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

Elevated mis-Adjudications

“Who are you to judge another’s servant? To his own master he stands or falls. Indeed, he will be made to stand, for God is able to make him stand.” Romans 14:4NKJV

DSC00059.JPGII

I strolled into the balcony earlier this morning, with a stool in one hand so I could breath…perhaps more accurately, so I could get some air into my head. And it worked. I stood on the stool and idly looked around the hood from an even more heightened vantage point.

I noticed that my neighbor had some men over to rebuild his wall. He had brought it down about three weeks ago to allow for the digging of a bore-hole in front of his gate. The three men were doing awesome work, from my vantage. They were also raised considerably from the ground and were plastering and measuring and really getting Tassia’s black cotton dust all over them. I noticed another man, cleaning up the road. Picking up papers and lighting small fires to burn them. He is not an employee but a good samaritan. My son Leroy opened the gate, noticed him, and quietly but resolutely went to join him in this task.That’s when the air began swirling round my head…for you see, as his mother, I should know a thing or two about him, right?

Anyway, I immediately installed myself as his supervisor. After all, I was standing on a stool on an elevated balcony, and am his mother right? I suddenly noticed seven small pieces of white paper that, as far as I was concerned, would the determine the success of his mission. He missed them every time, but what I failed to focus on, was that, from his vantage point, he was able to see and deal with a lot of rubbish. Including, ahem, my attempts at supervising him. After a while I kept quiet but continued to anxiously watch for him, willing him with all of my heart and blood pressure to notice the seven pieces of white paper. Suddenly this all seemed very familiar to me…I was Leroy. I heard God rebuke me saying, “let the lad be. You did not ask him to do this work, I did. I did not send you out to supervise, and you definitely have not been qualified by Me to adjudicate or  determine his success. Only I can do that.”

Okay, I figured out too, that since I had noticed the seven pieces of white paper that Leroy kept missing, it was probably my job to go down there and pick them up. So let’s just say, there was an air-leak in my head as Wisdom set in and settled quietly. The little fires have died down as I thought through this, and wrote it down, and the jarring existent of the seven pieces of white paper, can not change the fact that Leroy did something lovingly, as best as he knew how to. The area around our house and across the road looks a lot better than it did before he stepped in. I am proud of him.

I learned that I can not disqualify who I cannot qualify. I can only evaluate a project based on its set objectives and including the presenting challenges – when these have been presented to me and I have been blessed with the soundness of mind and wisdom to do so. I also learnt that sometimes we erroneously feel that just because we have done something before, or know the person who is doing it relatively well in our opinion (which may not actually be true) we automatically qualify to vet those who are bent over to the task. Just because I define success one way, does not always make it true, not even most of the time. Finally, that just because someone is perched at a higher point, it does not give them the whole true picture of what is on the ground. A more realistic assessment is made by those actually doing the work – without really ruling out the truth of that higher view.

As I go out to pick out the seven pieces of white paper, I continue to learn from this scene. I hope this helps someone else, even if its just one person.

This morning’s lesson is both humbling and comforting. When we get too much air in our heads, we get light-headed, and are in no position to judge weightier matters.

Shalom

vipslit@yahoo.ca

 

Kangaroo Mother Care Saved Baby Winnie

IMG_9851Phyllis Wanja Kariuki

Age: Early 30s

In her own words:

I lost my first pregnancy at 15 weeks. I had 20150303_183406begun 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 3rd, 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 4th 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.

20150203_214802I 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 6th 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 2nd to the 7th 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 1st to 2nd 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 alsoIMG_9869.JPG 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)

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, live. 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

Yet Again

So there I was, feeling sorry for myself, yet again. Thinking I deserve much better, yet again. Unwilling to intercede even as I found myself on my knees, yet again. So I opened my Bible yet again, and once more, hoped that God would not rebuke me for my wicked stance, yet again. He reminded me, yet again, that I was His bride eternally. And as He did, it dawned on me, that He, has called me to find my life, strength, sense of worth, contentment in Him, that He lives to intercede for me all the time despite my penchant for murky waters, that He loves me perennially, defends me with all He is and has against all who perpetually accuse me, and that He, not I, not by a long shot, deserves better. And once again, I find myself where I truly am made by Him, made ready by Him, made more than I deserve by Grace in Him.

“For your Maker is your husband,
The Lord of hosts is His name;
And your Redeemer is the Holy One of Israel;
He is called the God of the whole earth.
For the Lord has called you
Like a woman forsaken and grieved in spirit,
Like a youthful wife when you were refused,”
Says your God.
“For a mere moment I have forsaken you,
But with great mercies I will gather you…“O you afflicted one,
Tossed with tempest, and not comforted,
Behold, I will lay your stones with colorful gems,
And lay your foundations with sapphires.

…All your children shall be taught by the Lord,
And great shall be the peace of your children.
In righteousness you shall be established;
You shall be far from oppression, for you shall not fear;
And from terror, for it shall not come near you.
Indeed they shall surely assemble, but not because of Me.
Whoever assembles against you shall fall for your sake.
“Behold, I have created the blacksmith
Who blows the coals in the fire,
Who brings forth an instrument for his work;
And I have created the spoiler to destroy.

No weapon formed against you shall prosper,
And every tongue which rises against you in judgment
You shall condemn.
This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord,
And their righteousness is from Me,”
Says the Lord.” Isaiah 54:5 NKJV

vipslit@yahoo.ca

 

Water to be Bought

Notes to Self a.k.a. Therapeutic Venting:
Eagle on edge of cliffSomehow, 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.
 
vipslit@yahoo.ca

My Crush on Andrew

Andrew, he makes me smile! I think I have a crush on him…no…I KNOW I love him! Totally so. I hope that when I get to heaven, after Jesus Christ, he would be one of the first I see.

Andrew, the Apostle, often goes unnoticed, and yet he did profound things. He was a God-chaser and a room maker. He first followed John the Baptizer, and when John the Way maker and room maker pointed out The Messiah to him, he believed John. His faith followed action – he honored his former mentor by stepping into The Way he was shown. And no…he was not going to leave his brother behind. He went home and told him that he had seen the Messiah and urged him to come step in His Footsteps. His brother, Simon Peter, was the one to whom Christ handed the Church. A ‘little’ act of networking by…sigh…Andrew…hooked God up with ministry predecessor.

Andrew did not stop at his brother, one time, Greeks came to see Jesus…and it was he and Philip that brought these…Gentiles…before the King of kings. Gentiles…like most of you are, like I am. I am amazed at his foresight. It took his brother Peter, rebuke from his brethren, after Christ’s Ascension to even accept that Christ Jesus was relevant to Gentiles…and yet here….I love Andrew.

But for me, the most profound of his evident understanding of his Messiah was, when they stood in ministry before 5000+ hungry men, and Christ asked them what to do about their hunger. Phillip…was overwhelmed, as you and I often are, by the size of the challenge. “Where will we get the resources in time to satiate their immediate hunger! We don’t have the money!” Andrew, sigh, he pointed to a ‘little matter’ that meant that their situation was not as desperate as Phillip made it out to be. “There is a little boy here, with a little food – it is not right to say that we don’t have anything. We have a little.” And The LORD of all creation, who made everything by just His Word, the Word of God, spoke. And 5000+ hungry people ate to their fill, and there was substantial left over, so that each one of the disciples could ‘take home’ a considerable ‘doggie bag’.

I am a lot like Philip…a lot. We think that by always taking note of what is not working, we are made heroes…but I learnt more than once, that focusing on that angle too much can cost you your health, your money, your relationships, your very life… Andrews on the other hand do not ignore the crisis, but they also never forget the ‘little things’, the single things…the tiny pivot points. And God honors their faith, and gives them so much, much more than they would dare believe He could. Little is MUCH when God is in it. May God give me eyes and faith, like that of Andrew…and even more.

“He who is faithful in what is least is faithful also in much; and he who is unjust in what is least is unjust also in much.” Jesus Christ in Luke 16:10

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

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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

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