Posts tagged God

The danger of the single story perspective of your life

The single story.
It was the holiday season. The sun had set and evening calm descended upon the neighbourhood. The campus boys in the compound behind weren’t playing obnoxiously loud music. There hadn’t been any football matches during the day either; football matches that often sent their ball flying into our compound which, depending on the mood of our dogs, were licked, deflated or ignored.
My mum and elder sister were the only ones in the house with me. We were at the dinning table, probably one of those days when mum had just gotten back and we were gisting while she ate her dinner. It was a slow evening so I hadn’t told Emil to switch on the generator yet.
The soft glow from the solar-powered lamp illuminated the white walls.
The subject of our conversation must’ve flowed around perspectives for I ran upstairs to fetch my mini-laptop.
I remember setting it down on the table and clicking on Chimamanda’s Ted talk – “The danger of the single story.” – for both of them to watch.
I remember the pride that soared in my heart as Chimamanda’s steady and knowing voice filled the silence in the house.
Chimamanda’s talk on the single story is acclaimed one of the most-widely watched ted talks on youtube with 3.7 million views.
What was she saying in that talk?
How do I summarise that brilliance into a few lines here? I’d rather quote excerpts and urge you to watch the video here:

“I come from a conventional middle-class Nigerian family, and so we had, as was the norm, live-in domestic help who would often come from nearby rural villages. So the year I turned eight, we got a new houseboy. His name was Fide. The only thing my mother told us about him was that his family was very poor. And when I didn’t finish my dinner, my mother would say, finish your food, don’t you know people like Fide’s family have nothing? So I felt enormous pity for Fide’s family.
But one Saturday, we went to his village to visit, and his mother showed us a beautifully patterned basket, made of dyed raffia, that his brother had made. I was startled. All I had heard about them was how poor they were, so that it had become impossible for me to see them as anything else but poor. Their poverty was my single story of them.”

She also tells of her previous single story opinion of Mexicans.
Also, her roommates disposition to her when she was 19 and new in the U.S.

If I had not grown up in Nigeria, and if all I knew about Africa were from popular images, then I too would think that Africa was a place of beautiful landscapes, beautiful animals and incomprehensible people fighting senseless wars, dying of poverty and AIDS, unable to speak for themselves, and waiting to be saved by a kind, white foreigner. I would see Africans in the same way that I as a child had seen Fide’s family

…all of these stories make me who I am but to insist on only these negative stories is to flatten my experience and overlook the many other stories that form me. The single story creates stereotypes, and the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue but they are incomplete, they make one story become the only story”

Why am I bringing this up?
It’s easy for anyone on my campus fellowship who knows me as a spirit-filled sister to think all that there is to me is something fellowship-related once I’m through with classes. It’s easy for them to think I have no opinion on politics or assume I don’t read novels. assumptions.
It’s easy for someone to view the president of my fellowship as spiritkoko and not know that he likes football, a whole lot at that, or that the P.R.O of the fellowship has a sister who models in the U.S. I’m just painting a picture. We have lives, full lives. Those lives are often viewed through the lenses of sister and brother sososo, that’s okay once your lenses admit that generally, everyone is an human being and Jesus is happy about that.
Not the single story of ”I only see X in fellowship, and X is a student, therefore brother X is made up of classes and fellowship time”.
Single story. The danger of this single story is that brother X starts to live an insecure and people-conscious life.

“…The single story creates stereotypes, and the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue but they are incomplete, they make one story become the only story”

Essentially, you must know everyone is a person and persons are subject to idiosyncrasies and a full world of ideas and passions. That your prayer secretary may be nursing the ambition to be the next governor of Oyo state(and it might not make him any less spiritual than if he’d been hoping to be the next missionary). Everyone is a person and Jesus loves them like that, Jesus planted a huge number of those passions in their hearts and Jesus is happy to see them bloom. Jesus doesn’t think they should only pray in fellowship. Jesus supports your vice-president going to the gym.
I believe when you accept it about yourself, you’re able to accept it about others too. Then you’ll stop feeling quite ashamed when someone you’ve mentored spiritually discovers you do something other than study and pray. I was self-conscious for a while until God helped me out of it.
Or worse still, you’ll stop feeling ashamed when someone knows a member of your family isn’t born again. I mean, what? Shame?
Dear friend, live, breathe, bloom, blossom. You’re more than one perspective. The single story is just that, – single.
Tell your own story. Be your own person. Own your story.

so that is how to create a single story, show a people as one thing, as only one thing over and over again, and that is what they become”.

What do you think? Care to share?

Freedom and light,
Debby

INVESTIGATIVE JOURNALISM; THE Bible Story of Simon The Pharisee And Jesus.

In the council meeting on Thursday, Simon’s resolve grew stronger. He’d always nursed the thought in his heart, that this Jesus could be the real deal, and if he was but another fake prophet and rabbi, he deserved to be heard at the very least. To be investigated. He rapidly tapped his left foot against the ground as excitement filled him.
It was the forbidden fruit all over again – restricted areas always have awoken the greatest curiosity. His sister, Ruth, would prepare a befitting meal and Jesus would stop over at his place before leaving Nain, he had it all figured out.
Delighted, he was tempted to laugh aloud but restrained himself. Supressing his glee, he tuned in once again to the discussion at hand, the Pharisees council of Nain always had been such a heated group of people for a small village 32km southwest of Capernaum.
”…he just wants the crowd!” Someone was saying
and oh are they following him. Jesus of Nazareth” another scoffed.
he supports the baptizer, John! And openly claimed he would eat, drink and be a friend to the tax collectors. Tax collectors! What kind of teacher of the law speaks in that manner?”
Simon couldn’t stop himself from venturing the other side, ”but haven’t you heard he healed the widow’s son as they all left the village mourning. Surely the man is worth knowing-”
we have known ENOUGH. I heard all he had to say once he made mention of John. Surely this one also thinks he is the messiah. Woe betide us, all men are now the chosen one of David’s race, all men are now the messiah
And the murmurs of discontent increased.


Food had been passed and wine served. The meal was nearing completion and Jesus seemed in good spirits. Simon’s alert eyes had noticed his every move, down to the very first fact that his disciples ate without a thorough washing. He stored each detail in mind ready to tell the others. Surely, this man was a prophet, speaking boldly the truth contained in the law.
A pleasant smell filled Simon’s nostrils. In the cacophony of noises as Bartholomew told a story and the men laughed, Simon knew when the masculine smell was infiltrated by a fragrance; a fragrance as appealing as it was disturbing for reasons he couldn’t place his hands on yet, – a forbidden fragrance. Alarmed, he looked up just in time to see the sinner.
He almost swore. In his house!
Almost at once, the male-dominated crowd quietened and most eyes fell on the woman while the remainder fell on him – passing a message, ”do something.”
But Simon remained rooted on the floor where he sat. He was bewildered that such a sinner woman had even braved entering uninvited in the first place.
Simon’s eyes popped wide as she fell at Jesus’ feet. Her cream coloured cloth lifted with the wind and settled after her as she crouched behind Jesus.
Holy indignation filled Simon. Didn’t Jesus care what he and others thought of him? Didn’t Jesus know that he, Simon, was the only Pharisee to have extended him a warm hand in Nain, and he dared act like a sinner with this woman, this infidel!
His pulse throbbed and he gripped the end of the table cloth to rein in his anger.
The scent of fragrant perfume filled the house, as an alabaster box broke, it overpowered the combined smell of the food, masculinity and even her own fragrance that had previously filled the air.
The other men around the house stood to gain a clearer picture, some gasping.
Her heavy sobs pierced the silence. Each sound of the sob fuelled the inferno burning in Simon, no prostitute or beggar or tax collector had stepped foot in his house right since he’d lived there and in the one day this Jesus came, his house became unclean with this terrible sinner.
He couldn’t help the regret that gnawed at him, he’d been forewarned, Jesus was nothing but an impostor, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Surely a prophet would’ve known what sort of woman touched him; even a beggar would’ve known!
Jesus, hearing Simon’s thoughts as clear as day, chose to speak to him. In the many pairs of eyes that followed him, Jesus knew exactly where to look. His eyes found Simon’s and with a levelled gave he spoke. ”Simon,’
Teacher.” teacher. That word still befitted the man for reasons Simon couldn’t place. The fire burning in him began to die and Simon knew he needed to keep that anger.
I have something to tell you.’‘ Jesus said and Simon nodded.
A man loaned money to two people—500 pieces of silver to one and 50 pieces to the other. But neither of the men could repay him after. The man was kind enough to cancel their debts. Now who do you think will love him the most?”
Simon didn’t need to think hard, his heart fluttered and he felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach. Shame took hold of where anger had been. ”I suppose the one who had been forgiven the largest debt
Whatever stone had sank was lodged there at the pit of his stomach and for the first time in many years, Simon knew he wasn’t as pure as he’d always thought.
“That’s right,” Jesus said. Then he turned to the woman and said to Simon, “Look at this woman kneeling here. When I entered your home, you didn’t offer me water to wash the dust from my feet,’‘ Rejection wrapped round Simon, Jesus was right. The night air became cold, all laughter and feasting from earlier on, forgotten. Of course, it was proper custom to offer guests water for washing their feet. He hadn’t been after honouring Jesus at all, so he neglected that.
”… but she has washed them with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You didn’t greet me with a kiss, but from the time I first came in, she has not stopped kissing my feet.”
Simon broke inside. He saw for the first time what he had never seen in his many years of being a Pharisee, in his years of laying heavy rules on people while priding in his own obedience to the law. Light shone and he saw himself for who he really was.
…You neglected the courtesy of olive oil to anoint my head, but she has anointed my feet with rare perfume. I tell you, her sins—and yes, they are many—have been forgiven, so she has shown me much love. But a person who is forgiven little shows only little love.”
Turning to the woman, “Your sins are forgiven. Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”
The men at the table said among themselves, “Who is this man, that he goes around forgiving sins?”
But Simon looking at Jesus now thought in his contrite heart, ”forgive me my 500-silver-coin-worth of many sins Lord. I need to love you more for I am a sinful man”.



A person who believes they haven’t sinned like the cultist has, is rarely ever repentant. Like Simon, they skip the real details of honour, they forget to wash and annoint his feet.
You only love him to the degree you’ve come to realize your former depravity and the magnitude of his love and grace in forgiving you.

some people tell me I take this Jesus thing a little too seriously, I tell them, I guess he took me pretty seriously when he chose to be nailed to a cross for me’

The lyrics of a certain song goes thus:
‘why should I care what people say? They don’t know what you mean to me”.
You can lavish your love on Jesus when you understand the great depths he went to save you; when you realize you’re the one who owed a employee’s daily wage for 500days and deserved to be locked in utter darkness but he forgave you.
*P.S: The events of this story could have taken place at Capernaum and not Nain. Commentators are not sure where this event took place.
P.S.S: if you liked this post, you may like this on the violent storm too.
Tell us your thoughts…

Much love,
Debby.

Hello Strong Friend.

Hello precious people. Welcome back to this space. How’s life going? I really want to know, feel free to ramble away on how life is going in the comment box. I also advise you learn to journal some of your thoughts down, it helps to analyze your feelings. I don’t do so everyday but for the days that I do, it’s amazing.
Today, I’m sharing part of what I wrote down last year and I was suprised to re-read this year.
I wrote this sometimes last year:

God, I want to cry.
I so want to cry that I can’t type. I just want to cry on someone. For being so strong for so long, I want to cry. I just want to cry for everyday that’s gone by. I want to cry.
My lecturer cried in class today and it’s broken something inside of me, I just want to cry.
I got to IVCU fellowship office today, and in the outer office, I heard some of my friends’ voices inside. I didn’t want to go in because I would have to be strong in front of them.
Since when did that start? Friends you can’t cry in front of?
Friends you can’t break your walls in front of.
Am I like that to other people?

The structure of my campus fellowship’s office is basic: you step into a room, call it your reception area. Then there’s a door leading to a store by your right. Still in the ‘reception’ area, there’s a door in front of you that leads to what we often refer to as “the inner office” or inner court (in reference to the Jewish temple).
The walls are made of thin wood, and it’s really just dividing one big office. You can understand that the voices carry.
The context: That day, my lecturer had cried in class and it surprised me, surprised everyone. But it did something more to me, it made me want to cry. I had something to do at my fellowship immediately after my class and I hadn’t cried yet 😀.
Discussion: It’s alright if I didn’t want to break down in front of more than one person but the real issue was the thought that flashed by my mind making me think I had to be strong in front of people.
Strong. Strong? Who is strong please? Such a relative word. Truth is there is more strength in vulnerability than in ‘bold face’.

Since when did that start? Friends you can’t cry in front of?
Friends you can’t break your walls in front of.
Am I like that to other people?

The real question was whether I had friends who would turn away rather than cry in front of me. I’m not talking of general acquaintances. The few and deliberate friends.

Cornelius Lindsey, I referred to him in this blog post, put this picture up on instagram. A part of his caption says:

“To be the strong friend is a desirable position because it means you’re valuable and useful.
Unfortunately strength turns to weakness when it’s used without rest and replenishment. That’s why it’s important for strong friends to have true friends who s/he can be honest with when asked “HOW ARE YOU?”
So strong friend, don’t hide behind pride! Answer honestly for your own sake. I know you help others, but you need help too.”

It’s got two aspects. Check on your strong friends selflessly.
Two, allow yourself to be checked on. Don’t turn back. Go in. No pride allowed here.
There’s a saying that goes:

“Good friends never let their friends cry alone”.

I tell my friends ‘make me a good friend please, don’t cry alone’. Na beg I beg.
A problem shared is a problem half solved. Be deliberate about your friends. Don’t just let friendship happen to you. “We’re in the same group, so we’re friends; we work together, so we’re friends“. That’s cool on a surface level but you must have friends you can tell the brutal truth. Brutal, being the emphasis.
My message to you: Choose your friends, then trust them.

Truthfully,
Debby.
Go on ahead, how are you doing?

In Memorial of the Nigerians who have been carelessly lost.

I have so much in my heart but I cannot write them down.
But I know that my blog has this space of memorial service for those that have fallen in recent times. This is a part of my prayer on Thursday, 28th of June, 2018:


I’m grieving. Grieving. Today, Lord, marks something serious in our lives as Nigerians.
We’re still mourning the Jos killings and Bodija Ibadan killings came upon us, then the Lagos tragedy.
Too much blood shed. Too much. Lord, we’re bleeding. Lord, we’re begging. Lord, we’re saying have your way. Our hearts are heavy. This is not the nation you created, not the Nigeria you spoke into existence. A lot has gone wrong. Terribly wrong.
Lord, in this time let many not lose their faith in you. Let them not mourn and doubt you. Let orphans not think you wicked. Let teenagers not turn to alcoholism and prostitution. Let widows and widowers not despair. Help pastors to comfort and exhort. Help the average man volunteer. Lord teach us to give, teach us to open our homes and purses and hearts to those ones in need.
Lord, teach us to give our prayers, time, money and effort to making Nigeria better. Please, guide us with your eyes. Instruct us in the way to go about taking deliberate and purposive actions in Jesus name I pray.
As always,
Debby

Beating Addictions; How to get out of despondency.

  1. The loss of hope or confidence;despair or dejection.
  2. A feeling of depression ordisheartenment.



In this Christian race, how can we help each other? Scripture says to encourage one another while it is called today.
I genuinely want to help.
Addictions make you sink yet it’s cuts across almost everybody in one area or the other. Who would’ve thought self control to be a life saver? But it is.
That’s because it’s a fruit of the spirit. Galatians 5:22.

But the spirit produces Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, faithfulness, Humility, and Self-Control. There is no law against things such as these.

When you’re unable to apply self-control to that thing you do, you get addicted. Even to the littlest of things.
Addictions are almost always crippling and that’s because day 1, you make up your mind to beat/stop it but it doesn’t work. Day 2, you have a firmer resolve but in spite of it, you fall, even harder. Day 3, ahem. Day 4, why?! By day 5, the depression sets in.
If with all that effort, it doesn’t go away, what can deliver you? And you ask this not as one who’s never experienced the tremendous power of God. You have. That’s why you called on him for this addiction but no result.
You’re choking on the addiction. You’re losing your sense of what is right and wrong. You may randomly even wonder if the Christian life is for you or for some other fire guys. The walls are fast closing in.
When I despaired once, the scripture I kept replaying in my mind was :
Psalm 34: 6 (English Standard Version)

This poor man cried, and the LORD heard him and saved him out of all his troubles

I just knew- I just did, – that if I cried, he would hear me because its written in the scriptures. That was it. It was written, so I believed. It was my only hope.
So what do you often do when you despair?
Let your heart cry out to him and hold on to that rope of hope. Just hold on. Hold.
Ecclesiastes 9: 4 (New Living Translation)

There is hope only for the living. As they say, “It’s better to be a live dog than a dead lion!”

See? God’s word is the hope we have to find hope in the worst of times.
Sometimes its an eclipse; that’s why its all dark. His word says joy comes in the morning. It will surely come. Has his word said it? That’s all. Confess the word of God that you’ve read. Reach out to a friend to pray with/for you. Just open your mouth and speak to God about how awful everything is.
It will rain.You can be certain of that. And you would be stronger for it when you rise. Your faith would’ve built up some muscles.
Let your heart reach out to him. Hold on to your hope.
Ps 36: 4(New Living Translation)

In my desperation I prayed, and the LORD listened; he saved me from all my troubles.

And my e-mail address is always open for discussions.


What has been your story on losing or finding hope? Struggling with addictions?
Hope and Light,
Debby.

Privileged generation

Hiii guys. I penned this down on 26th of March 2018.
18:03.
I hope you learn a thing or two.


Those you flock around determine who you will turn out to be in a few years.
First point I want to discuss is that we’re a privileged generation. Ife Grace-Dada wrote something once and I agree with her(check out her blog and fb page, she’s a committed Christian writer). Paraphrase: Ask most young christians and you would see that their best ministers are mostly those whose churches they’ve never stepped foot into.
Following this premise, it applies to most areas of life, that the people who inspire you may be those you’ve never had to meet in person yet in a certain aspect you consider them lit!
Some parents and grand-parents may never understand this. 😊 and some do.
Sometimes you follow such people on social media and imitate them as they imitate Christ, or learn a thing or two about decent human behaviour.
Personally, I have someone who inspires me with her simplicity, decent fashion, and her knowledge of God’s word.
There’s someone else whose confidence and openness in sharing her love for God, inspires me.
I think it helps when you don’t just wildly envision who you want to be in a few years time, but when you consciously take steps that propel you in that direction. You surround yourselves with people of that sort. Association works.
Before long, even if you didn’t grow up in a home that projected that virtue, you’re conscious that your dressing should be neat, smart and project Christ; not done haphazardly. You become conscious of other people’s feelings, you empathise. You learn some biblical truth you previously didn’t know.
What am I really advocating for with this post?
Reach beyond your immediate world. Don’t just chat away your internet time; you can know more about gardening through your instagram friend living someplace other than where you are, you can understand the arguments for home-schooling through twitter, you can access in-depth bible exposition through facebook, or you can learn about the precision and neatness of the Swiss through reading. You can be an all-rounder.
Janice James said:

‘I’ve travelled the world twice over,
Met the famous saints and sinners,
Poets and artists, king and queens,
Old stars and hopeful beginners,
I’ve been where no-one’s been before, learned secrets from writers and cooks
All with one library ticket
To the wonderful world of books”

You have no excuse for not knowing beyond what’s in your immediate surroundings. So many instruments at your disposal.
Remember: privileged generation.
p.s: I hope no one is saying why should I bother knowing about home-schooling and gardening? Okay o. Okay.

A Fresh Perspective of Heaven!

Hiii Precious people. Debby here again.😊 I’d love to know some more about my silent blog readers. If you won’t comment, make efforts to say hi by using the ‘get in touch’ option in the drop down menu Enjoy this read on heaven.

Something divinely inspired always leaves a trail in its wake. You know in the subsequent years that it was no ordinary act.
This is my line of thought as regards this song “ijoba orun“. I guess most Nigerians know the song I’m referring to. It’s a Yoruba song which reigned some seven or eight years ago. It was so popular, and almost everywhere you went someone’s phone rang and it was their ringtone.
It was also the cliché choreography music for children and teenagers in every church. It was everywhere. It spoke to us all.
I listened to the song some minutes ago and I still am as I type this. This is a link to it on YouTube to refresh your spirit.
It reminds me wholly of two messages I listened to last week preached by Pastor Sarah Omakwu, Senior pastor of Family worship Center, Abuja (Messages one and two). She emphasised in both messages how the subject of heaven is rarely ever a topic in our Sunday messages anymore. Heaven is a beauty. It’s our reward as faithful chrisrians, its our place. It’s where I aspire to. I don’t just want dominion here on earth, I also want to reign with Jesus in heaven. You know what scripture passage best exemplifies this?

1corinthians 15:19 “if in this world only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men to be pitied”

It means if all our Christianity would do for us is grant us victory down here on earth, we’re the most miserable of all men. We go through so much for that to be all. I don’t just have financial victory and physical health, some unbelievers achieve that. I have hope beyond here! And so do you as a Christian. I have hope beyond here!
A great crown of glory awaits me in heaven. It’s my habour. It’s where I get to have the beautiful and engaging conversations I love to have, and it will be with Abraham, and Daniel and Deborah. It’s the place where I see Jesus.
I think we must never lose touch of home. That’s why it’s home. When you’ve lost touch, it’s no longer home. When it’s no longer the place of your best memories, when you don’t have loved ones there, it’s not home. Heaven is my home. I’m only an ambassador on here, this is temporary and I must not lose sight of that.

Matthew 6:19 (New International Version)

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal.”

God bless the music artist(Lara George) that composed that song. Listen to it again, will you?
What do you think?
Peace and love,
Debby.

The abolitionists did a good work?

He that gathereth not with me, scattereth abroad.
I had just completed viewing the movie – AMAZING GRACE and I couldn’t but think about the countless number of times Christians sing the hymn without knowing it’s history. It’s a song borne in the deep throes of slavery; a song also of bravery; and importantly, a song of surrender to God.
I’d write a recommendation blog post for the movie soon. It’s a true life story.
Wilberforce surrendered to God. ‘Old man’ did too.
The movie inspires the viewer to be better. To do better. To be brave, to fight for the voiceless around them. Most of all, to GIVE for causes worth giving for. I moved to shut down my laptop so I can work on rearranging my books, then I saw my screensaver. On it was displayed a scripture passage. This:

Anyone who is not for me is really against me; anyone who does not help me gather is really scattering.” Matthew 12:30.

The great feat accomplished in that movie as regards slave trade was only on account of Wilberforce’s partnership with God.
I once read a book on the abolition of slave trade which has some reflection in that regard. So then when you read of it all, know that some of those who played vital roles did that when they chose to ‘gather’ with God.
No matter what I do friends, no matter what it is, once I do it in my own strength, once I don’t do it with God (even if I’m not deliberately out against him), what I really am doing is against him. If I don’t gather with him, what I’m doing is scattering.
Scattering. I can advocate a million times on this blog for right living in hopes that somehow I’m changing one person’s mind-set, of which if just one person gets changed all of the time I put up a post, we may indeed discover we have a better world. But then, if I advocate for right manners, human compassion, human rights, all outside of the one in whom all things consist, I’m scattering.
Scattering. If I speak the tongues of a thousand angels and have not love I’m like a clanging cymbal*.
Love. What is love? Is it speaking up against slave trade? Talking about genocide?
GOD IS LOVE. His will is that all these things which I want to stop, indeed stop. But if I advocate for all these things(synonymous with having the tongue of angels) without God who is love, it equals to ”clanging cymbal”. And how I’d hate for this blog to be just another source of noise. Screeching, grating, awful noise to the hears of the God of all flesh. Just a clanging cymbal in the grand scheme of things.
Friends, clothe yourself with compassion and seek to be a better person, but any betterment you aim for outside of Christ; you’re scattering the very things he’s gathering. Otherwise put, you’re doing the reverse of your good works because all he does, are good works, and all he’s ever done before you were conceived is good works.
My submission: let everything you do be in him. What does that mean? Let him be the boss of you. If he says no concerning decision A, it’s no. If he says yes to decision B, it’s yes. To know for sure what he says no to and what he says yes to, you need to study the scriptures.
I, for one, am not out to scatter. Nor to be another source of noise. I’m out for real change, and that, through this blog.
I pray none of my blog readers, scatters. Lets gather with him. Team up with him. Follow him.
Let’s continually affirm that ”Jesus, you’re the boss”.
*1 Corinthians 13:1. AMP
If I can speak in the tongues of men and even of angels, but have not love(that reasoning, intentional, spiritual, devotion such as is inspired by God’s love for and in us), I am only a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.
With great love,
Debby.
What do you think? Ever read about the abolition? P.S I reviewed a book on slavery in Africa here.

Casual Catch up

Hello people.
How are you on this side? I’m well. I couldn’t put up a post last week because I was on an easter outreach at Benin republic. Read about it here.
I could’ve roamed my sim card, but there’s no use browsing at all during an outreach. Let’s focus on winning souls for Christ.
I had earlier tried to schedule a post but it didn’t work out.
I’m on my way right now to another outreach. This one is a medical outreach which holds once a month. It’s a return trip.
How have I been? Very well.
You? I’ll love to hear in the comment section.
Nothing much for today, this is only a casual blog post chat.
A life well lived as someone said isn’t just one that fulfils purpose but one that leads others to fulfil purpose.
One thing I know is when you are fulfilling your own purpose, you’re in a sense leading others to fulfil their purposes. There’s so much distraction today and when we find that one person dogged in their vision, we are motivated to keep to ours too.
In other words, be the best verion of yourself that you can be. Shine that light.
P.s: This is one of my shortest blog posts ever(I really don’t know why I often write epistles). Which should lead you to reading previous blog posts that you’ve missed by scrolling through the categories at the top of the page.
Warmest regards,
Debby.

Sleeping Jesus, Bleeding Professional.


Matt 8:24-27 CJB
Then, without warning, a furious storm arose on the lake, so that waves were sweeping over the boat. But Yeshua was sleeping. 25 So they came and roused him, saying, “Sir! Help! We’re about to die!” 26 He said to them, “Why are you afraid? So little trust you have!” Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and there was a dead calm. 27 The men were astounded. They asked, “What kind of man is this, that even the winds and sea obey him?”
Mark 4:37-41 KJV And there arose a great storm of wind, and the waves beat into the ship, so that it was now full. 38 And he was in the hinder part of the ship, asleep on a pillow: and they awake him, and say unto him, Master, carest thou not that we perish? 39 And he arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm. 40 And he said unto them, Why are ye so fearful? how is it that ye have no faith? 41 And they feared exceedingly, and said one to another, What manner of man is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?
It was a big boat we sailed in this time around on our way to Gadarenes, east of the sea of galilee. Peter was in charge. We had gone some distance when the storm hit. From my years of experience on the sea of galilee as a fisherman and with the grit I saw on peter’s face, it was evident we needed Yaweh’s help.
We could all sense from some signs even as we set off earlier that there would be a storm, but we thought it would be as all other times. Moreover, we knew how desperately Jesus needed to rest, so we got away. With the violent rocking of the boat, Jesus stayed unshaken, he definitely needed the rest. I glanced at him and watched the steady rise and fall of his chest and the wind lifting his hair as though in a stage play.
With the increasing persistence of the storm, we’d all at different times glanced at where he lay and left him undisturbed, no one did the waking. He deserved the rest. He’d taught the beatitudes to the large crowd, taught on vows, adultery, anger and others; As we descended from the mountain certain that we were going to rest, a leprous man who couldn’t interact with people according to the law, and which prevented him from listening on the mountain, came beseeching Jesus; A Roman officer had followed immediately; We had also been to Peter’s house and Jesus healed his mother-in-law, it was only there in Peter’s house he was able to eat his first meal of the day; next, the sick people came en-masse; not to forget the numerous people who had questions about following him. It was late evening now and he had taught and healed the whole day.
I snapped from my line of thought as I saw a high wave heading our way. It was hard to not envision the miraculous yet dreadful walls of water the Israelites passed through when Moses led them. ”Yaweh” I breathed in a rush. Andrew, who was beside me, knelt in fearful awe. The boat rocked and all the vessels in the boat rolled, their content spilling. Peter barked out some orders and we all hurried to stabilize the boat. The flood of water washed over us, drenching everything that wasn’t already dripping wet from the massive outpouring of rain. Now in the boat, was enough water to wade past our ankles. I shared a look with Andrew: this was all bad. In the sky, lightening kept flashing, and the thunders didn’t cease. Peter’s commanding cries were drowned in the noise of it all, we all just did what we thought we should do, and frantically.
The storm remained fierce.
The waves began to rock the boat off direction completely, and it spun on its axis till we couldn’t keep up with our direction in the middle of the sea anymore. My hands were bleeding from holding the sheet tight and I wasn’t conscious that someone had gone to wake Jesus until I heard his voice right behind me. As I jerked from the surprise of hearing his voice, the sheet slapped in the wind. ”About time Lord. We are going to perish” Bartholomew Said ”Save us lord!” ”we are about to die!” He stood resting one hand on the boat’s halyard, his cloak was flying revealing his woolen tunic. He gazed at each one of us in the eye, his face straight but the warmth of it could not be denied. ”why are you so frightened?” he answered to all pleas. As though in answer to his question, another wave rose, this one extremely high and it approached with the loudest of howling sounds, crushing the smaller waves which lay before it. All eyes darted to Jesus and back to the wave. ”what little faith you have!
I wasn’t sure if I was the only one who heard him because he stood right by my side, or if his voice was loud enough to carry over the thunder to the others. What little faith? Jesus fixed his gaze on the approaching wave. Eager faces, trade-marked with worry-lines looked at him when he opened his mouth to speak, and this time, Jesus’ voice carried louder than all noise. That authority which we never could deny erupted, as he looked straight at the wave about to crush us and said ” Peace. Be still” Instantly, the wave slept. SLEPT. I’m always right back on that boat when what was to be the tool of our destruction became a pet before us. The water hissed and fell. Everything around responded. The thunders and lightening stopped, the rain reduced to a drizzle then ceased, the sun rose slowly over the once overcast sky. The boat rocked like it was a baby cradled by the arms of its mother, all violence gone. ”ah” I gasped, I couldn’t otherwise be persuaded of what had just happened before my eyes. It transcends description. Everyone was amazed.
what kind of man is this? ” I said And one after the other, we all dropped to our knees; and this time, we did so not in fear of the waves, but out of a deep seated realization that nothing defers Jesus. ”even the wind and waves obey him” I muttered. I began to shiver: not from cold but from the power of the man who slept through the storm while we frenzied with bleeding hands. I shivered at the sight of the one who quieted looming death with a sentence.
On that day, I decided I would never again let him sleep while I bleed. It’s either of two things; we sleep together, or we bleed together, and I think he prefers sleeping in the storms of life. I believe him because I may be a professional fisherman, but even on the sea, he is the king.
Hello. Phew! Let me know your thoughts on this post. I was a little excited creating this blogpost. And boy, did it task me. I did a bit of reading on boats, storm etc, particularly how it operated over 2000 years ago. Not to mention reading that bible passage in different translations and in different gospel books. In other words, I must know your thoughts. And you must share. Hope you’re well. Also, do share your plans for the weekend. I’m mostly reading books and setting up my new phone. I plan to type up some blog posts this coming week too. Take care!
Peace and Warmth,
Debby.