At 21, I had already journeyed halfway through my undergraduate studies at the University of Ilorin. I was no longer a wide-eyed freshman nervously scanning notice boards or dodging threats of rustication. By then, I had grown into the rhythm of campus life and earned the right to call myself a member of that academic community. I watched as new students wandered around, unsure of where to go or how to start. And we helped them—gladly. I gave tutorials to juniors in my department, returned to my room for an hour or two of study, and then wrapped up my day facing off with hostel mates in Chess. I wasn’t Magnus Carlsen, but among my peers, I was their grandmaster.
A year later, I was already packing my bags, ready to leave the university that had become a second home. I miss Ilorin: the late-night gist with friends, the professors who demanded our best, and the honest, striving people I met. But it was time to move on. I wrote my final papers, cleared all courses, and was fortunate to be posted to Abuja for the National Youth Service Corps (NYSC). That, in itself, was a milestone—a mark of normalcy, purpose, and promise.
Back then, life was simple and meaningful. We may not have had much, but we had direction. We dreamed. We worked. We were not consumed by schemes and shortcuts. And at 21, that was enough.
Fast forward to just last week, more than a decade later. After a long day’s work, I was winding down, scrolling through my phone—catching up on news, memes, and the usual digital noise—when a video clip interrupted my peace. A preacher, Apostle Arome Osayi, stood before his congregation and declared: “If you are up to 21 years old and you’ve never spoken in tongues for six hours straight, your life is a joke.”
I watched the video again, hoping I misunderstood. I hadn’t. And I couldn’t let it slide.
Let me be clear: if Apostle Osayi meant what he said, then he is either joking, drunk on delusion, or dangerously misleading people. If he wasn’t joking, then the joke, frankly, is on him.
Let’s start with a fundamental question: what exactly is speaking in tongues? It’s a concept that has been debated for centuries—even among devout Christians. But here’s a fact: nowhere in Scripture is it recorded that Jesus Christ, the very foundation of the Christian faith, ever spoke in tongues. Not in the manger, not at the Temple, not even in the Garden of Gethsemane.
Yes, the Bible records that the apostles spoke in tongues once—on the day of Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit descended. And even then, they were not speaking gibberish for hours; they spoke languages understood by others. Their speech wasn’t a spiritual marathon. It was purposeful, immediate, and miraculous. Not a performance.
So, for a pastor to suggest that a young adult’s life is worthless—merely because they haven’t engaged in a six-hour spiritual tongueathon—is not only arrogant but deeply irresponsible. Should a university student abandon their books, their passions, and their pursuits, and sit in a corner muttering unintelligibly for hours just to prove they’re not a “joke”? Would Apostle Osayi encourage his child to do that in lieu of school?
These are not harmless statements. This is precisely how damaging spiritual extremism begins—when personal experiences or subjective spiritual benchmarks are universalized and weaponized. It sends the wrong message to young people, many of whom are already struggling to find meaning in a chaotic world.
And yet, this is the same Nigeria where religious leaders wield enormous influence. We are among the most prayerful nations in the world. Churches are full. Mountains echo with fasting and supplication. And still, we remain at the bottom in innovation, education, and social development. We pray. Others plan. We fast. Others research. We shout in tongues. Others build satellites.
Go to China. Visit Germany. Observe India. Study America. See what their 21-year-olds are doing—launching startups, pushing the frontiers of AI, building quantum computers, and exploring Mars. But in Nigeria, our spiritual gatekeepers tell our youth that unless they speak in tongues for six hours, their lives are meaningless.
Enough.
Religion should inspire growth, not guilt. It should fuel purpose, not pressure. True spirituality is reflected in love, learning, character, and contribution to humanity. Speaking in tongues—if it is real—is a gift, not a yardstick. It is not, and should never be, the only barometer for a meaningful life.
Parents must be vigilant about the spiritual diets their children consume. Blind faith in flawed teachings leads to a stunted generation. We cannot afford to raise young people whose potential is dimmed by the weight of manipulative doctrines disguised as divine.
To every 21-year-old reading this: your life is not a joke. You don’t need six hours of tongues to prove your worth. Go build. Go learn. Go serve. Go live. Let your life be the message—clear, useful, and loud.
And to Apostle Osayi and others like him: please, leave the young people alone and stop preaching the bible out of context. We have a country to build.
