by Rev Dunamis Okunowo | Aug 9, 2026 | Singles
Reading Time: 5 minutesThree dates in, and Jordan realized she had told him almost nothing real. She had been funny, quick, effortlessly charming, and utterly unreachable. Every question he asked about her family, her last relationship, or what she actually wanted from life got deflected with a joke or a smooth change of subject. Driving home, she caught herself feeling proud of how skillfully she had kept him at arm’s length. Then, underneath the pride, she felt the loneliness of it. She had built a wall so good at guarding her heart that nothing could get in to break it, but nothing could get in to love it either.
Solomon wrote the book of Proverbs primarily as instruction from a father to a son, practical wisdom for navigating real life, including the relationships that shape who we become. In chapter four, he pleads with his son to receive wisdom above every other pursuit, because the heart is the control center of everything else in a person’s life. He writes:
“Keep your heart with all diligence, for out of it is the wellspring of life.” (Proverbs 4:23, WEB)
The Hebrew word translated “keep” here is the same word used elsewhere for a watchman guarding a city gate. It is not a passive idea, like tucking something away in a drawer and forgetting about it. It is active, alert, ongoing vigilance, the kind of attention a soldier gives a border. And what is being guarded is not primarily your feelings, though feelings are part of it. In Hebrew thought, the heart is the seat of will, reasoning, conviction, and desire all at once, the place where you actually decide who you will become. Solomon calls it the “wellspring of life” because everything you do, every choice, every relationship, every direction your life takes, flows out from whatever is happening in that inner chamber first.
Here is what a watchman at a city gate actually does, though, and it is worth sitting with, because it reframes the whole verse for dating relationships. A watchman does not seal the gate shut permanently. A sealed gate makes for a dead city, no trade, no travelers, no life getting in or out. A watchman’s job is discernment: knowing who to welcome, when to welcome them, and how much access to grant at each stage of trust. He opens the gate for allies and merchants and neighbors. He closes it against raiders in the night. The skill is not in refusing everyone; the skill is in telling the difference.
This is exactly where so many singles, especially those who have been hurt before, get the verse backwards. After a painful breakup, a betrayal, or a pattern of being let down, it is tempting to read “guard your heart” as “seal your heart.” Keep everyone at a safe distance. Never be the first to say something vulnerable. Treat every new person as a potential threat until they have proven otherwise, which, conveniently, they never quite get the chance to do, because you never open the gate long enough to find out. That is not biblical guarding. That is self-protection dressed up in a Bible verse, and it comes at a real cost: the very intimacy God designed marriage and deep friendship to provide becomes structurally impossible, because nothing gets past the wall long enough to be known.
True guarding requires the opposite of numbness. It requires you to stay awake, to notice what someone’s words and actions are actually revealing about their character, to ask real questions instead of performing charm, and to let information in even when it is uncomfortable, so you can make a wise decision rather than an emotionally reactive one. A watchman who has fallen asleep at his post is no different from a watchman who welded the gate shut; either way, the city is not being wisely kept. Guarding your heart in dating means staying present and discerning, not staying distant and defended.
It helps to notice what actually put the walls up in the first place. Most people who have turned guarding into closing did not start out that way. Somewhere along the line, someone they trusted with real access misused it, mocked a vulnerability, walked away after being let in, or simply proved unsafe to be known by. The wall went up as a reasonable, even wise, response to a genuine danger. The problem is not that the wall was built; it is that it never came back down once the danger had passed, so it now guards against everyone, safe and unsafe alike, the way a city under permanent siege eventually starves even its own allies. Recognizing that the wall was originally wisdom, not weakness, matters, because it means taking it down again is not naivety either. It is simply updating the watch to match the actual threat in front of you today, rather than the one from years ago that is no longer standing at the gate.
What This Looks Like This Week
Consider Marcus, twenty-nine, who has been on dating apps for two years and has perfected a kind of pleasant surface-level rapport that never goes anywhere. He is polite, easy to talk to, and impossible to actually know. This week, on a second date with someone he genuinely likes, he decides to try something different. When she asks why his last relationship ended, instead of the usual joke about “it just didn’t work out,” he tells her the true, slightly uncomfortable answer: he pulled away when things got serious because he was scared. It is a small disclosure, not his whole life story, not oversharing on a second date, just one honest gate opened instead of automatically closed. He still pays attention to how she responds, whether she treats what he shared with care or carelessness, because that response is exactly the kind of information a watchman needs. She listens well. He notices. The wall does not come down all at once, but a gate opens, on purpose, with his eyes open the entire time.
You can practice the same discernment this week. Notice the next moment in a conversation, a text, a date, where your instinct is to deflect with humor or vagueness. Before you do, ask yourself: am I protecting myself from real danger, or am I protecting myself from being known? Those are different questions, and only a watchman who is paying attention can tell them apart.
Your heart was never meant to be a locked vault or an open door with no watchman at all. It was meant to be wisely kept, alert, discerning, and still capable of welcoming someone in. God is not asking you to stop guarding. He is asking you to guard well enough that love can still get through the gate.
Reflect
- Where in your dating life have you confused guarding your heart with shutting people out entirely, and what has that cost you?
- What specific past hurt taught you the walls you build today, and is that pattern still protecting you, or protecting a wound that needs healing instead?
- Think of someone you are currently getting to know. What would it look like this week to open one gate you have kept closed, while still keeping wise discernment in place?
A Prayer for Today
Lord, you know how easily I confuse self-protection with wisdom. Sometimes I build walls and call it guarding my heart, when really I am just afraid of being hurt again. Teach me to be a watchman like Proverbs 4:23 describes, awake, discerning, and honest, not numb and sealed shut. Give me courage to let the right people see real parts of me, and give me wisdom to recognize when someone does not deserve that access yet. Heal the wounds that taught me to hide. I want a heart that is wisely kept, not permanently closed. Let my life flow from a heart that is both protected and open, because you are watching over me. In Jesus' name, amen.
Your Action Step
On your next date or meaningful conversation, choose one honest, vulnerable answer instead of your usual deflection, and pay close attention to how the other person responds to it.
by Rev Dunamis Okunowo | Jul 22, 2026 | Singles
Reading Time: 4 minutesYou find the entry while looking for something else, an old journal, three years old, one page reading, in handwriting pressed hard enough to nearly tear through: “I’m done wanting this. I’m not going to want it anymore.” You remember writing it. You remember the exhausted relief of deciding to just stop caring, because caring hurt too much. Reading it now, you’re not sure if that was contentment, or just a wound you’d talked yourself into calling peace.
That confusion is worth sitting with, because the two can look nearly identical from the outside and feel completely different from the inside, and Scripture has something specific to say about which one you’re actually being called to.
What Paul Actually Learned
Paul wrote his letter to the Philippians from prison, likely under house arrest in Rome, thanking a church that had faithfully supported him with a gift while he was in chains. In the middle of thanking them, he makes a striking clarification: he’s not saying this because he’s currently in need. He’s saying it because of something he’s learned, over time, regardless of his circumstances.
“Not that I speak in respect to lack, for I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content in it. I know how to be humbled, and I know also how to abound. In everything and in all things I have learned the secret both to be filled and to be hungry, both to abound and to be in need.” (Philippians 4:11-12, WEB)
The word “learned” matters. Paul isn’t describing a personality trait he was born with, or a switch he flipped once. He’s describing a process, a secret he had to be initiated into, through actual experience of both abundance and lack. Contentment, for Paul, wasn’t the absence of hardship or the absence of longing. It was something built over time, through real seasons of both having and not having, both hoping and being disappointed.
The Difference Between Contentment and Resignation
This matters enormously for singleness, because there’s a counterfeit version of contentment that looks almost identical on the surface but is actually just numbness wearing a religious costume. Resignation says: I’ve decided not to want this anymore, because wanting it hurts too much, so I’m going to shut that part of myself off. It’s a coping strategy, and often an understandable one, but it isn’t peace. It’s armor. And armor, worn long enough, starts to feel like your actual skin.
Genuine contentment is different. It doesn’t require you to stop wanting marriage. Paul still had real desires, real preferences; he’d rather not be hungry, he’d rather not be in prison. He says as much elsewhere in this very letter, expressing a genuine desire to be with Christ, and elsewhere in Scripture we see him longing for companionship and asking for visits from friends. Contentment wasn’t the death of Paul’s desires. It was the security of his soul regardless of whether those desires were currently met, a security he explicitly says came from Christ’s strength, not his own willpower, in the verse immediately following this passage.
So the test isn’t “do I still want to be married?” Wanting it is not a failure of faith; it’s a legitimate human longing, and God gave you permission to want good things. The test is: what happens to your sense of peace, your identity, your ability to worship and function and love other people, when that desire stays unmet for another year, or five, or longer? If the honest answer is that your peace is entirely contingent on the outcome changing, that’s worth bringing to God, not with shame, but with the same honesty Paul brings to this whole letter.
It’s worth noticing, too, what resignation tends to cost over time. When you shut down a desire instead of surrendering it, you don’t actually make it disappear, you just push it underground, where it tends to resurface sideways, as cynicism about other people’s relationships, as irritability you can’t quite explain, as a low simmering resentment toward God that you’d never say out loud but that colors how you pray. Genuine contentment doesn’t produce those side effects, because it isn’t built on suppression. It’s built on trust, which is a very different foundation, and trust can hold a real, unmet longing without being destabilized by it.
Bringing the Honest Desire to God Instead of Burying It
Picture a woman at a family gathering who’s asked, again, “Still not seeing anyone?” For years, her rehearsed answer has been a flat, closed-off “Nope,” delivered with a shrug meant to end the conversation and protect the wound underneath. This year, she tries something different. She says, honestly, “I’d genuinely love to be married someday, and I’m also doing really well right now.” Both parts are true. Neither one cancels out the other.
That’s what learned contentment sounds like in practice: not pretending the desire is gone, but no longer needing its fulfillment to hold yourself together. This week, if you’ve been quietly practicing resignation and calling it peace, try naming the actual desire to God directly, in prayer, instead of continuing to suppress it. You don’t have to choose between wanting marriage and being at peace. Paul didn’t. Neither do you.
Contentment learned this way doesn’t shrink your life down to protect it from disappointment. It enlarges your capacity to hope honestly while resting securely, held by a God whose sufficiency was never dependent on your relationship status in the first place.
If you tore that old journal page out today and wrote a new one, it wouldn’t need to say “I’ve stopped wanting this.” It could say something truer and, in the end, sturdier: “I still want this, and I am not falling apart without it, because my life is held by someone bigger than my circumstances.” That’s not a lesser kind of peace than the one you were faking before. It’s the real one Paul spent a lifetime learning, and it’s available to you too, one honest season at a time.
Reflect
- Is there a desire for marriage you've been suppressing rather than surrendering, and what's the difference for you?
- What does resignation feel like in your emotions versus what genuine contentment feels like?
- Where have you been trying to manufacture peace by convincing yourself you don't want something God gave you permission to want?
A Prayer for Today
Lord, I confess that sometimes I've called it contentment when it was really just numbness, a way of protecting myself from wanting something I was afraid I'd never have. Teach me what Paul knew: contentment that isn't the absence of desire but the presence of your sufficiency, whatever my circumstances. I still want a marriage, Lord, and I bring that desire honestly to you instead of pretending it isn't there. But I also ask you to make my soul secure in you right now, not dependent on that desire being fulfilled to be at peace. Help me tell the difference between resignation and real rest. In Jesus' name, amen.
Your Action Step
This week, write out an honest prayer naming your actual desire for marriage directly to God in a journal, instead of pushing it down or pretending it isn't there.
by Praise Eniolorunda | Sep 27, 2025 | Singles and Married
Reading Time: 2 minutes
Avoiding Bitterness in Relationships and Marriages
Bitterness is a slow killer. It does not always start with shouting or anger; sometimes it begins with quiet silence, a hurt tucked away, a memory you replay in your head. But as days pass, that hurt grows roots. And if left alone, those roots become chains.
See to it that no one falls short of the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many. Hebrews 12:15 (NIV)
Jesus warns us in Luke 12:58 to “try hard to be reconciled on the way.” It is a reminder that if we do not deal with offenses quickly, they become heavier, harder, and more destructive than they were at the beginning. What could have been settled with a conversation ends up becoming a wall between two hearts. That is how many relationships collapse — not because of huge betrayals, but because of small unresolved hurts that were left to fester.
So how do we truly avoid bitterness?
1. Guard your heart early.
Every relationship — whether friendship, courtship, or marriage — will come with offenses. People will say things they should not, or fail to meet your expectations. That is life. The danger is not in the offense itself, but in allowing it to sit in your heart. The longer you hold it in, the more it reshapes the way you see the person. What was once love and trust can quickly turn into suspicion and coldness. Guarding your heart means being intentional about not letting every wound linger there. Protect what flows from it.
“Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.” – Proverbs 4:23
2. Choose reconciliation over silence.
Many people think silence solves problems, but in reality, silence often buries them alive. And buried issues never die — they grow. In relationships, especially close ones, bitterness often comes from the words never spoken, the apologies never given, and the conversations avoided. Choosing reconciliation means being willing to face the discomfort of difficult conversations so that peace can be restored. Silence feels easier in the moment, but it only pushes hearts further apart.
“If your brother or sister sins against you, go and point out their fault, just between the two of you.” – Matthew 18:15
3. Forgive again and again.
Forgiveness is not a one-time event; it is a discipline. There will be times in relationships when you forgive for small things — a careless word, a forgotten detail. And there will be bigger things too. Forgiveness does not erase the wrong, but it stops the wrong from poisoning your heart. Refusing to forgive makes you a prisoner of your own pain, but forgiving sets you free to love without bitterness. Real love cannot survive without constant forgiveness.
“Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.” – Colossians 3:13
by Rev. Sophia Okunowo | Aug 25, 2025 | Singles and Married
Reading Time: 2 minutes
5 Ways to Handle Offence Triggers
One of the weapons the devil uses against many homes and marriages is offence.
Husbands and wives are usually different because opposite will always attract. So maturity is practically handling whatever disrupt the unity in marriage.
Here are 5 ways you can start to use now to get you out of every form of offence.
1. Identify and Name the Trigger
Keep a small “trigger journal” for a week. Each time someone’s words affect your mood, write:
– What was said
– Who said it
– How did it make you feel
This helps you spot patterns — sometimes it’s not what is said, but how you interpret it.
2. Pause Before Reacting
When someone’s words sting, give yourself a 10-second mental buffer.
In that pause, ask: “Is this about me, or is it about them?”
Often, people’s words reveal their state of mind, not your worth.
3. Reframe the Words
Instead of taking the statement as an attack, reinterpret it in a less harmful way.
Example: If someone says, “You’re always late,” you might reframe it to, “They value punctuality, and I can work on timing.”
This isn’t about excusing rudeness — it’s about protecting your peace.
4. Strengthen Your Emotional Filters
Just like a house needs a strong door to keep out intruders, your heart needs a filter to keep out unnecessary offense.
Daily affirmations help here. Example:
– “I choose not to take offense today.”
– “My worth is not decided by anyone’s opinion.”
This slowly rewires how much power people’s words have over you.
5. Practice Mood Recovery
Even if words hurt, you can shorten how long you stay moody by:
– Stepping away to breathe deeply for 3–5 minutes.
– Listening to music that lifts you.
– Reciting a favorite scripture (e.g., “Great peace have they which love thy law: and nothing shall offend them.” – Psalm 119:165
Try these steps and trust God for a better version of you this week.
by Praise Eniolorunda | Aug 11, 2025 | Singles and Married
Reading Time: 3 minutes
How to Guard Your Heart Without Building Walls
There is a difference between guarding your heart and hardening it, but truth be told, many of us confuse the two. Especially as singles, after being let down too many times, we slowly start to shut the doors of our hearts. We start to believe the safest version of love is to not love at all. We say we are “protecting our peace,” but really, we are hiding behind emotional walls that God never asked us to build.
“Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.” — Proverbs 4:23 (NIV)
When God says, “guard your heart,” He is not telling you to lock yourself away. He is inviting you to watch over what shapes you, what you absorb, what you dwell on, and who you allow to influence your soul. Guarding your heart is not about withdrawing from people or burying your feelings. It is about living wisely—with discernment, not with fear. Because everything flows from your heart: your decisions, your relationships, your self-worth, even your prayers. So, if the heart is that central, it makes sense to tend to it with care.
But sometimes, especially when you have loved deeply or been hurt silently, building walls feels safer. Walls protect you from disappointment. From rejection. From hoping again. But walls also block out healing. They keep out the people God may actually be sending. And the thing is, when you shut off one part of your heart to avoid getting hurt, other parts start to go quiet too. You may think you are just blocking out people or pain, but over time, you can start to feel distant from God too. Not because He left, but because your heart is no longer open. Numbness does not come with a filter—it dulls everything, even the voice of the One trying to heal you.
So how do you guard your heart the right way?
It starts with remembering who you are. You are not ordinary, and your heart is not something to be handled casually. You were bought at a high price — the blood of Jesus. That alone speaks of your worth. When you truly see your value, you stop handing out deep access to people who have only shown surface interest. Just because someone is available or attracted to you does not mean they are meant to carry your heart. That is not pride, it is wisdom. Guarding your heart means being careful with what is sacred, not shutting down, but choosing who truly deserves to come close.
Guarding your heart also looks like staying open with God. A guarded heart is not a disconnected one. It is a heart that remains soft in His presence—even if it feels vulnerable. It is crying when you are tired of waiting, journaling when you do not understand what He is doing, and worshipping even when your emotions feel like a mess. It is letting Him touch the places no one else sees. That is guarding with grace.
It also means slowing down. In a culture that rushes relationships and pressures people to define everything quickly, guarding your heart means giving things time to unfold. You are not in a hurry. When something is from God, it will not require you to lose your peace to keep it. You do not need to overshare, overthink, or overextend to keep someone interested. You are allowed to take your time.
Finally, guarding your heart means trusting God more than your fears. Let’s be real: sometimes, we build walls because we do not fully trust that God will protect us if we try again. But His love is not only for eternity. It is for now, too, and if He asks you to guard your heart, it is because He plans to fill it with purpose, joy, and, yes, even love. But He needs you to be whole enough to receive it.
So in conclusion, do not go cold. Just grow guarded in the right way. Not closed off, just careful. Not anxious, just wise. Stay soft, but with boundaries. Let discernment, not fear, lead you. Because fear shuts you in, but discernment keeps you open to the life and love God still has for you.
