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
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My Battle with Multiple Slipped Discs

By Vip Ogola

IMG_9650.JPGPetite, Sicily Wangari Mugo walks comfortably into her living room. It is difficult to imagine her ever being unwell. She is straddling the last of her three children, 15 month old Shammah Waiguru on her hip. She hugs us and then sits. Her house manager Sarah comes in for Waiguru and we get right into the interview. “When Sharon, my second child was born through C-Section, my husband had to travel internationally after two weeks. My house manager at that time left suddenly. I am a perfectionist, so I got up, and kept my house in perfect order. I didn’t feel it then, but this marked the beginning of my journey.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photography by: Nash of NaMeD Afrika Studios

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

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

Why Even Pray for Them?

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

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

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

vipslit@yahoo.ca

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

 

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

Thankfully Looking Back 18 Years to the Journey to and after the Birth of my Current Last Born

On a morning like this, 18 years ago, I woke up to keep an appointment with the staff at the Aga Khan Hospital, for my weekly clinic. It had been a difficult nine months. I had been on bed-rest, unable to move without great pain since the fourth month after fainting at the CBD one Wednesday afternoon. I carried with me, the 35kilograms of extra weight, evidence of five months of either sitting or lying around and satisfying my craving for Lasagne and passion fruit juice, along with fries, kebabs and lots of chilly. I had a low blood count and the hospital had asked me to prepare for a transfusion during delivery, which could only be via Caesarian Section.

 

I had no job, having been fired from the one I had, because my boss was also my mentor and was disappointed in the evidence of my fallen state – as this was my second pregnancy as an un-wed mother. He believed my medical appointments with my counsellor, Dr. Paul Wangai, were clandestine attempts to procure an abortion. Besides, being already a young woman in Christian ministry, and he being a mentor of mine in at least one of those ministries in which I served, I could not blame him. He was reacting possibly as a loving father would, on being suddenly confronted with evidence of his daughter’s misadventures. Sins.

 

I almost got another job, but was disqualified before I took on my appointment letter due to the politics of my country, back then. I came from ‘the wrong tribe’, my interviewer told me in great sorrow. He was not from my tribe, and neither was my intended supervisor, but he said that the state had called to request that they don’t hire any more people from my tribe just that morning. I don’t think he was lying, but I have no way of proving this. Anyway, all this, would work for me. I was not going to be able to work for anyone for most of my pregnancy. On my fourth month, as I waited for a bus to take me home from my monthly clinic, I was to faint, and ‘twist something’ as I rolled unconscious towards the road. I was saved by business people, who sold their wares here; most of whom happened to be people living with disabilities. God bless them. It was too painful to move after that…to get up and walk.

 

Still, it was a pregnancy of miracles. It was long before the time of mobile phones. Our house phone rang and on the other end, was my friend. We had not really been in touch for a while and she sounded…exasperated on the other end of the line. She had gone to a phone booth, on God’s instructions, looked through the list of ‘Ogolas’ in the phone book and called each till she got through to me. She said none of the other lines had been picked. She had an urgent issue – ‘I don’t know what this thing is between you and God, He seems to favor you. He asked me to call you, to tell you to bring the list for your baby’s things. Which hospital do you want to have a baby in?” I was shocked. I told her it was okay. I was going to a public hospital because that is what I could afford. She said, ‘no! Tell me which hospital you want to go to, even if its Nairobi. God said it was up to us to cover you.” I again said, am okay where I am. She insisted and I told her that I preferred Aga Khan…she asked how much the clinic money was, and told me to pass by her office the next day. It was her first job after university I think, and it must have been her first month working there. Someday, I will find out the details from her. So that is how an unemployed lady got to attend clinic and finally have her baby in a ‘nice hospital’.

 

The miracles were many: Dr. Wangai attended to me pro borno throughout my pregnancy – he was an expensive and much sought after Counsellor, and doctor and I was humbled by his gesture. God led me to a new church, Glory Tabernacle, led then by Pastor Wale Akinyemi. They taught me to trust God for my needs. They were there for me. Once all the ladies in ministry came home to see me, a baby shower of sorts. One of the Pastors passed by our family house to check on me almost daily, especially when I was not able to attend services. Because of the tension at home, Pastor Wale had offered to pay my rent for the first few months for my children and I. I was not able to take him up on this, due to the complexity of this pregnancy; I needed to be around people. God bless him. I had a list, and each item on that list was miraculously provided for throughout my nine months.

 

Come October 31, 1995. I had been having contractions for most of October. I just wanted to have this baby and rest. My due date was November 2, but I had clinic on November 1. My dear dear Daddy, would take me all the way to Aga Khan every Wednesday morning for my now, weekly clinics. Leave me there to rush and report to work, and then come back and take me back home, before settling in for his Wednesday. This was to be no different. I had not packed my bag because I was tired of asking God to cause the baby to come, every day for the past month or so. So I thought He was planning to let me down again. I painfully got into Daddy’s Peugeot, and we went to Parklands. I enjoyed clinic days. I had made many ‘friends’ there, none of whom I can now recall. But I got in and it became really noisy in a happy way as the chatting began. Daddy left promising to be back for me. The doctor looked and me and said ‘No need to examine you chatter-box, you look and sound fine.” I said to him, “you must since its’ my due date today.” He looked at the card and said, “Yes” as he ushered me in. He examined me and sent me across the road…”You are in labour.” O-o!

 

I ambled like a bear across the road, and went to the reception. I was booked but not paid up for Delivery. But they graciously allowed me through. I took the ramp. Daddy apparently came back for me and was told to look for me across the road. He took the lift and we met as I took my last few steps to the door of the Maternity Ward. He told me I was a strong girl, that it was going to be alright, and that he would come with Mama later to see me. I can’t remember much about the rest of that day, except the pain, the drama, and the fact that I actually really only had intense labour for three hours then they wheeled me to the delivery room. I thought they were making fun of me as I had labored for 16 hours with Leroy. But no, a few minutes, kicks and yells later, at exactly 5:45 pm, Baby Shukurani Aoko was born. O wasn’t she a feisty baby. She had fully developed lungs it seemed and cried and cried for about half an hour, despite my rocking her, until she was humoured [read bribed] with formula. Her name ‘Shukurani’ was an exclamation of my gratitude to God, Who had stood by me as a Faithful God, Father, Friend, Husband, Provider, Comforter….He was Everything I needed Him to be, every step of the journey.

 

He did not stop. Daddy went to pay the bill and had to go back thrice as the accounts department told him I was fully paid up for my three days there. He still paid. I went home and the favor was such that for Shukurani’s first four years, I was busy trying to find people to give cloths, cots, baby stuff. I first bought her a dress at the age of four, and it did not fit. God knew her exact size, and the clothes He sent, always fitted. One day, she and I will write a book on the journey that has been being and mothering Shukurani. But suffice it to say, we have had, daily, many, many more reasons to give thanks, to God and His wonderful people.

 

As she turns 18 today, I have an appointment to keep at her school. She has sent messages that I cannot ignore. I am going. I discovered that God sets the times, and He calls us forward to our appointments, whether or not we are ready. The idea is to believe Him, and show up for the appointment. When we do, we find, He has been waiting for us. Someone needs to hear this today…take the journey, it is not without its complex challenges; but it’s also one you will be glad you did not opt out of. I am.

vipslit@yahoo.ca

 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHUKURANI

 

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