Ditching the Cassock: How I Moved from a “Man of God” to Becoming an Entrepreneur

My journey from being deeply immersed in ministry to building a business is not a simple story of change—it is a story of identity, resistance, sacrifice, and rediscovery.

For years, I was known as a “Man of God.” Today, I am an entrepreneur.

This is how it happened.

I started my spiritual journey at a very young age. I rose through the leadership ranks very quickly, thanks to my adaptability, passion, and commitment. In the Block Rosary, after serving my full term as a Parish President, Vice President of the Deanery, and Chairman of a Diocesan Congress, I was elected as the Diocesan Financial Secretary. If you’re familiar with the Catholic setup, you will understand that this was a lot to achieve, and I did it at a really young age.

My real spiritual journey took a more pastoral and ministerial turn when I joined the Catholic Charismatic Renewal of Nigeria (CCRN) towards the end of my tenure as Parish President of the Block Rosary in 2012. The result was that I became a more spiritual person, and with this came the “Man of God” title. After completing the Foundation Course, my core ministry was the teaching ministry, but in addition to that, I was counseled to also join the intercessory ministry. This single decision would define the rest of my spiritual journey and experience.

Joining the intercessory ministry, which wasn’t my primary ministry to begin with, was what truly defined my spiritual journey. After their induction course of a few months, I started the ministry work, which began with attending to the spiritual needs of members of the prayer group through prayer and counseling, both in general gatherings and at personal requests. But the scope of the work didn’t stop there; we also received invites from members of the parish and the community who believed in the work we were doing. Then I rose through the process and the fieldwork very quickly.

I was originally supposed to spend just a year in the ministry, but the year passed very quickly without me or anyone noticing. Instead of leaving to focus on my teaching ministry after my one-year term in the intercessory ministry, I went on to become the leader instead. I was definitely consumed by the fire and the work. It was real, important, and impactful.

I didn’t finish my tenure as the leader when I relocated from my hometown to Bauchi in Northeastern Nigeria to meet my parents. Again, in Bauchi, within just a few months, I was appointed to reorganize the intercessory ministry, which at the time was in disarray. It wasn’t a difficult job; I quickly finished it up and was then re-elected to serve as the substantive leader of the ministry. I was the youngest of all the members and the leader. This depicts the kind of grace I was carrying. Nobody cared about my age. I had proved my worth, and they were convinced.

Again, I didn’t finish my term. I got admission to study History at the University of Maiduguri, and I had to leave. The same cycle repeated itself in school. I became the Assistant Coordinator of the group in my second year and was elected the Coordinator (AKA Papa) in my third year. I successfully handed over the mantle, as is the tradition, towards the end of my fourth year.

Now, the positions were not just mere titles; they were positions of leadership and impact. Being a leader in this circle meant you were perceived as the best and most outstanding in the group, which, with honor, I surely was. I say this just to make the point that my gift, commitment, and passion were beyond ordinary.

This exception came with external invites to workshops, retreats, and revival programs. There were times when I had to leave school for such invites. The ministry was moving, and the Lord’s work and calling were in progress.

However, in the midst of the busy work of ministry, a quiet realization started settling in. The first spark came in 2014, when I was just an SS2 student, the Assistant Head Boy in my school, and the leader of the intercessory ministry in my hometown. But more importantly to me at the time, I was a student who was fanatic about literature, both as a field and a subject. I was the best in my class.

I had been working on my own fictional storybook titled The Thorns and the Crown. In 2014, I took the bold step to get it produced, and I organized a launch event for the book. It was a stressful journey for me. I had to borrow money to achieve the feat, and I did it. The plan was to pay it back after the launch.

I was confident going into the project because I was a Man of God. God had used me to touch a lot of lives, so definitely people were going to turn up. Well, I later learned that I was wrong. The news went around that the book I was publishing wasn’t a spiritual book but a fictional literary work, so a portion of the crowd I was expecting stayed away.

Then, among those who showed up, some didn’t get the news. Hearing the title (The Thorns & The Crown), they assumed it was a spiritual book, but during the event, they realized it wasn’t, so I lost them too. They couldn’t leave, but they definitely didn’t support the way they would have. Of course, there were those who were wholeheartedly there to support me and didn’t mind the nature of the work.

After the event, I was in huge debt. The proceeds didn’t cover the cost of the occasion, talk more of the production of the book. The message was clear: “You are a Man of God; you only get our support when you act within your line of calling.” It was a very touching experience, and I still haven’t forgotten it. I was so emotional that I wept while delivering my speech during the event. How could I forget? My classmates were there.

The support from my school wasn’t outstanding either. I attended a private school, and we had just lost our proprietor a few months before my book launch. The family had yet to decide who would take over the administration of the school, although one of the sons was present at the event. So, while I was celebrated at school for my outstanding literary prowess, the other community, to whom I was a “Man of God,” resisted the achievement.

My question was: can’t I be a Man of God and also a literary author? This question dominated my conversations with friends and associates until I left home before the end of that year for Bauchi. But even fellow members of the fellowship believed I had made the wrong move—it should have been a spiritual book. And in a way, they were right. If it had been a spiritual book, I would have made a good return after the launch.

I didn’t know whether to celebrate the achievement or not, but I made sure I never went against the trend and expectations again.

So, after relocating to Bauchi, I went on to produce and launch five additional books—all spiritual or inspirational. This was because, as a Catholic and a Man of God under CCRN, you are not like pastors in other denominations. There are no offerings or titles. So for me, writing and launching books became a source of income. It really helped. It was how I was able to complete my degree and pay for all the online courses I was taking at the time.

My challenge was complicated because I was studying a course I knew very well I wasn’t going to practice. So I had to take additional courses online to prepare myself. I had also realized that being a Man of God wasn’t going to pay the bills.

In 2019, after I graduated from the university, it became clear that remaining a Man of God wasn’t going to be of much help. As a form of retreat, I resigned from the intercessory ministry and focused on my teaching ministry. The resignation helped cut off a line of engagement, but I had already built a reputation, so once in a while, I still received invites for personal prayer, counseling, and external programs.

My resignation was strangely interpreted as backsliding, even though it wasn’t. However, it helped because it reduced commitments and gave me time to focus on myself.

The final turning point came when I decided to start my consulting business. I had chosen this path years earlier because I wanted to do something similar to being a Man of God—you can’t just ditch the cassock. Also, I was really good at speaking, which was one of the greatest benefits of my years in ministry.

Just like my first book launch, the resistance was real. Many believed I should have started a ministry or prayer outreach. They didn’t see corporate and business consulting as part of my calling. As far as they were concerned, supporting me meant aiding my backsliding.

I recall an incident where someone declined to assist me and later confided in another person that she refused because my exit from the intercessory ministry discouraged her from attending activities. Another person told me bluntly that I was backsliding and abandoning God’s calling, giving me a long lecture on the consequences. I listened respectfully, but my mind was made up.

I didn’t see a future moving from pulpit to pulpit without a sustainable source of income. So I moved on.

A few close friends understood and supported me. One even took a loan on my behalf. But the losses were significant—I lost relationships, connections, and even my father’s support. As a Man of God himself, he believed I was abandoning the call.

After the COVID-19 lockdown, I opened my office. The months that followed taught me that the corporate world was far more difficult than ministry. Growth was slow, and acceptance wasn’t guaranteed.

From August 2020 to March 2021 was one of the toughest periods of my life.

By March 2021, I was mobilized for the National Youth Service Corps (NYSC). My deployment to Cross River State was a huge relief. I was in debt and under heavy social pressure, so leaving that environment gave me a fresh start.

Before leaving Bauchi, I made a vow: I would not carry the “Man of God” identity into my new phase.

At camp, I avoided religious activities completely. I joined the OBS and became Head of Production & Broadcast. I didn’t attend a single mass or fellowship throughout camp.

I wasn’t rejecting God—I was being intentional. I understood how easily I could be pulled back into that identity.

The experience reconnected me with my earlier passions—literature, media, and leadership. I rediscovered a part of myself I had buried.

After camp, I  was first posted to a Government Secondary School and later reposted to the University of Calabar. Throughout my service year, I successfully avoided being drawn back into full ministry. This is despite been a member and official of the National Association of Catholic Corps Members (NACC). I conducted myself as an ordinary Catholic faithful like everyone else.

Life after service wasn’t easy. I was determined not to retrun to Bauchi because i knew there wasn’t any life left for me there. Surprisingly, the goughness of the years that followed my continued stay in Calabar made me reconsider joining the CCRN again. I did but withdraw after a few meetings.  My situation was worsen by the fact that i lost my entire savings to crypto trading in April 2022.

I briefly took a job for three months. This may sound surprising to those who had related closely with me because i have never fancy the of securing a 9/5 job but i did.  i was pursing the idea of saving money from the a job to start my business. but i realised that wasn’t going to work for me, so i left to pursue my business fully.

That was the beginning of Jomo Resource Center.

At the beginning, it was just myself and a laptop. Today, in 2026, we have grown to a team of five staff and three freelancers, with 72 courses and 10 workshops, and more in development. I believe we have now reached the Project Life-Point but there is still alot of work to be done.

The journey has been difficult, but progress is visible.

So yes, I ditched the cassock to become an entrepreneur. But to be honest, some things never leave. People still call me “Pastor” because of my composure and my dress code. However, I don’t believe I abandoned my calling. I believe I have found its true expression.

Today, I am an entrepreneur guided by spiritual discipline. Building Jomo Resource Center is my divine mandate, and I am committed to seeing it through.

In conclusion, I am grateful for my journey. It is far more dramatic than I have expressed here, with many details and names intentionally omitted.

Thank you for reading. I hope you find inspiration in this story.