As for T.B. Joshua, I am a descendant of my family in

Hear now the words of the prophet: “As for T. B. Joshua, I am a descendant of my family in Arigidi-Akoko in Ondo State, Nigeria – but as for the divine nature, the power of God affects my life to give peace to people, deliverance to people, and healing to people.” In this utterance, there are two rivers flowing as one: the river of flesh and the river of spirit. One is born of earth, tied to lineage, soil, and name. The other is born of heaven, flowing with mysteries not inherited by blood but bestowed by grace. The prophet acknowledges his roots in Arigidi-Akoko, yet he declares that his true strength springs not from men, but from the power of God that works through him.

The ancients always knew that man is not merely dust, though dust he is. Man is also breath, and the breath is not his own. To know one’s earthly heritage is wisdom, but to recognize the divine nature is the awakening of destiny. For Joshua was not content to be known as the son of a family, or a villager in a corner of Nigeria; he was compelled to be known as a vessel of peace, of deliverance, of healing. Thus his words remind us that greatness is not in where we are born, but in what we allow heaven to birth within us.

Consider the story of Moses. Though born to a Hebrew slave, he was raised in Pharaoh’s palace, schooled in the wisdom of Egypt. Yet his calling did not spring from palace or bloodline, but from the fire of God that burned upon a mountain. In the sight of men, Moses was merely another child of Israel. But in the sight of the divine, he was the deliverer chosen to bring freedom to his people. Just as T. B. Joshua declared his descent from Arigidi-Akoko, so Moses could have said, “I am of the tribe of Levi.” Yet both men bore within them another identity—the identity bestowed by the hand of God, to bring liberation, healing, and peace.

There is power in this understanding: that we carry two natures. The one binds us to the dust and to our mortal weaknesses. The other, when awakened, makes us instruments of light. T. B. Joshua’s words remind us that though we must never despise our roots, we must not be chained by them. A man may be born in a humble village, in poverty or obscurity, yet if the power of God rests upon him, he can become a voice to nations, a balm to the wounded, a restorer of broken lives.

And do not think this power is reserved only for prophets and priests. In every man, woman, and child, there lies a spark of divine inheritance waiting to be fanned into flame. A schoolteacher may think she is only of her town, only of her family—but if she yields to the higher calling, she may shape generations and carry healing through her words. A craftsman may think he is only the son of a carpenter, but if the breath of God fills him, his hands may build more than houses; they may build hope itself.

The lesson, therefore, is clear: acknowledge your earthly roots, but awaken your divine nature. Do not deny your family or your heritage, for they are the soil in which you were planted. But also do not let them limit your destiny, for the seed within you is watered by heaven. The fruit you bear is not only for yourself, but for the healing of others, for the deliverance of the afflicted, for the peace of the restless.

Practical steps lie before you. Begin with humility: remember where you came from. Let gratitude keep your feet steady. Then, seek alignment with the higher calling: pray, serve, and listen for the whispers of the Spirit. When opportunities to bring peace arise, take them. When a chance to lift a burden from another’s shoulders comes, seize it. When you see suffering, do not turn away, for perhaps you were placed here for such a time as this.

And so, children of tomorrow, carry this wisdom: You are born of earth, but destined of heaven. You belong to a family, a town, a nation—but also to a kingdom unseen. Walk, therefore, in both truths. Let the name of your village be remembered, but let the works of God through you echo beyond generations. For the dust returns to dust, but the flame of the divine nature burns into eternity.