2012 Review

And another one bites the dust. We are one year older, one year wiser and one year uglier than we were last year.

This is an important year. More important than I had imagined earlier. I did so much. I failed and succeeded. I wrote obsessively. I scored. I prayed. I disliked. I quit.

Would I do it all over again if I get a chance? Probably not. Some seasons should never come back and this was one of those seasons.

But I've learned a lot this year. I learned that things don't always turn out the way you planned, or the way you think they should, and it is not necessarily a bad thing.  And I've learned that there are things that go wrong that don't always get fixed or get put back together the way they were before. I've learned that good people also hurt you - no matter how good they are, at some point they are bound to hurt you too and its alright

I've learned that some broken things stay broken, and I've learned that you can get through bad times and keep looking for better ones, even when you don't have people who support you.

 And now I stand here in this strange season, in this beautiful weather, trying to find a direction. There are no familiar faces around to guide me, no matter how hard I try to look for them, but I know why that is. They are not supposed to be here. Its my time to get up myself and figure it out. Otherwise I will never learn.

But the good news is that once I get up and put myself together, work up the courage to turn the corner of the street I had been looking at for such a long time now, I will bump into a stranger, we will smile at each other and somehow all will be well again. Its only a matter of getting up and turning around that corner. I know I'm still a little bent, a little crooked, but I can't complain. After bearing through all kinds of abuses this year and crashing into dead ends and living through overdoses, I feel better now than I did five years ago. I might have some scar tissue, but that's alright, I'm still making progress. I hope you are too.

So, here's to another year of kicking and struggling,laughing and loving.

Bible bashing father

The bible bashing father, who was more than just a bible basher.

Our father was supposed to be the head of the family. After all, he was God's chosen representative. 

Everything he said was right. He could never be wrong, by definition. If he was with us, nothing bad could ever befall us. When he was in the car, we could never have a car accident,

He was the father of all fathers. His own father had never spent much time teaching, or disciplining him, and so he wanted to not be so neglectful in bringing up any of his own children,"Spare the rod, and spoil the child," was his often quoted favourite verse in his well worn, well pencilled over, and very well read bible.

It was a bright sunny afternoon, my mum had gone away for the weekend to visit her own mother, in 'ushago'.This was a good four hours drive away from where we lived.  She had left me home with my Dad. There was only him and me. I hated being alone with him, he didn't cook anything. Mum had pre-cooked all of the meals for the whole weekend for the both of us, and so all I had to do was to heat them up for the old boy, at meal times for him, and for me also, of course.

Even that seemed to be far too much for me to have to do though.Why should I have to do this for this bully and tyrant, whose favourite nickname for me was, "Hitler?".After all, he always described me as,"having a mind of a jelly, without any perception like an ant," too put it politely.

He had other nick names for me too, of course, and perhaps his favourite one was, "the toothless terror."This was because of the fact that I had lost some of my front teeth early on in my life.I also wonder how.

Anyway, on this sunny Sunday morning, the old man had gone off to church, as these goody too shoes type of people like to do. After all, he was a, "Christian," wasn't he?Never mattered that he punched his kids, twisted his wife's arm up her back, dislocating her shoulders many times.

He was a, "Christian."

He was the boss, the head of the house, God's representative here, doing God's work for him.
It was his job to belt the devil out of us all, his wife included.That Sunday morning, I had decided that enough was enough. I didn't want to stay in that horrible house for even one minute longer.

For some reason, I told him upfront that i wanted to leave.He looked at me, and he saw that I had been serious. He could perhaps see the frightening spectre of fear that was still in my eyes, or maybe it was from the tears. He had never noticed my tears before though, so I am still unsure as to what exactly it was that stopped him from thrushing me on that particular day.He never did belt me for this utterance, and for the first time in my life, he gave me a hug. Mind you though, he has never hugged me again since that day, and I am approaching sixty now. I guess once was enough. His true character, more or less, returned into hiding again after that, as did mine.

But I loved him all the same.

My Pursuit

At times the world seems a cruel place,
with only heartache so it seems.
And the only tenderness left,
comes softly in the world of dreams:

I dream of softer lights,
laughing, carefree nights,
and a world free of strive.

I dream of smiling faces,
far off distant places,
and simple quiet graces.

I dream of peaceful songs,
music that lasts for long,
where nothing is ever wrong.

I dream of better days,
and small children at play,
where everyone has a say.

I dream of distant shores,
wish for less and not more,
and think of those before.

I dream of shades and color,
and wonder what's it's for,
and wish there were no scorn.

I dream of a different time,
 savor it like fine wine,
and wish that  it was mine.

I dream of gentle peace,
want for a greater lease,
where all men stand as free.

I dream of a more quiet place,
a softer day, a slower pace,
and yearn to find the way.

What Do You Do When Life Breaks You?

It was a hard year. Heart-stompin' hard.

A dream I nurtured for three years went up in flames. This hope wasn't a passing flight-of-fancy. It was a promise I fully believed was from the Lord.

Staying the course and believing for so long was exhausting. {And thrilling.} Yet in a flash my dream died. My heart was burned and the ashes seemed a proper place to fall.Sad and unresponsive to encouragement, I stayed there a long, long time. My hands {emptied of hope} filled with fists of ashes.

I knew I needed to get up; I just couldn't muster the elusive 'oomph' to do it. Grief was the only emotion that felt natural; comfortable.Yet I knew, wallowing in the embers would be the death of me as well. And here's the sweet thing: God knew this too. He unwaveringly kneeled next to me, extending a helping-hand up. He promised: This isn't the end. Give Me the ashes; I'll do something with them. Something beautiful.

He spoke this message in hundreds of ways. But it wasn't until He was silent that I heard Him at a concert.
It was barely noticeable. Permanently engraved on the my friends' blouse, the bold font contrasted with dark  ink, Beauty for ashes.

And there He was. This God of redemption and resurrection, speaking His timeless message once again. For me. For you. Give Me the ashes; I'll do something with them. Something beautiful.

That was several years ago. I'd love to tie this up with a pretty bow. Say that I unclenched my fists; gave God the soot. I cannot say it has been all that rosy since then.

I want to be real. And real is the fact that it's taken every day between then and now to see redeeming qualities from the heartbreak. To be honest, I still don't see much beauty from such devastation.But like I said, I want to be real. And real is also my commitment to God.

To take Him at His Word, despite circumstances.
To believe He a creative Creator.
To hope for what is unseen.

I'll continue to look for His goodness, even if it's from a pile of ashes. Because truly, the most beautiful thing these years and this pain have shown me is a faithful God. One who stands by. One who redeems - all things. One who creates masterpieces out of mud.

A God who took the most hopeless situation and the ultimate death ... and resurrected hope. Resurrected our Hope,Jesus. And there is the spark we need to light a new fire in us to Give Me the ashes; I'll do something with them. Something beautiful.

Something Else . . .

"The fundamental fact of existence is that this trust in God, this faith, is the firm foundation under everything that makes life worth living. It's our handle on what we can't see." {Hebrews 11:1} .Yes to getting out of the ashes, to hope, to beauty.

Look Through My eyes,Child.

"Define yourself through the hands and eyes of a true artist."

As I closed the door in a public restroom, that slogan caught my eyes. It was from an advertisement for a plastic surgeon. Reading those words, I knew this doctor was tapping into longings every woman has: to be beautiful, loved and accepted by others.

But for most women, this is not reality. We don't see our beauty or worth. We look in the mirror and only see faults. We allow others to define us.

Sometimes it is our culture. But often times it is the very people we love...our parents, a friend, or spouse. Their words deceive us into thinking we are unworthy...a failure as a woman and even as a child of God.
Yet God created us to be women of strength and beauty, each with a divine purpose planned by Him before we were born. God alone has the right to define us. No one else.

There is only One true artist and His name is God.

God is the Creator.

After reading that advertising slogan, I felt a burning desire to know a woman's true identity. The Truth I found in His Word was powerful and life changing. Rather than posting these truths on the back of a bathroom door, I wanted to share them with you.

You are:

• Created in the image of God. (Genesis 1:27)
• Fearfully and wonderfully made. (Psalm 139:14)
• Precious and honored in His sight. (Isaiah 43:4)
• Redeemed and forgiven. (Ephesians 1:7)
• A new creature in Christ. (2 Corinthians 5:17)
• Holy and blameless before God. (Ephesians 1:4, 1 Corinthians 1:30)
• Chosen by God. (1 Peter 2:9)
• God's masterpiece. (Ephesians 2:10)
• Created with purpose to do great works for God's Kingdom. (Ephesians 2:10)

You are God's creation - beautiful, strong and created with a unique plan and purpose.

I don't want you to rest your head on a pillow tonight without knowing and believing who you are in Christ.

Frustration

You looked at me.

A bus careered through the station. The words, who until that point had been waiting patiently in line, were too close to the edge. Sucked into the air stream and crushed unceremoniously beneath the grinding, rubber wheels.

Now What.

I tried to explain, but I couldn’t.

You spoke to me.

I grasped at your words, snatching them from the balmy air, desperately trying to take them and assemble them for my own, personal use. But in the confusion they slipped through my fingers. Gone.

I tried to explain, but I couldn’t.

You touched my hand.

Hazy, shimmering shoals of adjectives swam into my consciousness. Excitedly, I caught one and held it close.

At last! But it wriggled free and shot off into the abyss.


I tried to explain, but I couldn’t.

You turned away.

Clarity came hurtling out of the darkness, crashing into my vocabulary with force of a Pacific tsunami. There were the words I’d been longing for, ready now, poised for action.

Thank you!

Too late.

I did try to explain, but I couldn’t.

Tear Drops of our Hero's

The tears were spilled by many, for it was a rainy 

November day, our soilder weeped as the rain has 

come, their muddy uniforms were clear with sorrow, 

their onimous tears droped with thundering views of 

horrible lives, the dead had come to be buried while 

the survivors darkened souls shake in their roots, the drops are from thy faces not the rain, so 

as the dead are being lowered in the ground, the soilders bowed for the fallen in spontaneous

 fashion, so the throbbing vein of sadness finally popped as a great man came up and said, the 

hero's didn't die in vain, they have fought in hero's spirit,with the least of ammunition,they 

have protected us,they have laid down their lives for us, so the life of holy spirits has been 

lifted to heaven instead of hell,

 So as my war is coming to a end, i say to the world 

today this is where the tear drops of hero's were shed,

 the soilders just clapped for their fellow heros, was 

just in tow for the memorial, when the rain had

 stopped and the sun shined on the graves, the hero's 

are in Gods hand.


"BARAGOI MASSACRE"

FATHER –SON RELATIONSHIP.

Let the elders who rule be counted worthy of double honour, especially those who labor in the word and doctrine.

1 Timothy 5:17

It is important to serve your spiritual father because as you serve, you receive a double portion. e.g. Elisha got a double portion after he faithfully served Elijah.

    

        Your vision is not complete until you serve another vision.

The qualities of a true son:

1.      A true son loves the visionary more that the vision. This means that you got to have a good relationship with your spiritual father and love him more than the vision he is carrying. By so doing it will be very easy to support his vision when you have genuine love towards him.

 

2.      A true son can fight for and cover their visionary with all they have. They are always prepared to die for  the cause of the  vision.

3.      A true son can distinguish between the visionary and the vision.
 
4.      A true son does not wish to replace their visionary. They are always ready to serve them and they give their visionary the respect and honour they deserve. They do not compete with the visionary nor do they correct and criticize their man of God.
 
5.      A true son serves with a true and pure heart. They do what they do with joy and without hypocrisy. This is because they know and love their visionary and therefore believe in their vision.
 
6.      A true son should defend their visionary and can defend them even when they are not there.
 
7.      A true son should stand as a sign board for the visionary i.e. character,integrity,dress code etc.
 
8.      A true son identifies him/herself with the vision both in winter or summer.
 
9.      A true son should do his/her duties even when they are not expected.
 
10.  A true son never gives anything to another ministry that they have never given to their spiritual father.

Sometimes you don't get the chance

I studied the world outside the frosted glass, hoping it would distract me from the wrapped present in my hands. The refrigerator hummed, the logs in the fireplace crackled as the heat deemed too much on the chunks of wood, and the rush of holiday traffic buzzed by in a hurried frenzy. Even with all that went on around me, the absolute stillness within the walls of my once home pierced my ears and rattled me to the core.

Don’t go there.

I brought my attention back to the present. I couldn’t imagine how someone got in to my house, but for some reason, I wasn’t concerned. I shrugged it off, imagining that it must’ve come from a friend from the past, trying to restore a breath of life back into me.

I glanced around the room and managed to crack a smile. It must’ve been strange to whoever left it, seeing my tree up – decorated. It was the only thing I still did at Christmas, a tradition too deep-seated to discontinue, no matter how difficult it was. It brought the smallest amount of joy back to me before reality would strike, giving me the stark realization that those memories, would never be lived out again.
The slender crimson paper-bow  slipped off the package. My fingers slid under the wrapping paper, removing the rectangular box. I hesitated and then lifted the lid. The tissue paper crinkled as I removed it, revealing what was inside.

My heart stopped.

My eyes darted around the room; sure that someone was in my house playing a cruel joke on me. I lifted the black beaded bracelet out which looked like an identical replica of the one Ian got me on our wedding day. I opened up the prayer box , only to discover the tiny slip of paper we wrote our names on before the ceremony. It was our handwriting.

It couldn’t be.

It was lost at the scene of the accident.

I went back and searched for it.

It wasn’t there.

I peered back into the box to find a piece of paper folded at the bottom. My hands trembled as I opened it. Gasping, I threw the paper and bracelet down, sobbing into my hands.

The memory.

The note.

The understanding.

It all hit me with the same force of the white Land-cruiser. The crushing feeling squeezed the air from my lungs as I relived the accident.

The headlights, too bright, coming straight toward us. My precious Sam(first-born) screaming from the back where he was strapped into his car seat. Ian’s arm extending out across my chest to brace me from the impact.

The sound of only one heart beat surviving the accident.

I picked up the note again. It was Ian’s handwriting.

We miss you and we love you. We can’t wait until the day we meet again.
Love,
Your Boys.
***

Set the world on Fire

Britt Nicole: All This Time

Dear Preacher:Remind Us of His Mercy

Why art thou downcast, O preacher? Oh, should’ve guessed — it’s us, right? Yes, yes, we the people of God are a stiff-necked-bow-legged flock, prone to not only wander but to waffle as did the fathers and mothers who so sensuously begot us. You’re in a hard place, we realize that, what is with the megachurch being so fashionable these days and everybody going from the small church, but let not your heart be troubled because it won’t be long until some remember the reason they left the little church was the heartfelt music and potluck heartburn,hungry to hear the word of God. We applaud your efforts to make us fully devoted followers but we see ourselves as part-time saints at best and that suits us fine, just fine. Tell you what, here’s a bit of advice, please "receive it in the spirit in which it is intended" which we all know , "this might hurt." Nevertheless, hear us out. This is what we need from you:

Remind us of the mercy,His MERCY.

Please, please don’t stop doing that, whatever else you may do but please don’t stop telling and retelling us that God loves us, better yet that He even likes us. Behold, we’re in the ring with the bulls, O preacher — the neighbors can’t afford a school backpack for their little girl and the other neighbor lost her husband last week  and the troubled man two streets away split with his gentle wife and the ink’s not even dry on the paperwork and he’s already got an old flame burning via Facebook and us, well we’ve put our hands to the family plow only to find that thorns are the usual reward of our labor not roses and we’re just about to get the kids through school and wouldn’t you know it?.

The parents start breaking down and now there are trips back home to hold Daddy’s hand as he slips beneath the surface of time and Momma is gradually forgetting the names of the children she nursed at her breast and we could go on but you know most of that because you always ask with the sincerest eyes. Still, we don’t always tell you everything that’s going on because sometimes the woolen-shame of our lives leaves us cotton-mouthed; we have lips but cannot speak.

So regardless of what bright-lights-moderate-ego conference you attend and even in spite of what the elders may say , just keep telling us of the mercies of our God, how wide and deep and grand and fresh-each-morning they are, because that’s what’s getting us from Sunday to Sunday, that’s what’s getting us from breath to breath. And that’s really your calling. Sure, we say we want other things from you, but most days we’re mostly fake, so do a little of that active listening you’re so skilled at and hear between our lines and don’t be disquieted, O preacher, for you see we need you, not to play the game for us, but to play it with us, to help us remember the God who so loved this sinful world that He gave and gave and gave and giveth still. His mercies they fail not and His faithfulness is great indeed, but we get spooked easily and thus forget. 

Why art thou downcast, O preacher? Oh, should’ve guessed — it’s us, right? Yes, yes, we the people of God are a stiff-necked-bow-legged flock, prone to not only wander but to waffle as did the fathers and mothers who so sensuously begat us. You’re in a hard place, we realize that, what with the megachurch being so passé these days and everybody going small church, but let not your heart be troubled because it won’t be long until some remember the reason they left the little church was the hootenanny music and potluck heartburn. We applaud your efforts to make us fully devoted followers but we see ourselves as part-time saints at best and that suits us fine, just fine. Tell you what, here’s a bit of advice, please "receive it in the spirit in which it is intended" which we all know (wink) is logorrhea for "this might hurt." Nevertheless, hear us out. This is what we need from you:

Remind us of the mercy.

Please, please don’t stop doing that, whatever else you may do (and we’ll put up with quite a bit because for the most part we’re docile) but please don’t stop telling and retelling us that God loves us, better yet that He even likes us. Behold, we’re in the ring with the bulls, O preacher — the neighbors can’t afford a school backpack for their little girl and the other neighbor lost her husband last week (only forty-nine, by God) and the troubled man two streets away split with his gentle wife and the ink’s not even dry on the paperwork and he’s already got an old flame burning via Facebook and us, well we’ve put our hands to the family plow only to find that briars and thorns are the usual reward of our labor and we’re just about to get the kids through school and wouldn’t you know it, the parents start breaking down and now there’s trips back home to hold Daddy’s hand as he slips beneath the surface of time and Momma is gradually forgetting the names of the children she nursed at her breast and we could go on but you know most of that because you always ask with the sincerest eyes. Still, we don’t always tell you everything that’s going on because sometimes the woolen-shame of our lives leaves us cotton-mouthed; we have lips but cannot speak.

So regardless of what bright-lights-moderate-ego conference you attend and even in spite of what the elders may say (and we’ve heard they’re squeezing you for measureable results), just keep telling us of the mercies of our God, how wide and deep and grand and fresh-each-morning they are, because that’s what’s getting us from Sunday to Sunday, that’s what’s getting us from breath to breath. And that’s really your calling. Sure, we say we want other things from you, but most days we’re mostly bluff, so do a little of that active listening you’re so skilled at and hear between our lines and don’t be disquieted, O preacher, for you see we need you, not to play the game for us, but to play it with us, to help us remember the God who so loved this cockeyed world that He gave and gave and gave and giveth still. His mercies they fail not and His faithfulness is great indeed, but we get spooked easily and thus forget. Please point us to the cloud by day that covers all,to lead and guide us.

Hope in God, O preacher, for it is He who healeth our countenance, and that includes yours, too.

ALL IS FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR

And then there was him.

The incredibly smart,God-fearing,respectful and rational guy who knew what he wanted and was a realist. She met him in her office. She worked part time as an exchange program coordinator at Allionce then – sending  kids to ‘Work and Travel’ in the France, and combining the job with her daily studies at Nairobi University. And it all started right there. He was a law student and wore a suit and a tie to class, always well shaved. But she felt she was drowning in his incredible eyes – from the very moment she met him.

 He tickled her intellect. Extremely logical and well read, he was a great person to talk to, a great mind. What they had in common was ambition. What they didn’t – was ‘attitude’. He was a very much ‘here and now’ kind of guy. And her, she's always the ‘if only’ and ‘when’ kind of lady. And she always dreamed of seeing the world.

For a couple of student years they roamed together the streets of her then favourite city and talked for hours and hours. About life… and love… and faith… and Christianity....and things.. and about future -his – in this city – his city, and hers – outside of the country. They were in love,so they thought. And they knew it was not going to work, but they preferred to be lying to themselves instead. They had time. They were not in a hurry.

She remembers him once telling her how he imagined his perfect 'proverbs 31' girl – she would be a tall dark gracious lady  with short hair revealing her neck,shingo la upanga ,thats what she pictured.. This was his game.. This was partially the description of how she looked, but for the part where it wasn’t – the key was she needed to change for him. And  she wouldn’t. And so it was a fair game. Because neither would he change for her. As for her – she could never describe her perfect guy to him when he asked. She never had the image of a perfect guy in her head. (She’s always eyeing the wrong ones, which result perfect in the end.)

And so, one brisk sunny evening they were walking in the campus fields after the classes,'moonlighting'. And then he took a leap. He asked her if She would ever marry him.I think everything mixed up in her head when she heard it. Because she knew he meant it. And she came to a standstill with her heart heavily pounding somewhere in my knees. ‘ – I don’t know…’ was the only answer she managed to squeeze out of herself. And it was an honest one, because she was startled to the core with what he was asking. No one ever said this to her before.

And then he said he was happy. He was happy becasue it wasn’t a ‘No’.And now she realizes that he was waiting, now she can see it. He was smart and understood it wasn’t about talking her into it or convincing her in any way. He wanted her to love him first. The way he was. The way he wanted his life to be. She wished everyone did it like he did. Because normally it is against the human nature – so many of us hope it will be alright and the other person would somehow change in the end. Which doesn’t happen. Consciously, She didn’t know it then, but deep inside she already knew this wasn’t IT for her, that there was so much more to life. She knew it was only the beginning. And so it was.

This is how it all came to an end. They never officially ended it (actually they never officially started it either). Their last day together was just a day,no requiem for a dream, no goodbye,they knew that would be their last. And he is still in her heart, with all the bitter-sweet memories. They were still in touch after she left Nairobi to study at Oxford university that same year. ..2 years later he told her he is married to a short light-skinned lady.They just laughed.

WORSHIP

“But the hour cometh, and now is, when the true worshipers shall worship the Father in Spirit and in truth, for the Father seeketh such to worship Him. God is a Spirit and they that worship Him must worship Him in Spirit and in truth.”

-John 4:23-24-

“Worship is first and foremost for His benefit, not ours, though it is marvelous to discover that in giving Him pleasure, we ourselves enter into what can become our richest and most wholesome experience in life.”

-Lamar Baschman-

Hello Friend! This week we will briefly look at worship and what it means in our lives as believers. God has told us in His word how He desires to be worshiped. We do not determine the way in which we will worship, the way has been set out for us in His word. No matter how much is taught to us about worship, we never really “arrive” in worship. It is a constant lesson or pursuit in the life of every believer that desires to be a true worshiper. Let us look at the word “worship” and its definitions:

• ·         It is the honour, reverence and homage paid to a superior being or power.
• ·         It is to feel adoring regard for.
• ·         In Hebrew, it means to bow down or prostrate oneself.
• ·         The English word means worth-ship and denotes the worthiness of the individual receiving special honour.

Worship may express itself in the form of direct address, as in adoration or thanksgiving or in service to God, it may be done in private or in the public. In the Old Testament times, worship was done in the privacy of prayer [*Genesis 18*] and the public setting up of an altar [*Genesis 12:7*]. Moses established the basis of public worship in Israel and gave it its focal point in the tabernacle [*1Samuel 1:1*].

After the death and resurrection of Christ, the rituals and ceremonies associated with worship were removed and the New Testament church developed different aspects of worship. Christians met in homes for private brotherhood meetings and other times during the Lord’s Day [*Acts 20:7; 1Corinthians 16:2*].

                             Christian worship consisted of:

• a.     Preaching [*Acts 20:7; 1Corinthians 14:9*]
• b.     Reading of Scripture [*Colossians 4:16; James 1:22*]
• c.     Prayer [*1 Corinthians 14:14-16*]
• d.     Singing [*Ephesians 5:19*]
• e.     Alms giving [*1Corinthians 16:1-2*] and
• f.        In certain occasions prophesying and speaking in tongues.

Going back to our text in John 4:23-24, what lessons do we learn about worship?

1.      Every believer is called to be a worshiper- not necessarily a worship leader or to join a worship team but in an individual capacity even in a group setting [church, fellowships e.t.c.]
2.      God desires to be worshiper- We were created to worship Him.
3.      Worship is life-As you render your worship to your Father, you will begin to see your life flourish, blossom and illumination will come into your life.
4.      Anytime is worship time-We are no longer bound by ceremonial ties or systems that begin to focus more on instruction rather than the joy of worship. You don’t need a band, a time or place. Just worship Him.

NB: What is important in the life of a believer is not where worship takes place, but that worship takes place.

When we worship:

a.     In Spirit: We worship with the whole soul, mind, feelings, emotions and desires.
b.     In truth: We worship with sincerity not formalism.

Our worship must show our adoration and loyalty to God for His grace in providing us with a way of escape from the bondage of sin. The purpose of our worship is to:

• ·         Glorify
• ·         Honour
• ·         Praise
• ·         Exalt
• ·         Please God.

God and God alone is the object of our worship. When we worship Him, we take on and develop such traits as forgiveness, tenderness, justice, righteousness, purity, kindness and love. We become like those we admire and worship.

This topic is by no means exhaustible in one lesson, but my desire is that your life will begin to enjoy the richness of true worship and that you will say like the Psalmist in Psalm 84:2, “My soul longeth, yea even fainteth for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh [yes even that too!!] crieth out for the Living God.”

           

The problem is my attitude!

Yester, or was it the day before, I opened a twitter account. Well, the facebook URL at work is forbidden
and I need a distraction. Too much flowcharting without social media makes me feel left out.

Well, I thought facebook was cool till I ran into the chirpers and its making me reconsider my decision to stay married to the face. Anyway,so I bump into the who is who on facebook and what is cooler is that they dont have to accept me. hey dont be quick to jugde, all of us want a good thing and its better to stare in privacy..:). Back to the subject, lo and alas, I am almost left to think, which could be true, that am living an eigth of an eighth of my life.. Nothing seems to be going on with me and the twitting club,is full of guys, sure about what they want, some already there and some not anywhere close.

I only have 2 followers, one a close friend of mine who if she didn't follow me, I would have held it
against her and another a Wedding line in the states which followed either out of custom or obligation
or out of being an optimist saw my profile and liked it or better still saw my status as a potential client.

That profile, you should know how much of my flowcharting time it took. I actually pondered over it and
upgraded it. What I am driving at is I know I am so much more but I cannot put it down. I should put it
down, I know I should be better. My system of education taught me to think within a particular setting,
I can not do unless I have been permitted to. It taught me to conform, not saying no or I would get a
thrashing, courtesy of a chemistry teacher who thinks a burnsen burner pipe is a good tool. I have been
taught NO is wrong.

The problem with my attitude is that its caged. I need to be free,to chirp and fly away and as if to
pigia debe one type of Social media,to tweet away#tweet steps# and yes, my faculties are undergoing
a revamp…am the next big thing Just so you know, whatever you can not have, ignore!!! Tweet
tips…see, its working already.


Courtesy of Njambi.

A Prayer,One more chance

He could not believe that this was how it was going to end. After everything that he had been through in his life it had come down to this. As big and as strong as he once was. Flat on his back in a hospital bed with a heart that was giving up.

He thought about everything he put himself through. The broken bones, knocked out teeth, six years in the military. All the booze, cigarettes and drugs some legal, most them not. Here he was paying for the life that he led. All the hours spent on that big two facet life. Just having to see what was over the next horizon. The wander lust in his heart. Who could have put up with that?

He thought about the girl who spent so many miles riding behind him. How he loved that woman now. Twenty-five years of good times and bad. She never left sometimes he didn’t understand why she stayed. He was grateful that she did. She was his world. Some days his temper was not to be believed. He could be moody for weeks at a time . How that woman could stand that just amazed him. Then there was their daughter.

What a spitfire she is. Whoever she marries is going to have their hands full. He thought about all the overtime he put in and how much of her life he missed. She is almost finished with university. How wild is that, his daughter in law school. Is the world ready for that? He wonders if she knows how proud of her he is. Does she know how much he loves her? Not being there for her is what hurts the most about this.

He was not going to think like that. He’ll get a transplant, stop smoking and drinking and life will go on as it has in the past. A cigarette sounds good about now he thought. The rare blood type that he has that kept in beer, money and half of his life. Is now going to be the reason that he ends dying on his back in a hospital bed. What a way to go out. Where is the blaze of glory he always figured would accompany his departure from this world. No bells or whistle just a slow fading away. 

He woke up to hearing voices in his room. He looked around and saw that they had brought in another patient and put in his room. No dying alone now even if he wanted too. He saw a woman pass by the end of the other bed. She was huge. She must have been at least eight months pregnant. He thought how sad is that to have a pregnant wife and be in the ICU unit of the hospital. He could hear them talking. The mans' voice was weak and he was trying to be encourage the woman. She told the man that he needed to get some rest and that she would there when he woke up. He could hear the steady breathing of his roommate , he must have fallen on the woman’s command. He could hear the woman mumbling. He thought," prayers at this point lady, are not going to help". Then voice got a little louder and he could hear her.

She was praying. Just like he thought. But what she was praying for sent chills down his spine. “Oh God just a couple of more months. Please let him live long enough to hold our child in his arms at least once before you call him home. Please just a few more days. I know he is dying but let him see his child first.”

As he laid he thought how hard her life was going to be. He thought about the unborn child growing up without their father. What would his daughter be if he had died that early in her life. What would happen to his wife. Even with his quirks ,she loved him with all of her being. How would have she survived.

He must have drifted off again.

Faith, hope and love. But its the greatest of these.

From the very beginning, the girl's family objected strongly on her dating this guy. Saying that it has got to do with family background & that the girl will have to suffer for the rest of her life if she were to go along with him.

Due to family's pressure, the couple quarreled very often. She believed in God.She believed in him, but she would always ask him: "What's God's plan for us?"

The guy was not good with his words, this often caused the girl to be very upset. With that & the family's pressure, the girl often vents her anger on him. As for him, he only endures it in silence.Praying to God that one day she will be able to see through the his eyes.

After a couple of years, the guy finally graduated & decided to further his studies overseas. Before leaving, he proposed to the girl: "I'm not very good with words. But all I know is that I love you. If you allow me, I will take care of you for the rest of my life. As for your family, I'll try my best to talk them round. Will you marry me?"

The girl agreed, & with the guy's determination, the family finally gave in & agreed to let them get married. So before he leaves, they got engaged.

The girl went out to the working society, whereas the guy was overseas, continuing his studies. They talked through emails & phone calls. Though it's hard, but both never thought of giving up.

One day, while the girl was on her way to work, she was knocked down by a car that lost control. When she woke up, she saw her parents beside her bed. She realized that she was badly injured. Seeing her mum crying, she wanted to comfort her. But she realized that all that could come out of her mouth was just a sigh. She has lost her voice......

The doctor says that the impact on her brain has caused her to lose her voice. Listening to her parents' comfort, but with nothing coming out from her, she broke down.

During the stay in hospital, besides silence cry,.....it's still the silence cry that accompanied her. Upon reaching home, everything seems to be the same. Except for the ringing tone of the phone. Which pierced into her heart every time it rang. She does not wish to let the guy know. & not wanting to be a burden to him, she wrote a letter to him saying that she does not wish to wait any longer.

With that, she sent the ring back to him. In return, the guy sent millions & millions of reply, and countless of phone calls,.. all the girl could do, besides crying, is still crying....

The parents decided to move away, hoping that she could eventually forget everything & be happy.

With a new environment, the girl learnt sign language & started a new life. Telling herself everyday that she must forget everything. One day, her friend came & told her that he's back. She asked her friend not to let him know what happened to her. Since then, there wasn't anymore news of him.

A year has passed & her friend came with an envelope, containing an invitation card for the guy's wedding. The girl was shattered. When she opened the letter, she saw her name in it instead.

When she was about to ask her friend what's going on, she saw the guy standing in front of her. He used sign language telling her "I've spent a year's time to learn sign language. Just to let you know that I've not forgotten our promise. Let me have the chance to be your voice. I Love You. With that, he slipped the ring back into her finger. The girl finally smiled.

1 Corinthians 13:

Love never fails. Treat every relationship(including that with your friends,children,spouses,workmates) as if it's the last one, then you'll know how to Give. Treat every moment as is it's the last day, then you'll know how to treasure.

Treasure what you have right now, never let settle for regret... 

Legacy of Influence

I found myself mumbling out loud as I walked through my office this week.  I didn’t realize I was talking out loud until another co-worker asked me to repeat what I had just said.  At first, I was not really sure what I was mumbling about but then it flooded back into my memory.  I was mumbling something about needing to “go on vacation and disappear for a while”.  Ever have those feelings?  Seems lately I have had them a lot.  Nothing serious and nothing that more than a day off couldn’t cure.

However, there have been times in my life that things were so bad that I just wanted to disappear from life altogether.  Not in the sense that I wanted “end it all”, but rather, I  just wanted to go as far away as I could.  Wherever the night will fall,  I would start a new life and get a fresh start.  Now these were just fleeting thoughts and at no time was I serious about wanting to really do that.  They were just thoughts going through my head.  I have lived long enough to know that you cannot run away from the problems in your life.  They will always find you.  What I have learned from these thoughts is that for whatever reason, whether it be due to bad choices we have made in our lives, disappointment, hurt, anger, regret, pain or loss we  all want to remove ourselves from the things and people who caused us such problems.  It is a common feeling.  The idea of getting a second chance and starting over is a strong force to be reckoned with.  But ultimately, no matter how hard we try, we cannot change the events and the trouble from our past.

I am reminded of the powerful influence that my family and friends had on me while I was growing up.   I am a “momma’s girl” and I have always acknowledged that.  Apart from my relationship with Jesus Christ,  my mother’s influence on me has been the single most important factor in making me into the person I would become.   She left an imprint on my life.  A “footprint” if you will.   This “footprint” that she gave has been evident all my life.   I can honestly say that if there is any thing “good” in me I have no doubt that it came from my mother.

As I head into my future, I realize that there have been other “footprints” that have influenced me and left their “mark” on me as I look back on my life.  They would leave a legacy of influence.  This “legacy” that was passed on to me would lay a foundation on the person I would become.  My father left a footprint that has made me want to be a better friend.  My dad left a footprint of a good work ethic.  My sister, a footprint of  being true to your core beliefs of fairness and equality.  My brother, that you can accomplish anything if you put your mind and heart into it.   These are the positive footprints that I choose to focus on and take away from their influence on my life.  However, there are “footprints” that have been left in my life that have not been good.   A legacy of anger, failure, disappointment, hurt and loss have all been part of my life.  I am finding out that there has always  been an influence from those that make up my past.  As much as I would like to, I cannot simply erase the bad  influences by simply wanting to run away from them.   They will stay with me until the day I die.  The goal is to focus on the good influences and put away the bad.

The evidence of a life lived is witnessed by the scars we carry.  These scars can be emotional, physical and more importantly spiritual.  We are scarred from events that have caused us pain or hurt in our lives. We could be scarred by the way we were raised or by disappointments that have come our way in life. Scars are reminders of the result of the choices we have made and some by the choices of others. The deepest and most painful scars are those that others cannot see. Many of them are “earned” and self-inflicted, some are not.  The bottom line is that scars are a part of life.  It is what you do with them that is important.  You can choose to use them as motivation to do better or you can use them as an excuse to do nothing.  I am constantly reminded that the scars that are evident in my life  are there to point me to Christ.   They are reminders of what can happen again if I take my eyes off the Lord.

My prayer is that for the rest of my life that I will leave a legacy of faithfulness and love for Christ in the footprints I leave behind.

The question is, what will be the legacy of the footprints you leave behind?

MOTHER TO DAUGHTER

My dear girl,

The day you see I’m getting old, I ask you to please be patient, but most of all, try to understand what I’m going through. If when we 

talk, I repeat the same thing a thousand times, don’t  interrupt to say: “You said the same thing a minute ago”... Just listen, please. Try 

to remember the times when you were little and I would read the same story night after night until you would fall asleep. When I don’t 

want to take a bath, don’t be mad and don’t embarrass me. Remember when I had to run after you making excuses and trying to get

you to take a shower when you were just a girl? When you see how ignorant I am when it comes to new technology, give me the time 

to learn and don’t look at me that way... remember, honey, I patiently taught youhow to do many things like eating appropriately, 

getting dressed, combing your hair and dealing with life’s issues every day... the day you see I’m getting old, I ask you to please be 

patient, but most of all, try to understand what I’m going through. If I occasionally lose track of what we’re talking about, give me the 

time to remember, and if I can’t, don’t be nervous, impatient or arrogant.Just know in your heart that the most important thing for me is 

to be with you. And when my old, tired legs don’t let me move as quickly as before, give me your hand the same way that I offered 

mine to you when you first walked. When those days come, don’t feel sad... just be with me, and understand me while I get to the end 

of my life with love. I’ll cherish and thank you for the gift of time and joy we shared. With a big smile and the huge love I’ve always had 

for you, I just want to say, I love you... my darling daughter. "

MOMENTS...

The morning sunrise fills my living room with beautiful golden hues.  The coffee pot is bubbling and I have a pen in hand with a blank sheet of paper.   I love the moments like these in my life that are uncomplicated, unhurried, and without drama.

The world is kept at bay on the other side of my locked front door.  The television is black.  The  phone is silent.  My noisy sister is still asleep and nothing is stirring.  I am in my favorite pair of jeans and an old tattered sweatshirt laying in the living room on my favorite couch.

No drama.

No news.

No complications.

No people.

No politics.

No schedule.

No calls.

No noise.

No stress.

No responsibilities.

For one moment, the world is not upside-down.  For one moment, everything is peaceful and quiet.  I am not thinking about what our president is doing to our country.  I am not thinking about how I am going to get through all the programming business at work.  I am not feeling anger, hate or animosity towards anyone.  I want to live in this moment forever.

For one brief shining moment, my world is level.

Wouldn’t it be nice if I could keep that front door locked and closed to the rest of the world?  No one would dump their world onto mine and change this  sunny day.  No one would call me.  I could ignore the world around me.

But I know that this is selfish.

Soon… the stress of life will find its way through cracks around the door.  It will poke its head through my window as the neighborhood comes to life this morning.  Soon…the opening of a bedroom door will break through the silence of this moment and the responsibilities of listening to my stubborn sister's story will come rushing back into my thoughts.  Soon… I will be reminded of the stress from work and I know the phone will ring before I want it to.   Soon…the paper will land with a thud on my front porch and I will read about Insecurity issues,accidents,earthquakes, unemployment, health care, politics, budget spending, crime and who’s to blame.

But not now…not for this one brief, glorious shining moment.

All is it peace and all is calm.

Thank you God…for moments like these.