Vicky Styles

The real fraudsters are in government houses and temples. We will respect law enforcement agencies the day they do the needful. xitter.gq/SaharaReporters/status…

I guess it is not about Jesus anymore 😔💔

He should not be a martyr for that slave giant of Africa.

Again, the true evidence for best performance of a country's currency and economy is the lives of it's people. If the people are still perturbed by poverty, then there is no success only failure.

The theft of youth. The theft of purpose. The death of opportunity 💔

The developmental surge of a country is evident in its cultural practices, and the latter are crucial to the growth of that country.

The delusions of hope are the exact root cause of this endurance. "Manage it" is just a polite term for a comfortable surrender.

Underdeveloped countries worship money more ✅

"Yes, a laugh. What did you expect I would say or do? Give you a pat on the back for acting just? You acted of your own accord; I pay no mind to your human exploits. I masturbate not to your suffering—that is the accuser's wet dream. Your perceived macrocosmic suffering is but an artifact in my microcosmic lens. Your gross exploits: a fickle thing, a needle in a haystack. Until you have gowned the skies in blue, tamed the beasts of the land and sea, and arranged the shafts of space in order, you cannot get a glimpse of mine. Scream, curse, and wear sackcloth—I do not mind—but know that I am there. For I alone light the sun and set the moon for the night. I alone rule over the darkest of nights and the brightest of days. Now, arise, bathe yourself in the stream that fills the empty spaces far west, and adorn yourself with the garments of kings." He arose and did as he was told. And it came to pass, seven days later, the accuser appeared to Job near the temple gates, and he spoke thus: He sits amidst the raw and remains of gold in the heavens, holding a banquet, while you—oh just one from the land of Uz—are met with insignificance and indifference. You have lost it all! The fight is over. He pays no mind to the rust of your life, and so you must forget all this, and carry on. What do you think of Job's final silence? 👇(5/5)

The man arose from where he sat and turned facing the east. He gazed at the sky for a short while, then sank to the soil in a fall, as the lower third of his face sunk, he wrote on the crust of the earth with his left forefinger. At first, he wrote a single word and wiped it clean with his right palm. Again he wrote, and continued to do so. As he worked, traces of sweat raced to fill the steep lines on his forehead. "What do you scribble on there?" she asked. "Words even God cannot read. Codes he cannot decipher," he answered. And the voice of He who made all came upon the scene in a crash, loud as thunder: a laugh from the heavens. "A laugh? A laugh?" Job said, shocked by this empty barrel of a response. 👇(4/5)

You cannot hear my cries at midnight; your lips mutter words only the deaf can hear. Painstaking, ache-aching—if that is a word—to describe my life so far." "No words fit a description for your life," his wife chirped in. "You have lived a life without missing the mark, but he bestows on you the blessings meant for those who soak their fingers in blood. At noon last Sabbath, you prepared an altar and offered your fattest cattle, burnt sages of frankincense, and poured oils from olives and honey. And still he who sits in the heavens opens the floodgates of filth and misery. A toast to you, most loyal in all of Uz! You fill his cup with the best from your vineyard, but he fills yours with the blood of goats—goats so rotten even Cain would fear to offer them as a sacrifice. Curse God and die!" she said. 👇(3/5)

INK IN The DIRT I loathe my life. I feel the tingling from the seat of my soul, and so I will speak in the sorrow that sits on the throne of mine. I will say to you, O proclaimed wise one of the land of the psalmist, Abraham and Moses: 'Why do you condemn me? Why allow Satan tear the curtains of my abode and the garments of my loved ones? You see how he wets the mat upon which I lay with piss and smears the chalice's white walls with mud.' What did I do to deserve this... I have done nothing but sing in your house from dusk till dawn. I kiss the feet of the sons of Levi and all those who clean the dust off the pulpit where your presence lays. I filled the purse of the needy with silver, and I am met with moon-smiles as I leave your house. Every Sabbath—this you see. Oh, you see as the cripple's daughter runs to welcome me with a hug. I have kept all your precepts, and I alone am your most loyal in the land of Uz. Yet you turn a blind eye to the sight of my bitterness. Your eardrums drown in a sea of wax. 👇 (2/5)

For a people who consider themselves to be patriots, they do the bare minimum in the fight against corruption.

Don't worry, your president will do the work for us.

They're drunk in the Holy Ghost, they cannot reason critically 😂😭

The early Hebrew did not believe in hell, but rather that all who died went to a grave. But along the way, the Greeks and Zoroastrians came into the picture and the idea of duality in the afterlife began. The average Nigerian misses this context because he does not read.

The depraved, uneducated and all those who endorse illegality has spun this for years and will continue to do so

The poor man and stress are a match made in heaven.