Sprinklings of Joy

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shalom beloved of The LORD.

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

#Reset #IamInHisPresence 

vipslit@yahoo.ca / vipadhiambo@gmail.com

Dissent at The Point of Labor

I saw this picture though, and just smiled to myself. If you know, you know. But the knowing goes beyond physical maternal health; to the spiritual and just about every realm in which we have labored hard, painfully, and too long. Or even shortly, vigorously, with maddening intensity. Our journeys differ. I viewed it with sad humor…both intense – the sadness and the humor. I remembered being in labor after several months of pregnancy…each with its own story for another day. Each a miracle, just to get to that point of birthing, because science had emphasized that I would never be able to have children. Twice. (And… are currently trying again to prevent it from ever happening again, because of ‘matters arising’ and the miracle of a cycle that has refused to submit to the natural wear and tear of some decades and a half 😇😉🙃)

But…I will handle this from a spiritual perspective. We carry a divine conception…first that we could be chosen to be Family with The Living God…His Bride, His Children, His Brothers…IS in itself miraculous. [ok…here…I ‘dissolve myself’ in ululations directed at The Throne and The ETERNAL Occupant.] Oh that always is a thrill for me. Then that…HE COULD TRUST YOU AND ME…knowing how we are…could trust us with ANYTHING Kingdom… BUT THAT HE DOES. AMAZING STUFF. So incredulous that the ‘company of witnesses’ that know us well, or think they do from the bits and pieces of us they have been witness to, vigorously fight the call. NO. NO. NO. This CANNOT BE GOD – they say…etc. etc. And when we sit back sometimes and think of it, for what it costs us, where The Wind that is God blows us sometimes…to land in excruciating, perplexing places…we concur, a little bit, with the chorus of the unbelieving.

We are on delivery beds – our feet strapped us to enforce a stillness that would allow for God now to be God. To proclaim Life or Death. And we wiggle free, seeking the comfort we knew before the conception…seeking to be free…unencumbered…because we fast forget at such times…how the burdensome the journey before this time was….

We try to pack our bags…but we forget that the company of those we knew previously are now faded from the spotlight…and in their stead, according to The Wisdom of The Commander of Heaven’s hosts, are a faithful heavenly Maternal Health Support group, including Himself – our ETERNAL BABY DADDY…ready to help you through and past this final push. They bring us, sometimes not so gently, back to that place of stillness. Our feet strapped up, and what we hide from everyone else, open to all witnesses – ONLY in this place of birthing. A select group of witnesses. Active witnesses. Mostly positive witnesses. What are trying to run from, because it is suddenly too uncomfortable to step forward. Yield and hang up your feet to The Hands of God. We will get through this.

Shalom.

“But My righteous one will live by faith; and if he shrinks back, I will take no pleasure in him.” BUT WE ARE NOT OF THOSE WHO SHRINK BACK AND ARE DESTROYED, BUT OF THOSE WHO HAVE FAITH AND PRESERVE THEIR SOULS.“
Hebrews 10:38-39

*No rights to this picture btw.

vipslit@yahoo.ca / vipadhiambo@gmail.com

BROKEN HEELS AND MORTALLY WOUNDED HEADS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shalom.

vipslit@yahoo.ca / vipadhiambo@gmail.com

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

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

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

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

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

AMPC

God…Seemingly

Sometimes…we look down on a person because of our seemingly elevated positions above them…and God remains seemingly silent…unmoved by their pain even.

Sometimes we betray them, [and because they are spirit too they know it] because we sit in forums where it seems okay to break their confidences and twist what we know about them in the worst ways possible…and God remains seemingly silent…seemingly unmoved by their pain even.

Sometimes…we reward their smiles with scorn because something happened in our lives and another in theirs that sets us up as seemingly superior. Sometimes…we are privileged to see their need…even of us…and we gleefully walk away…because that is the plan with those that we know hate them…and it seems that we are LOVED BECAUSE THEY ARE HATED…like we are RICHER BECAUSE THEY ARE POORER… like we are IN BETTER BECAUSE THEY ARE AT THE BOTTOM…where we believe they will stay forever. We keep our ties with them…because we are determined to do ALL WE CAN to keep them at a disadvantage, because we SINCERELY ARE CONVICTED that their DOOM IS FOR OUR GLORY…

And God remains seemingly silent…seemingly approving by this posture, of our antiques…seemingly unmoved by their pain and our relentless onslaught over them.

I wonder sometimes…why we waste our energies, beating at those that we are TRULY CONVICTED CAN NEVER RISE FROM THE POSITION IN WHICH THEY ARE BURIED. Us and our company. Are we really convinced of what we tell ourselves over them…or is our back and forth, to collect information by which they can be kept down, also a sign that we don’t TRULY BELIEVE that ANYTHING can keep them down permanently, and we hope that they are fooled enough by our smiles, and fake geniality towards them, that in their EVENTUAL rising and TRANSFIGURATION, we would have carved ourselves a position as their ONLY FRIEND?

They know…. they know…from their position beneath us…they are better placed to see our nakedness…and it’s probably the filth they see…and smell, or the fact that God lies there with them…holding them still…that they too remain silent…and allow us to go as far as we believe we can…as we stand over them.

God seems silent, unmoved, uncommunicative, powerless, unloving…far removed today…

But CAN HE REALLY BE?

Shalom.

vipslit@yahoo.ca / vipadhiambo@gmail.com

AFTER I AM WORN OUT – THE FALLACY OF ASSOCIATING INCREASED AGE WITH DECREASED BEAUTY

I want to start this with a disclaimer: Although in my youthful days, I may have felt, and perhaps honestly looked like a full-stop in the company of…about all my female friends, I don’t think I was that bad to behold. In fact, I think I was beautiful too. At the end of the sentence/line, but beautiful too. Don’t protest – I know who my friends were and how they looked. Exquisite. The truth though, is that I did not feel beautiful. Not really. I was going through a lot then as well, that did not really affirm me – and although I thankfully, took many, many photographs…it was mainly because I believed I looked far better in them than I did in real life. I am extremely photogenic. Without filters. Extremely…so when you look at a photo of me, especially on a ‘good day’, and you are perhaps thinking, if you are male, of directing our association another way, please…ask God to lend you His ALL-SEEING EYES for a minute . Ahem. I actually look much better from His perspective.

I will be back to me, but let me talk about a lady that has totally inspired me. Sarah Abraham – the matriarch of Israel. Both the half-sister and wife of Abraham. A beautiful woman. Barren in the days when she was considered a great beauty…until perhaps past her 70s. A woman who kings could kill to try elevate to the role of their Queen. Today though, God led me to her story in Genesis 17-18. Just before her story changed. I don’t know if in her youth, despite being constantly reminded of just how exquisite she was by her fearful husband, Sarah ever felt beautiful. She fell short in perhaps the perceptively key role of a woman in her day – that of being a mother. She elevated another woman into her marriage; a young, probably not as beautiful woman to surrogate her divine role in the foundations of her nation, and this woman and later her offspring, mocked her for being infertile. She must have known she was beautiful…and fearfully loved by the most important male, pre-Isaac, in her life. I don’t know if post-Hagar, Abraham lost his vigor and awe at the beauty of Sarah…the passion by which he had placed her in a pedestal from which he would knock her off and hide her identity at the whiff of a threat (O…Abraham and I will probably have to have a candid conversation over this one in eternity. This is one of the stories that absolutely traumatizes me in the scriptures…but well…let me not stray here.) Sarah thinks something here [Genesis 18:12] that just broke my heart today…and probably God’s in her day: ““AFTER I AM WORN OUT and my lord is old, will I now have this pleasure?” [NIV] HOW NOW? How could she think God Who had just changed her name to put it in Caps would be limited in fulfilling His promises to her, because of some human standard….? BECAUSE GOD – she did get that pleasure AGAIN. In spite of looking worn out, to herself. God You Are Good!

Back to me as I cease tearing down at Sarah and Abraham. Last Sunday, God dressed me up to attend Service at one of our local assemblies. I looked resplendent in Ivory. [Ok, some would say I was in white…but strictly speaking I was in a light ivory]. We had a prayer meeting to pre-dedicate our church sanctuary in the afternoon. After this powerful assembling of God’s people, I passed by our ‘local grocery’ to pick milk and bread and just browse through the aisles and plan for ‘next time I had money to shop’. An ‘old, old man’ [my extremely wounded perspective] approached me smiling as though we knew each other from somewhere. With my memory these days, it is possible we did. Anyway, when he was close to me he said to me with a dark smile “You are my agemate. Yes, you, you. You are my real agemate and we shall soon retire together.” I was…many things…at that exact moment…none of them good…but I probably presented him with a blank but calm look that belied the sudden increased turmoil inside me, and simultaneously decided that his drama could not afford to finance and heal me from the effects of a sudden hypertensive crisis. I walked away. Bemused. When I got to the cashier, a very young girl I asked her “Do I look old?” She was astounded and asked me “Why?” I told her about the ‘old, old man’ I had encountered along the aisles…she did not even smile. She looked at me and said to me. “No. You are beautiful. And you do not look old. That man probably was dealing with his own issues, so forget him.” I cant say I was sufficiently comforted by her words…because his words still rang louder in my mind. And…just…the…wondering why anyone could be that cruel to a stranger… Then I decided he must have been a demon made manifest to move me from the beautiful day I had just had. This comforted me as my thoughts went back to how God had showed up for us.

Still, every time I have seen myself since, particularly through the lenses of my phone camera, I have wondered why I look so old. Perhaps I met with a wizard who cast a spell on me. Not nice. Perhaps, it’s because this year begun, and has prevailed for me with a thoroughly broken heart and it’s probably showing on my face, though it [the heartache] has become for me, one of my closest companions. I don’t know…rejection can cloud one’s lenses, right? But I have been extra critical of myself, even more, since. Not very honoring to God The Artist Who created me. Right? I repent.

Suddenly it hit me – just a few minutes ago: So what? Why would it bother me whether I looked young or old? What would God want for me, that I would be barred from, based on how I or others assessed me with regard to my looks? Why have I associated youth with beauty and age with…errr…less beauty (let’s not even think that word please )? 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.

Shalom my friend.

PS: I shared this post with my daughter and my 8-year old grandson. When I came back to the room they watched me awhile, smiling then:

Gio: Dani is not old. Sindiyo Mami? She is young.

Shukri: No Baba…Dani is not young.

Gio: I actually meant that her youth has been renewed, isn’t that right Mami?

Shukri: Yes, yes, yes Papa. That is accurate.

Dani (me) opens her arms and Gio rushes into them with a huge hug. We hold onto each other for about a minute. I dont know if its just me, but there is something about the hug of a child you love, that…strengthens one. Gio does that for me.

Shukri: Dani. You are beautiful. But you also look really sad these days. Dont worry about it though…it will pass. It will be well. It will be okay. Soon.

Dani: (holding back my tears) Amen dear. Amen. This too shall pass.

vipslit@yahoo.ca / vipadhiambo@gmail.com

Jewelry by Shanga na Kanga Designs

The Divine Marriage Story: To Be Handled in Maturity

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shalom.

vipslit@yahoo.ca

In The Image and Likeness of God

When you realize, that you are not defined by what happened, what you did, what they did to you, what you or someone else said, your grades, your job or absence of one, your debts or affluence, your marital status (or statuslessness ), your house (or homelessness), your dress-code (or nakedness), your squares, triangles or circles, your health status, who talks to you or who snubs you, who loves or who hates you, how shabbily or honorably they treated you, etc: you forgive all these because THEY WERE PERCEIVED OUTSIDE THE MIND AND WORD OF GOD.

Sarah laughed when God stated that He saw her as mother of nations. She was old and barren from her perspective and that of others, had even forgotten (sic) the pleasure of the process that proffers hope towards motherhood . But God. He lifted her to that state where she shed her old robes, opened up ‘the ancient gates’, received the seed in pleasure, birthed Laughter (the name ‘Isaac’ means ‘he laughs’) and enjoyed this joy for the rest of her life. Jesus moves legs when we conform to His Mind regarding us…and that’s one true miracle.

Remember the man by the waters. He too lay defined amiss by the illusion of his circumstances – for 38 years. But God. Through Jesus Christ showed up and did not scurry about stirring ANYTHING. He simply told him to pack his stuff and walk. Because He saw the man as he had always been – with legs that moved. And when He raised this man to His perspective, the man realized who he was in his image in God’s Eyes. He stood up knowing that in Christ, those ancient legs would carry him wherever God led him. He wasn’t healed then…it has ALWAYS been so with him. But his un-redeemed mind pointed to the illusion of experience, that was outside The Truth of God.

He raises you to meet His Eyes, and you see yourself as He ALWAYS has AND ALWAYS WILL – HIS IMAGE AND LIKENESS. There is no greater triumph – He is not rushing about to remake you or provide for you in panic and distress. He did it from the beginning of time…and Then, He rested. As will you. In Him. Will you believe Him? Will I?

Shalom

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#JusticeinJune#AlwaysinGodsImage#Indefilable#TheLORDISmyShepherd#ConversationsWithMySister#PackupAndLeave#StumbledIntoEternalTruths#HeMovedMyFeet

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

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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)

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