Praying Women

03/09/2026

NEVER UNDERESTIMATE THE POWER OF A PRAYING WOMAN

I want to share a testimony that happened to me some years ago and taught me a powerful lesson about prayer, spiritual discernment and godly wisdom.

When I married my husband, I had only recently given my life to Christ. He had two daughters, and the eldest was struggling deeply with the separation of her parents. Although they had divorced about seven years before I met her father, she was still carrying a lot of hurt and resentment, and her behaviour had become very difficult.

One day, while she was at school, I felt strongly led by the Holy Spirit to go into her bedroom.

When I entered, I was shocked.

The room was painted completely black, and on the wall was a disturbing, satanic-looking picture of a woman dressed in black, with what appeared to be blood oozing from her nails.

I immediately thought about this young girl lying in bed every night, looking at such an image.

But I didn’t confront her. I didn’t condemn her. I didn’t make a big issue of it.

I prayed. 🙏🏽

I believe God gave me not only discernment, but also the wisdom to know how to respond.

For about a month, every day, I went into that bedroom and prayed. I prayed over the atmosphere. I prayed for her mind, her emotions and her heart. I prayed that the peace of Christ would fill that room and that every influence contrary to God would be removed.

Then one day, something happened.

I noticed that the horrible picture had been thrown into the bin!

And it didn’t stop there.

She asked her father to buy her paint because she wanted to change the room.

GLORY TO GOD! 🙌🏽🔥

I had never told her to remove the picture. I simply prayed and allowed God to work.

This experience taught me something I have never forgotten:

Discernment without wisdom can cause us to react, but discernment combined with godly wisdom teaches us how to respond.

Sometimes God reveals something to us not so that we can expose, shame or condemn someone, but so that we can pray, intercede and respond according to His leading.

James 1:5 says:

“If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally…”

And Proverbs 3:5–6 reminds us to trust in the Lord and not lean on our own understanding.

The Bible also says:

“For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world…” — Ephesians 6:12

But even when we recognise that there is a spiritual battle, our response must still be guided by Christ’s love, wisdom, patience, prayer and discernment.

That experience taught me to never underestimate the power of a praying woman. 🔥

Prayer can change an atmosphere.
Prayer can bring light into dark places.
Prayer can reach a heart that we cannot reach ourselves.
Prayer can open doors that human intervention cannot open.
And godly wisdom teaches us when to speak, when to act, and when simply to pray.

“The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.” — James 5:16

So keep praying.

Even when you don’t see immediate change.

Even when nobody knows that you are praying.

Even when the situation seems impossible.

God sees. God hears. God is working.

And sometimes the greatest battles are won quietly, on our knees.🔥

All glory belongs to God!

02/09/2026

Diaries of a Virgin in Africa – Part 2: The Weight of Carrying Everything Alone

It took almost a week before Tom finally made contact. During that painful silence, life continued, but every day felt heavy. I was left carrying the emotional burden of uncertainty while trying to remain strong for our young son.

In the meantime, Tom would visit my cousin’s house to see our son before I returned home from work. It was difficult watching things unfold this way. A father wanting to see his child should have been a joyful thing, but the circumstances surrounding it were filled with hurt, distance, and unresolved issues.

Tom had refused to make contact with me until my cousin stepped in and encouraged him to communicate. Sometimes God uses people around us to bring peace where there is conflict, and my cousin became a bridge during a time when everything felt broken.

I knew I needed stability for myself and my son. I could not continue living in uncertainty, so I searched for a place of our own. Eventually, I found a small two-bedroom cottage to rent close to my workplace. It was not a palace, but to me it represented security, independence, and a fresh start. I wanted to create a safe environment where my son could grow and where I could provide for him without depending on anyone else.

When I told Tom about the cottage, I expected that we would begin rebuilding our family together. Instead, he told me he was not interested in moving in with me. He said he preferred that I live with him at a place that was about an hour away from my workplace.

My heart sank. I understood that marriage requires sacrifice and compromise, but I also had to think about our son. He was still so young, and I knew that if anything happened to him — an illness, an accident, or an emergency — travelling an hour could feel like a lifetime.

I explained to Tom that I could not make that decision. It was not about rejecting him; it was about being a responsible mother. My child’s wellbeing had to come first.

After some time, Tom finally agreed to join me at the cottage. I hoped this would be the beginning of healing and rebuilding. I believed that once we were under the same roof, we could work through our differences and find unity again.

But the battles did not end when we moved in together. A new struggle began — the battle over responsibility and finances.

The question of who would pay for what became a constant source of tension. I was paying the rent, trying to keep the household running, and making sure our son had everything he needed. Yet Tom refused to help with groceries.

It was painful because groceries are not a luxury. They are a basic part of family life. Food on the table, a child’s needs being met, and a home being cared for should be shared responsibilities between husband and wife.

What hurt even more was that when his extended family came to visit, they were among the first to expect hospitality. They arrived expecting food and care, yet the responsibility of providing for everyone continued to fall on my shoulders.

I wanted to be welcoming. I wanted to honour family. But inside, I was struggling. How could I keep giving when I was already running empty?

For a long time, I survived by borrowing money and promising myself that I would repay it. I would borrow, repay, and then find myself needing to borrow again. It became a cycle of trying to keep everything together while silently carrying the pressure.

Nobody saw the sleepless nights. Nobody saw the worry behind my smile. Nobody saw the weight of trying to be a good wife, a good mother, and a provider all at the same time.

Eventually, I realised something had to change. I could not continue living this way. I had to establish boundaries, not out of anger, but out of necessity.

I made the decision that Tom needed to start taking responsibility for buying the groceries. A household cannot be carried by one person alone. Marriage is a partnership, and both people must contribute.

It was not about money. It was about responsibility, love, and showing up for the family we had created.

I was learning a difficult lesson: sometimes love without responsibility becomes a heavy burden. And sometimes, before God can restore something, He has to teach us the importance of truth, accountability, and healthy boundaries.

01/09/2026

Diaries of a Virgin in Africa: The 90s

Part One: The Wedding That Changed Everything

My name is Matilda.

This is not a story I ever imagined telling.

For years, I carried these memories in silence. Some were too painful to speak about. Others were buried under shame, disappointment and unanswered prayers. But I have learned that when God heals your wounds, your scars can become someone else’s survival guide.

So this is my story.

I grew up in Africa during the 1990s as a young Christian woman who loved God with all my heart. I believed in purity, prayer and God’s plan for marriage. I had saved myself for my husband because I believed that obedience to God mattered. I dreamed of a marriage built on love, friendship and mutual respect.

Then I met Tom.

Looking back now, I can clearly see the warning signs.

There were moments when something deep inside me felt unsettled. His words sometimes lacked kindness. His behaviour often left me confused. There were things that simply didn’t bring me peace.

But I ignored the alarm bells.

I convinced myself that no one was perfect.

I believed marriage would change him.

I thought love, prayer and patience could fix what God had already been trying to show me.

At twenty-three years old, I married Tom.

It was a beautiful wedding.

Nearly two hundred family members and friends came to celebrate with us. The church was filled with joyful songs, laughter and prayers. Everyone smiled as they watched us exchange our vows before God.

From the outside, it looked like a fairy tale.

Inside, I was about to begin the hardest chapter of my life.

Even our wedding night felt strange.

Instead of sharing our first night together as husband and wife, we slept in separate bedrooms. I remember thinking, It must be their culture. Although it felt unusual, I chose not to question it. I told myself everything would be fine and that I simply needed time to adjust.

The very next day, reality arrived.

As I began unpacking my kitchen utensils and wedding gifts into what I believed would be our first home together, members of Tom’s family became furious.

“You should have told us first before unpacking,” they shouted.

Within moments, their anger turned into threats.

They said they would beat me up.

I looked at my new husband, expecting him to stand beside me.

Instead, he quietly left.

He said he was going to work.

One day after our wedding.

He knew exactly what was happening.

He simply walked away.

If it hadn’t been for my best friend, who stood firmly by my side, I don’t know how I would have coped.

But even her presence became another reason for their cruelty.

They began comparing me to her.

She was taller.

She had a fuller figure.

I was small and petite.

Right in front of me, they laughed and asked, “Why did Tom marry you instead of someone like your friend?”

Those words pierced my heart.

I smiled through the pain, but inside I was breaking.

More than once, I thought about packing my bags and going back to my parents.

Looking back today…

I wish I had listened to that voice inside me.

Months later, I became pregnant with our son.

I believed becoming parents would draw us closer together.

Instead, Tom became more distant.

He no longer hid how little he thought of me.

Sometimes, before leaving the house, he would hand me one of his shirts.

“Iron this for me.”

As a young Christian wife, I believed serving my husband was part of honouring my marriage. So I would carefully iron every crease, hoping that if I loved him well enough, one day he would love me too.

Then he would say something that no wife should ever hear.

“I’m going to see my beautiful girlfriend.”

Sometimes he would say he was going to see “better-looking women.”

I would stand there holding the freshly ironed shirt, trying to process what he had just said.

The shirt I had lovingly prepared for my husband was the same shirt he wore to visit another woman.

The humiliation is difficult to describe.

The rejection was unbearable.

I began questioning everything about myself.

Was I not beautiful enough?

Too small?

Too quiet?

Not enough?

Those lies slowly found a home in my heart.

What I didn’t know then was that emotional abuse often begins with words. Words spoken repeatedly can slowly destroy confidence, self-worth and hope.

No one could see my bruises because they weren’t on my body.

They were on my heart.

Then Tom got a job with a large international company in the capital city.

I thought this would be our opportunity to build a better life together.

Instead, for the first six months, he contacted us only once or twice.

He hardly sent any money.

Meanwhile, I remained behind with our little boy, who was still breastfeeding.

Life became incredibly difficult.

Not only was I caring for my son, but I was also expected to look after members of Tom’s extended family.

There were days I didn’t know how we would manage.

Still, I prayed.

Still, I believed.

Still, I hoped.

Eventually, I decided our son deserved to grow up with both parents.

So I packed a few clothes, gathered what little money I had and boarded a long-distance bus to the city.

My little boy slept peacefully against my shoulder for most of the journey.

All the way there, I imagined Tom waiting for us at the bus station.

I pictured him smiling as he saw his son.

I imagined us finally becoming the family I had prayed for.

Late that night, the bus pulled into the station.

I looked everywhere.

Tom wasn’t there.

No explanation.

Just silence.

Standing in a strange city with a tired toddler in my arms, I felt completely alone.

But God had not abandoned me.

By His grace, my cousin and her husband were there. They welcomed us into their home without hesitation.

That night, as my son slept peacefully beside me, I lay awake staring into the darkness.

One question echoed through my mind.

“Lord… what have I married into?”

Little did I know, my greatest battles were still ahead.

But so were God’s greatest miracles.

To be continued…

31/08/2026