll hold
Summer or winter, hot or cold
His Word is enough, and it makes me WHOLE.

©Chukwudi Adepoju, 28 March 2014.

To My Dear Pastor

My Dear Pastor,


“When in the course of human events…”


It is now quite obvious that apart from those dark days of the Nigerian Civil War (1967 – 1970), Nigeria has never been in as bad a situation as the one in which we find her today.


Every single day, on many fronts, we see a daily annihilation and unbelievable decimation of not only the people of Nigeria but also the dreams of Nigerians.


Continue reading

“I knew Abram at 70!”


I knabraham 2ew Abram at 70
And he was going nowhere;
With his wife, oh so pretty
But they had no heir;

His neighbor i was, back then in Ur
With his dad and brother, the small Nahor
My son played often, with orphan – Lot
The nephew. The one that later got lost

When they suddenly packed up, bought tickets and left,
Some really weird rumors were all that we heard
“Abram’s hearing voices!” some people said
“No, Nahor’s twelve sons’re making them scared”

I hear he heard voices, right till he died
Well stricken in age, but oh, so so blessed
And the heir still came, bringing real laughter
I should have followed them, into God’s Chapter.

© Chukwudi Adepoju. 13 March 2014.

Your enemy is in form!

I recently started following the English Premier League, and I have found that it is truly amazing to feel the passion of it all if you let yourself get sucked in to the contagious atmosphere, watching out for upcoming matches, Summer transfers, checking up on your team’s performance on the League Table, and being interested in so many other things you never thought you would ever be interested in.

If you knew me growing up, you would understand why this is such a new experience.

Growing up, there was absolutely no football passion in our home. If my brother ever played any football, I did not know it. In his teenage years, he was more interested in the martial arts. My Dad, the only other male in the house, did not reminisce about playing football in his youth. He occasionally talked about his cousin, my Uncle ‘Deremi that was the goalkeeper for Osogbo Grammar School in the late 50s, and that was it. I realize now that myopia in his eyes must have made him a poor choice for football in his high school days.

On the other hand, I was rather chubby in my primary school days. Scratch that. I am still rather chubby. And running for 90 minutes around a football I would never see till it hit me was not much fun at all. With all the sweating, and the panting, and the turning around on one spot to find a good target to pass to, it became obvious very quickly that if you need to win that match of 5-a-side, you better pick someone that sees much better than Aanu. I did not miss the panting.

Continue reading

Words Are All I Have!

The storms are all I see around
The master’s in but sleeping sound
Our rowing skills are of no help
And I see, words are all I have

How I hate a watery grave
But I’m helpless in this stormy place
Tempestuous sea, where there’s no land
In despair, and yet, words are all I have

With words, I’ve shouted at the crew
With more words, I’ve cursed at the devil
Finally I run to wake the Lord
And He knows, words are all I have

“Peace, be still” were his own words
And they went forth, two-edged swords
He shocked me, calmed me, and made me see
That faith-words indeed, are all I need.

© Chukwudi Adepoju. 23rd August 2013.

gardener. MENTOR. friend. 2

equal strength

The 19th Century American Philosopher Ralph Waldo Emerson was so right when he wrote in that famous essay of his – “Self Reliance”, that “Envy is ignorance, imitation is suicide”.

Why in the world would the Mango tree envy the hibiscus flower? Or the palm-tree envy the Iroko? It does not really make much sense, you know?  It is sheer ignorance of its potentials that makes a palm tree complain about not having flowers. That was what Emerson meant by “Envy is Ignorance”, and Imitation? Suicide. You kill the potential of the orange seedling if you want it to imitate the flower in the corner of your office. It may not be immediately obvious, and it may never be. But something dies in the species that imitates another of a different kind.  Continue reading

Pacesetters, by Pius Adesanmi

(To be read to the accompaniment of Tim McGraw’s “Grown Men Don’t Cry”

Dad, I don’t know why I went straight to your library when we got back from the cemetery that dreary day in the spring of 2007.

Could it be because I rode back home in Dr. Wale Okediran’s car and we still managed to mention one or two books even in the context of my grief? He was then national president of the Association of Nigerian Authors and had flown in from some assignment in Malabo, Equatorial Guinea, took care of some business in Abuja where he also served as a member of the Federal House of Representatives, before heading out to Isanlu to be by my side as I buried you. Dad, he did that just for you and it went without saying that I would ride in his car in the long procession back home.
Continue reading

Baba E Wi Hun Hun, by Dr. Pius Adesanmi

Baba E Wi Hun Hun

By Pius Adesanmi

(Speech delivered at the Nigeria @ 50 symposium jointly convened by the Nigerian High Commission, Ottawa, and the Institute of African Studies, Carleton University, Ottawa on September 30, 2010)

Baba E wi hun hun would be approaching his 100th birthday by now if he was still alive. My Dad, who passed on three years ago in his seventies, used to call him “boda”, a common Yoruba cultural honorific, possibly a domestication of the English, “brother”. Like my Dad, Baba E wi hun hun belongs in that generation of Spartan, colonial, missionary-trained teachers who were the very incarnation of Nigeria’s moral and ethical fabric from the fifties down to the very early eighties.

Continue reading

GARDENER. mentor. friend. 1

This is not a direct sequel to “Best Gift, Ever!”, but it almost is.

I got so many positive comments and questions after that particular blog-post that I started to imagine my future celebrity book-signings, huge six-figure (even seven-figure) royalties. Why, I was even already on Oprah, to talk about my latest book and how well it’s doing on New York’s bestseller list. Dr. Phil was recommending it as well. Just before it became recommended reading for every child-psychology course in the US and Canada. Translated into fifty different languages, many hospitals were already talking of putting it in every new parent’s hands. Wonderful! Amen, somebody!

But coming back down to earth, the immediate questions that faced me were, if you indeed want to give your child or ward the best gift ever, how would you go about it? How would you help your child become independent in this world, and have the ability to navigate this world as she pleases? How do you prepare her for a world that does not yet exist?

Continue reading