When I was growing up, my fear for darkness was profound! I come from that generation where owning a lantern was a sign that the family was well to do. Most people in the village had to settle for some tinned contraptions fitted with knitted threads for lighting. I can recite episode after episode of my adventures while handling fear of the dark – hilarious! But that is only on hindsight; at that point it was a life and death situation.
Writing is one of my greatest hobbies. I also always find myself jotting something down. I am that person who captures the salient points of a sermon to share on WhatsApp with people who probably attended the same service with me. I know they just tolerate me much like the person in your WhatsApp group who is always forwarding jokes that are not that funny. Instead of asking them to stop the forwards, you basically tolerate them. Let me confess. I write those sermons for myself not for my friends in the WhatsApp Group. It’s true, I process things through writing. As I write, I am picking the key points and translating what these mean for my life. If I get the “stop forwarding these sermons” message, I will look for another WhatsApp Group with more silent members. Just saying!
I don’t know about you but learning obedience has been quite a journey for me. I am not sure whether growing up as an only daughter in a family with 4 brothers has anything to do with it. Or is it the competitive streak from deep within that continually rears its head and reminds me; “if it’s got to be, it’s up to me”? Obedience usually comes to play when we are asked to follow instructions without asking too many questions, instructions that may not make sense at that moment, doing things that left to our own devices we may never do or getting us to do the exact opposite of the things we would prefer to be doing.
The word “Process” has almost become equated to a curse word. It is associated with delay, with waiting and at times with denial. It is therefore not a word that is readily embraced especially in our generation of the Gram, M-pesa and Microwaves. When I was growing up there was a concoction that was “forced down our throats” every evening. I find no better word to describe the process (did I just say that!) that was followed to get us to swallow the stuff. To guard against Colds and Flus, our parents made us swallow raw Castor Oil and Seven Seas – slimy and all, tasteless and frankly disgusting. I am made to understand that it was quite effective but I am also quick to remember it was at around the same time when my Grandma would put two drops of a pain relief liquid (Salimia), meant to be rubbed on an injured body part, in her cup of tea every morning. Amazing!!!
Everyone has destiny helpers. It’s just that many of us are not aware of who they are and what their role in our life is. These are people placed in our path to help us achieve certain goals and purpose in life. At times these destiny helpers get on to your very nerves and you wish they could disappear; actually they rarely come in the form that you wish they did. Many of these destiny helpers come to us in the form of Gatekeepers. I learnt about the concept of Gatekeepers long after I had enjoyed their services. I just did not have a label for these people or their role in my life. It is only at a later stage that I realised I had been blessed with many Gatekeepers.
This “come as you are” principle that is a common mantra in many Churches is often nothing but empty words. How welcoming is your place of worship? Be honest now! There is this clip that was doing the rounds in social media recently where the Senior Pastor of a Church disguised himself as a homeless beggar and entered the sanctuary. You may have seen how many people tried to stop him from even accessing the Church building, not to mention the accusatory looks he received from congregants. To make the matter worse he proceeded to attempt a move towards the pulpit – there was a literal battle as ushers, security, maybe elders and I guess other “keepers of God’s house” attempted to stop him. You can imagine the shock when the Senior Pastor dropped the guise and revealed himself to the Church. The gasps from the congregants still ring loud in my mind.
I recently had a dream that took me way, way back. In the dream, a man came towards the place I was seated and said “I was looking for you”. My response, since I didn’t recognize the man, “you don’t know me so who are you looking for?” His response, “Show me your hand” which I did. He then surprisingly proceeded to say, “I knew it was you, you are marked”! Like every other startling dream I woke up immediately wondering why I was marked, who had marked me and why the man was looking for me. How I wished I could slip back into the dream and ask the man those same questions – why am I marked? Who marked me? What does the mark mean? As well as many other endless questions. I did slip back to sleep although I don’t recall a continuation of the dream.
In today’s world, access to buildings and premises has become a “thing”! What with terrorist attacks and all. At every Mall and office building there is a security team ready to carry out a body search or handbag/parcel search in order for you to gain entry. Most offices have digital access cards too that determine who gets access or who doesn’t – unless you tailgate someone of course, which unfortunately negates the security measures put in place. Personal security is a big issue and like most I am willing to go through the inconvenience of a body search if it assures me better security.
I sometimes look back at seasons in my life with shock. Knowing what I know now, it seems as though I was stressing over nothing and believing lies from a source I should not have even been entertaining in the first place. I doubt I am the only one who has gone through what I am just about to describe but I am ok with being considered an outlier . I was brought up Catholic and up until University; all I knew about God and Faith was based on the Catholic teachings. I have shared in a previous blog that at some point in my life I got deep into Catholicism and I am certain it saved my life. Literally! I was under such severe oppression at an early age because of a lineage which came with heavy spiritual obligations. Let me park that issue right there as it is not the subject of this blog.
Life has a way of teaching us very counter-intuitive lessons. Why would I choose brokenness over being whole? And why would anyone for that matter? I recently read a book, A Tale of Three Kings, as part of the coursework for a Leadership Development program I am attending. I would recommend anyone planning to take any leadership position or currently in a leadership position (I guess that means everyone) to consider reading the book. The author has a way of getting into the heart issues that leaders have perfected the art of burying.
@My Father's Feet 