Why I Came to Abuja and How It Felt Like a Bad Decision

I came to Abuja after finishing my Higher National Diploma. Not because I had it all figured out. Not because I had a job waiting or a plan carved in stone. I came because I heard God.

That kind of hearing that isn’t always thunderous but unmistakable. That whisper that won’t leave your spirit alone. That kind of call that stirs something holy in your chest. So I packed up the little I had, carried dreams in one hand and faith in the other, and moved to this city.

But what I met did not feel like obedience. It felt like punishment.

The Wilderness That Wasn’t in the Prophecy

The Bible says, “By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance. And he went out, not knowing where he was going.” — Hebrews 11:8 (ESV)

That’s how it was for me. I went out. Not knowing. Just trusting.

And like Abraham, I expected the inheritance to look like comfort. Or at least some reward for obedience. Instead, I faced deep lack. My finances drained fast. My spirit dried up slowly. The weight of uncertainty sat on my chest day and night.

I couldn’t pray. Worse still, I couldn’t hear Him anymore.

There’s a pain in believing that you heard God clearly—and yet watching everything fall apart. No open doors. No breakthroughs. Just silence. And silence, when it comes after obedience, feels like betrayal.

When You Lose Your Fellowship

One of the scariest things wasn’t even the money. It was the way I slowly lost touch with God.

The God I used to worship in my quiet time. The God I used to speak to with childlike honesty. The God who felt close in the small moments.

Now He felt distant. And I felt abandoned.

Like the psalmist, I cried, “Why, Lord, do you stand far off? Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?”
— Psalm 10:1 (NIV)

I didn’t stop believing in Him. But I stopped feeling Him.

I questioned everything. Was it really God I heard? Did I deceive myself? Did I just want to escape?

And yet, deep within me was a small, unshakable knowing: I did hear God. This was the right place. But it was also a battlefield.

Even Canaan Had Giants

The land God gives you will still have giants. That’s one thing we don’t talk about enough.

Just because He led you there doesn’t mean it’ll be easy. Just because it was His voice doesn’t mean it won’t come with opposition.

“But the people who live there are powerful, and the cities are fortified and very large. We even saw descendants of Anak there.”
— Numbers 13:28 (NIV)

Caleb and Joshua saw the same giants, but they also saw God. And that’s what I had to re-learn in Abuja. To stop magnifying the problem and start remembering the Promise.

Yes, my bank account was dry. Yes, my spirit felt weak. But God didn’t change.

He didn’t call me here to destroy me. He called me here to build me—through the fight.

The Devil Knows What You Carry

After a while, I realized something powerful. The dryness wasn’t random. The confusion wasn’t accidental.

I was under attack. Because the devil knows.

He knows what will happen if I ever get planted in this land. He knows what will break in the spirit when I open my mouth. He knows the chains that will fall when I walk in full obedience.

And so he fights. With discouragement. With loneliness. With silence. With unanswered prayers.

But we are not unaware. “We are not ignorant of his devices.”
— 2 Corinthians 2:11 (KJV)

That’s when I stopped praying soft prayers. I began to fight back. Not just for provision. But for alignment. For clarity. For fire.

Because I am not here by mistake. And neither are you.

There Is War Even in Obedience

We often say obedience brings peace. And it does. But sometimes, that peace comes after the war.

God told Joshua, “Every place that the sole of your foot will tread upon I have given to you, just as I promised to Moses.”
— Joshua 1:3 (ESV)

But those places were not empty. They were occupied.

That’s why He also said, “Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”
— Joshua 1:9 (ESV)

If it was going to be easy, why did He need to say that? Because obedience takes courage. Obedience invites opposition. Obedience births war.

But war does not mean you’re in the wrong place. It means you’re carrying the right thing.

Reclaiming My Voice

Slowly, I started rebuilding. I didn’t wait for my situation to change before I prayed again. I just started where I was.

One honest sentence. One whispered psalm. One quiet morning with worship playing.

And God came again. Not loudly. Not all at once. But steadily. Faithfully. Like He always does.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
— Psalm 34:18 (NIV)

I didn’t need proof. I needed Presence. And He gave it.

He began to open doors. But more importantly, He opened my eyes.

I saw why I came here. I saw what He wanted to birth through me. I saw that Abuja was not the problem.

The shaking was the making. The silence was the stretching. The confusion was the classroom.

So What’s the Moral of This Story?

Even in the land God called you to, you will fight.

Don’t use pain as proof that you missed His will. Don’t use hardship as evidence that God lied.

Use it as a reminder: something is worth fighting for.

“Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you.”
— 1 Peter 4:12 (ESV)

Sometimes, the struggle is not a sign of misdirection. It is a sign of divine calling.

And the enemy will fight hardest where you are most dangerous.

So I stay. I fight. I rise. Because I know who sent me. And I know what’s coming.

Abuja is not my mistake. It is my assignment.

And when the dust settles, God will be glorified.