Brain Bursting Slander

So… something happened this morning . Or rather last night, but I did not find out till this morning. God kept me in perfect peace as I tried to resolve it, and scripts went around and round my head over who was to blame…I suspected malice. And there is that feeling when you have been ‘_maliced_’ that just wants to pay back. It’s a ‘sweet’ feeling…tickling somewhere in your core, but promising extreme bitterness and torture if you don’t just…exhale, vent and destroy someone else as you do. It came…that feeling…and I tried to resist it as I spoke to our court guards…etc…it was a security matter of a domestic nature . Social justice matter. I held down as long as I could…made about ten phone calls…then I heard my mouth open noisily like an ancient heavy and rusted metal door…and even more noisily emit ‘hot Lavea’ from ‘the center of the earth’. Hell itself. Akiiii Almighty God and Father of mine, please forgive me. Am so sorry. Noteworthy though, is that my plight seemed to make little impact on my audience while the words were gentle, but when the pong escaped my soul…now EVERYONE WAS INTERESTED…IN THE SIDE STORY . They gladly swallowed the defilement, when they could have initially helped me by drinking and proffering fresh waters my way.

Image by <a href=”https://www.freepik.com/…/hand-drawn-head-exploding…“>Freepik</a>

I remembered last night’s Bible Study. How Isaiah 6:1-7 had caught my heart and mind. That same-same core that was being tickled incessantly this morning. A few hours later. How God showed me that when I am truly in His Presence, He shows me things about myself…things that He doesn’t like…but does not leave me that way. He sent searing help to me quick-quick. For Isaiah and for me this morning…I needed to be purged with coal from Heaven’s altars, applied to my tongue. Oh LORD God, The Living One, The Eternal Commander of Heaven’s hosts – please forgive me. I thought my head would burst if I didn’t say something nasty about this…but I realize that I have risked more than that in even speaking about it as I did. I broke Your Heart, and Your trust in me with this, that was actually going to be a platform for Your Glory…if I left it all unspoken. I repent.

Shalom.

vipslit@yahoo.ca / vipadhiambo@gmail.com

“”In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw The LORD sitting on a throne, high and lifted up, and the train of His robe filled the temple. Above it stood seraphim; each one had six wings: with two he covered his face, with two he covered his feet, and with two he flew. And one cried to another and said: “Holy, holy, holy is The LORD of hosts; The whole earth is full of His Glory!”

And the posts of the door were shaken by the voice of him who cried out, and the house was filled with smoke.

So I said:

“WOE IS ME, FOR I AM UNDONE!

BECAUSE I AM A [WO]MAN OF UNCLEAN LIPS,

AND I DWELL IN THE MIDST OF A PEOPLE OF UNCLEAN LIPS;

FOR MY EYES HAVE SEEN THE KING,

THE LORD OF HOSTS.”

Then one of the seraphim flew to me, having in his hand a live coal which he had taken with the tongs from the altar. And he touched my mouth with it, and said:

“Behold, this has touched your lips;

Your iniquity is taken away,

And your sin purged.””

Isaiah 6:1-7 NKJV

Sprinklings of Joy

Needed to escape the hysteria. Don’t get me wrong – I had an amazing the day at the Medical and Legal camp. So many people to Love and smile at…hugs and smiles back at me. Jokes…photos taken, snacks…so many people from previous seasons…people falling in Love with Jesus for the first time, and then those coming back home. Despite the rain and the flooded halls and grounds, we registered at least 500. Not counting the ones who rushed in at the last minute…and didn’t register. It was an awesome day. I love people…so it was my kinda day.

But I got home. And ‘it all’ came back. Have you ever felt so ecstatically unhappy…you wondered to yourself, if there was EVER a time you were happy? At all? Have you ever felt so desperately broken, needed to go out and wail, but thought again and wondered how you would answer anyone… especially a child…who asked who or what broke your heart? One reason. This time? And suddenly the feeling just fizzles out…as you douse down your sorrows with the thundering waters of soft logic…

Have you ever been so wounded, but couldn’t seek rest and recuperation because someone else would feel abandoned if you did? And then you kinda forgot to check on them, without forgetting them, and now they hurt thinking that you don’t love them enough, or worse, at all, because you ‘weren’t there’s for them ‘when’ they needed you? Am saying something here, without really saying it for legal reasons . Who is missing from your happy/sad parade? Could it be… possibly…that they understand…intimately what this post…not me … is going on and on about?

I went looking at photos of when I believed myself to have been happy…but instead connected with the real feelings from that place…and just knew…my nerves remembered…but the tears were stolen and frozen by the question in paragraph 1 ? What I did with those times, I looked in the mirror and tried to improve on my image. Then immortalized the outcome into photographs I love…covering the story of that second…and those myriad ones after that with color and good make-up. Until The Embrace of God ‘CAUGHT’…and I was taken to ‘another place, another time.’ Beyond that one. Those ones…

Then I got off the couch and called Pastor Anne. We went a-walking. A-Traipsing which is what ladies like us do; Me in my sandals and Dera…items from another time I believed I was happily home. We laughed about this space…sang songs from back in the day when we first received God. When life was complexly simpler than it is today. We encouraged each other as we walked, we laughed, it was easy. God was with us. Emmanuel. Then we run into ‘her’. She didn’t even see us. She had headphones that blocked out the world…and was trying to beat the volume with her own voice that filled the night. She swung her shopping wide with each beat we believed and we ducked as she trotted past us. Such a happy, happy soul. And she scattered glittery divine joy into the souls of strangers that needed to be rained on from heaven just that second. God bless her. God bless her. I just thought to myself, what was I spreading as I walked along…as I passed by people I didn’t really see. Was the effect of dwelling in God’s Presence raining His Joy on them out of the overflow of my own life? Or was it….

Have a joy-filled weekend wont you? No matter what’s going on, and am serious…no MATTER WHAT IT IS….rejoice in The LORD ALWAYS.

Shalom beloved of The LORD.

“He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was Love”
Songs of Solomon 2:4

#Reset #IamInHisPresence 

vipslit@yahoo.ca / vipadhiambo@gmail.com

BROKEN HEELS AND MORTALLY WOUNDED HEADS

Where do broken hearts and lives go? To whom will they belong?

So… you are out and abouting...and you see this other human being. Splendid looking. Seemingly DELICIOUS, provocative, alluring….You look, you see, you want, you desire, you crave…but even with those big bells banging in your skull you ALREADY KNOW that its not for forever that this desire had assaulted you …just to rub, to scratch an itch…for a moment. And after a moment or two, you imagine to yourself, that you would do anything to get that scratch…to be rid of that itch. Tell lies. Tell partial truths. Be kind. Be cruel. Buy gifts. Deny gifts – for the majority… Write poetry. Borrow other peoples’ songs to dedicate if you are not lyrically endowed…. Hang out with those you wouldn’t otherwise stand…smile at them even…face the elders and ancestors, argue your case even when it’s obvious – to even yourself – that you have none. Marry them because the itching does not go any other way in some cases. Even if you can only marry them verbally… If you are of a more base conviction, you club them over the head, or subdue them with potent substances…scratch and flee leaving them to deal with whatever you deposited in or on them…and whatever other consequences they have to deal with to pay, sometimes for a lifetime, for the fact that they temporarily assuaged your even more temporary discomfort. Discomfiture. Poh!!!!!

Let me start with some background. Earlier this week, I was talking to a friend of mine, a spiritual friend…I ended up having the same conversation with three other spiritual friends…broaching this subject from three of the four poles. But let me start even earlier so you understand the picture attached to this post. A few years, I was out and abouting myself…on heels. Suddenly one of them got caught between the cracks of a street pavement…and when I tugged…it broke. I had to make a decision – would I walk on and complete my errands barefoot, or balance the other foot to the level of the still heeled one, walk through my day as though I was comfortable and then deal with the consequences as I rubbed my feet at home…in the evening? I opted for the latter. You can’t just be obvious all the time – right? I hope you are understanding this situation from at least three poles…right? A word is sufficient for the wise. I took a picture of my shoes when I got home…and that’s what that…down there…is. My former, or rather, ex-shoes.

So, then this week happened. I was in a situation, reviewing a previous rejection by an association due to a recently concluded relationship. In plain English, my heart was broken, my body and spirit beaten, I could not hold in anything that went in, or keep what was there before. Aside from this, I was mourning the death of one dear one that I had known all my life…and then went through a sharply articulated eviction from a status I was born into, but realized that I would probably have to walk the rest of my life with, only as a memory. Understood? Have you been there? If not, please, I pray you never do. Unless it’s for your good, and The Glory of God. For me…I shed excess weight…drastically, which came with wardrobe challenges for both outer and inner wear 😁😇. If you know, you know. I bowed over and mourned with my entire life, emitting life, it was coming out of all my pores…there is a picture I took late last year…that was…scary…more than one photo from that season…that I was vehemently commanded to unplug from my social media…because I looked dead, or like ‘something’ that was. I WAS…dying. And I knew it. There was nothing I could do about it. But God. He…has ways…Yes He does.

So, I go to this interview…and not really because I trust, but because I find it easier to say the truth and deal with the consequences rather than take time out of what is left of my life trying to remember and defend lies…efforts in futility…I poured out my heart. Are you married? And the floodgates opened. I couldn’t cry anymore, because…I was basically dehydrated…of anything liquid in me. Anything that could flow. My interviewer listened…trying to hide her horror at my story. I could tell what she was thinking. I could NEVER belong. I understood her completely. If I was in her place, I would PROBABLY be in her shoes. Walking her way. Then God caught up with her as she ‘fled the scene’, and she remembered possibly, LOVE. Saw my battle wounds. Saw beyond my ‘dehydration’ that I still believed…that God COULD. So. she passed the rejection to a more vigilant warrior to effect it…to bury me alive if possible. And I went…’to my own funeral’… walked in, sat through the next interview…fought valiantly…clung to God and His instructions when He sent me into this situation…I STILL BELIEVED. And even though the one with the itch had turned their back, even though I was ‘out of status’, even though technically, emotionally, psychologically, spiritually, I was standing before about eight open graves, I held on. They were beloved of God…and were holding on to what they knew too. From their perspective, they were destroying a bug, me, and doing their best to wipe out the smudge. I was too dehydrated to cry…so I leaned…leaned heavily on God…and on the ones He sent me to Love. Because even here, Loving still made sense. I don’t know if you have ever been here…

They said no to me. And it seemed to me, were offended that I did not die. And I say that in the nicest way I can. You see, they sincerely believed, still do, that I had sinned. That I had rebelled. Was an offensive outsider, an enemy. And that the mercy of Christ could never cover one like me. I on the other hand, knew, that I had been sent. The consequences were none of my business, obedience was. So, I obeyed. And loved. And the scratches became little pen-knife nicks, then were emboldened into stabs. I cried out as I obeyed. I had no one, nowhere, except this place. But God. He carried me through. One day, I couldn’t anymore, so I pleaded with Him, to let me go. The pain was killing me…I was still wounded from the eight open graves…and living in a ninth…alive…waiting for them to shovel in the sludge…so I could be…not even a memory. I began to claw out of that grave…and He, God helped me. I carried guilt for quitting…for letting God down by quitting…but I remembered who was not ready for the next day, if I was to die on that one. And on the other side of the grave, He met me and embraced me and strengthened me and widened the scope of His Love through me. And many times, my eyes would meet those of the most ardent warrior…and I could tell he was thinking that I was doing this to win his approval…and acceptance into association. I could tell also, that he was determined NEVER TO ALLOW IT as long as he was in that privileged position. But I was loving…for The Lover…Love Himself. God Himself. Without Whom I was, am, nothing. No one. No ones…

A leadership crisis and I became a leader in that association, without membership…and it was time again to show me how unlovable I was to God. And to His people. So, I made the appointment…so I could hear him out. And he ploughed at me. Scripture after scripture. God could not love me. But it was different this time. I had been through so much stripping…and had learnt to be strong without cloths, without props, without underwear. They had fallen off me like King Saul’s armor may have off a little shepherd boy named David as he walked in on behalf of a nation to cut off the head of a giant that had troubled them. Like the other Saul, the Apostle a.k.a. Paul, neither the bite nor the poison ‘took’.

That woman from last year IS DEAD. Perhaps they did shovel her and seal her in after all. But this version of her…has her head in and with God. She sees more than you would want her to…and will not react outside of God’s prompting. So, he reeled out how those wounded by family relationships, could not serve as leaders…and I asked if we were not playing into the enemy’s hands. An enemy that would strike the leaders, knowing that their colleagues, their Aarons and Hurs, would drop their hands in a second and use their own swords to gut them where they stood holding up God’s Kingdom should it become evident that their flesh not conform to the standards of their own understandings. And that the flocks would wander off…disappointed, dejected, doubting God, doubting the value of Life and Godliness, choosing Despair, Destruction and finally Death. Where was the place for restorative Love? Why were we using valuable artillery against our own gravely wounded and dying warriors? Warriors called out BY GOD to lead the battles, to lead us into victory…because someone used them as a scratcher…and then got tired and moved on to find more elaborate scratchers. Because their children do not look like the others that belong to the association…So, we not only turn our backs to their pain and to them – we also have our own issues to deal with – moreover we pursue them for learning to live without us…to steal what God would still have them retain, not even to use because the instruction Manual is The Living God Himself AND He HASN’T DECIDED TO TRANSFER OWNERSHIP OF WHAT we STOLE TO us, then, we decide to kill them in myriad ways… Do we really know this God that we have refused to get intimate with, and block others from His redemptive embrace?…Sighhhhhh…. Where are the brokenhearted going to around you? Do you care? Or are they casting a blight on your narrative by being hurt, being hurt in ways unlike ours, and for longer than WE WOULD ALLOW THEM TO BE? Where are the broken-hearted around you, that walk in the embrace of God…and He is strengthening to destroy the serpents that would be aiming at your heels in your own future?

Back to you from the beginning. The one with the itch. So, today is Friday. And you may have that itch again…first of all, avoid me. I am actually dead…and alive to another realm… I am done balancing heels that do not exist for He to Whom I belong, has fitted me with those that CANNOT wear out. And warriors have been activated to defend my course in God AND me, that if you saw with your naked eyes would lead to your own dehydration of both inner and outer wear. If therefore you are looking to complicate someone else’ like – Avoid me. Second, if you do go out and use the image and likeness of God for a scratcher to ‘get your hair in place’ know that for them, it never really ends there. Even if they seem Game. Sometimes…they live with the death you projected their way…several lifetimes over. So please remember my many words… take a brisk walk or run around your hood, then GO HOME, to your habitat and take a cold shower, warm cocoa, put on some fiery worship music and pray for yourself and for your intended victim/s that God would keep them from the snares those, like you formerly were, had dug out for them. Many times, our games deny those we didn’t think we were hurting that much, their very lives and destinies. Be responsible.

Shalom.

vipslit@yahoo.ca / vipadhiambo@gmail.com

“Then one of the elders [of the heavenly Sanhedrin] said to me, Stop weeping! See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root (Source) of David, has won (has overcome and conquered)! He can open the scroll and break its seven seals!

And there between the throne and the four living creatures (beings) and among the elders [of the heavenly Sanhedrin] I saw a Lamb standing, as though it had been slain, with seven horns and with seven eyes, which are the seven Spirits of God [the sevenfold Holy Spirit] Who have been sent [on duty far and wide] into all the earth.

He then went and took the scroll from the right hand of Him Who sat on the throne.

And when He had taken the scroll, the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders [of the heavenly Sanhedrin] prostrated themselves before The Lamb. Each was holding a harp (lute or guitar), and they had golden bowls full of incense (fragrant spices and gums for burning), which are the prayers of God’s people (the saints)…

Saying in a loud voice, Deserving is The Lamb, Who was sacrificed, to receive all the power and riches and wisdom and might and honor and majesty (glory, splendor) and blessing!”
Revelations 5:5-12

AMPC

My Ringed Fingers

“What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul? Or what can anyone give in exchange for their soul?“
Jesus Christ in Mark 8:36-37

This evening, I was distractedly looking at my fingers contemplating the two rings that I wear very rarely these days. Gold. Yes. I have two golden rings. One a broken circle with four stones on my ‘wedding finger’, the other on my ‘God finger’ – same finger on my right hand – a beautiful delicate piece graced with a heart at its center. I once tried to sell them…during dire times, but the lady who I had been told buys gold would not buy them. She said what she could give me for them would not be worth the effort. Besides. she had already gone over her limit for buying used jewelry for the day. I was looking at those rings today, or rather last night, against the very soft light at Southfield Mall and just thinking how beautiful they were – in this light.

My thoughts wandered off, and I remembered some really valuable loops I once owned. Gold. Pure gold. Very high quality. One of the only two pairs of real gold earrings I have ever owned. My favorite – the other pair broke where it cannot be worn again, and a piece of it got lost during the myriad house evictions my household has lived through. I wore them all the time, everywhere, so much that I forget how valuable they were, and how dangerous wearing some of those things in some of ‘these places’ could be. So, one day, I was on the way to a place that I had never been, for the wedding of one of my brothers in Love. I think that was the day I tried to sell my rings. I dont know what happened to me when I left that shop but I was not as alert as I usually am while walking. I notice EVERYTHING without lifting my head or seeming to look around. My friend and current walk partner Ps. Anne likes to joke about me, that I should be FBI or some high-level spy. I laugh nervously when she says that…I actually see more than most people would be comfortable with my noticing. But thankfully, I forget quickly…or to be more accurate, forgive with alacrity. Life is too short to carry EVERYTHING you find with you all the way. But…back to what I was really saying. I got a little distracted after leaving that lady’s shop. I wanted to sell the rings so I could get a present for my in-law, as well as transport to and from the wedding and still feed my household when I got home. So, when I found I could not, I tucked them into my handbag and walked about a really densely populated portion of Kenya, praying for a miracle.

Suddenly, it felt as though a friend was hugging me from behind while tugging playfully at my ears. Then there was a sudden release and in the two or so seconds it took me to turn around, I saw a young boy, about 10 years old at most running away from me. I realized that he had been tugging at my earrings and had managed to get one off and that it was in his hands. I thought about screaming for help from the public…but at the same time I remembered my own very difficult pregnancy journeys, and my own pain in the labor wards. I looked at his fleeing back and wondered if I would ever wear that earring, if I had to pick it up from a pool of his blood after the public had dealt with him. I wondered about his mother…and her own labor pains. So, I stood and watched him run from death, from danger, from consequences, from me – his victim. I absentmindedly took off the other earring and a witness who had been standing near me as though he had NOT noticed the whole thing, stepped up to me and informed me that there were shops near there that bought gold to melt and resell. He suspected that that was where the young lad was headed, and I could try to trace his steps and buy my earring back before it was melted. My feet followed his advice. I forgot that even if I found that earring, I had no money to buy it back. I did not even have money at that time to get back home. At the end of my footsteps, I managed to sell my remaining loop for about 3,000/. Kenya shillings. Almost a hundred times less than it was worth in cash and incomparably less than it meant to me overall.

I am thinking about this today because it just occurred to me how much we take for granted what is truly precious, because it’s always there for us, with us. Until the day we loose a portion of it, and have to negotiate with God in public, over the cost of getting it back versus letting it belong to someone else. Someone to whom it may not mean much beyond a few thrills, and who would discard what was attached to your life for a set of pebbles…in less than a heartbeat. What’s your story so far in this regard. Let’s not loose anymore…what we will still mourn over, decades later. Look at who/what you have in the soft and True Light of Who God is. Perhaps, and I hope, He will birth in you a renewed appreciation of what He has given you, that is RIGHTLY UNLIKE WHAT HE HAS GIVEN ANOTHER.

Shalom. Do have a blessed week.

vipslit@yahoo.ca / vipadhiambo@gmail.com

A Hairy Truth on Unbecoming Spurious

HAIRY TRUTHS
I was blow-drying my hair this morning. A victory of sorts – not the technique perse – I do have an international diploma in hairdressing – but simply that I was. For, among other things, the fact that I had traumatized myself the last time I did by aiming a nozzle at my forehead and sufficiently scalding it…and then the afore mentioned, and daily conquered cravings I have been having for ‘the liberties’ of a bald scalp. Oh well…I am not my own anymore.

A powerful thought came to me as I contemplated my life with hair:
IT IS IMPERATIVE FOR ONE TO COME TO TERMS WITH AND MAKE THE MOST OF WHAT THEY HAVE. It was almost audible, so I giggled to myself as I settled into this very pleasant train. I thought about Anne, Margaret and Caroline – who were in my Standard 1 class in 1979, and who because of their extremely long hairs and delicate feminine looks – and the resultant attention from my then school community, somehow became my marking scheme of how I should look like as a woman. Long hair and ‘ponytail’ included. I remembered that these three little girls did not even look alike – so this was a ridiculous standard to begin with. If they were the epitome of female, then what did that make me? They simply took what God had given them, and worked to present to the world the best of themselves. A remarkable feat.

I thought of the various reunions I had been to. (Oh yes…my hair was still being lightly blow-dried 😁…and I was simultaneously listening in on an online Saturday prayer meeting that has become part of my week in between the loud blasts of my Drier.) I thought about how gatherings are, ahem, a ‘few’ times, about measuring ourselves and others by other people’s presentations of themselves. Many times, these are not even real. They have endeavored and mastered what is publicly available about their ‘icons’ and become spurious. And we pretend not to notice the deep sorrow in their eyes that signifies their life-long state of mourning over their vigilantly muted beauty that they would not allow even themselves to experience, because it does not conform to a standard. And ‘we agree’, to pretend we do not notice the lapses in the roles they play…because we have experienced a little bit of the original, or read the book, and it would be impolite to call this out because it would inadvertently imply permission to judge us. And we scorn those that appear as themselves as ‘shao’ a.k.a. retrograde/unsophisticated etc… because they live lives that demonstrate discomfort with conformity with standards not fully developed and understood.

So, we bought the thing they did, that we have no idea how to really use, or how to make these really bring out the best in us…just so we become part of the club. Because it seemed to have worked out for them, we entered into alliances – of the permanent or functional kind with those who are not bad in and of themselves but the combination of us and them were…well…contraindicative. Potentially lethal. We even devastated ourselves by going where (and how) ‘they’ went so as to be part of one or two status-defining and ‘qualifying conversations’. I stand guilty as charged. I giggled as I thought of some photos I have hidden under several passwords, where I am wearing weaves that perched defiantly on my scalp, in open hostility to me…as we both pretended to belong to each other😅🫣. And let’s not discuss clothes here…its sensitive…

I remembered Anne, Margaret and Caroline again. I thought to myself how sometimes I smiled when someone complimented me by telling me how well I know how to dress my body, while inwardly boiling at the implied insult – that I knew how to mask my flaws. I released the bile as I combed out my hot hair 😇😁😉 and, belatedly, genuinely accepted every such compliment I had ever received. It was important to understand what one had. Completely. Or as much as possible. Then make it work for oneself. God is so vast in Wisdom, Knowledge and Creativity, that He does not create the same thing or person twice. He can handle the diversity…and expects us to bring out fruits in keeping with His Standard in us. So, if you are still bent over, even backwards because you are not your own version of Anne, Margaret and Caroline – be made well as you look into The Beloved’s Eyes and Mind.

YOU ARE THE ONLY STANDARD FOR YOU THAT THERE IS.

Shalom.

vipadhiambo@gmail.com

Martha Becoming Mary

“_{Now it happened as they went that He entered a certain village; and a certain woman named Martha welcomed Him into her house. And she had a sister called Mary, who also sat at Jesus’ Feet and heard His word. But Martha was distracted with much serving, and she approached Him and said, “Lord, do You not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Therefore tell her to help me.”}

_{And Jesus answered and said to her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and troubled about many things. But one thing is needed, and Mary has chosen that good part, which will not be taken away from her.}””

Luke 10:38-42

I was so tired last night. Finally went to bed at around 11:30pm. Early for a Friday night. Extremely. My Fridays often end on Saturday morning at around 3am. But lately, sleep has been coming earlier, and I oblige it. With understanding. Anyway, my ‘early night’ was short-lived. I was awoken by loud prayer at around 1:30am and could not just go back to sleep. It is well. Once my heart settled to its normal pace, and the slicing pain died down, about two hours later, I begun to look into my own life. To marvel at God’s extreme Patience with me. The ability He has granted me to go to Him, just as I am.

You see, Martha and Mary are often the same person, at different breaths at a time. It is possible to, in one minute, be both people – to be frantic about life, about appearances, about reputation, legacy even, things I have no control over…etc., and then be drawn to the perplexing peace in the wisdom that it is only what I work at with Christ that remains mine to present to Him when this life ends. At the end of each day, or whenever else He requires it. And that with everything else there is always that dread…attached to the possibility of loss. But never Him. Never Him. That my life needs to be more about Mary moments. And that even when I am working at something that is important to me or someone else, it needed to be as Mary, without the anxiety and fretfulness that often underlies my deeds. That as often as I read the story of the two women and wonder how Martha could be that way in the company of The Creator of the Universe, I am often more like her, than I am like Mary. Thinking that there is just one more thing I need to do BEFORE HE CAN FULLY APPROVE OF ME.

Cheapening His Love for me, to something I can afford…. Forgive me LORD.

Shalom.

#kainos#InHisPresence#HisPresenceMyDelight#HisPresenceMyPleasure#ComeAndSee#TheSecretPlace#EnteringRest#RestBeyondSleep#AmazingGrace

vipadhiambo@gmail.com

Why Doesn’t God Do Something? The Power of Covenant

‘Why, O LORD, do You stand far off? Why do You hide Yourself in times of trouble?‘ Psalm 10:1

“There is only one answer to our title question – GOD DOES NOT WORK OUR WAY. His power is not coercion but constraint. Never does He violate the personalities He has made. It would be easy for Him to intervene, but another purpose is at work – the purpose of constraining love. Hard though it may be, we must have patience with The Patience of God.”

Selywne Hughes in ‘TIME WITH GOD’

This post from about ten years ago, really answers some of the thoughts that ‘troubled’ me last week as I read through Genesis 16.

Why slavery exists…yes, still; why God would allow those already victimized to be re-victimized by others (Hagar was a slave already – bad enough, to use her as a ‘gadget’ to console the visions of an extremely old man was additional abuse…); why its common when we are abusing another – or being ourselves abused – to imagine that we retain the right to dictate how the victim responds/reacts/etc (Hagar’s mistreatment of Sarah when she found out that she could have her mistress’ husband’s child where her mistress couldn’t was probably her finally finding a way to vent the sorrow of her state); why when in need we tend to objectify/dehumanize those ‘who would replace God as Source’ -and justify both sins; why God would have us remain/go back to and continue to endure situations that were inhumane to say the least in the hope a future that was better; and finally why none of the three was condemned, at least not in scripture, for this plan… I think I grieve for every woman and child that was listed in the Bible that endured abuse because it was culturally acceptable. Then.

I wondered also why God would bring a child in this situation. All three people in this mix were wounded…broken…why trust them with a child. It brought me to the power of covenant – agreement and to the words of Jesus Christ later – “Again, truly I tell you, if two of you agree on earth about ANYTHING you ask, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven.’ MATHEW 18:19.

I found out that I cannot out-righteous God. God will not violate covenant, not because He is powerless to do so, but because He cannot go against Himself. In His Time. WHATEVER WE AGREE ON. These three agreed that they would have a baby…and God honored this. BUT THERE WERE CONSEQUENCES, EXTREMELY PAINFUL FOR ALL THREE. And to us in this age.

It’s important to watch what you say ‘Amen’ to [Jeremiah 27:14-15]. I am learning that God punishes, yes that word, PUNISHES, those that walk in agreement to false prophesies/scandals/stories etc. When He says He is going to do something for me, for us, a certain way, a certain time and we go ahead and try help Him by saying or doing something OUTSIDE HIS COUNSEL, there are consequences. Consequences which sometimes seem unrelated to the issue…but are intrinsic to it. It is important to guard what you listen to…especially that- WHAT. Many godly associations, dreams, projects, etc. have been destroyed because we listen, and agree to covenant towards a certain direction. To associate or disassociate. To leave God out of the plan. But as my friend Anne Gichina reminded me earlier today ‘GOD IS IN THE DETAILS’. We imagine Him absent then cry later when He allows us to experience what it would be like if He COULD BE absent…by the way He CANNOT be absent ANYWHERE we go. And we ask ourselves ‘WHY WONT GOD DO SOMETHING TO WORK THIS OUT MY/OUR WAY?’ He remains THE WAY we discarded for this one…

May His Mercy find us in this place.

Shalom.

“Do not listen to and believe the words of the [false] prophets who are saying to you, you shall not serve the king of Babylon, for it is a lie that they prophesy to you. For I have not sent them, says The LORD; but they are prophesying falsely in My Name. [It will only end when] I will drive you out to perish together with the [false] prophets who prophesy to you.“

Jeremiah 27:14-15

vipadhiambo@gmail.com

Circling Your Stubborn Enemies with Focused Worship

_{This is a post I shared on one of my Facebook pages ‘Homes and Nations – House of Prayer’ over ten years ago. I just realized I didn’t share it here. God continues to amaze me by how He uses lessons He taught me years ago, to move me forward in the present. This has also helped me when I read prophecies that at the point in which He spoke them to me, seemed time specific, but actually speak to my now. His Mind is not like ours. May ours rise to become like His. Be blessed as you partake with me.}

First written on March 13, 2012

About two years ago, I visited a church with my friend Roselyn and her mom. I quickly got involved in the worship and God began to minister to me through a vision. [I think I have shared this on my personal profile as Vip Ogola, but God has been speaking new things about that incident.] Let me tell you about the vision.

‘I was standing before a woman, beautiful, though her face was not too clear. Her hair was braided or in dreadlocks, and she seemed kind of elevated, in flowing red robs that constantly seemed to be blowing. I cant remember feeling any wind but it seemed windy just by looking at her. [i know…I am using the word ‘seemed’ a lot here but bear with me]. It seemed to me that she was standing on my pathway…in the way to my destiny. She had this hue of gold around her that seemed to emanate from within her. And that though she seemed fragile even, there was a silently strong power within her that controlled my ability to move forward. I began to declare the Word of God against her, frantically. A fear and pain knotted scratchily within my heart and belly. And I shouted more, she stood confidently and calm on my path. Smiling at me through eyes that seemed gentle but reminded me of a lizard, crocodile or a snake. Dark, loathing. As though she knew that there was nothing I could do to move her. Suddenly I felt in the physical, a pressure in the palm of my hand. A weight almost 2 kilos, and this weight began to lift my hands. My heart lifted beyond my vision of her, and began to worship God. And just like that, she disappeared. My path was clear again.’

I have on several occasions shared this and each time I do, a new revelation is placed, for the season am in. Even now, God is speaking a new thing…connecting this with something that happened in the past but I cannot share until I have His words to do so. Well, this week, my children Leroy and Shukri and I were having our devotions and God led us to the book of Joshua. Which is the theme of this week’s fasting prayer for our homes and nations. Joshua 2: 8-16, 4:1, 5:1 and 6 have been particularly significant. 40 years ago, Israel had opted to die in the desert rather than trust God with regard to conquering the land. They feared the occupants of the land and the land itself, believing themselves to be too small in their eyes. Rahab, and the kings in Canaan however give us a different story; they had heard about God’s exploits in the desert on behalf of His chosen race and it terrified them that this extremely large nation was headed their way. The Israelites, the warriors that had been liberated from Egypt wasted away in a wilderness for 40 years, and it was only after God had ridded His people of the evidence of doubt in Him [which am learning is extremely repugnant to Him] could He now begin again with a new generation – save for the remnant: Joshua and Caleb.

So God again causes His priests to stand in the gap and let Israel pass by. Here I need to say that those few of us, 12 perhaps who will stand in faith of The Living God, and believe Him for the healing and deliverance of our homes and nations would be enough to hold up the waves headed our way to destroy us and keep us from inheriting that which God has lovingly extended our way. Is there anyone who would risk they all to stand in the gap on behalf of your land? On behalf of your home? As I prayed through this passage, the crossing of the Jordan River, I believed that everything, every issue that I had been praying about that concerned others would cross over from slavery to freedom and have a fighting chance to this inheritance if those it concerned would themselves step out in faith.

Then there was the circumcision – the decision to allow ourselves to be indelibly marked by God as His own…before we head to chapter 6 and the saga of Jericho. I don’t know if like me, it looks like God has made you vulnerable in the eyes of your enemies who seemed so safe in their high towers? I am speaking to those of us who have prayed, trusted and yet find themselves again somewhat disadvantaged, having to go through re-consecration, and feeling like this would give the enemy unfair advantage over them? Do not worry, God blesses your choice to obey Him even when you do not understand it. His particular strategy. The kings were in hiding even though Israel did not know it. Do not be afraid – this trial/temptation/discomfort is of God. He is in control even though it seems nothing like it. Many have sent messages to me this week about not being able to pray, and asking me to pray with them. I have been non-committal, because of what God was saying to me about the situation. That we must all bear the circumcision, That we must all re-ally ourselves to Him. That it is He Who has held the stone flint knife against our innermost and most intimate and protected parts. And that He will keep us there for the four days it takes to heal us. Remember Zacharias the friend of Jesus who remained in the tomb four days till all hope was gone? You and I must remain within the will of God, even when it seems to hurt us because He will come, sometimes weeping, but healing and resurrection is within His Nature. He is coming. Just submit to the knife. His Hand is the Hand of the Surgeon not the murderer.

Then I asked Him…what was it about going around Jericho those 7 times…the first 6 silently? I needed a word for the place am in. A word to share with my children, Leroy and Shukri, and the ones who call me Mami about this place…this tall order. We are healed. We are restored to Him. But what He is saying to us belongs to us, is still a big deal. We have been firmly shut out. And the hostility and animosity within the place He has sworn is ours is fact. Yet He says to us, go to that place…and then just begin to circle it. Don’t take a battle stance yet, just blow the vuvuzela/trumpets/shofar and lift up the evidence of your testimony and go round it. One lap. Then go home and rest. Then tomorrow do the same. and the four days after tomorrow. Just obey me. I asked God, what was that about. Nothing changed those six days. The hostile, fearful, deadly enemies were still above us as we took a stroll around them; declaring Whose we are and worshiping Him for Who He is. He said to me. “There are things that still need to be broken in you that are broken only in such circumstances. Your dependence on your intellect. Your pride at what God has done just for you :). Your crowns, victories won. Your knowledge of the enemy, his powers and tactics and how useless yours is against his. Your tendency to rebel against Me when you are afraid, when you have evaluated a situation through your knowledge, experience and the experience of others. Your distrust for My Word and Instruction and your tendency to go to the devil for his opinion of what I have said to you.” God reminded me that I am not focused if there was no internal and external challenge to try it. I would know that the battle is won, when I learnt to focus on worshiping Him, on His revealed nature. By keeping my enemies aware that I had them circled in my worship of Him

I guess by the end of day 6 the worship did not even feel adequate to Israel. They could do it all in one day for the freedom it gave them. Nothing had changed but everything had. They had laid down every earthly shackle that kept them from true worship and had received from God the ability to soar above the challenges that had kept them in submission. And when they worshiped Him in Spirit and in Truth and lifted their voices in victory, they found that the walls, high towers, and the ‘powerful enemies’ had been an illusion before The Truth of the Might of The Almighty God.

This week my counsel to myself and all those seeking prayer is to circle their inheritance with worship. What has God promised you? What has He said is yours? Stop focusing on the hindrance, focus on Your God and worship Him without addressing the issue but calling Him by the Name that covers your need. e.g. Do you need healing – His Name is Jehovah Jireh. Also remember with thankfulness the works He has done in your life before. Sincerely. There are no guarantees [remember Joshua 5:13-14]…except that You will be closer to Him then than you feel now, because you would have pleased God. That alone is a major victory. And that whoever tries to restore in you that which God has destroyed will pay a hefty price for it. Joshua 6:26

s/he who has ears….

shalom.

vipadhiambo@gmail.com

The Divine Marriage Story: To Be Handled in Maturity

I have been thinking a lot today about Covenant, and particularly, the marriage covenant. I believe, that whether we are conscious of it or not, God is The True Writer of EVERY marriage story that is in conformity with His Will. His Will – being the basis of my thoughts. Not legal, not traditional, not consensual…although sometimes these aspects are included – but a marriage that is considered valid of Him. It may be the marriage of two that are hostile to Him even (e.g. King Ahab and Queen Jezebel), or the marriage between His friends (e.g. Sarah and Abraham), but He writes the story. The pressure to conform…to this world’s standards exists, but God is the most creative, engaging, thrilling, comforting, discombobulating, unexpected even disturbing Writer EVER. So, the outcomes are RARELY ‘STANDARD’.

I am humbled by His Mind. Some of our marriage stories include those who got close to getting married, but never did, or got married later perhaps even to other people…or not; those who never had that inclination/desire/etc. to; those still waiting; those whose marriages were interrupted by or ended in widowhood, divorce, separation; those in complex marital situations – the kind that according to our well-earned ‘white wigs’ should be dissolved; some enduring; some happy; some hilarious; some tragic; some miserable; others divinely surreal; others….God writes every story. I wonder if the realization of this, would be grounds for celebration… honoring one’s triumph within and fidelity to God’s true manuscript of our authentically individual lives.

I thought about Abigail and Nabal’s marriage in the Bible – actually been thinking about this particular one a lot in the last few months. I wondered at the fact that God would bring a wise and stunning woman into union with a man that the Bible defines as a fool…an extremely wealthy fool. I thought how this was a masterpiece of a story; how despite what this experience may have meant for Abigail on a breath-by-breath level, God allowed her years of being a fool’s wife to lead her to a situation where she became queen to His most beloved (EVER) canal king. I looked at Abraham and his son Isaac, who were deeply enamored to their chosen brides but denied them promptly when they felt declaring their status would mortally endanger them. (This could comfort those that remain hidden spouses perhaps because of cultural, longitudinal, latitudinal etc. considerations.)

Then there is tradition – I thought about the divine trendsetter Moses, to whom God gave the code for His chosen race regarding everything including who they could and could not marry, ending up with both first and second wives who were not Israelite. I thought about the other scandalous marriages – that of Rahab the prostitute from Jericho who married an Israelite called Salmon, King David’s great-great grandpa. Then there was Hosea the Prophet, whose story revolved around his instructions by God to marry a woman who was given to harlotry. Not that she would be unfaithful once or twice, but totally sold out to being unfaithful to the prophet…. Then there were Zacharias and Elizabeth, John and Mary, Ananias and Saphira…I am still thinking…

God uses everything, even your marriage to write out His story, over His purposes. I wonder if knowing this would turn the shame that clouds our paths over the, sometimes, content and brevity of our espousals, into cause for celebration. That you tried to get married, stay married, gave it your best shot, but it didn’t work the way you planned it to.

Each one of God’s stories is a stand-alone, unique in its details, the combination and compilation of these for a divine purpose. Celebrate today. Yours was NEVER MEANT TO BE LIKE ANYONE ELSE’. Thats an impossibility. You are different. Each of you is a unique phenomenon. Pack the shame and return it to the devil, his agencies and agents that have tried to shame you for conforming to a standard that God never meant for you. FAST. And open yourself up for the adventure that The Writer has for your life…which may or may not include another marriage. And Celebrate. You are truly a hero in your story.

Shalom.

vipslit@yahoo.ca

A Ground Broken

I heard Him say softly, with ALL Authority, ‘break up the fallow ground.’ I had become accustomed to the way things were; the tightness, the pain of rejection, the feeling of uselessness, bareness even, of being passed over so I had remained coiled in at His approach – but no other ground around me was fallow, so I knew He was referring to me.

I had seen it before, so I flinched. The workers came in first. Hoes, ‘slashers’ and pitchforks at hand. I flinched again as I watched them march resolutely onto my back, or was it my belly. Their hard boots pounded at at me, then their instruments begun to cut deeply into me. It hurt at first. Probably because I expected it to. But they were unrelenting in their obedience. Each at their post. I then begun to sense a relief, something akin to what they feel, when a boil is laced. Oh the liberty as they turned over my dust, my soil, removing what should not be there, unrelenting still. At the end of they day, they carted these away, and burnt it in a pit not too far off. I was surprised, but then again not, at the rubbish they had found in me, but glad they had it all out now. I rested better that evening.

The next day, the heavy artillery rode over me, cutting, pressing, I was sure I would die from it…they dug deeper and wider. It was faster and they were gone by mid-day. I wasn’t really a large piece of ground, one that was easy to walk over, forget even. Then I sensed His bare Feet walk over me. I knew they were His for there was a hole in both of them. He stepped in gently, scattering seed that fell gently on me. My open pores swallowed hungrily these promises of Resurrection and Life. I couldn’t wait to see what it was He had decided I was good for. But whatever it was, I knew He could only be Kind, Wise; He knew Eternity from Eternity – I was certain that whatever He made of me, would be ultimately pleasing to His Eyes. And wasn’t that the ultimate goal of all creation?

I cannot wait to lay my fruits at His Precious Feet – for this Life I bear, carries His image: I owe it ALL to Him.

Shalom. 

vipslit@yahoo.ca