Chapter One: The First Encounter
Every prophet has a beginning—an encounter that separates ordinary life from divine destiny. Mine came in 2012, in a way I could never have imagined.
I was asleep, lost in the stillness of the night, when suddenly, a man appeared in my dream. He didn’t speak. He simply walked up to me and anointed my head with oil. But this was no ordinary oil—it wasn’t golden or clear like the one we know. No. It was red. Radiant. Alive. The moment it touched me, something deep within shifted. I didn’t understand it then, but Heaven had just placed a seal on my life.
The Bible says, “Many are called, but few are chosen.” And when God chooses, He never makes mistakes. His call is not about popularity, appearance, or talent—it is about purpose. He interrupts lives, rewrites stories, and redirects destinies. That dream was the beginning of mine.
Looking back now, I realize God had been setting me apart long before that night. As a teenager, maybe 15 or 16, I was already different. I didn’t fit in easily. I didn’t chase crowds. I preferred solitude. Something about me was not ordinary, though I couldn’t name it then. That’s often the mark of the chosen—before the call becomes clear, there are always quiet signs.
History proves this truth:
Samuel heard God’s voice in the temple long before becoming a prophet.
Moses encountered the burning bush while fleeing from his past.
Saul the persecutor was struck blind on the road to Damascus—only to rise as Paul, the apostle.
Every prophet has that defining encounter. Mine began with red oil in 2012.
But the signs started even earlier. In 2009, a prophetess visited our home. After praying, she turned to my mother and declared, “Your son has a great star.” At the time, I misunderstood her. I thought “great star” meant wealth, success, and influence. I believed it meant I would be powerful and rich. But God’s definition of greatness is never the same as man’s.
After that dream in 2012, everything in my life accelerated. Wherever I went—whether in my family church or visiting another assembly—prophets and prophetesses would call me out. “You are chosen,” they said. “You are marked for God’s work.”
I remember one prophetess who went further than words. She took me by the hand, carried me to my mother, and then to my pastor, declaring boldly, “This young man carries a crystal-clear prophetic gift.”
But here was the truth—I wasn’t living like someone chosen. I was still exploring the world, chasing after vanity. At a young age, I had already gotten involved with fraternity groups. I was searching for excitement, running after quick thrills, and trying to “live fast.” I thought my star meant influence, respect, and riches.
I thought it was about me.
But I was wrong.
It wasn’t about me—it was about God.
It wasn’t about wealth—it was about a calling.
It wasn’t about power—it was about prophetic fire that had been planted in me from the beginning.
That dream in 2012 was my first real encounter. It was the spark—the moment Heaven placed its signature on my destiny. Yet, I ignored it. I brushed it aside, thinking life would continue as usual.
But I was wrong. Very wrong.
Because after that encounter, nothing in my life would remain the same.
