The Journal by Success Ejekwu

 

 

The Journal

For the past few weeks, I couldn't do anything—sleep, eat, or even step outside. I needed help. Desperately. So, I turned to the one thing I knew best. I picked up my pen and journal and began to write.

“It haunts me—my desires, my cravings, the lust of the flesh. It has become a lifestyle. I hate my body, not because I wasn’t beautiful, oh, I was very pretty. I was always called: Gorgeous. African queen. Black beauty. My numerous awards—from primary school to university—labeled me the Most Beautiful Girl. I knew I was beautiful on the outside, but inside? Inside, I reeked of sin. My heart had grown callous. My mind had become the devil’s playground. And the worst part? I was a Christian.

Not a casual one. Not just a Sunday-goer. I was dedicated—leader of the choir and Sunday school, the youth every parent sent their daughters to for guidance. Parents loved me. I was the perfect role model. A third-year university student, top of my class, dedicated in church, beautiful, and respectful. What more could anyone ask for?

Yet, beneath the surface, I knew the truth. Deep down, I was far from Christ. I wasn't the devil incarnate—no, far from it. I prayed. I fasted. I studied the Bible. The Holy Spirit was within me—I knew it, I felt Him, I heard Him.

And that’s why, every time I indulged in that habit, the one that had become my addiction, I left feeling the weight of my sin pressing down on my chest. I cried. I begged God to forgive me. I asked the Holy Spirit for help. I was exhausted—tired of pretending, tired of lip service.

Every other area of my life flourished. I spoke in tongues. I was a true worshipper. I exercised my authority in Christ and healed the sick by His will. I am a true believer! But, Holy Spirit, I am tired. With the number of times I’ve asked for mercy, promised never to do it again, and still found myself back in the same sin within a week… surely, the Holy Spirit must be weary of me.

I’d heard it said so many times—"A spirit sponsors things." Was I possessed? Did I need deliverance? But I couldn't tell anyone. My reputation—everything I stood for—would be ruined. My pastor saw me as the ideal youth, a model for the church. How could I tell him? How could I disappoint him?

Through my tears, through the scribbles on my journal, I still heard Him. That voice. That gentle, soothing voice of the Holy Spirit.

He called me by the name He had always called me.
But I didn’t want to answer. I felt ashamed. Unworthy.
Yet, He kept calling. And then, He spoke:
"I love you, my Olólùfẹ́, the one close to My heart. Breathe in and out. Wipe your tears."
His voice was steady, familiar. The way He always spoke to me.
"I want you to understand some things," He continued. *"First, open your Bible to John 14:20 and 2 Peter 1:4. In those passages, you will find the light that will bring you out of this darkness.
"You don’t just have authority over sickness; you have authority over yourself—over your body, over these desires, over sin itself. When Christ died for you, He put sin and death to death. He resurrected with life, power, and authority. That same life-giving Spirit that raised Him after three days lives inside of you. That power is yours. No matter how strong the addiction feels, I want you to know—you have power over it.
*"I live inside you, and My power has not lessened. You and I are one. There is no place for sin and addiction in this body because you are the righteousness of God in Christ Jesus. And, most importantly, because I love you.
"You have received the grace of Jesus. You are a partaker of His life and power. Just as God gave Adam dominion, just as He gave Christ dominion, He has given you dominion. You have the legal authority to cast out this bondage and walk in righteousness."
The tears wouldn’t stop. I had always thought I knew who I was in Christ. But today? Today, I became who I was meant to be in Christ.
I realized something: The Holy Spirit can only transform the parts of my life I allow Him into. He has a part to play, and so do I.
With renewed boldness, I went to my wardrobe, took out my anointing oil, and began to pray. I used my authority in Christ and cast out the spirit of addiction. I asked for grace to walk in purity. I anointed my body, reminding myself that I am the temple of God, the dwelling place of the Holy Spirit.
And then, He spoke again.
I grabbed my journal.

*"Now, you have been set free, for whom the Son sets free is free indeed. But freedom must be maintained. The enemy roams, seeking an opportune time. So, I am instructing you—to go on a one-month fast of consecration.

"Pray actively for yourself. Be intentional. Identify the triggers that lead you back to sin and stay away from them. This is a partnership. If you fall again, remember: the righteous man falls seven times and does what?"*

With a smile on my face, peace in my heart, and freedom coursing through my spirit, I whispered,

"He rises again."