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
. 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.
. Who is missing from your happy/sad parade? Could it be… possibly…that they understand…intimately what this post…not me 
? 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…
)? I think I look better now, to be honest, than I have ever looked. Maybe it’s the shackles that anchored the thick veils over my eyes on ‘Ugly Bay’ that have fallen off…but I feel lighter inside…even in spite of the things happening that should make me otherwise. I have no immediate answers to this complex question that plagues my oft inquiring mind. This post is actually more for me to consider five years from today, when I have come to my fullness of true beauty and need to testify to God’s Goodness. But also, for you. Be beautiful/handsome at whatever age you are. However you look. Even if someone foolishly puts ‘old, old’ before your definition because you rubbed them rather roughly upon your first meeting 
. You ARE BEAUTIFUL. And whether or not you feel it or look it, WILL NOT LIMIT GOD FOR BLESSING YOU AS EXTRAVAGANTLY AS HE LONGS TO DO.
). His Grace is Reset daily for me – and that’s the standard that He calls me to set up for those He entrusts in relationship with me. My enemies, my ex’s and my currents…there is fruit He expects to find when He comes inspecting (for peksen). Let Him find in me a Hybrid of Love and Forgiveness…to His Standards. Unabashedly. Am moving on, forgetting the former things…and embracing…BIGGER, without yesterday’s baggage.
Vip Ogola's Blog 