Where Did Daniel Learn to Pray Like That?

The Role of Christian Books in Building Strong Character

Article by Peace Olaluwoye

Consider this: "Big companies have been pushing their agenda on our young minds for decades, If we don't counter them with faith-based books and entertainment, who will?"

As a Christian mother and Sunday School teacher, I’ve come to see that faith-based books play a vital role in helping children build strong character. We all want our kids to grow up with integrity, kindness, and resilience - qualities that will guide them through life’s challenges. I’ve found that Christian books are more than just stories; they’re tools that can shape young hearts and minds in ways that last a lifetime.

Which brings me back to the question: "Where did Daniel learn to pray like that?" And I'm guessing it was because he read a lot. He read the scrolls which contained God's words to the prophets of those days. Today, it's called the Bible and because he read those, he was able to keep himself attuned to God's plan.

Daniel outlived 3 kings and served on all their cabinets. He was wise and prayerful for a reason - the reason was the information he had accrued from studying God's word. Those were days of war and captivity, and Daniel dedicated his life to studying and prayer. These days are a bit different, which is why we need relatable stories to pass across the same messages of the Bible. Because although the settings change, the timing hasn't.

Jesus himself understood the importance of storytelling, and used those to pass across certain messages. He recognized that newbies to the faith needed these stories to make the scriptures relatable, and sensitize them to living for God.

Christian Books are a Foundation of Faith

When we read stories grounded in biblical values, our children see examples of how to live their faith in practical ways. Christian books allow us to reinforce these values with stories that resonate with young minds, laying a foundation that will help them stand firm in their beliefs.o

For example, one of my favorite books is titled, "Always Bee Kind." It tells the story of a bunch of bees that save the lives of 3 of their fellows who were rescued from a honey pot.

Kindness isn’t always an easy concept to teach, especially to a child who feel it's not their problem, but through the pages of that story, kids can clearly see the power and importance of empathy. By the end of the story, children will understand that kindness isn’t just something we do for others - it’s also a gift to ourselves, just as Jesus taught in the beatitudes, "Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy." Matthew 5:7

Instilling Forgiveness and Compassion

Christian books often feature characters who go through struggles, disappointments, and moral dilemmas, just like the children reading them. These stories open up conversations about compassion and forgiveness, showing kids the value of letting go of past hurts and helping those in need.

One verse that has always resonated with me is Ephesians 4:32: “Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” When my Sunday School class read the story about Ruth - a young widow from another country - who helped Naomi her widowed mother-in-law going through a difficult time, I noticed how the children connected with her kindness. It was like they suddenly understood that their small acts of kindness can make a big difference, and it inspired them to look for ways to help others.

Developing a Moral Compass

In today’s world, where children are often exposed to conflicting messages, having a moral compass grounded in faith is so important. Christian books give kids examples of right and wrong based on the Word of God. Stories about honesty, humility, and courage, for instance, help kids see that these values aren’t just rules - they’re ways to live out their faith.

One book we recently read in Sunday School highlighted a young Daniel and his equally young friends who had to choose between honesty and living a lie to satisfy their stomachs. They were in a faraway land and yet they chose to honour God in what they ate. The children saw the strength it takes to choose the right thing over convenience. As James 4:17 (ESV) says: "So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin." 

Through this story, the children saw honesty as something to cherish and uphold, even when no one is living by those standards.

Teaching Perseverance Through Biblical Examples

The Bible is filled with stories of perseverance, but sometimes the old language can be hard for young kids to fully grasp. Christian books that simplify these stories or tell similar tales with modern-day parallels help children understand what perseverance really looks like. We recently read a book based on the story of Job, and it was incredible to see the children’s responses. They could relate to the main character's struggles and were inspired by his resilience and faithfulness.

Romans 5:3-4 says, "Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope." These words came alive for the children as they read about a character who kept his faith even when life seemed tough. They learned that perseverance is more than just enduring hard times; it’s about growing stronger in faith.

Creating a Habit of Faith-Based Reading

One of the greatest joys as a Christian parent and teacher is watching kids develop a love for books that teach them about God. When faith-based reading becomes a habit, it builds a foundation for lifelong learning and character development. Reading Christian books together can be a beautiful way to bond as a family, and it also helps children become familiar with the values we hold dear.

As Deuteronomy 11:19 instructs us, “Teach them to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.” When we read Christian books with our children, we’re following this command to teach God’s word in every aspect of life. It’s not just reading; it’s a time to discuss, reflect, and understand what it means to live out our faith.

Building Confidence and Identity in Christ

Finally, Christian books help children see themselves as part of God’s plan. They learn that they are loved, valued, and capable of great things through His strength. When children read stories about others who rely on God, it reinforces their identity in Christ and builds confidence rooted in something unshakeable.

One of the most powerful things I’ve seen is how these stories give children the courage to be themselves and stand up for their beliefs. Philippians 4:13 reminds us, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” When kids see characters leaning on God, it teaches them that their strength also comes from Him. They’re reminded that they are never alone and that their faith can guide them through any challenge.

As a mother and Sunday School teacher, I can honestly say that Christian books have been one of the most effective ways to teach my children and students about the values that matter most. These books are more than just words on a page; they’re seeds planted in the hearts of our children, helping them grow into kind, compassionate, and faithful people. When we give them stories that reinforce biblical values, we’re giving them a gift that will last a lifetime.❤️🤗🪴

VANISHED!

 

Usman Sanusi, the Local Government Chairman's PA, eased his shiny red car out of Paradise. It was his code name for the Government Lodge and anyone could see why. Making his way down the blistering road, he could already see the glaring difference between where he was and where he'd just left. Decay and dilapidation flanked him left and right. There were abandoned heaps of debris and dry grass cut by underpaid street kids. Drooping power lines, some tottering dangerously, stood untouched since he pocketed the maintenance funds. 

He was on his way to meet his mechanic. 

He was soon driving past the post office which crumbled like forgotten promises, another failed responsibility of his. Next to it was the grossly under equipped and underfunded hospital. There were hospital allocations alright, and Usman knew exactly where all the money went; into the Chairman's pocket, and sometime recently, into his.

Internal audit was close, but he didn't care. He had plans, and they were falling into place perfectly.

Foremost on his mind was the arrival of the Local Government Chairman's daughter. Her car had been serviced, and the Lodge repairs concluded. Not that there was anything wrong with Paradise. The whole thing was just another means of siphoning huge amounts of money from the public purse. 

He adjusted the rearview mirror, catching his reflection: sharp eyes, smooth grin - a man who made his own luck. Growing up as an almajiri, he'd hustled through life doing dirty jobs for powerful men until they threw him a PA position. It was also a position that got him government contracts which he wasn't qualified for.

He used to kick half of the cash from the heavily inflated contracts back to his boss, but things had changed thanks to the Senior cleaner in the Hospital Management Board. 

Usman had discovered, firsthand, that a mere cleaner could have influence. There was no office the old man didn't have access to. He helped move files around and could also make files vanish. Usman needed such a powerful ally on his side, and so he turned his charm on the old man's beautiful daughter, Aaliyah. 

She couldn't resist, and that got him his first personal contract behind his boss's back. She too, wanted to move up in the world.

The contract paid him heavily to supply the hospital with equipment, but it was never supplied. He loved the feeling of keeping all the loot and decided he liked things better that way.

A buzzing phone broke his thoughts.

“All set, oga. Just need the OTP.”

He smirked. By the time anyone realized what he’d done, it would be too late.

A short distance down the road, a man wearing an old brown cap and a black T-shirt waved at Usman. He slowed down and pulled over, grinning. It was his mechanic.

The man handed him a package. Usman opened it to reveal an Iphone 14.

“Wow! This looks just like the original,” Usman said, inspecting it closely.

The man beamed. He wasn't really a mechanic, he was Usman's henchman, who handled all his dirty business, and was his middle man for shady deals.

Satisfied, Usman pulled out a fat envelope and handed it over. “Take this and enjoy yourself.”

The man grinned and thanked him. Usman chuckled, rolled up his window, and drove off, a smug smile playing on his lips.

So far nothing good had come from the Local Government Chairman's office, even the only community school in the village suffered. The school depended heavily on volunteers, and Aaliyah was one of them.

She was the daughter of a Senior Cleaner at HMB. She was also a Trainee Nurse who spent her free time at the school clinic. The school lacked teachers and depended on the yearly National Youth Service Corp program for assistance. The last teacher they sent had died in his sleep from carbon monoxide poisoning. Exhaust fumes from his small generator had filled his poorly ventilated room in the teacher's quarters. The memory was still fresh and now they'd sent a new teacher.

Aaliyah and Femi's paths first crossed when she went to see the School Principal to report the repeated vandalization of the school clinic. Femi was with the Principal, looking immaculately dressed in his neat, crested, NYSC khakis. He was tall, about 6 ft 2 she guessed, with shiny dark skin and big, piercing eyes. He didn't acknowledge her greeting. He didn't want to be distracted from his objective which was to get his rejection letter signed by the principal. 

Femi was a guy used to city life so arriving at that village felt like being exiled to the Stone Age. He'd tried unsuccessfully to cope with the harsh conditions and was ready to call it quits. How anyone survived this place was a mystery to him. 

Femi was asthmatic but he didn't like sympathy so he kept that information to himself.

One look at the Principal's panic stricken face and Aaliyah instinctively knew what was being discussed. 

Determined not to lose another teacher so soon, Aaliyah spoke up in good, clear English, “I can get you accommodation at the hospital. You'll be comfortable there.”

The principal was pleased.

“Thank you my dear. You see?” The principal said, turning to Femi. “Things are looking up.

Femi turned to stare at Aaliyah, as if suddenly noticing her.

She had dark skin, long black hair that she wore in twists, light brown eyes, a cute nose and very generous lips. Something softened in his expression but Aaliyah wasn't paying attention.

Within 24 hours, Femi went from living in a teacher’s shack, with neither electricity nor ventilation, to lounging in a house with 6 hours of power, a ceiling fan, and a borehole - luxuries he hadn't seen since his arrival. It felt like he’d gone from the Stone Age to paradise overnight.

The only downsides were a noisy neighbor with his loud music and Aaliyah's apartment that was 10 blocks away.

The hospital grounds were large but sparsely populated with buildings.

Then began their daily commutes to school, and with that, Femi and Aaliyah grew closer. The mundane rides soon became the highlight of Femi’s day. Aaliyah wasn't just generous, she was smart and beautiful. Her frequent laughter revealed straight teeth with a bewitching gap in front. Every shared conversation felt like peeling back layers, and before he knew it, he was yearning for something more.

The next day, a fleet of gleaming,luxury SUVs lined the front of the School Principal's Office. The Local Government Chairman, Alhaji Umar Abubakar, had arrived with his entourage in tow, not for a school event though. They came to commission the “10 billion naira” Project executed by his administration - a small building that could only sit fifty people. As was tradition, the Chairman’s name was boldly painted on it - a permanent reminder of fleeting generosity. 

Compared to the other school buildings, it stood tall. The rest were in a state of terrible disrepair; one had no roof, the others had doors and windows missing, and none was painted.

The School Principal’s face split into a grin, unable to mask his giddy anticipation. "All these big men in one place," he likely mused. "Surely someone will bless me with something today."

After the forced smiles, photo ops, and ribbon-cutting, the men climbed back into their air-conditioned cars, leaving behind thick clouds of red dust and exhaust - more waste for the climate to pick up. 

The after-party would be filled with girls from the only University in the city. It would last till dawn, money would change hands, and by morning, everyone would return to their lives, as if nothing had happened. It was a notorious lifestyle called, “chop and clean mouth.”

Femi wiped his brow, smearing the sweat across his forehead. He spat into the dirt. “Hypocrites,” he muttered, watching them disappear down the road, leaving behind their empty gestures, and a dilapidated school.

The Principal, however, couldn’t stop grinning. One of the “big men” had slipped him ten thousand naira on the spot. In a system where teachers hadn’t seen their salaries in months, the cash felt like a lifeline. He didn’t seem to recall, or care, that the very same people who had just driven off in luxury, were responsible for their unpaid wages.

“See how God just blessed me today!” he enthused, patting the crisp bills. 

Somehow, the cold naira notes also turned him into a motivational speaker. 

“Femi, be humble and work hard so good things will come your way too, okay?”

Femi was tempted to roll his eyes to capture his disgust but he didn't. His upbringing had taught him not to mouth off, especially to his elders. So although the Principal’s twisted logic grated on him, he bit his tongue. He was starving and just wanted to leave, but first, he had to find Aaliyah.

Dragging himself from the new building, Femi trudged toward the clinic. The sun blazed down, the cracked earth showcased a few sun-baked lizards and fallen birds - silent victims of the worsening heat. 

Femi didn’t mind luxury, he hated injustice. Way back in Secondary school, he’d taken a beating defending a friend from a corrupt teacher. The noble act earned him respect among his peers especially because they knew he was asthmatic. They'd only known his soft side and nicknamed him jeje - a native word for ‘soft’. That day, they saw his stubborn and determined side.

Femi kicked at a loose stone. 

I want to be married in two years. 

His mind drifted to Aaliyah.

Would she accept me?

When he reached the school clinic, a glossy red Mercedes shimmered in the heat, absurdly out of place beside the building’s weathered walls. He guessed it belonged to one of the government officials who had come for the commissioning ceremony.

But what is this doing here?

Curiosity tugged at Femi so he lingered outside the Clinic door, heart racing as he listened.

“Stop it, please. What if someone walks in?” Aaliyah’s voice was playful but firm.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Usman’s tone oozed arrogance.

“This is a school clinic. Of course, I am.”

“Okay, okay. So can we now go to your place?”

Aaliyah's face brightened. “You mean to see my dad?”

Usman chuckled, masking the gymnastics going on in his brain as he went over his remaining plans for the day; 

I need to be at the airport by 3pm to pick up Halima, afterwards I have other appointments.

But he responded, “Ah babe, we'll do that one later. What I want now is some alone time with you. At your apartment in the hospital.”

Aaliyah's face fell. “Well, I'm sorry. I can't. It seems you're always too busy to do what I want but never too busy to do what you want.”

Usman's voice softened, “Alhaji doesn't give me breathing space. Besides, every errand brings extra cash. Or how do you think I afford the gifts I give you?”

“I don’t ask for them,do I?” she said quietly. “Some things are more important.”

Usman’s smile faltered. Aaliyah's moral stand confused him. If she was such a good girl then why date someone like him? Morals are for weaklings.

His divorced mother abandoned him when she married a rich politician who didn't want him. He grew up hating politicians and soon, Alhaji Umar Abubakar was going to bear the brunt of all those years of bitterness.

His father didn't count - the man never took care of him, period. A chronic womanizer, his dad fathered up to 20 more children. Life on the streets had taught Usman charm, not integrity. Women adored him, and men respected him because of his influence and money. He took what he could, and because he had no conscience, he often took everything.

He knew what he was but it seemed Aaliyah didn't know what she was.

Aaliyah sensed his change of mood and spoke up, “My toilet plumbing has issues so I can't entertain visitors right now, not even special ones,” she said smiling.

“Really? Why didn't you tell me? I'll send someone to fix it.”

“I'm working the night shift so unless he's coming now he won't meet me at home.”

“Don't worry, I'll tell him to drop everything and get to your place.”

“Thanks love, I really appreciate your help.”

“You’ll make a perfect wife for me,” he said smoothly, giving her a squeeze while she giggled. “Let's take a selfie,” he suggested. They posed and the camera clicked.

Aaliyah snuggled up to him breathing deep. His cologne clung to her - heady and intoxicating, just like his lies.

As Usman stepped out the door, he spotted Femi eavesdropping and gave him a once-over. They were both the same height. He must have seen the pained expression in Femi's eyes because he smirked.

Without a word, he sauntered past, got into his polished red Mercedes and drove off. 

After a few agonizing moments, Aaliyah burst out of the clinic, her steps quick, adjusting her scarf with a hurried gesture. She didn't know anyone was standing outside.

“Ahhh! Femi, you scared me! I didn’t see you there.”

Femi swallowed the lump of frustration rising in his throat. “Sorry I scared you. I was just giving you and your boyfriend some privacy.”

“Shhhh!” Aaliyah hissed, glancing around nervously. “No one is supposed to know about us yet! He hasn’t told his boss. We’re keeping things low key.”

“Aaliyah , focus! You led me on. I thought we had something - something real.”

“I never deceived you, Femi.” Her voice was firm but not unkind. “I was just being nice. Would you rather I was rude? And I told you, Usman and I are keeping things private. No one is supposed to know.”

Femi scoffed, his frustration bubbling over. “Well, that's the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. True love doesn’t hide. You knew I had feelings for you, how could you not? You should have told me you were with someone else. At least I’d have known to move on, instead of wasting time, waiting on you.”

Aaliyah crossed her arms defensively. “Femi can you even hear yourself? Feelings? What are feelings when you have no strength of character? All it took was one week of discomfort in this school, and you were ready to quit.” Aaliyah's words hurt Femi but he didn't back down.

“Oh, is that how you see me?” Femi couldn't believe his ears. He'd thought she couldn't hurt a fly. “You think I'm a quitter? Fine. But before I go, I just want you to know something.” 

He leaned in, his words slow and deliberate. “That man who just left in his shiny car? He’s got you under a spell which also means he is playing you. He’s probably got some rich babe on the side and is either giving you her cast-offs or what he stole. A man who really loves you wouldn’t hide you like some dirty secret. If he truly wanted you, he’d have put a ring on your finger long ago.”

Aaliyah’s lips parted, but no words came. Femi pressed on. “Usman is corrupt - a thief - and you're okay with it? Well, that says a lot about you, Aaliyah.” 

Aaliyah had never seen Femi in this mood, he was really upset and didn't flinch when accusing Usman of using juju on her.

Aaliyah ’s face tightened, but she lifted her chin. “You’re just jealous, Femi. Me? Under a spell? You're crazy. No one is righteous, okay. Those that try to be are often punished rather than rewarded. One has to try their best to survive under any given circumstance. That's what I'm doing, Femi, I'm surviving.”

“Is that really what you think? I am so disappointed right now. And you're wrong.” 

With that, Femi turned and walked away, each step heavy with disappointment. Aaliyah stood rooted to the spot, the heat suddenly seeming more vengeful, the weight of Femi’s words lingered long after he was gone.

Aaliyah dragged her tired feet across the dusty road that led to her apartment. Her mind reeled from Femi’s words, like a drumbeat she couldn’t shut off. Her usual confidence felt dented. 

Is Femi right? Is Usman really controlling me with juju? 

She shook her head stubbornly, trying to dismiss the notion. 

The thought that he might be right clung to her like the sweat that matted her blouse.

When she got home her eyes rested on the red velvet jewelry box that Usman had gifted her for her 24th birthday. She opened it and the diamonds sparkled. Were they really stolen?

She closed the box and pushed the thoughts from her mind. She needed to rest and get ready for her night shift at the hospital.

Halima, the LG chairman's daughter, had just flown in from Dubai. She had a reputation for being spoiled, selfish and materialistic. She had just two weaknesses: her love for diamonds and her trust in Usman. She trusted him with her life. He even knew her passwords; she'd given them to him in case she was too drunk to remember them.

By the time her plane touched down, Usman was already at the airport with the driver. He'd made the 3-hour drive from the Government Lodge .

To her, he was the gem among her father’s orderlies. He listened well, never complained, and occasionally served as her rebound boyfriend between breakups with wealthy lovers.

Stepping out of the airport’s cool lounge, her H-shaped rose-gold, 24-carat diamante brooch, matching earrings, and bracelet, sparkled in the sun. They were worth a fortune. Halima adored diamonds and kept her prized collection in a Safe. 

Usman got her the safe after the domestic servants went from eyeing her jewels to stealing them, or so she thought.

It baffled her that despite harsh beatings and threats, not one of them ever admitted to the theft or returned the missing pieces. 

At the Government Lodge, Usman carried Halima’s purse - which held her travel documents and Iphone 14 - into her room. The central AC had been left running in anticipation of her arrival - he’d thought of everything. As soon as she kicked off her shoes, she took off her jewelry. She wanted to relax in the living room for a bit, so she put them in her coat pocket.

Usman soon came out with a 2 litre pack of cold lemon juice and poured her a glass. The drink tasted odd, but she dismissed it as a lingering side effect of her recent bout with malaria. As she put down the glass, she drifted into a nap.

Halima woke up with a splitting headache, the clock read 10 p.m. - she’d slept for about 4 hours. She entered her bedroom, her purse was on the bed but there were no documents in it, only her phone. Groggy, she reached for it, but the screen wouldn’t unlock. Frowning, she tried again. Nothing.

Oh no. I don’t need this problem now. 

“Usman!"

When there was no response, she found a house servant.

"Ah, madam, you're awake."

"Yes. Where is Usman?"

"He said he was going to the community hospital for some drugs - he wasn’t feeling well."

"Did he mention where he kept my things?"

"No, but I’m sure he put it somewhere safe."

"Alright. Where’s the driver?"

"He left, ma. But Usman said to give you the keys to your small car. He had it serviced for you."

Halima glanced down at her phone, noticing something weird - an engraving on the back of the phone cover that shouldn’t be there. She’d replaced that cover weeks ago, or at least she thought she had. Her head pounded, clouding her thoughts.

Her phone held many secrets: passwords to shell company accounts, her father’s offshore funds, and personal banking details. Everything.

She had to find Usman. He would know what to do.

On the drive to the hospital, Halima fumbled with her seatbelt. She didn't pay attention to ensure it latched properly. Suddenly she remembered her ATM cards were tucked behind her phone. She slipped off the pouch to check. Nothing.

Her breath hitched. This must be a nightmare, she thought, blinking hard. But it wasn’t. The cards were gone.

Suddenly, bright headlights flooded her vision, accompanied by a blaring horn. Panicking, she stomped on the brakes, but the pedal sank uselessly. With no choice, Halima swerved to avoid the oncoming truck, veering off the road.

The accident and emergency department of the hospital where Aaliyah was stationed was always crowded. Patients groaned from their pain at all times of the day, and death was common. The hospital was run down, had few beds, was poorly equipped with outdated equipment. Sometimes, patients were laid on floor mats and doctors were seldom around. Those who could manage it often preferred the long drive to the city for treatment, but even the government hospital there wasn't much better.

As Aaliyah moved to assist a patient, chaos followed the arrival of a new one, mangled from a ghastly car accident. Her wounds were mortal but she was still breathing. It appeared she wasn't rescued on time. The good Samaritan who had found her was wearing a black T-shirt and an old brown cap.

Aaliyah was called to help.

As she carefully removed the girl’s coat, she felt something in her right pocket. She dipped her hand there and brought out some very expensive looking pieces of jewelry. They were starkly out of place in the crumbling hospital. Aaliyah felt she was being stared at so she turned to check. Her eyes locked with his for a second; It was the good samaritan who had brought in the accident victim. Uncomfortable with her piercing gaze, he quickly looked away. Aaliyah thought nothing of it. She returned her attention to the task at hand and noticed something: an engraving on each piece, a single letter H. Her pulse quickened. 

The same letter on the trinkets Usman had been giving her... 

That night, Aaliyah put the jewelry into a labeled envelope and shelved it where such items were kept. Soon more whispers rippled through the ward; the accident victim was Halima Umar Abubakar, the Local Government Chairman’s daughter.

Of course! H stands for Halima! 

Yet, in spite of the evidence, Aaliyah struggled to believe that Femi could be right.

It was a Friday night. Halima’s father was off partying in some secret location and her mother was in faraway Dubai. Only one household staff knew where she'd gone and hadn't told anyone to go check up on her.

Aaliyah dialed Usman’s number, again and again, but it kept going to voicemail. 

Usman seemed to have vanished.

Aaliyah didn’t sleep a wink that night, not because she was busy, but because guilt gnawed at her relentlessly. 

Maybe it’s all just a misunderstanding, she told herself, clutching the H-shaped rose gold, 24-carat diamante brooch, as if it could offer answers. She needed to compare its engraving with the ones on her own trinkets.

Halima's car had slammed into an old wooden pole supporting a phone line, which collapsed onto a drooping electric line. Sparks flew as the cables hit the fence of the post office. They landed in a heap of dry grass - the remains of a job Usman’s underpaid workers had left unfinished. The grass smoldered, thin tendrils of smoke curling into the night. But in the darkness, it went unnoticed.

Aaliyah left the hospital for her apartment at 6am. By then the post office building had caught fire. They'd called the fire department but were told there was no water in the fire trucks and no power to pump water. For the moment, the wind was blowing the smoke away from the hospital so there was no immediate danger of the fire spreading.

The post office staff and passersby did what they could with buckets of soapy water and sand.

As Aaliyah reached her door, her heart sank. It was slightly ajar.

Don’t tell me I forgot to lock it.

She stepped inside and flicked on the light, her gaze landing on the dresser.

Her breath caught. The red velvet jewelry box was gone.

“Hey Aaliyah! You're back.’

It was her neighbor, she'd seen her door open and came to check.

“Did your plumber succeed in unclogging your WC?’ the neighbor asked.

“What? Someone was here?”

“Yes. He was wearing an old cap, a black shirt and brown trousers.”

“Oh my God!” And without another word, Aaliyah rushed out. She hoped the jewelry in the brown envelope at the hospital would still be there. 

As she stepped outside, she saw thick smoke rising in the distance.

"Oh no!"

Panic surged through her, and she broke into a sprint. The hospital had caught fire.

Femi woke up from a restless sleep to the noise from his neighbor's loud music, again.

He angrily threw on a white kaftan fully prepared to fight him that morning.

Barely out the front door Femi saw the thick cloud in the distance and wondered: What’s with all the smoke?

But as he looked closer he realized it was the hospital, and it was burning. 

Oh my God! Aaliyah.

He ran toward it.

The wind's sudden change of direction happened around 6:30 am, it threw hot embers on the roof of the hospital. And before anyone could react, the hospital’s dry exterior - consisting of flaked paint on walls that hadn’t seen maintenance in years - began to smolder.

Inside, everything devolved into confusion. A few doctors who had arrived that morning barked orders with little clarity. Nurses shuffled between patients in panic, and patients - some bedridden, others barely able to walk - dragged themselves, IV lines, and all as they headed out the doors and windows. They were sick alright, but they didn't want to die just yet.

Of course, there was no evacuation plan. Whenever disaster hit, all anyone could do was pray hard and hope for miracles.

Femi arrived at the hospital to a scene that looked like something out of a nightmare. People staggered through the thick smoke, coughing violently, faces streaked with soot and fear. Femi patted his pockets and realized too late that his inhaler was in his khaki pocket back in his room.

His heart hammered in his chest as he thought about what that meant: he needed to turn back ASAP or he might just die here.

On second thought, this was his chance to prove his love to Aaliyah and he had no intention of blowing it.

Femi forced himself into the chaos. 

Aaliyah had called him spineless so he was going to prove her wrong.

A nurse stumbled into him, eyes wide with terror.

“Where’s Aaliyah ?” he demanded, gripping her by the arms.

“I - I don’t know!” she stammered. “She was on the night shift... but no one’s seen her since the fire started.”

Panic and pain clawed at his chest. The flames were spreading fast, licking the hospital walls, turning the air inside into a choking fog. 

A part of him whispered to turn back, that it wasn’t safe to keep going. But he ignored it. If Aaliyah was in danger, he wasn’t leaving without her.

He couldn't see anything in the smoke so he stumbled and fell. Thinking he was going to suffocate for sure Femi was greeted by fresh gusts of breeze on the floor. He could breathe! He jejely turned and began his crawl back outside.

The air was thick with smoke, and ashes. There was a lot of confusion, especially for Alhaji Umar Abubakar, who had just arrived with his entourage.

It was a pitiful sight as he cradled his daughter’s lifeless body, sobbing uncontrollably. The hospital from which he'd siphoned development funds could not save his daughter.

Things got worse when his phone started buzzing relentlessly - debit alerts flooding in from all his accounts. Panic twisted his face as he stared at the notifications.

"Where is Usman? Tell him if he doesn't show his face right now he'll be sorry," he bellowed at a nearby orderly. 

"How can his phone be switched off now? I want answers! What happened to my daughter? Why all these debit alerts? Oh God, why me?”

Then another notification came in. The Chairman opened it to reveal a photo. It was a selfie of a couple. His face clouded instantly as he gave his men instructions. They fanned out. It was as if they were searching for someone.

Earlier, Aaliyah had looked for the brown envelope containing Halima’s jewelry, but it was gone. She suspected it was the same man who had robbed her that took it. Her chest tightened with guilt. The least she could do was return the brooch she had taken, the only personal item of the deceased, to her grieving father.

She patted her pockets gently. Nothing. It wasn’t there. Squinting, she scanned the ground, hoping it had fallen, but the brooch had simply vanished. 

As she looked up, rough hands tightened over her arms.

“The Chairman would like a word with you,” was the gruff explanation.

“Let go of me right now,” she said, voice trembling.

“Sorry, but we can't do that,” was the unapologetic response.

As the Chairman's orderlies held her she saw him - Femi emerging from the smoke like an action hero. But he didn't come to rescue her.

His near death experience had opened his eyes and taught him a valuable lesson: Never take a woman's rejection as a do or die affair. If you die, she'll find someone else while you turn to dust in the ground.

Aaliyah refused to go with the men and some hospital staff, noticing what was happening, began to gather around. Soon arguments broke out. But it was the blank look on Femi's face that broke her heart. 

Aaliyah suddenly felt completely overwhelmed. 

She sank to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. 

The Making of A Villain. A Bible Character Allegory.

 Part 1: A Lonely Beginning

Damian had always felt the weight of loneliness, though as a child, he didn’t know how to describe it. His house was quiet, save for the sound of his mother’s soft humming as she went about her daily tasks. She was the only warmth in the house, like a gentle flame in an otherwise cold space. Damian’s father was stern, a man of few words who spent most of his time away, either working or absorbed in his thoughts. His mother filled the silence with her presence, a buffer between Damian and the growing void that seemed to loom over him.

Then, when Damian was ten years old, she was gone.

It happened so quickly. One morning she was there, making his favorite breakfast of eggs and toast, her laughter soft and familiar as she told him to hurry and eat before school. By the afternoon, she was in the hospital, and by nightfall, she was dead.

Damian couldn’t comprehend it. The suddenness of her absence felt like someone had ripped the world out from under him. His father, stoic as ever, didn’t weep, at least not where Damian could see. But something broke in him, too. Damian watched as his father’s silent grief became a daily ritual of avoidance. Where once there was a distant but functioning parent, there was now only a man hollowed out by loss.

As time passed, Damian’s house became more of a mausoleum, a place where memories of his mother lingered but no longer lived. His father, unable or unwilling to face his own grief, withdrew into himself, leaving Damian alone with his thoughts, his pain, and his anger.

He became an only child in more than just the literal sense. With no siblings and a father who had retreated into his own world, Damian grew up in isolation. School was no better. He wasn’t the type to make friends easily, and with the weight of his mother’s death hanging over him, he became even more closed off. He felt different from the other kids–more detached, more guarded. They laughed, played, and talked about things that seemed meaningless to him. What did it matter who won the soccer game or who was the most popular? Nothing mattered anymore.

But there was one person who saw past the walls he had built. Elena.

Elena wasn’t like the others. She didn’t bombard him with questions or try to force him to talk when he didn’t want to. She was quiet, too, in her own way, but her silence was different from his. Where his was heavy and defensive, hers was thoughtful, like she was waiting for the right moment to speak. And when she did speak, it wasn’t to ask what was wrong or why he seemed so sad. Instead, she told him stories–little snippets of her day, jokes she’d heard, or random thoughts that floated through her mind.

At first, Damian didn’t know what to make of her. He was used to people giving him space, or worse, tiptoeing around him like he was fragile. But Elena treated him like anyone else, and over time, her presence became something he looked forward to. They’d sit together during lunch, sometimes in silence, sometimes talking about nothing in particular. And for a while, Damian allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t so alone after all.

As they both grew older, their paths started to diverge. Damian, though still quiet and reserved, was growing harder, his father’s bitterness seeping into his own worldview. Meanwhile, Elena became engaged to someone else, someone chosen by her family. Damian told himself he didn’t care, that it was better this way. But when he saw her wearing the ring, her future now tied to another man, something inside him snapped.

He avoided her after that. He couldn’t bear the thought of seeing her happy with someone else, not when he had been too afraid to let her in fully. The hurt, buried deep beneath layers of indifference, hardened him further. Relationships were a weakness, he told himself. Love was an illusion that only led to pain. Just like his mother, just like his father, just like Elena–everyone left in the end.

The day of Elena’s wedding came and went, and Damian didn’t show. He felt the weight of her absence in a new way, but he forced himself not to dwell on it. The more he distanced himself from his emotions, the stronger he believed he was becoming.

But underneath it all, the hurt festered, shaping the path he would soon walk.

Part 2: The Growing Divide

Damian’s world became more muted after Elena's wedding. The quiet ache of her absence was something he refused to acknowledge, yet it gnawed at him. Days blurred into each other, marked only by the routine of work, home, and the silence that filled both.

He worked at a thrift store not too far from home.

One afternoon, as Damian walked home, he caught a glimpse of Elena in the market. She was laughing, her hand resting on the arm of her husband, a man with an easy smile and kind eyes. The sight struck him like a blow, and before he realized it, he had turned and walked in the opposite direction, his fists clenched at his sides.

Later that night, as he sat alone in his room, the image replayed in his mind. Her laughter, her hand on another man's arm–it all felt like a betrayal, though he had no right to feel that way. 

She had moved on, as people do. But he hadn’t, and the bitterness inside him deepened.

His father’s voice broke through the quiet.

"Damian," the old man called from the living room. "Come here."

Damian reluctantly left his room and found his father sitting in his usual armchair, a glass of whiskey in hand. His father rarely drank, but when he did, it was always with a kind of resigned purpose, as if the alcohol was his only escape from the weight of life.

"Yes?" Damian asked, standing in the doorway.

"Sit down," his father gestured toward the worn sofa.

Damian hesitated, but he sat. There was something unsettling about these moments when his father actually spoke to him. They were so rare now, and when they did happen, it usually meant something was bothering him.

His father studied him for a moment before speaking. "Do you ever wonder why your mother did what she did?"

Damian frowned. "What do you mean?"

"All that peace work," his father muttered, taking another sip. "Fighting for causes that didn’t concern her, putting herself in harm’s way. And for what? She’s gone. It didn’t save her."

Damian stiffened. His father rarely spoke about his mother, and when he did, it was usually laced with bitterness. But tonight, there was something more–something resembling regret.

"I don’t think that’s fair," Damian said, his voice low. "She believed in what she was doing."

"And look where that got her," his father snapped, his words slurred slightly. "Believing in people, in a better world–it’s all foolishness. People are selfish, Damian. They take and take, and when there’s nothing left to give, they leave. Your mother gave everything, and where are those people now? Nowhere."

Damian looked down, his heart pounding. He had never agreed with his father’s cynicism, but lately, it was harder to argue. Everyone had left. His mother, Elena–one by choice, the other by circumstance. His father’s words resonated in a way they hadn’t before.

"I get it now," his father continued, staring into his glass. "I get why you keep your distance. It’s safer. Don’t let anyone in, Damian. They’ll only disappoint you in the end."

There was a long pause. Damian felt the weight of the room pressing down on him, the bitterness seeping from his father slowly working its way into his own heart.

"Maybe you’re right," Damian said quietly. "Maybe it’s better that way."

His father looked at him then, his eyes heavy with the weariness of years of grief and disappointment. He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. Damian knew they had come to a grim understanding. The world was cruel, and trusting others was a weakness.

As he left the room, Damian’s thoughts turned back to Elena. He had trusted her, even if only in the smallest ways, and she had moved on, leaving him behind. His father’s words echoed in his mind: “Don’t let anyone in.”

Months passed, and Damian began drifting toward darker company. It wasn’t intentional at first–just small encounters with people who shared his growing disillusionment. One of them was Jarek, a local man a few years older than Damian, known for his intense views on justice and corruption.

Damian first met Jarek in a small café downtown. They were both sitting alone, sipping coffee, when Jarek struck up a conversation.

"You ever wonder why nothing ever changes?" Jarek asked, leaning forward with an intensity that immediately caught Damian's attention.

"What do you mean?" Damian replied cautiously.

"Everything’s broken, man. The system, the government, the people who are supposed to protect us. They’re all corrupt. And we’re just sitting here, letting it happen."

Damian nodded slowly, intrigued. He had felt this way for a while but hadn’t put it into words.

"It’s like they’re laughing at us," Jarek continued. "People like you and me, we follow the rules, live our lives, and what do we get? Nothing. Meanwhile, those in power just keep getting richer, while we suffer."

Damian glanced at him. "So, what do we do about it?"

Jarek smiled, but there was something unsettling in it. "We stop waiting for someone else to fix things. We take control. Fight back."

Damian didn’t respond immediately, but something about Jarek’s words stirred something in him. The bitterness that had been festering inside him–the anger at the world for taking his mother, at Elena for leaving, at his father for shutting down–it all found a direction.

For weeks, Damian spent more time with Jarek and his circle of friends. They weren’t like the other people he knew. They didn’t just talk about change–they believed in action. Small acts at first–vandalizing the property of corrupt officials, disrupting meetings. But as time went on, the plans became more extreme.

One night, after a meeting, Jarek pulled Damian aside.

"Listen," Jarek said, his voice low, "we’re planning something bigger. Real change. But it’s going to take commitment. Are you ready for that?"

Damian’s heart raced. This was it. The moment he would prove that he wasn’t weak, that he could make a difference.

"Yeah," Damian replied, his voice steady. "I’m ready."

Jarek’s grin widened, and he clapped a hand on Damian’s shoulder. "Good. We’ve got work to do."

Part 3: The Plan

Damian had never felt more certain of his path than he did in the days leading up to Jarek’s "big mission." There was a fire in him now, a burning purpose that drowned out the doubt. This was the moment he had been waiting for–the chance to make a statement, to fight back against the corruption that had stolen everything from him. And with Jarek and the others by his side, he finally felt like he belonged.

They met in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city, far from prying eyes. Jarek gathered everyone around a dimly lit table, a map of the city spread out before him.

"Here’s how it’s going to go," Jarek began, his voice calm and measured. "We’ll hit the convoy when it’s making its way through this section of the industrial district. It’s a high-profile target–corrupt officials laundering money. We take them out, send a message that we’re not afraid to strike at the heart of their operations."

Damian stared at the map, his heart pounding. This was bigger than anything they’d done before. But that only made it more important, more necessary.

Jarek’s voice dropped to a whisper. "We’ll need everyone to be ready. No second-guessing. No turning back. This is the kind of thing that will change everything."

Damian nodded along with the others, but inside, there was a knot tightening in his stomach. He had told himself that this was justice–that these people deserved what was coming. But as the plan unfolded in front of him, a small voice in the back of his mind whispered doubts. Was this really justice? Or had he become something else entirely?

On the day of the mission, Damian’s hands were cold, his heart racing as he followed the group into the heart of the industrial district. They were all dressed in black, faces covered, moving like shadows through the narrow alleyways.

As they approached the spot where the convoy would pass, Jarek pulled Damian aside.

"You good?" Jarek asked, his piercing eyes searching Damian’s face.

"Yeah," Damian replied quickly, though his voice felt distant, like it wasn’t really his.

Jarek clapped him on the back. "Good. Because we’re counting on you."

Damian watched as the others took their positions, his mind racing. Everything was in place. They had planned for every detail, every contingency. But as he crouched behind a stack of crates, waiting for the signal, his mind wandered back to a time long ago–to Elena.

It was an image that had haunted him for years: her in that white dress, laughing with her new husband as they left the church. That was the day something inside him had snapped, the day he had decided that trust and relationships were weaknesses he could no longer afford.

A part of him had died that day, and he had been burying the pieces ever since. But now, as he stood on the edge of something irreversible, that memory felt different–less like a scar and more like a wound that had never properly healed.

The convoy appeared in the distance, the sound of tires rolling over uneven pavement echoing through the narrow streets. Jarek signaled to the group, and everyone tensed, ready to strike.

Damian gripped the handle of the weapon in his hand, his knuckles turning white. But just as he was about to move into position, something caught his eye–a figure, standing alone on the corner of the street, watching them.

It was an old man, his clothes tattered and worn, his face hidden beneath the shadow of a wide-brimmed hat. There was nothing particularly striking about him, but something about the way he stood, the way he seemed to know what was happening, unsettled Damian.

For a moment, Damian hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t sure why, but the old man’s presence unnerved him. It was as if he could see through the mask, through the bravado, to the truth of what Damian was about to do.

Suddenly, the old man stepped forward, his gaze locking onto Damian.

"Stop," the man said, his voice calm but commanding.

Damian froze, his eyes widening beneath the mask.

The convoy continued to roll forward, unaware of the danger lurking just a few feet away. But Damian couldn’t move. He couldn’t look away from the old man, whose eyes now seemed to glow with a strange, almost otherworldly light.

"Damian," the old man said softly, though the distance between them should have made it impossible for him to hear. "This is not the way."

The words hit Damian like a hammer, echoing in his mind with such force that he almost staggered backward. How did this man know his name? How could he be speaking directly to him?

Before Damian could react, the old man pointed toward the convoy. "You think this is justice. You think you’re fighting for something noble. But look closer."

Damian glanced at the convoy, his heart racing. He blinked, trying to focus, but something was wrong. The world seemed to shift around him, and as he looked more closely at the vehicles, he realized that what he thought were government officials were nothing more than civilians–innocent people caught in the crossfire.

"No," Damian whispered, his grip on the weapon faltering. "That’s not right…"

But the old man’s voice cut through his thoughts again, sharp and clear. "This path leads to nothing but destruction. Turn back now, before it’s too late."

Damian’s breath came in short, sharp bursts, his mind spinning. He had been so sure, so certain that this was the way to make things right. But now…now he wasn’t so sure. Everything felt wrong, twisted, like a nightmare he couldn’t wake from.

In that moment, something inside Damian broke. The anger, the bitterness, the desire for revenge–it all melted away, leaving only a hollow ache in its place.

He dropped the weapon.

Damian stumbled back from the crates, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t know what had just happened, but he knew he couldn’t go through with it. Not like this.

Jarek turned toward him, his eyes narrowing. "What are you doing?" he hissed, moving closer.

Damian shook his head, his voice trembling. "I…I can’t do this."

Jarek’s face twisted in anger. "What do you mean, you can’t do this? We’re in this together, Damian. You can’t just walk away!"

But Damian was already backing up, his eyes darting from Jarek to the others. "I’m done," he said, louder now, as if speaking the words gave them power. "This isn’t right."

Jarek took a step forward, his voice low and dangerous. "You walk away now, and you’re as good as dead."

Damian met his gaze, his chest heaving. "Maybe I deserve that."

Without another word, Damian turned and ran. He didn’t know where he was going or what would happen next, but for the first time in a long time, he didn’t care.

He had finally opened his eyes.

The Bane of Wars

A Tale of Resilience and Suffering in Tel Aviv

War is never kind, and its ripple effects are often felt far beyond the battlefield. The recent conflict in Tel Aviv, as chronicled through missile strikes, terror attacks, and military operations, is a stark reminder of the horrors of war and the toll it takes on both soldiers and civilians. 

As Israel marks 361 days of war, the country finds itself grappling with an escalating conflict that spans across its borders, reaching the hearts of its cities and the lives of everyday people. This is not just a military war—it's a psychological, emotional, and existential battle for survival.

The missile attacks from Iran on October 1st, 2024, are a perfect example of how war can disrupt the ordinary. On that day, 181 ballistic missiles were fired at Israel, targeting Tel Aviv, Herzliya, and other central regions. While Israel’s Arrow defense system intercepted most of them, the few that got through caused widespread panic, injuries, and damage. For the people of Tel Aviv, it was another day spent in bomb shelters, another day when children couldn't play outside, and another reminder that life under threat had become their new normal.

War is not just about the physical damage of missiles hitting their mark—it’s about the constant fear that grips a population. For the residents of Tel Aviv, the sound of sirens have become as routine as the sound of traffic. When warnings are issued to stay close to shelters, daily life comes to a standstill. Schools close, beaches are emptied, and community gatherings are restricted. The sense of community, something that is so integral to life in Israel, has become fragmented as constantly people retreat into their homes and shelters.

But that day, just as missiles rained down on Israel from above, terror also struck from within. On that same day, two terrorists launched a brutal attack in Jaffa, killing seven people on a light rail train. The attackers, armed with an M-16 rifle, opened fire on passengers before being neutralized by police. This wasn’t an isolated incident—terror attacks have long been a part of the fabric of war in Israel, and each attack brings with it waves of fear and grief. Families mourn their loved ones, and yet, even in the face of such cruelty, the nation remains defiant.

War is indiscriminate in its cruelty. It affects the soldiers on the frontlines and the civilians in the cities. While the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF) are busy conducting ground operations in Southern Lebanon to dismantle Hezbollah's military infrastructure, the people of Tel Aviv and beyond are living in a constant state of tension. Hezbollah’s tunnels, rocket launchers, and weapons caches are being uncovered and destroyed by elite Israeli units, but these military victories do little to quell the anxiety of civilians who know that at any moment, the conflict could reach their doorstep.

The conflict in Lebanon highlights the relentless nature of war. IDF soldiers risk their lives in targeted ground operations, and despite facing gunfire and counterattacks, they press on to destroy Hezbollah’s capabilities. 

But even these victories on the battlefield are tempered by the knowledge that the war is far from over. The region remains a powder keg, with Iran, Hezbollah, and other actors unwilling to step back from the brink.

War also exposes the strain on leadership. In Israel, Defense Minister Yoav Gallant and Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu are working tirelessly to coordinate military responses while maintaining public morale. 

It is understood that Israel is fighting a battle on multiple fronts—military, political, and psychological. Gallant often speaks of the need to balance military retaliation with diplomacy, while Netanyahu works with international allies, particularly the United States, to secure intelligence and support. Yet, for all their efforts, war is a beast that cannot be easily tamed.

As if the missile attacks and terror incidents aren't enough, the civilian population bears the brunt of the conflict’s emotional toll. 

Imagine living in a world where bomb shelters are as vital as supermarkets, where sirens can go off at any moment, forcing you to drop everything and run. For Israeli civilians, especially those in Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, this is their reality. The constant threat of missile strikes and terror attacks erode the sense of safety that every person deserves to feel in their own home.

Psychological support services have been expanded to help civilians cope with the stress, but even therapy can not fully repair the emotional scars left by the war. 

The feeling of helplessness and the weight of uncertainty are burdens that every citizen carries. Yet, in the midst of such adversity, the resilience of the Israeli people shine through. Communities, though separated by physical distance, come together in spirit. Social media becomes a platform for unity, with people sharing messages of hope and solidarity. 

For all its horror, war has a way of bringing out the best and worst in humanity. In Israel, it's revealed the strength of a people who refuse to give in to terror. It showcases the bravery of soldiers who risk their lives to protect their homeland. But it also lays bare the anguish of those who've lost loved ones, the children who're growing up in shelters, and the families whose lives will never be the same.

The bane of wars is that they never truly end. Even when the fighting stops, the wounds remain. Israel may eventually find peace in this conflict, but the psychological and emotional scars will linger for years to come. 

The cost of war is not just counted in lives lost or cities destroyed—it’s measured in the fear that persists long after the last missile has been fired.

In reflecting on this war, we must ask ourselves: at what point does the price of war outweigh the victories gained? For Israel, the answer may lie in its unshakable resolve to defend itself, to protect its people, and to ensure that the next generation does not have to live in a world defined by missiles and sirens. But as long as the specter of war looms large, the burden of conflict will continue to weigh heavily on the shoulders of both the nation and its people.

War is a curse, not just for those who fight it, but for those who live through it. And as we look to the future, one can only hope that the people of Tel Aviv, and indeed all of Israel, will one day know the peace that they have fought so hard to achieve.

Christian Romance Books: Necessary or Unnecessary

Christian Romance Books, Not Just Romance Books

Romance books are a genre of literature that primarily focuses on the relationship and romantic love between two people. These stories often explore the emotional and relational dynamics of love, typically leading to a satisfying, optimistic ending. Romance novels may cover a wide range of subgenres, including historical, contemporary, fantasy, or inspirational (such as faith-based romance), and they often highlight themes of commitment, personal growth, and emotional intimacy. The central plot revolves around the development of a romantic relationship, with various challenges, conflicts, or misunderstandings being resolved as the story progresses.

Faith-based romance novels have a unique role to play in shaping a believer's appreciation of what faith-based romantic love should be. 

They give us the opportunity to illustrate love in its purest form–sacrificial, patient, and anchored in something far greater than ourselves. In a world where relationships are often portrayed as fleeting and self-serving, these stories can serve as a counterbalance, reminding us of the biblical principles that define true love.

When authors like Francine Rivers or Karen Kingsbury write, they don't just tell a story; they weave the essence of God's love into every interaction between their characters. The romance portrayed in these books isn't the end goal but a reflection of the deeper, eternal love God offers to us all.

The absence of communities dedicated to supporting faith-based romance authors reflects a gap that urgently needs to be filled. As writers and readers, we need to nurture a space where we can exchange ideas, encourage one another, and, most importantly, push forward narratives that glorify God through the lens of romantic love. We need more stories that demonstrate what it means to honor God in relationships–how to love selflessly, to give without expecting anything in return, and to remain steadfast even when times are tough.

In a world overflowing with books that distort what love should be, faith-based romance novels stand as a beacon, reminding us that love, in its truest form, is rooted in faith. And it’s high time we give these stories the platform they deserve.

Why Faith-Based Romance is Important in Today's World and Especially to the Younger Generation

In today’s fast-paced, hyper-connected world, young people are bombarded with countless depictions of love–most of which glamorize superficial, fleeting emotions. Mainstream media often distorts love, focusing on infatuation, physical attraction, and instant gratification, while downplaying the significance of commitment, sacrifice, and faith. For the younger generation, this can lead to confusion about what love truly means and how it should be expressed.

This is where faith-based romance novels step in. These stories offer an alternative narrative–one grounded in biblical truths that remind us love is not about what we can gain but about what we can give. They show young readers that real love requires patience, forgiveness, and a reliance on God’s guidance.

In a time when values are constantly shifting, faith-based romance can act as a compass, pointing young people toward relationships that honor God, respect boundaries, and prioritize spiritual growth. These books can be particularly impactful for those navigating the complexities of dating, courtship, and marriage. They provide an avenue to explore what a Christ-centered relationship looks like and emphasize the importance of building relationships on a foundation of faith rather than fleeting emotions.

Moreover, for many young readers, these stories can serve as a source of inspiration and encouragement. They are reminders that they don’t have to conform to the world’s standards of love; they can aspire to a higher standard, one that reflects the love Christ has for the Church. In doing so, they can be equipped to make wiser, more intentional decisions about who they love and how they love.

Faith-based romance is more than just a genre; it’s a ministry that speaks directly to the heart, encouraging the younger generation to seek God in every aspect of their relationships. In a world that often misleads, these stories offer a path to the true, fulfilling love that God has designed for each of us.

The Importance of Guiding Young Hearts with the Right Materials

Finally, as parents, it’s easy to hope that our children can stay innocent for as long as possible, but the reality is that romance is an unavoidable part of growing up. Sooner or later, every child will start developing feelings and seeking to understand what love is all about. The question is, where are they learning about love?

It's better to equip our children with faith-based romance books that reflect God’s vision for love rather than pretend they’re not ready for these conversations. These books can serve as safe, wholesome resources, teaching them what it means to love with integrity, respect, and faith.

Remember, if we’re not teaching our children about love, someone else–or something else–certainly is. 

This is a call to be proactive in providing them with the right materials that guide them toward relationships that honor God and reflect the beauty of true, Christ-centered love.

Salt of the Earth 🌎, Light of the World.⭐

Why Christian Storybooks Are Essential for Today’s Kids.

In today’s rapidly evolving world, parents face an increasingly difficult challenge; how to raise children in a society that is not always aligned with their values. With the prevalence of social media, the internet, and peer pressure, the task of instilling strong moral values in children has become more complex. 

As a Christian parent, I'm particularly concerned about how to ensure my kids grow up with a foundation rooted in faith, compassion, and integrity.

From my experience while growing up as a teenager, apart from having a senior role model to offer guidance and help in important decisions, an equally powerful tool that can aid in this endeavor is the humble Christian storybook. 

In an era where distractions abound, Christian storybooks still stand out as a simple yet profound way to teach and inspire children, helping them navigate life’s complexities with wisdom and grace. Unfortunately, there aren't enough of them.

The Power of Stories

Stories have been used for centuries to pass down wisdom, instill virtues, and spark the imagination. 

Children naturally gravitate toward narratives, which provide a framework for understanding the world around them. 

When stories are infused with Christian values, they become not only a source of entertainment but also a vital means of shaping character.

Christian storybooks are not just moral lessons wrapped in a plot. They are pathways to understanding timeless biblical truths in ways that children can comprehend. 

Through the adventures of relatable characters, kids learn about forgiveness, kindness, patience, faith, and the importance of choosing right over wrong. These stories become foundational lessons that they carry into adulthood.

Instilling Faith Early On

The Bible encourages parents to “train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it” (Proverbs 22:6). But how can parents effectively do this when the world offers so many conflicting messages?

I don't know why but kids tend to bond with book characters and easily use books as temporary Havens to escape a pressure filled world. So think, instead of allowing them to consume materials that promote immorality and the like, why not expose them to the Christian way of doing things, which in reality, is the better way. The Bible affirms in 1 Corinthians 13, that against the Christian lifestyle of charity, there is no law.

Christian storybooks serve as easily accessible and enjoyable ways for children to absorb biblical teachings without feeling lectured. 

By starting young, parents can help children develop a personal connection to their faith through stories they love. Whether it’s tales of David and Goliath’s bravery or the parables of Jesus, these stories provide a clear moral compass that helps guide children through life’s decisions, big and small.

A Foundation Against Life’s Challenges

As children grow there is no way to completely protect them from life's hard knocks. They all face challenges; whether it’s dealing with bullying at school, understanding grief, or learning how to forgive. While parents cannot shield their children from every hardship, they can equip them with the wisdom to face these challenges. This may be in form of Christian storybooks, full of heroes who overcome adversity with God’s help.

These victors give children examples of resilience, hope, and faith in action.

Consider stories like those of Joseph, who faced betrayal but rose above it through faith in God’s plan, or Esther, whose courage saved her people. These are not just Bible characters, they are models of strength that children can admire and emulate in their own lives.

Engaging the Heart and Mind

Christian storybooks are not merely instructional; they captivate both the heart and the mind. Good storytelling draws children in, offering adventure, excitement, and the joy of discovery. But beyond the surface, these books embed deeper lessons in ways that are easy to grasp.

Children love to read about characters who make mistakes, just like they do. Watching a character learn from their failures and grow closer to God helps children see that they, too, can grow through their struggles. When these lessons come wrapped in stories that entertain and delight, children are more likely to internalize the values they read about.

Counteracting Negative Influences

In today’s media landscape, it is easy for children to be exposed to messages that conflict with Christian values. Many shows, movies, and books promote materialism, selfishness, or lifestyles that are at odds with biblical teachings. By offering Christian storybooks, parents create a counterbalance, providing content that reinforces their values.

Christian storybooks offer a wholesome alternative. They present a form of entertainment that doesn’t compromise on faith or morals. They show children that following Jesus is not only the right path but an exciting and fulfilling one.

Strengthening Family Bonds

Reading Christian storybooks together also offers an opportunity for parents and children to connect on a deeper level. Storytime can be a sacred space where the family comes together to reflect on faith, discuss moral dilemmas, and pray. These moments build a sense of togetherness and shared purpose, while also encouraging children to ask questions and explore their faith more fully.

Moreover, the discussions that follow reading these books help solidify lessons and open the door for meaningful conversations. Children may ask, “What would I do in this situation?” or “How can I be brave like that character?” These questions allow parents to guide their children toward biblical truths, helping them make connections between the stories and their own lives.

Preparing the Next Generation

Perhaps the most important reason Christian storybooks are essential is that they help prepare the next generation to carry the torch of faith forward. In a world that often feels chaotic and uncertain, Christian children are called to be lights in the darkness. By instilling Christian values through storybooks, parents are helping to nurture leaders, thinkers, and compassionate individuals who will positively impact the world.

As parents, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed by the cultural pressures that seem to be pulling our children in every direction. But with the help of Christian storybooks, we can provide our children with a firm foundation in faith, ensuring that they grow up with the tools they need to navigate life with grace, resilience, and purpose.

Question: Would you intentionally plant seeds for a lifelong faith?

If your answer is yes, then you should know that Christian storybooks are more than just good reads; they are seeds planted in young hearts, destined to grow into lifelong faith. Through these stories, children learn about God’s love, the importance of following His path, and the value of living according to His Word.

In today’s world, where confusion and chaos often reign, Christian storybooks offer much needed clarity, hope, and truth. They are essential tools for parents seeking to raise children who not only know about their faith but live it out boldly, with hearts full of love for God and others.

So, as you choose the next book for your child’s reading list, remember that what they read today will shape who they become tomorrow. Choose stories that uplift, inspire, and lead them closer to the Creator. After all, there is no better guide through life than the Word of God, even in the form of a simple, engaging story.

As we proceed, here's a couple of questions aimed at helping you to quickly evaluate your child:

This short exercise is designed to help parents reflect on their child's behavior and identify areas where they might need guidance, encouragement, or improvement. Answer the following questions with Yes, No, or Sometimes, and based on your responses, we will suggest relevant Bible verses and stories to inspire and pray over your child.

Questions:

1. Does your child generally show respect to you and other adults?

Yes | No | Sometimes

2. Does your child demonstrate patience when things don’t go their way?

Yes | No | Sometimes

3. Is your child kind and considerate toward their siblings, friends, or classmates?

Yes | No | Sometimes

4. Does your child willingly share their toys or belongings with others?

Yes | No | Sometimes

5. Does your child tell the truth, even when it’s difficult?

Yes | No | Sometimes

6. Is your child obedient and willing to follow instructions the first time?

Yes | No | Sometimes

7. Does your child express gratitude regularly for what they have?

Yes | No | Sometimes

8. Does your child apologize when they’ve done something wrong?

Yes | No | Sometimes

9. Does your child display self-control, especially during moments of frustration or anger?

Yes | No | Sometimes

10. Does your child show an interest in learning about God and His Word?

Yes | No | Sometimes

Results and Recommendations

Mostly "Yes":

Your child is showing strong moral and spiritual development. Continue reinforcing these positive behaviors through prayer, storytelling, and active engagement. Thank God for His grace and continue to nurture their growth.

Suggested Bible Verse to Pray Over Your Child:

“...that our sons may be as plants full grown in their youth, that our daughters may be as cornerstones, polished after the similitude of a palace;” (Psalm 114:12)

Bible Story for Inspiration:

Samuel’s Call (1 Samuel 3:1-10): Samuel listened and obeyed God at a young age, setting an example of attentiveness and obedience to God's voice.

Mostly "Sometimes":

Your child is on the right track but could use some encouragement in a few areas. Take time to reflect on the areas where improvement is needed, and engage with them through stories and prayers to help them grow stronger in their character and faith.

Suggested Bible Verse to Pray Over Your Child:

“And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.” (Galatians 6:9)

Bible Story for Inspiration:

Joseph and His Brothers (Genesis 37-50): Joseph's life story teaches patience, forgiveness, and faith in God's plan, despite difficult circumstances and misunderstandings.

Mostly "No":

Your child may be struggling with certain behaviors, but this is an opportunity to focus on their growth. Pray specifically for the areas that need improvement and encourage them through stories of biblical figures who overcame challenges and developed godly character.

Suggested Bible Verse to Pray Over Your Child:

“Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.” (Psalm 51:10)

Bible Story for Inspiration:

The Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11-32): The story of the Prodigal Son highlights the themes of repentance, forgiveness, and restoration. It teaches children about the importance of making the right choices and coming back to God’s path.

However, no matter how the child performs on your scale, they still need a lot of prayer and guidance.❤️

Pray this scripture for them from Ephesians 1:16-20:

“I have not stopped giving thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers. I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better. I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people, and his incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is the same as the mighty strength he exerted when he raised Christ from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms,💪

Finally, keep in mind that this exercise is not just about correcting behavior but about nurturing your child's heart toward God.

As parents, we must continue to pray over our children and teach them God’s Word, encouraging them through the powerful stories of great Christian role models both in the Bible and all around us.🌿