At 50, Prophet Isaac Olaomo, Senior Pastor of The Mantle Prayer Ministry (Oke Isimi), reflects on a life shaped by hardship, redemption, and a calling he never thought he would have. Once a young Fuji enthusiast, determined to rival stars like Pasuma, Olaomo’s journey was dramatically interrupted when, as he puts it, “Jesus found me.” In this exclusive interview with ADEOLA OGUNLADE, he recounts his turbulent childhood, his rise in fuji music, his radical conversion, and his mission to ignite revival among today’s youth. With striking honesty, he shares how grace carried him from the village of Oyo State to the pulpit, and why he believes the church must return to its roots if Nigeria is to experience true transformation.
ONGRATULATIONS on your 50th birthday, sir. How do you feel at 50?
For me, 50 years means grace. My entire life has been a journey of grace from birth. I wasn’t even expected to be born normally. My mother carried me beyond nine months and insisted she could no longer feel any baby in her womb. It was not until the 11th month that my father was advised to shave his head in prayer, and on the same day, I was born.
Even after my birth, my father didn’t cut his hair for three years because of the circumstances surrounding my arrival. So when I say I’m a product of grace, I mean it literally. Growing up, I had no birth certificate. So when I got to secondary school, I picked April 6 as my date of birth and used it officially.
In 1994, when I came to Lagos, my brother found an old document showing November 14, 1975, so I adopted it.
Ten years ago, my brother-in-law found a photo of me at one year old, and it had October 14 written on it. But because November 14 is on all my official documents, that is the date I have kept. 50 to me is a journey of mercy. I was six years old when my parents separated.
How was your childhood?
My childhood was extremely tough. I was just six years old when my parents separated, and I grew up in the village in Oyo State, where I experienced poverty in its rawest form. There was no proper upbringing, no documentation, nothing. Every definition of hardship applied to my early years. Poverty pushed me toward Fuji music. I loved the genre deeply, so I began following Fuji musicians everywhere they went. One day, we attended a show, and the artist scheduled to perform didn’t show up. I boldly told them I could sing. When I got on stage and began performing, people started giving me money. For a poor boy, that moment felt like the beginning of a breakthrough.
Before then, my siblings and I often went two days without food. We learned to set traps for cats just to have something to eat. Sometimes, we even used local kulikuli as “meat” to make our meals feel complete. Things were that bad. I also remember the last time I ever stole. We hadn’t eaten, and a relative sent me to her room to bring something. I saw money there and took it. I bought food for my siblings, but couldn’t bring myself to tell them it came from stolen money.
But when people began inviting me to sing at events, I became the delight of the community. I made up my mind to compete with the big names—Pasuma, Saheed Osupa, and others. With that determination, I headed to Lagos, ready for a showdown in what I thought would be my future in fuji music. I gave Fuji everything I had—until I met Jesus Christ.
When did you give your life to Christ?
In 1994, I was in Akute, Ogun State, where I had gone to register for JAMB at Apex Classical. One day, a brother invited me to a prayer meeting. I told him I didn’t attend church, but I followed him anyway. That day changed my life completely.
I encountered the gospel in a genuine, life-transforming way. The next day, I returned on my own. The man who preached that day eventually became my mentor—someone who believed in me wholeheartedly.
Within two years, I became a church worker. Not long after, I became a leader. By the seventh year, I was sent out as a missionary. Our foundation was evangelism, heaven, and prayer—morning, afternoon, and night.
You often say God delivered you from the temptation of worldly music. How did that happen?
Before I gave my life to Christ, I knew nearly every worldly song by heart. But one day I prayed, “Lord, empty me of the old life.” Something supernatural happened from that moment. Whenever I prayed, heavenly songs—fresh, new songs—would come to me. Gradually, the worldly songs faded from my memory. Till today, I can barely remember any of them.
How did the Prayer Mantle evolve?
The birth of the Prayer Mantle traced back to my youth. When we were much younger, my friends and I would often sneak out to a place called Success Camp, opposite the Redemption Camp, just to have quiet time with God. It was during one of those visits, in 2006, while we were praying, that the name The Mantle Prayer Ministry first came to me.
But the foundation had been laid much earlier. In 1997, during my quiet time, God spoke clearly to me, saying, “I raised you for deliverance and prayer.” At that time, I couldn’t understand how such a calling would unfold. I had no idea how it would happen or what shape it would take.
As the years went on, some people encouraged me to leave my church and start my own ministry. But God showed me a revelation: I saw myself wearing a long-sleeved shirt that was much bigger than my size. I asked, “Father, what does this mean?” And He said, “This is ministry. You will grow into it. But if you wear it now, it will swallow you.” That revelation taught me the importance of spiritual maturity and timing.
Along the line, some people even expected me to be driven out of the church because they thought what I was doing wasn’t genuine. But God’s plan prevailed.
When the appointed time finally came, God instructed me clearly: “Son, go to Sagamu in Ogun State. I will show you the land I have prepared for you in ministry.” And that was how the journey of Prayer Mantle truly began—by revelation, by obedience, and by divine timing.
Your ministry has touched many. Can you share one unforgettable experience?
By the grace of God, I have been privileged to see heaven. One that humbled me was a student who was seriously ill in the hospital. I was invited to pray with her. She recovered immediately after the prayer. When I got home that night, I dreamt and saw the same girl telling me, “I saw your mansion in heaven. Please don’t miss it. ”Then, I woke up, I knew her time on earth was short—and the next day, she passed away. That encounter reminded me that heaven is real, and what we do here matters.
What has kept you grounded—especially in marriage?
What keeps me grounded is love. I truly love my wife and my children, and I don’t joke with my home. Love is the foundation that holds everything together. No matter how busy I get, my family remains my priority.
I also hold heaven in high regard, so I try to live in a way that honours God and protects the peace in my home.
I’m a product of a broken home, and that experience shaped me. It made me determined never to repeat the same pattern in my own family. That conviction keeps me committed, focused, and careful about how I treat my wife and children.
Now that you are 50, what is your next direction in ministry?
To refire and amplify revival. I want to raise a generation that will break records of our fathers—but without compromise. I want to correct the corruption in the gospel today.
If God is looking for someone to stop the nonsense happening among ministers, I want Him to trust me for that assignment.
Is this why you started the Revival Movement for youths?
Yes. It’s a movement, not just a programme. We go to streets—Oshodi, Ojuelegba, markets, motor parks—declaring the Word. The youth need an awakening. This is their time.
What advice do you have for young ministers?
Focus on integrity and eternity. Don’t chase money; chase God. Don’t seek popularity; seek purity. Purity will announce you more than social media can.
You spoke passionately about the state of the church today.
Let us go back to the foundation. The church has drifted. We are chasing numbers, popularity, structures, and money. Everyone wants to be the biggest church.
Music ministers charge millions. Guest ministers demand “honorarium packages.”
The Pentecostal Movement needs to return to its foundation. We must ask: Is this what our fathers taught us? A young man comes to minister with his earring and platter hair, and we allow them to minister on our pulpit.
What is your message to Nigeria?
Let us pray. What we are seeing now is not the Nigeria our fathers prayed for.
Everyone is thinking about 2027, but the church should have started preparing spiritually in 2023. If the nation will change, the church must change first. The church remains the hope of the nation. Righteousness exalts a nation—but righteousness begins in the church.
