Clarity Is Overrated. Consistency Is Not.
ast Thursday, I sat down at lunch with a young woman from Nigeria in my organisation,
Someone in a role much higher than where I currently am.
Black to Black.
Sister to sister.
Nigerian to Nigerian.
I wanted the tea.
I wanted to know how she climbed the corporate ladder.
How she navigated rooms she was never “meant” to be in.
How she found her way among decision-makers in a country where her ancestors did not lie.
I was honestly expecting a strategy.
A five-step plan.
A carefully curated career map.
But what I heard surprised me.
She simply kept showing up.
Learning on the way.
Refining on the way.
Applying for roles that felt higher than her.
Imposter syndrome was present, but it wasn’t in charge.
She said something that freed me:
“I don’t need to meet every qualification.
If I meet even 60%, I’ll apply and refine on the way.”
This was not a woman who was handed anything.
This was a woman stubborn about consistency.
And through perseverance, she was making an impact, even among people who decide policy.
No spectacle.
Just movement.
Clarity, she said, came on the way.
It’s not like I didn’t already know this.
And it’s not like you reading this don’t know it either.
But there’s a difference between knowing something and becoming what you know.
If you have ever said,
“I’m not sure what I’m doing… but I’ll keep going.”
Let’s dismantle the myth that clarity must always precede action.
Purpose Can Be Practiced Before It Is Named
You may not know your passion yet, but you can decide to do every assignment placed in your hands excellently.
You may not be sure what your purpose is, but you can do everything with a sense of purpose.
Look around, and you will see:
We don’t get to the destination because we are “special” or because our strategy is God-designed and flawless.
That thinking can actually cap the flow.
We get there because we keep moving.
We keep showing up.
We outgrow nonsense.
We raise our standards.
We understand the dignity of labour.
One foot.
Then the other.
My Own Story of Showing Up
When I started writing, I truly didn’t know what I was doing.
I was sixteen, listening to Bishop T.D. Jakes’ sermons, and something would stir on the inside of me.
I’ve always been obsessed with sharing.
So, I decided to take what I was learning, translate it into language my generation could relate to, and share it.
That was how I fell in love with writing.
And I kept going.
Year after year.
No reward.
No applause.
Still moving.
Showing up.
Remaining consistent.
And now, years later, the impact always humbles me.
Every single day I send something out, there’s at least one message that says,
“Thank you for writing this. I needed this.”
Writing has etched itself into my identity, not just as a man, but as a spirit.
In writing, God and I commune.
But none of this would exist if I hadn’t learned and practised the discipline of consistency and the power of remaining.
CONCLUSION
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