By Ata Ikkideh
Last Sunday will remain etched in my heart for a long, long time. It wasn’t merely another Sunday; it was one of those rare days when Heaven seems to lean closer to earth. I met a woman that day—a woman Jesus Christ had literally raised from the dead and I say that not as a Pentecostal cliche, but as a statement of fact. Her name is Sister Victoria Umoren. The finest hospitals in England and some of the best doctors in the world had looked her in the eye and said, “There is no hope, go home and die!” But Heaven quietly replied, “Jesus has the final say”.
Nosa and I have known Sister Victoria and her husband for over 10 years, from our old Redeemed Church. Everyone knew her. She was the mother of the church—the kind of woman whose kindness filled every gap in the room. At Christmas, sister Vicky would buy bags of rice and vegetable oil for the women in church. And when any of our children gained admission into university, she would press £500 into their hands. Five hundred pounds!—that’s nearly a million naira today. Sometimes there would be ten children – she would give all of them £500 each. That is about N10 million. Year after year, she gave quietly, faithfully, joyfully. Never rich by the world’s standards, yet wealthy in the things that truly matter.
She had read Theatre Arts in Nigeria before moving to England, where she built a career in Social Services. But her real calling was people and giving. She founded NGOs, organised outreach programmes, and somehow always found time to laugh, to dance, sing, to encourage others. Everyone called her Mummy. So humble with a childlike spirit.
Unlike some Christians who lose their humility once they are called Daddy, Mummy or Pastor. Sometimes the way they walk around the church, you wonder – even the Angels of God must stand aside and wait – while they walk pass. Absalomic pride. Not Sister Victoria. She walked with the simple grace of one who had seen Jesus and wanted nothing more than to be like Him.
Then came the first blow, November 2024, while I was in Nigeria, Nosa called me with some devastating news. Samantha—one of Sister Victoria’s daughters—had gone to be with the Lord.
I remembered Samantha. Her bright smile, her testimony the day she gained admission into university, and again the day she graduated. She was always radiant. One of the brightest in her class with an excellent spirit. Sister Victoria has other children but she called Samantha her Angel. She was like her mother. Samantha worked in Birmingham but would travel down to London to feed the homeless, bringing warmth and food to those forgotten by the world. Compassion was in her DNA. Then, one day she began to feel pain in her joints. Doctors diagnosed a rare autoimmune disease. It grew worse. And when she was admitted in hospital, she had sepsis. And within days, Samantha fell asleep in the Lord. We submitted it to the Lord and went on to celebrate her life.
Four months later, my wife called me again, Sister Victoria still mourning her daughter was diagnosed with suspected stage 4 cancer. Her entire stomach consumed. It had all started very simply—some discomfort in her stomach January 2025, a scan, a small lump. “Nothing to worry about,” the hospital told her. Four months later in April, she could feel the mass with her own hands. Another scan. The verdict: her stomach was completely taken over by cancer.
We wondered how the hospital missed what they thought was a harmless lump January of this year. At that point it could easily have been removed. Yes, even the most diligent will sometimes miss it. But Jesus never misses. If it’s not your time, it’s not just your time.
The hospital that initially misdiagnosed the cancer – informed her they didn’t have the facilities to operate on her, the cancer was too advanced.
She was referred to Bloomfield Specialist Hospital, where I had my own surgery four years earlier. Bloomfield is one of the best hospitals in England for stomach and oesophageal tumours and cancers. But Bloomfield took one look at the cancer and registered it as “Inoperable”. It was beyond them. That was where all hope collapsed.
But her family and the saints prayed. I believe Heaven remembered her good works. Her case was hopeless but Bloomfield gave her a fighting chance. She was referred to University College Hospital in London—the final stop for the most complex cases. The consultants studied her scans and came to the same grim conclusion, it was beyond their capacity. At that stage you are told to go back home, and the end-of-life nurses are instructed to make your your final days as comfortable as possible. But Heaven was not done with Sister Victoria. And that was when Jesus Stepped In.
A consultant picked up her case file. For reasons even he could not explain, he said, “I will operate on her.” His colleagues tried to dissuade him. “It’s too risky,” they warned. “She’ll likely die on the operating table.” But something beyond logic had seized him. “If she’s going to die,” he said, “then we have nothing to lose by trying.”
Now, you must understand: British consultants are pragmatic to the core. Their time and theatre space are precious because cases come in from all over the world. They don’t take on hopeless cases. But this doctor moved her surgery to the top of the list. In May of this year – they gave her a hotel in London to stay while she waited for her surgery. The hospital even cancelled three other procedures to fit her in. You see, when Heaven opens up your file, even the NHS bends its rules to make space for your miracle. That was what happened to this Christian sister.
June 2025, this year – the month of her surgery. The top consultants gathered and began to explain what might happen. They would remove her stomach. But if the cancer had spread, they might need to take out her liver, lungs, kidneys, intestines, pancreas—almost everything. It was a polite death sentence.
But Sister Victoria’s faith in Jesus was calm and immovable even in the storm. As they negotiated with her what organs they would remove and what they would keep. She reminded them – the scans had shown the cancer was contained. “Jesus stopped it from spreading,” she told them. She asked them to take only her stomach and pancreas out. Nothing else. She signed her consent form and went under the knife.
It was a long operation. Ten hours later—long after the hospital corridors had fallen silent—the surgery was done. It meant if they had started at 3 pm she was wheeled out at 1 am. The lead surgeon later told her the reason the surgery had taken that long was because he wanted to keep his promise to her – to preserve every other organ in her body. And that is exactly what he did: every other organ remained intact. He had even reconstructed her entire diaphragm with organic mesh.
Then came the true wonder, she recovered so fast. The doctors expected a feeding tube, a long dependence on intravenous nutrition. A stoma bag. But Sister Victoria could swallow. She could eat. She was healing in ways that defied the medical world. Within days she told them she wanted to go back home. Within weeks, her chemotherapy was stopped.
Today, she has no stomach, yet her body functions well. Her small intestines have somehow taken over the functions of her stomach. Even the doctors shake their heads at how perfectly it’s working.
Last Sunday, I saw her —at her daughter’s memorial service with her other children. The hall was filled with music, worship, and the quiet awe of those witnessing a miracle in flesh and blood. Family and friends came from Nigeria and across the world. And there, in the midst of it all, was Sister Victoria—dancing. Not weakly or timidly, but with the full strength of a woman who has looked death in the eye and seen Jesus. Yesterday, she told me, “God didn’t raise me from the grave for nothing. I have a purpose”.
She’s preparing to return to her ministry. She is getting set to establish a Foundation in Samantha’s honour—she’s planning to have a podcast. To use her story to encourage and heal others.
Her message is simple, I am a survivor. And if Jesus could raise me, He can heal and raise you up too. Don’t give up. Your story isn’t over yet!”
And as I watched her dance last Sunday, I thought to myself: this is what resurrection looks like. It isn’t just a tale from two thousand years ago—it’s the power of Jesus Christ still moving through human history, one life at a time. And when you stand next to Sister Victoria Umoren, you really do feel you are standing next to Jesus. It’s a strange feeling.
God bless you Sister Victoria Umoren. What the enemy meant for evil the Holy Spirit has turned it around for the greatest good. That Cross has not lost its power.
Ikkideh, a lawyer, lives in London
