Negative Words of Hope

Maybe you have looked at your life lately and noticed that all your pillars seem to be falling apart. Sometimes its NOT about preparing your ground for a ripe harvest and beautiful new season. Sometimes, you need to make peace with God, who is as Terrible as He is Merciful. I learnt the following today, with a heart that trembled at His Words as I journey through the book of Ezekiel (25 & 26). I hope you read with a listening, and submissive heart…towards God.

If you,

1. have been privileged at one time or other, to be within an intimate circle of trust or vision with a child of God whether as a family, friend, colleague, fellow minister and pilgrim, media consumer and…

2. felt satisfied with the destruction of a called one, or nation, or tribe who had rebelled against God “… Because you said, ‘Aha!’ against My sanctuary when it was profaned, and against the land of Israel when it was desolate,”

3. Rejoiced gleefully when you witnessed God’s dealing with one of His own in judgement, to despise them… “Because you clapped your hands, stamped your feet, and rejoiced in heart with all your disdain for the land of Israel.”

4. Made nonsense of God’s election of a particular person on group of people during the time of their distress, to pronounce them as common, not really special etc ““Because Moab and Seir say, ‘Look! The house of Judah is like all the nations,”

5. took advantage of a person’s or group of person’s distress when God’s favor seemed to desert them, to avenge yourself of real or imagined/fabricated wrongdoing at this time, i.e. kicking them while they were down. You believed them hated and unprotected of God because of their predicament in the land and added to their pain due to your previous disapproval of them…”Because of what Edom did against the house of Judah by taking vengeance, and has greatly offended by avenging itself on them…Because the Philistines dealt vengefully and took vengeance with a spiteful heart, to destroy because of the old hatred,”

You need to seriously consider making peace with God. When a loving parent disciplines their child to draw them back to himself or herself, there is appropriate response by witnesses, and this never includes, picking up crude artillery against them, trying to fan the parent’s anger, trying to convince the child that their parent no longer loves them and they are strangers to them, or even stomping them down with your heavy duty boots to rid the parent of their obvious disappointment at their child. If you do these…it is against you the parent will unleash His anger…without leaving their child un-taught. God is not dysfunctional as God, Father, Leader, and in all His Sovereignty. You need to make peace with God…believe Him to be The Best Parent you have ever had the privilege of coming across…There is yet another group that God’s Hand is Targeting

6. If you have ever seen the destruction of someone else, a nation, organisation, business, ministry, marriage, family, friendship, as an opportunity to exalt yourself into a place of privilege, especially when these were ordained and established in God, for you there will be a special hell on earth. People will come from high places to tremble at your own descent for it will be obvious that God has dealt Himself against you. Ezekiel 26 “…because Tyre has said against Jerusalem, ‘Aha! She is broken who was the gateway of the peoples; now she is turned over to me; I shall be filled; she is laid waste.”

God’s paternity is not seasonal…let us return to Him to request that He amputates, and delivers us of that stubborn limb in us that perpetually seeks and rejoices in the shaming and destruction of others…or else…you will know Him as God, as you feel His Hand turned against you.

#NegativeWordsOfHope

#Ezekiel25

#Ezekiel26

#AncientWordsEverTrue

#GodsEternalCommitementToHisOwn

#AppropriateNeighborliness

vipslit@yahoo.ca

My Battle with Multiple Slipped Discs

By Vip Ogola

Petite, Sicily Wangari Mugo walks comfortably into her living room. It is difficult to imagine her ever being unwell. She is straddling the last of her three children, 15 month old Shammah Waiguru on her hip. She hugs us and then sits. Her house manager Sarah comes in for Waiguru and we get right into the interview. “When Sharon, my second child was born through C-Section, my husband had to travel internationally after two weeks. My house manager at that time left suddenly. I am a perfectionist, so I got up, and kept my house in perfect order. I didn’t feel it then, but this marked the beginning of my journey.”

Her journey with multiple slipped discs began in July 2012 when she was first diagnosed of the condition. “I had back pains that would come and go. I also felt tired all the time and numb sometimes. But I thought it had something to do with women’s issues, having had surgery thrice, once to extract fibroids, and twice to have my daughters. I did not take it seriously, even when they referred me to Dr. Gakuo. I was busy. And a woman.” Wangari has been a Financial Advisor with PanAfrican Life for ten years. She is passionate about her job which involves visiting clients and giving insurance advice “I love my job and my supportive employer. I would target ten meetings a day, and make it through.”

Some conditions cannot simply be ignored away.  One October morning Wangari got up to get ready for two crucial meetings. “I struggled out of bed trying to ignore the pain. I went to the bathroom but when I bent over to pick up the soap, it was too painful to try. I screamed without meaning to, and my husband heard but I made as if I was okay. This morning’s meetings were too important to me. I struggled through dressing up and even drove to pick up my colleague near City Carbannas for the meeting on Mombasa road. But I could not pretend anymore, I was weak and in pain and I left, allowing my colleague to go on with the meeting. I knew I just had to go to hospital, via my meeting with Muthoni.” Muthoni, her friend, had been recently widowed, and needed advice on how to follow up with her husband’s insurance issues.

“I could not let Muthoni down. She needed people around her, and I did not want her to think I was using illness as an excuse for not being there for her.” She noticed her legs numbing as she drove. Her lower back was aflame. She parked at a Petrol Station near Bellevue and sat waiting for this wave of discomfort to subside. She was unable to reach her husband who was at a work meeting. None of her friends was close enough to reach her. Remembering Muthoni, she prayed she would not disappoint her and set out again. At the City Council parking opposite Barclays Plaza her distress drew the attention of an elderly man. He helped her out of the car, and out of the parking area. “I was glad I had not worn my usual high heels.” She convinced him that she was strong enough to cross the road, and took the lift to the second floor of her office building. She made it, courageously, through her long lunch hour meeting with Muthoni. Two male colleagues walked in on her anguish and rushed her to Menelik Hospital on Ngong Road. She was admitted on arrival.  “By this time my vision was blurred and I slipped into unconsciousness at some point. I appreciated that the hospital prioritized my health not payment.”

“My colleague contacted my husband and waited until he arrived. I was admitted for 14 days that time. I underwent the second of three MRIs in this journey, and several other tests. They stretched me out on the bed, with things that looked like stones, which pulled my legs. I was told that the idea was to stretch out my vertebrae so that the flesh that was lodged between my discs would be released. It was extremely uncomfortable. I did not leave my bed, even to go to the bathroom for seven days” Her trauma increased on her second day when an elderly woman was wheeled in from surgery, for a spinal condition similar to hers. The woman regaled her with tales of her journey, the necessity for surgery and the amount of medication she was on. Wangari laughs. “We put ourselves through more that we are going through when we allow our minds to dwell on the worst case scenario. I was terrified. I decided the following morning to make positive declarations over my life. I prayed. I reminded God, like King Hezekiah in the Bible, of my life, how I had served Him and helped those who needed my help. And I began to feel better. It got so that when I was released from the stretching thing on my bed, I would now serve her, doing things like serving her medication.”

Upon discharge, she still had to go for follow up for about a week, and as her outpatient insurance was exhausted, to pay cash. About Kenya Shillings two thousand per session. This involved massage, continuous traction and buying medication. She was soon able to go back to work, sometimes. Her husband would send a driver to get her there and bring her home, but there were days she had to take the matatu. The medications were very strong and many times she passed her destination and had to be dropped off on her way back. She can no longer wear high heeled shoes for more than a few minutes, go to work and hold down the fort as she used to. Her employer and her clients have been supportive. She cannot hold or play with her really young children as she is discouraged from carrying anything heavier than two kilos. “I often had relapses when I carried my children. They now understand, one is in Standard 2 and the other in Pre-unit. It’s just this one…” she says smiling at the baby on her lap. “But God has given me grace.” She loves hosting, but now allows guests to serve themselves.

Her pregnancy with Shammah was nothing short of a miracle. She had to go off her strong medication for the entire duration and although the pain was severe, it never got her admitted. In fact, she only succumbed after his six month “and it wasn’t as serious as the other ones. I fell in the bath tub and relapsed. My house manager stayed with him while I was admitted and had the task of introducing him to solids. This is when I discovered Dr. Ruto of Kenyatta National Hospital Doctors Plaza. He is a gifted Physiotherapist and affordable too. I wish I had known him from the beginning.” She has also received dedicated support from her neighbour Dr. Stella Bosire of Avenue Hospital, Embakasi as well as her Gynacoelogist Dr. Yamal of Medi Plaza in Parklands.

“I am so grateful to God, to my parents, my in-laws, and church members at House of Grace Embakasi led by Pastors Dodzweit and Mary Achera for their support through this journey. I have made it this far because of their love and support. My husband Mugo Kariuki, has been priceless. He has prayed for me, declared God’s Word into my life, and taken on the roles, regarding the children so I could recover.”

vipslit@yahoo.ca    Dr. Stella Bosire on Herniated disk with Radiculopathy

Photography by: Nash of NaMeD Afrika Studios

First published in the Sunday Standard’s Sunday Magazine on Sunday, August 28, 2016

http://sde.co.ke/article/2000214258/i-shouldn-t-be-alive-my-battle-with-multiple-slipped-discs

Why Even Pray for Them?

There are many reasons to STOP PRAYING for them, genuine, just reasons. Ones that anyone would understand. Primarily, they don’t really think that its useful…and besides, why would Almighty God even stop to listen to someone of whom they think so little, as they do you? I mean, they have it more together. What could you possibly have to tell God on their behalf, that they would not do better on their own – or at least someone else they think is more suitable? They may cause you great harm even to stop you from praying…and gather enough around them to make them feel right about doing so.

God has given me many reasons why I should CONTINUE PRAYING for them. Its not for their applause really…never has been about that. But more about His intent…His True Heart…”For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might be saved.” John 3:17 NKJV and “The Lord does not delay [as though He were unable to act] and is not slow about His promise, as some count slowness, but is [extraordinarily] patient toward you, not wishing for any to perish but for all to come to repentance.” 2 Peter 2:9 AMP. It got me thinking, that when I want anything else for someone God created, am desiring contrary to Him…and what does that make me if not an anti-Christ? Hmmm

So this morning He gave me, reminded me, of one more reason to pray for…my family, my friends,, my neighbors, my country, my world, my employer, my colleagues, and yes, even the ones who hate me so much, they would not want me mentioning their names lovingly before God. If I don’t, if I am the only one able to, or even willing to and I don’t, and anything happens to them that could have been prevented by my praying…heavy responsibility…but in His own words…” “I looked for someone to stand up for Me against all this, to repair the defenses of the city, to take a stand for Me and stand in the gap to protect this land so I wouldn’t have to destroy it. I couldn’t find anyone. Not one. So I’ll empty out My wrath on them, burn them to a crisp with My hot anger, serve them with the consequences of all they’ve done. Decree of God, the Master.”
Ezekiel 22:31-32 The Message (MSG)

vipslit@yahoo.ca

Kangaroo Mother Care Saved Baby Winnie

Phyllis Wanja Kariuki

Age: Early 30s

In her own words:

I lost my first pregnancy at 15 weeks. I had begun bleeding, and doctor in Mandera, where I worked as a Logistics officer with Save the Children, Kenya, recommended two weeks bed-rest. I came back home to Nairobi and all went well. The day before my scheduled return to Mandera, my friend and I went shopping. I started feeling funny, like cramps and remembered that the doctor had permitted me to take regular painkillers for this, so I took a Panadol. I did not expect that there would be any adverse effects, and it helped. At night however, I woke up to the same cramps, intense pain. When I went to the toilet, some water came out. I did not understand what to make of this, as it was my first pregnancy. I was rushed to Nairobi hospital, and on getting there, they discovered that the amniotic fluid had leaked out. Their prognosis was not good. They suggested a termination of the pregnancy as it had only a 90% chance of being viable. I resisted this and sought a second opinion. I went to Aga Khan hospital. I was given the same story. The doctors there meet and make sure that by the time they are giving you your report, they have tested you, they have discussed it together and allow you to make the final decision based on their thorough analysis of the your case. I had stayed for so many hours, and since this was my second stop, I felt I had no other choice but concede.

It was a horrible experience. They started with the treatment, and I was discharged and moved on with my life. After six months I conceived again, and I still had issues. I started bleeding at 8 weeks. This time I was more cautious, and able to see the warning signs. I went to the nearest clinic, St. Bakita in Utawala, and was injected with Buscopan. They suggested I go for a scan.  I went home and the next morning went to Agakhan for the scan. I was frightened of loosing my child. During the scan, the doctors were discussing the point of bleeding around a certain spot. But there was another spot and when I asked what that was, I was told it was another baby. I understood them the magnitude of what I was carrying and how careful I needed to be. After the scan at the ER, I was referred to Dr. Obura, a Gynaecologist. He looked at the results and gave me hope.  He gave me medication to strengthen the wall of my uterus, and advised me to avoid strain.

At around 18 weeks I started spotting again, but this was not serious.  Both at home and in the field in Mandera, I took very good care of myself. Mandera was less strenuous for me as I only had short distances to walk, and we are basically taken care of. I did not have to cook or do anything for myself. I stayed there for six weeks and then came back for R&R. At the airstrip, the flight attendant asked me how far along I was. She alerted me to the fact that I could not travel in a small aircraft beyond that point, and I understood that to mean that I would now be working from Nairobi. I worked for one more month before I started swelling. One of my colleagues, Eric Muthiani adviced me to have my blood pressure checked to rule it out as a cause for the swelling. My pressure was normally but now my feet begun to swell as well. It was during clinic test. I was to do a HCG test to determine my glucose level. It takes time, but they advised I change the clinic date as it was too late in the day. But I wanted to understand what was causing the swelling. The doctor insisted on a urine test. I had to do it twice for them to determine what the problem was. The doctor told me that my urine had a lot of protein in it, and suggested for additional tests to determine the functionality of my kidneys. This came out normal. They connected me to someone closer to home who would monitor my blood pressure daily, as they had noticed that it was fluctuating. I was to call the hospital daily to give them the readings.

This was on a Friday, but on Saturday, I was planning on going shopping for baby clothes so I did not go to check my pressure. I went in on Sunday, it turned out high. It read 170/100mmhg. The doctor recommended I go home and rest. I rested, and went back for another reading in the evening, this was even higher after then rest. I know High Blood Pressure is serious, but had no reference for people having it around me, and therefore did not see it endangering the pregnancies. The doctor recommended that I go into hospital immediately. I went home, got ready and then went to hospital. I was alarmed to find a team waiting for me on my arrival at the hospital. I was feeling fine, and wondered why they found this reception necessary. The scan showed that the blood was not flowing into the second baby as it should. I was admitted, but even then I thought it would just be for a night. At around 1am the doctor came to check on me and informed me that they would have to do an emergency Caesarian Section if my blood pressure did not go down. I had no idea that HBP could lead to one giving birth to pre-terms.

In the morning, a group of four doctors, took me to radiology for a scan. They sat around me and studied me. They told me they needed to do the emergency CS, in order to save my life and try save the lives of my babies. I therefore signed the consent and the CS was done at 3pm that day. This was on February 2, 2015. Everything went well. They did a spinal epidural, where I can see what is going on. They did a good job, they engaged me a lot. I heard my babies cry and I was excited. I was not able to see them immediately as they needed to be taken into the ICU, as they were a bit small. My daughter was 790grams and my son was 970grams. My son was a bit bigger. Everything was completed and I was taken to the ward. I wanted to go see my babies but I was not allowed then. It was too early, I was still numb. I saw my babies the following day.

It’s quite bad when you are in the ward, can hear other babies crying and you don’t have yours. You deal with a lot at that point, even the bills. I went to see the babies on February 3^rd, around mid-day. I remember the nurses telling me that I needed breast milk, even if it was just two drops. Imagine there is no way I can be able to stimulate…you need the baby to stimulate it to produce milk. The nurse told me to be strong, calm down, focus on the babies, and try to express. There are other liquids they give the babies for feeding. I tried to express and nothing was coming out. By evening I had two drops and the staff was quite encouraging. The biggest trauma was when I saw the babies and how tiny they were, and wondered when they would ever grow to the size of the other newborns in the ward. I remember my daughter was the size of the 300mm soda bottle, she could be held in a hand. A nurse advised me to be strong and to take every single day at it comes. Her words remained with me through my darkest times.

The reality of the bills started hitting me. My insurance had been exhausted and my family began counselling me towards moving to a cheaper hospital. I was spending about Kshs 50,000 per baby per day in the ICU. On the 4^th the doctor attending to the babies came to the ward. I sensed that something was wrong. The previous night, my son Jaden had been transfused. She started with the positive, telling me that my daughter Winnie was doing well, but the boy was struggling. I did not want to hear anymore. I told her to take me to them. She got somebody to take me to them in the ICU. I found them trying to resuscitate him. They did this while I watched. I told them to do all they could, within their power to make sure he was well. A male doctor assured me that they were. They kept encouraging me that girl was doing well. Unfortunately Jaden passed him while we were looking at each other. I felt like he was telling me ‘mum do something’ or ‘you are going to be okay just take care of my sister.’ Everything was done. I cried a lot. But I turned to the girl, and prayed to God ‘God I am going to walk out of this hospital with this one, and I know you can make it happen.’ I kept telling my close friend and colleague Jane the same. She was there for me through it all. I told her I was sure God would answer my prayer to the affirmative.

I did not want to mourn a lot because I needed to be strong for the girl. I had no choice. I remember the nurses counselling me and telling me, “this one was not yours, let go.” I could not let go the first day. It could hit me and I could cry, and then remember that this one was not mine but I had one surviving. I also remembered that the first time I came to this hospital, I had left without a baby, this time I had a chance to leave with one. I gave it all my energy, I did everything possible to get enough milk. I did not want stress to be a reason for not having milk for my baby. We paid a fee for the hospital to take care of my son’s remains as I did not have the energy to handle it. The hospital recommended some counselling, but most times I cannot and help me move on during dark times. I stayed for a while as they needed to monitor my pressure, but I was doing well. I was discharged on the 6^th of February.

The bills were also increasing but my colleague encouraged me to focus on the baby as the money would somehow come.  Miraculously everyday passed. When I was told to give a deposit of Kshs 600,000. I borrowed this. I did not care where it came from as long as I could save a life. The credit office kept calling me and one day I went there and just told them “you are ladies like me, and am sure some of you are even mothers. You call me every time. I know you are doing your job, but at some point try and engage someone. My baby is in these wards, meaning I have not running away. Meaning I cannot run away. At this time my baby was in ICU. She stayed there for two weeks, and luckily she was doing well. She had the oxygen tubes from the 2^nd to the 7^th then they removed them because she was able to breath on her own and her oxygen saturation was normal. We moved out of ICU to the normal HDU ward. She had a oxygen desaturation, so she was put back on oxygen. I remembered the nurses words about living a moment at a time. She had also told me about how much pre-term babies were affected by movement. Moving mine from 1^st to 2^nd floor had had this effect.

Proffesor Aketch, told me that they would put the baby on medication to strengthen the lungs, and this caused the sugars to rise up to 21 and its supposed to be between 6 and 8. It really stressed me. I tried to get information for myself, from Google. The pain of seeing my child on injections, tubes and the thought of them having to put down her sugars. I cried a lot, it was very painful to watch.

I started doing Kangaroo at 800grams while she was still at the ICU. She was very tiny. I remember the feeling of putting her against my chest, how nice it felt. It was the first time I was touching my baby and she was calm. Every time I was doing Kangaroo I was happy and not tense. I could sense how happy she was as she could pray. Whenever I arrived in the hospital in the morning, she would play as though she sense I was there. I would do at least two hours daily. I would split this between morning and evening. I sometimes extended depending on how available the baby was in between procedures. The nurses used to encourage us and I used to Google the importance of Kangaroo MotherCare. It improves oxygen saturation, helps in weight gain which was very important for me since I needed my baby to gain weight, and also the bonding thing. These three are the three things that made me keep at it. It really motivated me.

There is this powder they normally mix with the milk call suffactor that helps them to gain weight. Winnie’s body rejected this, so they needed to lower the quantity they put. She got an infection after getting it. Imagine this was her chance for boosting weight gain. I could look at other babies, and though we were told not to compare our babies. I was jealous. They had their own problems but not those challenging weight gain like mine. I never lost hope. I even encouraged others. We had a group and I was considered the experienced. We had a room and we would chat and I discovered that others had problems that made mine. For instance one lady told us how her cousin had triplets and stayed in hospital three weeks and then they suddenly died, one by one. This really challenged me, as I still had a baby. Every time I remember that situation I remember her. I realised how blessed I was. There were others who were crying, and I needed to motivate myself to care for my baby. These helped me get stronger daily.

It was my job to wake up in the morning like I was going to work, get to the hospital, express milk as I could not kangaroo with the milk as it would leak, and then kangaroo. The fact that our babies could not breast feed by themselves, they were too tiny for it. For Aga Khan, until the baby is 1800grams they are still kept in an incubator. After that they are put in a cot. The first time when I saw my baby in cloths it was really happy, it was exciting. I would tell the other mothers “am nearing the door”. In her first two months Winnie went through several lung treatments and two blood transfusions. I did Kangaroo for two months and increased the hours. I could do several 1 and a half hours sessions. I used to cry a lot when I had to leave her especially when she was under treatment. She went through two transfusions. These were the worst since I connected the death of my son with the transfusion he had undergone the night before he developed breathing complications that led to his death. From Google I learnt that transfusions sometimes cause complications in pre-terms.

Some of effects of Kangaroo on Winnie Wakanyi is that she is very close to me, she is also friendly and independent. She is still small bodywise though she weighs 8.3kilos, but this does not discourage me. I knew this would happen. The nurses taught us that when we went to the clinic and were asked the age of my baby…even now when I tell them that she is 1 year 5 months, I see the shock in their faces. I don’t explain unless I feel it’s necessary. One time a nurse responded by asking me if my child was picky about food. She is doing very well, I make sure that I don’t miss clinic. She has never been put on a special diet on her hope. She is now walking on her own and is really fast. I remember the nurses telling us to never compare our children’s milestones with another child’s. The pace does not really matter as long as they get there. As long as everything else is normal, they are good. For pre-terms, don’t mix yourself with pressures from outsides, its her time. If its kangaroo, her time is her time.

vipslit@yahoo.ca

Photography: Nash of NaMeD Afrika Studios and from Family Files

First published on the Sunday Magazine, Sunday Standard, August 21, 2016 (shorter version)

Broken Heel Days

Sometimes, the devil throws stuff at you, but God allows you to walk on through to a lovely day. It may be a puncture, a broken heart, a betrayal or two by a friend, financial challenges, an illness, ministry, or work challenges, an eviction, a death – varying degrees of pain and discomfort; it does not have to be fixed the way you desire it to be. But you run to Him, cling on Him, realizing your need of Him…keep your toes and heels level as best as you can, your hand in His and keep walking. Its not yet over, until God says it is.

A broken heel, should never prevent you from getting home…and when you do, in spite of it, you realize that those broken heel days, are actually miracles in the making. I did.

`Thus says The LORD to Cyrus His anointed, Whom I have taken by the right hand, To subdue nations before him And to loose the loins of kings; To open doors before him so that gates will not be shut: “I will go before you and make the rough places smooth; I will shatter the doors of bronze and cut through their iron bars. “I will give you the treasures of darkness And hidden wealth of secret places, So that you may know that it is I, The LORD, the God of Israel, who calls you by your name.`
Isaiah 45:1-3

LESSONS FROM THE LABOR WARD

I spent last night and early this morning at a labor ward with a close friend whose husband was away on a trip. The labor ward has a lot of lessons for those who wait in prayer in The LORD.

I learnt that because you get in first, does not mean that you get out first or at all, or even get blessed first. Sometimes, one looses their expectation at this crucial time.

I learnt that, in the labor ward, modesty of dress and manner is really not priority. The less you have on, the easier it is to remove, the better you will be attended to. Ignore those that mock you in your birthing hour…they are the ones who are inappropriate.

I learnt that when you pray for release, and the pain seems to increase, and your groans seem to choke up your prayers, God is still in charge, and at His exact timing, He answers your prayer according to His Will.

I learnt that sometimes the more human assistance you require and receive at this crucial place of birthing, the longer it takes you to heal from the trauma of it all.

I learnt that when you hold the answer to your prayers in your arms, it is often very difficult to remember what you just went through, and if you focus on the past, it keeps you from enjoying and worshiping God for the breakthrough you have received.

I learnt that something you go through may be potentially fatal, but does no harm to you or your blessing – but one may be harmed in seeming safety.

I learnt that you may be in the same situation with another in the ward, even groan at the very same time, but that even when someone is there to hold you, the pain still is very personal…and cannot be numbed simply by being in like company.

I learnt, that God raises who He Wills to intercede for your birthing experience, that others may want to be there for you, but are kept out because He is The Writer of your story.

I learnt that the intercessor will notice others that suffer like you, but because they are called to stand with you, they can not stand with the others there too. Not in the way they are with you anyway.

I learnt that you may know its time, the intercessor may know its time, but it is God who moves the mountains to work in agreement with His timing for you. You cannot make it happen, because though there for you, there are not really there for you…but for themselves.

I learnt that in labor ward, it helps to focus on the task of birthing. Just that.

I am grateful that God raised me, and strengthened me and moved me to be in a place of His revelation, then rested me afterwards.

To Climb a Tree

WHAT MADE A RICH AND POWERFUL MAN CLIMB A TREE:

I got thinking today, seeing in my mind the rich and powerful people I know, have heard of or seen from a distance, and imagined them, one by one, hoisting themselves up a tree for a better few of…okay, think of the ones you know, unless they are actors or environmentalists, what would they be doing up there? It would be more plausible for them to shove their way to the front, or get their security to do it for them so that they would get a better view. And then I thought of a group of rich and/or powerful men all trying to get a glimpse of the same thing, Love. That would be even worse…a cloud of security would probably make it impossible for their bosses to get a glimpse.

Short Zacchaeus was in such a situation. He was rich, he was powerful, but the pharisees and the disciples seemed more fitted for a close up with Jesus Christ. This was not his crowd, and it was likely that they would not hesitate to remind him of the fact. Among this sort, his position was despicable…because you see, they thought they knew him well. The source of his wealth was, fishy, so they felt it was their duty to protect God and heaven from the likes of him. Even without knowing they were doing it. But this did not numb his keen hunger, to see Christ, and say to Him what only He could hear, understand, appreciate and mitigate.

So he did something that could mostly be associated with a child, or someone who life had drained of anything they could loose. He was both. And because the Kingdom of Heaven belonged to such as he, The LORD of Heaven, ‘heard’ his faith, his hunger, and saw him shed all, that he might have a glimpse of Him. And Jesus, spoke above the cloud that hindered Him from getting to Him, and then drew Him forth that they might fellowship together.

BELOVED, SO ‘THEY’ ARE IN THE WAY, BLOCKING YOU FROM SEEING THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE – THE LOVE OF ALL AGES. DO SOMETHING THEIR POMP AND POWER WOULD KEEP THEM FROM DOING, SOMETHING POWERFULLY CHILDLIKE, ENOUGH TO GIVE YOU A VIEW OF HIM. ‘THEY’ MAY DESPISE YOUR FAITH IN ACTION, BUT THAT HAS NEVER MATTERED, WHAT MATTERS IS THAT YOU DRAW THE APPROVAL OF THE ONE WHO MADE THEM AND YOU. [thoughts on Luke 19:1-10]

“let the LITTLE children come to Me, and do not hinder them, for the Kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, ANYONE who WILL NOT receive The Kingdom of God like a LITTLE CHILD will NEVER enter it.” Luke 18:15-17

vipslit@yahoo.ca

Water to be Bought

Notes to Self a.k.a. Therapeutic Venting:

Somehow, there was always water to be bought, but in the five years I have been here, and four houses that I have lived in here, none from the taps. I have loved this beautiful wilderness in which God has planted me – mainly because He did not dump me here and take off, but He stayed. He has gently guided me, from the humblest of new beginnings, to a spacious place while retaining some thorns in my flesh, probably to keep me from thinking I did and have it all together. That’s Merciful – because am not leaving this place to go to hell for having a big head – not for any reason.

One thing that has been common in all the places He has allowed me to stay, is that I have had to buy water. At 20/ per 20 liter Jerrican(Mitungi or container). And its water for everything – washing, flushing, cooking. Now that there is a baby in the house, lets just say…that we have been blessed with the challenge of not being able to plan our usage as we did when it was just us, adults. Gory tales are rife in these parts about why there is no water…I have been asking my landlord to look into this for the past 16 months. Recently he asked me to check if my neighbors have water before calling him again…it is well. I love my house. I hate moving, for one, it is too expensive.

 

Now there is a new hurdle. There seems to be no fresh water. My neighbor told me yesterday, that somehow the sewage got mixed up with the fresh water, where the vendors get it. Another story is that there will be no fresh water in Tassia for the next two weeks, just borehole water, which is salty… Hmmm, imagine salty tea, salty ugali…especially for me who is fighting a health situation that is hostile to salt. I asked the ladies during today’s lunch hour Bible-Study if they had any ideas…there is a place, but I would need a truck, lots of muscle, fuel, containers, the time, not to mention the money to buy it. Then I called Nairobi Water…they require an account number, which we do not have. With that I can go to Kayole, and get them to send me a tanker full of what I need, but I would need a huge tank or two with taps to store this precious commodity, or help sealing and disinfecting the ones that come with my house due to a leakage issue that…well…that happened. Besides…whenever I look at those tanks…they ‘smell’ costly even without the water we need. Somehow, there is always water to be bought.

 

Aaahhh…so my name is Vip Ogola, and I love living in Tassia where God in His Wisdom and Love, and fore-thought (this is not an accident…five years is a looong time for an accident to just be happppenningggggg) placed me to learn more about Him, and allow Him to deal with the things about me that are unlike Him. Which leads me to why I even have words to vent…I thank God for the internet…and for Dr. Google. I blogged “no water, verse’ and came to find a treasury of beautiful verses that on the most part humbled me with the information that am not the first person to be in this situation, ever, and that God does answer prayers like mine, and has :). Somehow that comforts me.

 

Thanks for reading through, now you know a little bit more about my lovely Tassia – beautiful homes…where God answers prayers, by the second. Am waiting for mine before The Rock of my salvation.

 

http://bible.knowing-jesus.com/topics/God-Providing-Water

vipslit@yahoo.ca

Holes in The Hand of God 2

THERE ARE HOLES IN THE HAND OF THE ALMIGHTY GOD. He releases abundance through these – He is not in the habit of withholding what I need. He does not hoard in fear of tough times. I have heard the testimonies of the brethren, that He was with them, and has done great things in their lives. I am a witness to these, and am overwhelmed. Yet, honestly, I guard my heart against the disappointment for believing presumptuously, believing amiss. And that has cost me. My experience has taught me to believe that He is Faithful to others…There are ‘holes’ in The Hands of The Almighty God – MY Very FUNCTIONAL and Eternal Father. With those hands He raises my head, to look to Him, so He can steady the storm beneath my feet – so I can walk the waters of this storm as I behold His Glory. There are holes in The Hands of my Father. And I will trust Him to come, to pour into my life, what I need today. My Father is Coming – He WILL come.

 

” But Thomas, one of the Twelve, called the Twin, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples kept telling him, We have seen the Lord! But he said to them, Unless I see in His hands the marks made by the nails and put my finger into the nail prints, and put my hand into His side, I will never believe [it].

 

Eight days later His disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Jesus came, though they were behind closed doors, and stood among them and said, Peace to you! Then He said to Thomas, Reach out your finger here, and see My hands; and put out your hand and place [it] in My side. Do not be faithless and incredulous, but [stop your unbelief and] believe!

Thomas answered Him, My Lord and my God! Jesus said to him, Because you have seen Me, Thomas, do you now believe (trust, have faith)? Blessed and happy and to be envied are those who have never seen Me and yet have believed and adhered to and trusted and relied on Me.”

John 20:24-28

Mending Altars

“…its smell was pleasing to The Lord.” Leviticus 8:21

A lot was on my mind this morning as I prepared for a time of reading and meditating on God’s Word. I was grateful to God. Tomorrow marks a year since the mild stroke that attacked me about a year ago. How I was doing – what I had lost and what I had gained. I was thinking about my weight, which I struggled to loose, in which God had granted me victory over in the first five months, and over which, I was now experiencing painful defeat. What was the use of fighting anymore? Nothing had really changed. I was singing, presumably to God, but my heart was elsewhere.

“Jesus answered, unless I wash you, you have no part with Me.” John 13:8

Suddenly a vision split through my mind as out of a terrible horror movie. I saw a woman, a ghostly woman with an upturned face as in worship, hands held before her, she opened her mouth as though to sing, and instead, a cloud of flies, black flies, hundreds of them streamed out of her. I was rebuked, I repented. I was raising unholy fires before God, and He had shown me exactly what He thought of it.

“You are not to do as we do here today, everyone doing as they see fit, since you have not yet reached your resting place and the inheritance The LORD your God is giving you…Be careful not to sacrifice your burnt offering anywhere you please. Offer them only in the place The LORD will choose…” Deuteronomy 12: 8, 13-14

We read through the books of Deuteronomy, 12 and 13 today, and what I got from God, was that He takes the lead in worship. I must present myself, in totality. He is not impressed by anything else, even if we are thinking of Him in a grateful way – He will show us where, and how to love Him and adore Him, by The Holy Spirit. God had been talking to me about repairing broken altars – His in my live, and in the lives of those around me, in His Kingdom. Many other things were taking His place in our lives, primarily the chase after the cleverly elusive Shilling. We were hungering for this more than for God. We felt that having it would solve all our problems, and the lack of it, was blamed on God, and for the many aches we were experiencing – just like last year, same time.

Then the entire family gathered before God at the end of the day. And as we would have it, God led us again to the theme of sacrifice, this time in Leviticus 8. I wondered what this sweet smell was. God taught me through my children. My life, our lives are an act of worship…one continuous act. Sometimes we worship God, in the best of times. But many times… God narrowed in particularly to the way I give. He has emphasised to me, that a man can only receive what is given to him from heaven. But His ‘challenge’ was, what happened with the messenger. How do we handle being message bearers from heaven to the man or woman. This broke me.

“But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” Luke 15:2

Much of the time, our altars are so broken, and we perceive the errand on God’s behalf as an injustice. The person we are being sent to is undeserving in our eyes, they do not conform to our ideals of what they as servants of God and recipients of His grace should. Sometimes we create stories about them, stretch threads, pick at these, to convince ourselves that God will overlook our half-hearted at best, and no hearted service to Him…because after all…they are offensive to us. So we give only part of what we have been sent to give, with a thorough put down to the recipient, that makes them weep and not rejoice over the gift they have received. Because it was wrapped in hateful insults to their integrity. And we turn away, and try to worship God, but we are like rotting flesh, giving off a stench that has cuddled into vermin that flows incessantly from our bellies.

“Our offering to God is this: We are the sweet smell of Christ, among those that are being saved and among those that are being lost.” 2 Corinthians 2:15

This message has been, for me, long. And I have a hunch, a strong one, that God is not done with it yet. But as I share what He has given me with someone, I hope that we would take time to go before Him, like Elijah did on Mount Carmel, and repair God’s altar in our lives. That His Fire would come from heaven and consume both us and our giving, because we have been found pleasing to Him, and that we would give off, a sweet smelling aroma to God in heaven, and the world around us.

Shalom.

vipslit@yahoo.ca

“So brothers and sisters, since God has shown us great mercy, I beg you to offer your lives as living sacrifices to Him. Your offering must only be for God and pleasing to Him, which is the spiritual way for you to worship.” Romans 12:1