30/09/2026
A FATHER’S FINAL WORD TO MY SONS AND DAUGHTERS
To all my sons and daughters who have chosen to leave me, leave this ministry, establish your own ministries, open your own churches, join other ministries, or even choose another religious path, I speak to you today—not with hatred, not with bitterness, and not with a desire for revenge, but with the heart of a father.
Some of you have walked away from the ministry where you once worshipped, served, prayed, laboured, and called home.
Some of you have established your own churches. Some have started ministries. Some have started prayer movements and programs. Some have joined other ministries, and some have chosen completely different religious paths.
I have watched it happen.
And I want you to understand something very clearly:
I am not angry because you left.
A father should not imprison his children. There comes a time when sons and daughters grow, receive their own convictions, and begin to walk in the direction they believe God is leading them.
If you genuinely believe God has given you an assignment, I will not stand at the gate and curse you for answering what you believe is your calling.
Go and serve God.
Go and build.
Go and preach.
Go and fulfil your assignment.
But there is something I want you to understand before you go:
Leaving is not the problem. How you leave matters.
You can leave a ministry without dishonouring the ministry.
You can establish your own church without destroying the church that raised you.
You can become a minister without becoming an enemy of the minister who once mentored you.
You can receive your own mantle without insulting the hands that helped you discover your calling.
You can become a father without first destroying the fatherhood you once acknowledged.
And please understand this:
WE ARE NOT IN COMPETITION.
I am not competing with you.
I am not fighting you for members.
I am not fighting you for a pulpit.
I am not fighting you for a title.
I am not fighting you for position.
I am not fighting you for power.
I am not fighting you for influence.
There is enough room in God’s kingdom for everyone who is genuinely called to serve Him.
But sometimes I see things that make me ask questions.
A son or daughter leaves the ministry where they once served, establishes another ministry, and then begins organizing programs on the same day, at the same time, or deliberately around the same period when the person they once called Father, Mentor, Prophet, or Minister is holding a program.
And then the explanation becomes, “We are doing our own thing.”
Yes, you are free to do your own thing.
But freedom should not remove honour.
Independence should not become competition.
You don’t have to prove that you are now powerful.
You don’t have to prove that you have become a bigger minister.
You don’t have to prove that people will follow you.
You don’t have to prove that your program can attract more people.
You don’t have to prove that your ministry is now greater.
The kingdom of God is not a competition for attendance.
We are all servants.
Today you may be holding the microphone. Tomorrow somebody else will hold it.
Today people may call you Papa or Mama. Tomorrow another generation will rise.
Today people may celebrate your ministry. Tomorrow you may become the one mentoring somebody else.
That is why I say:
Never destroy the bridge you crossed simply because you have reached the other side.
Build your altar without setting fire to somebody else’s altar.
Build your ministry without destroying another ministry.
Raise your people without teaching them hatred for the people who came before you.
Receive honour without demanding worship.
Receive followers without becoming proud.
Receive a title without forgetting your character.
And there is another thing I must say, because a father must sometimes speak the truth even when the truth is painful.
Some of you did not only speak against me privately.
You also spoke against the good people of God who loved me, supported the ministry, appreciated the work, or sacrificed to see the church grow.
Some of you would tell people:
“If I were the one, I wouldn’t do that.”
“If he were my husband, I wouldn’t allow him to do that.”
“If she were my wife, I wouldn’t allow her to support him like that.”
You questioned the sincerity of people who chose to honour me.
You discouraged people from supporting the work.
You made people feel foolish for appreciating or supporting the person they still stood before and called Father.
And that is where I ask you to look deeply into your own heart.
Because how can you stand before a man and say:
“My Father.
My Mentor.
My Prophet.
Sir.”
And then walk behind him and call him:
“Small boy.”
How can you say:
“I senior him.”
How can you even say:
“My younger brother seniors him.”
If you truly believed that I was only a small boy, why did you continue calling me your father?
If you truly believed you were senior to me, why did you stand before me and call me your mentor?
If you believed my leadership had no value, why did you remain close enough to receive from it?
These are questions I leave with your conscience.
I am not asking you to call me Father.
I am not asking you to remain under my ministry.
I am not asking you to agree with everything I do.
And I am certainly not asking anybody to worship a man.
But if you no longer believe in the relationship, have the courage to be honest about it.
Do not praise me to my face and destroy me behind my back.
Do not call me Sir in public and small boy in private.
Do not call me Father when you need something and diminish me when you want to establish yourself.
Do not stand before me with honour and then use private conversations to dismantle that honour.
That is not maturity.
And let me say this clearly:
I HEARD YOU.
I heard the words spoken when I was not in the room.
I heard the criticisms.
I heard the judgments.
I heard the insults.
I heard the conversations.
I heard what was said about my age.
I heard “small boy.”
I heard “I senior him.”
I heard people questioning my authority.
I heard people questioning my calling.
I heard people trying to convince others that they were greater or more qualified than the person they still called their spiritual father.
I heard you.
I may not have confronted you.
I may not have exposed you.
I may not have answered you.
But please understand:
Silence does not mean ignorance.
Sometimes a father knows what his children are saying and chooses not to answer because he understands that time will answer better than anger.
I saw more than you thought I saw.
I understood more than you thought I understood.
And I kept quiet because I did not want to destroy people I once prayed for.
I am not going to fight you over the words you spoke.
I am not going to gather people against you.
I am not going to destroy your name because you left.
I am not going to curse your ministry because you started another one.
Instead, I will say:
May you succeed.
May God help you.
May your ministry stand.
May your church grow in truth.
May you have genuine people around you.
May you have people who will tell you the truth when you are wrong.
May you have sons and daughters who will not betray your confidence.
May you have workers who will not praise you to your face and destroy you behind your back.
May you have people who will remain with you when there is no microphone, no money, no crowd, and no recognition.
And when your own sons and daughters eventually grow and leave to start their own ministries, remember this day.
Remember how you left your father.
Remember how you spoke about your father.
Remember how you treated the ministry that raised you.
Because one day, you may become the person standing where I am standing today.
And then you will understand that sometimes the deepest wound of a father is not that his child leaves.
It is the way the child leaves.
My sons and daughters, I release you.
I release you from every expectation that you must return.
I release you from every obligation to call me Father.
I release you from every obligation to remain in this ministry.
Go wherever you believe God is leading you.
But wherever you go:
Go with honour.
If you establish your church, establish it.
If you begin your ministry, begin it.
If you organize your program, organize it.
If God gives you sons and daughters, raise them.
But do not turn your new beginning into a campaign against your past.
You don’t need to make me look small for yourself to look big.
You don’t need to reduce my ministry for yours to grow.
You don’t need to convince people that I am nobody before they will believe that you are somebody.
Your calling should speak for you.
Your character should speak for you.
Your work should speak for you.
If God has truly called you, let God establish you.
Do not establish yourself by pulling another person down.
Because one day, you may have your own sons and daughters.
And you may discover that some of the people you raised will also leave.
Some will start their own ministries.
Some will call you Father to your face and criticize you behind your back.
Some will discourage your supporters from supporting you.
Some will schedule their programs at the same time as yours.
Some will say they are senior to you.
Some will tell people that they would never allow their husband or wife to support you.
And perhaps then you will understand what I am saying today.
I am not angry that you left.
I am speaking about how you left and what you said while leaving.
There is a difference.
You are free to go.
You are free to build.
You are free to answer what you believe is your calling.
But please, leave with honour.
And if you have already left without honour, I still release you.
I will not pursue you.
I will not curse you.
I will not fight you.
I will not teach my people to hate you.
I simply say:
GO WELL.
May the ministry you build be strong.
May the people who follow you be sincere.
May God give you the grace to become the kind of spiritual father or mother you once wanted me to be.
And when that day comes, remember the father you once called Father.
Remember the prophet you once called Prophet.
Remember the mentor you once called Mentor.
Remember the ministry where you once worshipped.
Remember the altar where you once served.
Remember the people who once stood with you.
And remember that behind every title was a human being who also had a heart, who also sacrificed, who also prayed, and who also watched his sons and daughters grow.
I wish you well.
I genuinely wish you well.
Despite everything I have heard, I will not allow your departure to turn my heart into a place of hatred.
I will continue praying.
I will continue preaching.
I will continue serving.
I will continue building.
I will continue following the assignment God gave me.
You don’t need to defeat me to become great.
And I don’t need to defeat you to remain who God called me to be.
I have my assignment.
You have yours.
I have my race.
You have yours.
I have my altar.
You have yours.
I have the people God has entrusted to me.
You will have the people entrusted to you.
There is no need for war.
We are not fighting over the kingdom.
The kingdom belongs to God.
So, my sons and daughters, if this is goodbye, let it be goodbye without hatred.
If this is separation, let it be separation without bitterness.
If this is the beginning of your own ministry, let it be a beginning built on truth, humility, and honour.
Go and become what you believe God has called you to become.
But remember:
A son can become a father without insulting the father who raised him.
A disciple can become a leader without despising the mentor who trained him.
A minister can establish a ministry without declaring war on the ministry he came from.
A daughter can become a mother without destroying the woman who nurtured her.
May God guide you.
May God keep you.
May God correct you when you are wrong.
May God humble you when success begins to lift you.
May God give you wisdom to know the difference between calling and competition, independence and rebellion, confidence and pride.
And wherever life takes you, never forget the season when you once stood before me and said:
“My Father.
My Mentor.
My Prophet.
Sir.”
I heard those words.
I remember them.
And even though you have chosen another road today, I choose peace.
Go in peace.
Build in peace.
Serve in peace.
And may your journey be better than your departure.
This is not a farewell of hatred.
It is not a curse.
It is not revenge.
It is simply the voice of a father saying:
“My son, my daughter, if you must go, go in peace.”
And as for me—
I will remain at my altar.
I will remain with my assignment.
I will remain with God.
May God bless you.
May God keep you.
May God prosper whatever is truly from Him.
And may He give all of us the humility to remember that, at the end of everything, we are servants before we are titles, and we are accountable to God before we are accountable to men.
Go well, my sons and daughters.
I wish you peace.
I wish you grace.
I wish you well.
Spiritual Director,
Holy Altar of Mercy Adoration Ministry
Senior Prophet Chidera Maxwell Okeke
The Oracle of God
