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Our Story

​​​On a humid evening in a small coastal town, where the ocean whispered secrets to the shore and the streets glowed faintly under kerosene lamps, two young men sat on a broken wooden bench outside an abandoned building. Their names were John Karimu Faya and John Tommy—both barely in their twenties, but already carrying a deep sense of purpose that set them apart. They had grown up in different parts of the country, but hardship had been their common language. John Karimu Faya had lost his father at a young age and was raised by a mother whose faith never wavered, even when food was scarce. John Tommy, on the other hand, had once drifted aimlessly, searching for meaning in a world that seemed indifferent—until a chance encounter at a small prayer gathering changed his life. That gathering was where they first met. It wasn’t anything grand—just a handful of people praying under a mango tree, asking for hope, healing, and direction. But something happened that night. As the group sang softly, both young men felt an overwhelming conviction: they were meant to do more than just attend prayers—they were meant to lead, to build, to ignite something lasting.

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They spent months walking through neighborhoods, talking to people, praying with families, and listening—really listening—to the struggles of their community. What they heard was consistent: people were tired, spiritually drained, and in need of a place where they could feel seen, valued, and uplifted. One evening, standing in front of that abandoned building, John Tommy turned to John Karimu Faya and said, “What if this is it? What if this broken place becomes a house of light?” It sounded impossible. The roof was half gone, the walls cracked, and the floor uneven. They had no money, no sponsors, no formal backing—just faith and an unshakable belief that God could work through them. By day, they worked odd jobs—carrying goods at the market, fixing roofs, doing whatever they could to earn a little. By night, they cleaned the building. They patched holes with scrap materials, swept out years of dust, and slowly transformed the space. Sometimes, neighbors would stop and watch. A few mocked them. Others shook their heads in disbelief.

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Within months, the small, once-abandoned building was filled beyond capacity. People came not just for sermons, but for the sense of belonging. The chapel became a refuge—a place where broken lives were rebuilt, where the weary found strength, and where faith was no longer distant, but alive and present. What made it special wasn’t just the preaching—it was the heart behind it. Pastor John Karimu Faya brought wisdom beyond his years, speaking with a calm authority that drew people in. Pastor John Tommy brought fire and passion, inspiring people to believe that change was possible, no matter their past. Together, they were balance. Years later, as the chapel expanded and new branches began to form, people often asked how it all started. Some expected a story of wealthy sponsors or divine visions in the sky. But the truth was simpler—and perhaps more powerful. It began with two young men, a broken building, and a decision to act on faith instead of fear.

And in that decision, Heaven’s light found a home on earth.

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