When God Makes a Home: Breaking Generational Cycles

If you caught my last blog, you already know I got the house. This August marked three years since I moved in, and it still feels surreal. What a milestone. But as I reflected, I realised I left out a few important details. So, here I am, filling in the gaps. This time, I want to share more about the journey, some of the scriptures that carried me through, and still carry me today.

Where do I even begin? That’s always the tricky part. But maybe it’s best to start here: simply having the opportunity to live in and potentially own my own home is a blessing. A profound one. Especially when I think about where I came from. You see, after learning all that my mum went through, it truly feels like a generational curse has been broken.

When we first arrived in England, life was a constant shuffle. We moved from place to place, stayed in other people’s homes, never quite settling. My memories of childhood are filled with packed bags, train rides, and temporary beds. We didn’t have a place we could truly call our own. Home was a concept, never a reality. Even the idea of home in Africa became distant, like a memory I couldn’t quite hold onto.

In the UK, I only lived with my mum for about 5 years in total before being sent to boarding school in 2006. In 2003, I believe, my mum was given a council house, and for a brief moment, it seemed like stability might finally be ours. But then we were evicted a year before going to boarding school, i think. I honestly don’t remember why, but I do remember how it felt, that deep, sinking feeling that something had shifted. We lived in another home after eviction, but from that moment on, I never lived with my mum again. Looking back, I realise how deeply that instability shaped my sense of safety, identity, and belonging.

Even though my family was evicted, you must be shocked at how I was able to go to boarding school, right? My dad paid some of my fees, and the rest of the fees were covered by his job.

My parents were never absent, even though I went to boarding school. I am truly one of the blessed ones who can say they stayed in touch, planned my holidays thoughtfully, surprised me with random visits to my schools, and even sent extra pocket money when I needed it.

Before I got this home, home never really felt like home. It was more like a holiday destination. During school and university breaks, I would stay with my aunt or my sisters. I saw my mum during those breaks too, so even though she was involved, our time together was limited. At boarding school, we stayed connected through letters and the occasional phone call, little threads of connection that reminded me I was loved and not forgotten.

So when I say getting this house was more than just a personal win, it was a breakthrough, I mean it. It was a door God opened, not just for me, but to heal something generational. It wasn’t until my mother said, “This is a breakthrough, we were once evicted,” that it truly hit me. My story runs deeper than I thought. It’s a story of redemption. God restored what was lost.

When I think about my mother’s journey, too, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for what God has done. It wasn’t just my prayers that were answered; it was hers as well. Maybe because I was a child, I didn’t see it as a struggle at the time; every need was somehow met, even when things didn’t seem to be working out. My mum’s dearest friends and family opened their homes to me and my siblings. I was blessed when I first came to England; a few of my mum’s friends took us in, letting us live with them for years.

Those years, though uncertain, revealed something beautiful: the power of community. I look back now and thank God for my mum’s friendships, for her managers, her pastors, and everyone who accommodated her and her children. Even the church accommodated my mother; they gave her a place to live when she had nowhere else to go. I’m thankful for the friend who encouraged my mum to go to the council for housing. From what she’s told me, we stayed in that council building for hours before they finally found us a place. Those friends had sacrificed their space and comfort to help a friend in need and her kids. That kind of love and generosity left a mark on me. Those are the friends I long to have. One of her friends, whom she met back home in Malawi, paid for my mum’s ticket to come to the UK to study. Another, a pastor friend, helped her child to the UK. So many destiny helpers. 

I’m genuinely grateful that God used people in my mum’s life to bless us. When I look at my parents and their friendships, I know those are the kind of friends I want in my life. One of the reasons my parents’ lives have impacted me so deeply is that, even when things were difficult, they were still givers. My mum didn’t have a home of her own in the UK, yet both she and my dad always opened their doors to others back home in Africa.

I remember visiting my dad in 2009, and my dad would take us shopping to buy food for neighbours who were struggling. Our home was always open to strangers and family, anyone in need, sometimes for weeks, months, or even years. And they still do this today. I truly believe those blessings followed them because of how they blessed others. God honoured their generosity, and in doing so, taught me the beauty of giving. My dad does a 10% tithe to the Lord and a 10% tithe for the needy and the poor. These are some of the principles I’ve learnt.

Watching my parents live this way shaped me. It made me passionate about serving others and about charity work. Even experiencing homelessness myself taught me compassion; it showed me who I am at my core. I’ve become that person who loves to give, to serve, to pour into community, whether through a charity or the church.

I’ve seen my mother helped by the church too; a pastor who kept on paying all her bills when she had no money or job. Pastors and friends who have given my mum a job. I believe that’s a reflection of how she and my dad gave so freely to others. What they sowed, God allowed them to reap through the kindness of others. Seeing what people have done for my family has inspired how I open my own home today. The kindness my parents showed, the support their friends and the church gave them, all of it has helped me cherish the blessing of my home even more deeply. It’s a reminder that homes are not just built with bricks and mortar, but with love, faith, and open hands.

Scripture says:

“I was naked and you clothed Me; I was sick and you visited Me; I was in prison and you came to Me.
Then the righteous will answer Him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see You hungry and feed You, or thirsty and give You drink? When did we see You a stranger and take You in, or naked and clothe You?
Or when did we see You sick, or in prison, and come to You?’
And the King will answer and say to them, ‘Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me.’” (Matthew 25:36–40)

When I think of my parents and of the strangers who became family, I see how the Lord used them to bless us, to plant seeds of kindness that still bear fruit today. Their story has become my foundation. I see how the Lord was in the lives of those people who helped us. He says, “If you’ve done it to them, you’ve done it to Me.”

Even when it comes to my own life and my own home, this is my pursuit. I want to welcome people into my home when they have nowhere else to go. Sometimes it’s hard because I myself might not have the food to feed them. But if I have a clean home and something to offer, I’m happy to do so. It gets complicated when you don’t have much to give. However, even when I’ve opened my home with little, the Lord has blessed my house. People have shown up with food or kindness in return, simply because I made room for them.

Sometimes I’m just too tired to have anyone over. I work 12 hours, and sometimes generosity feels like the last thing I have the energy for. Add a messy home, no food, and exhaustion, and I might not be the friendliest or most giving person. There’s the fighting within, the embarrassment, the insecurity that I don’t have enough to offer. But I’m learning that if someone truly loves you, they might just come for you, even if you have nothing to give.

Luke 11:5–8 says:

“Then, teaching them more about prayer, he used this story: ‘Suppose you went to a friend’s house at midnight, wanting to borrow three loaves of bread. You say to him, “A friend of mine has just arrived for a visit, and I have nothing for him to eat.” And suppose he calls out from his bedroom, “Don’t bother me. The door is locked for the night, and my family and I are all in bed. I can’t help you.” But I tell you this—though he won’t do it for friendship’s sake, if you keep knocking long enough, he will get up and give you whatever you need because of your shameless persistence.

Even though this passage is about prayer, I believe it also applies to life. Sometimes you just have to do things even when it’s hard. When people are knocking at odd hours, when they’re in need, answer even if it might inconvenience you. I won’t lie, there are times I don’t open the door because I’m genuinely tired, but I still try my best. These are the things that make this house so precious to me: that it’s a home that opens its doors to the needy, the hungry, and the stranger.

I know what it means to be housed by others. I’ve been taken in by strangers more times than I can count, especially as a child. As I grew older, friends, their families, and my own family continued to shelter me when I had nowhere else to go. I can’t tell my story without mentioning my aunt, who’s been like a second mother to me. Patient, kind, and ever-present, she cared for me for years, moving from place to place, always making sure I had somewhere to call home.

When she finally settled in Northampton, I followed her there. After all those years of moving, I finally felt grounded. For the first time, I wasn’t just staying somewhere; I was home. I often think that because she moved, I found the Lord in Northampton. I found a community. I found peace. She has looked after me for so many years, and I’m forever grateful for her.

I also want to thank my sisters, who took me into their university homes when we couldn’t live with Mum anymore. It wasn’t just about eviction or instability; my mum didn’t feel the area we lived in was safe for us. She wanted to protect us from the environment around us as kids. I’m grateful for every place I’ve lived, for her love, her discernment, and her care in wanting to give us the safest and best life possible.

All these people, my aunt, my sisters, family, friends, I feel indebted to them. They’ve shown me what love in action looks like. And when I think about what it means to want to be better, to want to be a blessing to others, that’s me. That’s my heart.

Another scripture that inspires me to live this way is:

“For God loves a person who gives cheerfully. And God will generously provide all you need. Then you will always have everything you need and plenty left over to share with others.
As the Scriptures say,
‘They share freely and give generously to the poor;
their good deeds will be remembered forever.’
For God is the one who provides seed for the farmer and then bread to eat. In the same way, he will provide and increase your resources and then produce a great harvest of generosity in you.
Yes, you will be enriched in every way so that you can always be generous. And when we take your gifts to those who need them, they will thank God.
So two good things will result from this ministry of giving, the needs of the believers in Jerusalem will be met, and they will joyfully express their thanks to God.
As a result of your ministry, they will give glory to God. For your generosity to them and to all believers will prove that you are obedient to the Good News of Christ.
And they will pray for you with deep affection because of the overflowing grace God has given to you.
Thank God for this gift too wonderful for words!”
2 Corinthians 9:7–15

This scripture is so foundational for me. Seeing my parents give cheerfully, how they always had enough to share and how their good deeds are still remembered, has shaped who I am. Even though I sometimes crave my own space and quiet, I still open my doors. I love how the verse says, “You will be enriched in every way so that you can always be generous.” That has been my prayer for years. God truly blesses those who give.

The beautiful thing about giving is that it never goes unnoticed. When you give, you’re remembered, not just by people, but by God Himself. I’m sure we’ve all experienced moments when someone blessed us in return for something we once did, even years before. People thank God because of your kindness; your act of giving becomes their answered prayer. And in turn, God receives the glory.

Even with this house, I want more, not for myself, but so I can have enough to give. I want to live a life that overflows with generosity. This home reminds me to do that. Where I once felt I wasn’t much of a hostess, not womanly or motherly enough, this home has been teaching me. It’s shaping me into a woman of warmth, care, and hospitality. It’s teaching me what it means to build, not just a house, but a home.

I’m becoming all those things by doing them. I don’t always feel like the best cook or hostess; those insecurities sometimes stop me from inviting people over. I’m great at keeping a clean home, but cooking, that’s still a work in progress. But the more I do, the more I grow.

I keep pushing myself to be kinder, to be more generous, to keep working on the fruits of the Spirit instead of hardening my heart. When you do good things over and over again, it can be easy to grow weary or closed off. So I pray constantly, asking God to renew a right spirit within me, to keep me full of compassion, love, and kindness. To help me walk in love and continue to do good works even when it’s tiring.

Another scripture that inspires me is from James 2:14–16, which says:

“What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if someone claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save them? Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace, keep warm and well fed,’ but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it?”

That scripture is such a gentle but powerful reminder to be someone’s helper, to be their keeper. Sometimes prayer alone isn’t enough. Being present is enough. Doing something is important. Words can be comforting, but sometimes they’re not what’s needed. It’s about action, it’s about exercising your faith. Feed someone, even if it’s just a little. It can multiply. It’s a scripture about faith and deeds. Faith without works is dead.

It takes a lot for someone to admit their struggles or their lack. So when we’re aware of what others need and can help, we should. My parents never fail to bring me food whenever they visit because they know that meeting a need matters more than giving advice.

I’ve seen miracles in the little things, cooking what seemed like not enough and watching it feed more people than I expected. I’ve seen food stretch for days when, by all logic, it shouldn’t have. That’s the kind of God I serve.

Being in this house has been a blessing, but it’s also tested my faith. Before I moved in, someone gave me a reality check by saying, “You know, people do get evicted.” I remember thinking, Why would you say that? But it’s true, those are the realities of life. Still, I chose to believe that it didn’t have to be mine.

A month ago, I found out the person who lived below me was no longer there. Maybe they moved out, maybe they were evicted, I’ll never know. It could have shaken me, but instead, I chose to focus on God’s provision. I chose peace. Especially because my mum’s story involved eviction, it hit close to home. Yet here I am, still standing.

Around that same time, I started receiving letters about outstanding rent balances. I was shocked. How could this be? I work long hours, 12-hour shifts sometimes, and I pay my rent faithfully. I was exhausted and confused. I went through my bank statements and sent them to my housing officer, desperate for clarity. Eventually, they responded to say my account was in good standing, that I had nothing to worry about. They could see I made regular payments.

I just sat there and thanked God. He cleared my name.

When you receive a letter like that, be like King Hezekiah, who spread his letter before the Lord and prayed for deliverance.

“And Hezekiah received the letter from the hand of the messengers, and read it; and Hezekiah went up to the house of the Lord, and spread it before the Lord. Then Hezekiah prayed before the Lord, and said: ‘O Lord God of Israel, the One who dwells between the cherubim, You are God, You alone, of all the kingdoms of the earth. You have made heaven and earth. Incline Your ear, O Lord, and hear; open Your eyes, O Lord, and see; and hear the words of Sennacherib, which he has sent to reproach the living God. Truly, Lord, the kings of Assyria have laid waste the nations and their lands, and have cast their gods into the fire, for they were not gods, but the work of men’s hands, wood and stone. Therefore they destroyed them. Now therefore, O Lord our God, I pray, save us from his hand, that all the kingdoms of the earth may know that You are the Lord God, You alone.”
2 Kings 19:14–19

It’s a miracle I’m still in this house, the very house the Lord said He would give me.

I often think about where I’ve come from. That’s the main point; it’s all a miracle. A breakthrough. Especially after the suffering I endured before getting this place. I lived in temporary accommodation for months. I might sound dramatic calling it suffering, but for me, that’s what it was.

There were days when I had nowhere to go, and one of my closest friends would open her family’s home to me. She made sure I had a place to rest, a meal to eat, and a space where I could feel safe. Those were some of the hardest days of my life, but also the ones that taught me the most about resilience, grace, and gratitude.

Over the years, I have lived with friends, family, and even with strangers who have become like family. I have stayed in the homes of five or six different friends. Some took me in for weeks, while others took me in for months. Each one showed me what love in action looks like. Because of them, I am driven to do the same for others. I open my doors not only to my friends but also to strangers who need a place to feel seen, safe, and loved.

This house is not just mine, it is God’s. I host Bible studies here because I truly believe it is a Bethel, a house of God. The Lord gave me this home, and through it, I have discovered something I never imagined: that serving others brings a joy deeper than anything else.

I feel the church has always been my home. I wasn’t a pastor’s kid, but I grew up in church. I have seen the church care for people, my people, in a loving way. I have love for the church. My parents and their involvement in church have played a massive role in my life. There were worship rehearsals in my house back home, and I was on little tours with my dad with his Christian band.

I have that same dream to host Christians in my home, do bible studies and worship the Lord. It takes the Lord breaking me for what breaks him. It takes dealing with all the fears, annoyances, frustrations, and insecurities. It takes breaking down the walls and tearing down the lies. I think like scripture says,

“Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.’ 1 Corinthians 13:7

I have learned that being with people means carrying a lot, to bear all things, to keep believing in the good, to hold on to hope that things will work out, and sometimes, to endure the painful parts that come with love and community. Whether at home, in church, or anywhere else, it is not always easy, but it is worth it.

When you open your home, you open your heart too. You start to see all kinds of characters and personalities, each one different, each one teaching you something new. It can be beautiful, but it can also be messy. You learn that love does not mean saying yes to everything. You have to set boundaries, but still walk in love. You have to choose grace again and again.

This verse I hold close to my heart. It reminds me to stay calm, to look for the light even in the darkest moments, and to keep believing the best about people. Whenever I start to lose patience or feel overwhelmed, I go back to it. It helps me breathe. It helps me love again.

I once had a dream, a line of people walking two by two, coming toward a place. Somehow, I knew they were being led there because of me. They were coming to my space. It reminded me of Noah’s time, and though I do not fully understand it, I have always held on to that image. Maybe it is a picture of what this house is meant to be, a place where people come not just to me, but to the Lord.

I have welcomed those who had nowhere else to go, and I pray that continues. I do not want this home to be a place just for my family or close friends. I want it to stay open to anyone who needs rest, healing, or hope. I want to keep welcoming without fear or frustration, just with love.

With Love,

Theophilia 🖤