Hi, I’m Pain — But Not for Long

Dear Diary
May 1st, 2025 — Workers’ Day

In a dusty old book filled with genealogies and forgotten names, someone got only two lines—like he almost didn’t belong there.

His name? Jabez. Not trending. No Instagrammable miracles. No dramatic walk-on-water scenes. That was his story—short, quiet, buried deep in 1 Chronicles 4, right there in that stretch of “Ruth begat Obed, Obed begat… who?” Be honest—you skip it too.

But then—bam—like a plot twist in a Hollywood movie: “Jabez was more honourable than his brothers. His mother named him Jabez, saying, ‘I gave birth to him in pain.’” No glowing angel. No burning bush. No epic tale. He didn’t fight a lion. Didn’t even make it into Sunday school colouring books. Just a man named Sorrow—who decided that pain was not his portion.

Let me spell it out: Jabez literally means “sorrow.” His mum looked at him and said, “Yep. This one? Pain.” Imagine introducing yourself at a networking event: “Hi, I’m Joy.” “Hi, I’m Grace.” “Hi, I’m… Pain.” Yeah… try branding that on LinkedIn. That’s gonna be a hardddd pitch.

But Jabez didn’t let the label stick. He didn’t die with the name. And though he didn’t come with a legacy—he left one. Because he called HQ directly. No priest. No praise team. No retreat in the mountains. Just one sharp prayer that cut through every generational plotline. And God was like… sure.

Now, let me break this down—because some of us need it in real life English, not scroll-and-parchment language.

“Bless me indeed.”
Translation: Make it loud. Make it clear. Don’t give me a maybe-type blessing. I want a shut-everybody-up kind of blessing.

“Enlarge my territory.”
A.K.A: God, rent is wild and salary is fixed. Expand my life for real.

“Let Your hand be with me.”
Basically: I don’t want vibes—I want to stay connected. Don’t just bless me and bounce.

“Keep me from harm.”
Because this life is already ghetto enough without spiritual plot twists.

And God said YES. Just like that!

Now fast forward to 2025.

You wake up to 103 WhatsApp messages, 14 “I hope this meets you well” emails, and someone breathing nonsense on Twitter. You’re not asking for a miracle. You’re just trying to find matching socks and the will to log in to that Zoom meeting. Meanwhile, the internet is serving “soft life” on ice, and you’re just there hoping your account balance doesn’t disgrace your surname.

And you wonder: does life have space for people like me? The quiet ones. The overlooked ones. The Jabez types.

Spoiler: it does.

Jabez didn’t make noise. He made a move because he didn’t come to play. He didn’t whisper. He didn’t water it down. He didn’t self-reject. He prayed like someone who knew God could flip the script—and fast.

So what’s the point?

Maybe today—Workers’ Day—in between the parades, unanswered emails, and passive-aggressive office group chats… while you’re still showing up, pressing on, clocking in—even when your soul clocked out at 9:07 a.m.—it may be your Jabez moment.

Hear this: you don’t need a spotlight. You don’t need a five-chapter origin story. You just need one honest moment and a prayer that slaps. Because if God could say yes to someone buried in a list of Jesse begat Emeka… and suddenly, plot twist—He can say yes to you too.

So maybe today—between Zoom calls, debit alerts, and soft-life envy—please pause. And ask. Loudly. Clearly. Indeed.

Pray like you know He’s listening. Not for vibes—but for territory. Not for drama—but for difference. Not just to survive—but to outgrow every name pain ever tried to give you.

You’ve worked. You’ve endured. You’ve been strong in places no one even saw.

It may only take one bold moment—to say: I know how this started. But I also know You are not going to let it end like this.

Join me today by saying, “Bless me, indeed“.

Yours sincerely, A fellow begotten in pain—
but not staying there.

Did you read April’s post? if not, follow the link to, “How weak can you be? – Samson had one damn job” https://oluwatoyosiabikoye.com/how-weak-can-you-be-samson-had-one-damn-job/