The meaning behind the mark

                                          Not My Will, But Yours

They called me "The Lion" before I understood why.

It started as a nickname from my teammates — the kind that sticks because it fits before you've earned the full weight of it. Years later, I learned my grandfather carried a version of the same name in his village: Ekun, meaning leopard, given to him for his nobility and his role as a king maker. Neither of us chose the name. It found us.

But LYWBD — Let Your Will Be Done — didn't come from a nickname. It came from a hospital bed.

I spent three months healing from a hangman fracture — a broken neck. The kind of injury that changes how you count your days, before and after. In that stillness, healing from something that could have taken everything, I understood that the life I still had wasn't mine to spend chasing my own ambitions. It was spared for something bigger than what I had planned for myself.

Not my will, but Yours. Luke 22:42 — the words Christ spoke facing His own suffering — became the words I held onto in mine.

That's what this crest carries:

• The crown — Christ as King.
• The lion — the Lion of Judah, strength and leadership, and the name I've carried since I was a kid.
• The hidden cross, formed within the lion — sacrifice, faith, redemption.
• The hidden Bible — God's Word as the foundation everything else stands on.
• The upward arrow — a life surrendered and aligned with God's will, not my own.

Every piece we make carries that crest, and that surrender, forward. This isn't streetwear with a Bible verse slapped on it. It's a record of the moment I stopped pursuing my own plan and started pursuing His.

LYWBD. Let Your Will Be Done.

I used to keep my faith quiet — something private, something I didn't wear on the outside. That fracture changed that too. If I was spared to serve a purpose, hiding it was never part of the plan.

Be bold about your faith.