First blog post

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A Silver Lining

I recently graduated from a Writing Class. It sounds strange because who goes to class to be taught how to write? Didn’t the pre-school teachers do a good job at that? It is even stranger that given my history in writing while I was in high school, I would sign up for a Writing Class but I did. I realized that while I knew how to write, I knew very little about writing. I was deeply ignorant about so many aspects about writing and publishing that I would be ashamed to view myself as a ‘writer’. While I went through the entire cycle of writing as I authored my first book last year, it did little to grant me adequate exposure to the art and process of writing. I sought to fill those gaps in the course I took. 

Through five weeks of intense learning, assignments and exposure I was thoroughly equipped as a writer. Our lessons revolved around writing in the African context, publishing, editing, types of writing among others. Each lesson left me awed at my ignorance that I had previously worn without an ounce of shame. In my wildest thoughts, I would never have imagined that it was possible to graduate online. But here I was, in the company of my classmates enjoying a graduation on the zoom platform. Unbeknownst to me, this day of academic triumph would end in tears.

As I went to bed that night, I recounted the events of the day and there was one crucial element that was missing in it: my dad. My greatest cheerleader was not at my graduation to cheer me on. He wasn’t there to say, ‘I love you and I am proud of you.’ His absence dealt a major blow. All the pomp and color that had lightened up the day was gradually replaced by the gloom and despair of death. I remembered how often as a child I would eagerly wait for his return so that I could display my academic accolades. He would look at me with pride-filled eyes and I knew, I had made it! That was all I needed to see!

In the midst of my sobs I stopped and thought for a moment. Maybe just maybe, he wouldn’t have been proud of me at this moment. That sudden realization hit me hard. While he had always been proud of my academic prowess, he would never have supported me in this venture. What is there to talk about a child who writes? Who makes a living from writing? How do you explain to your peers that your daughter is a writer; not a doctor, lawyer, teacher or nurse? I wept bitterly. It pained me to know that I would never pursue my writing dream in the full knowledge of my father. It would never make sense to him and if it didn’t matter to him, it shouldn’t matter to me.

I cried myself to sleep that night. I remembered all the dreams I had to shelve because they were not good enough to those who mattered. I remembered that I stopped reading and writing because it would never amount to anything. I recalled the many times I was out on teens camps and church missions and my mind would be wandering. I would imagine how shocked my father would be if I had an accident or died while in such places. I always hid this from him because he would never have approved of it. I am so passionate about outreach and mentorship so there was no way I wasn’t going to do it. I was willing to pay the price. I silently hoped and wished that he would approve of it someday. Unfortunately, that day never came.

I call 2020 the year of my rebirth. It is the year I am finally getting to do all the things I was always afraid of doing because they would either not be approved of or because I was afraid to fail. My graduation that day was a huge breakthrough. I had finally achieved one of the things I should have done 10 years ago. I am currently taking part in an Editing Course; another thing that I should have done much earlier. Further, I am redefining who I really am and what I love. I have become more experimental with food, dressing, hobbies and interests. I have redesigned my list of what and who should really matter. I am stepping out more confidently, speaking out more often and getting more in touch with my emotions. I am venturing into uncharted waters and enjoying it! 

I am loving this clean slate that life has offered me. I will go at it for all it’s worth!

 

Image Source:http://www.flitemedia.com/photography/sunscapes/

 

The Curse of Loving Too Much

Is there a measure of love? Are there people who love too little or too much or don’t love at all? Do you love someone with the same measure throughout your relationship or does love grow gradually?

There are no grey areas for me when it comes to love. I either love you or I don’t. I love fiercely, unreservedly and sacrificially. I am not a superficial lover; I love deeply. I am the kind of friend who will move heaven and earth just to be there for someone I care about. I count no inconveniences provided I succeed in putting a smile on a friend’s face. I remember all the right dates: your wedding anniversary, your children’s birthdays, the day your first child took his first step, his first day at school, the day you lost your pregnancy and sometimes, the day you lost your virginity if you care to tell me. I don’t keep a calendar; I am just unfortunate enough to have a good memory. I will go to every length and breadth to get you a sentimental gift for your birthday without caring about the price tag attached to it. I am the friend who will walk into a pharmacy and buy you morning-after pills with a straight face because, though I don’t mind being your child’s nanny, what you do with your sexuality is at your sole discretion.

For a long time, I thought it didn’t matter if my love was reciprocated or not. I was content with not receiving any gifts for my birthday. I was elated any time someone cared enough to remember my birthday because being a Boxing Day baby meant that the hullabaloo of Christmas was of utmost priority and more important. My birthday would almost always be forgotten because it was Christmas! It has always been the perfect excuse. I could easily count how many of my ‘friends’ were at my graduation party. As usual, there was something more important. And then my father died and I realized that I was, in most cases, in unrequited relationships. I embarked on a pruning journey and shed off so many friends. People who didn’t care enough to call or send a condolence message at the very least yet in their hour of need I had been there. I remembered taking long trips to Western Kenya, Meru, Mombasa and so many other places just to be there for a friend. I laughed at the memory of taking leave to support a new mum because learning the ropes of parenting is no mean task. Yet, at my father’s burial, they were conveniently absent.

The saddest thing about ‘loving too much’ is that it is not just what you do, it is who you are. You put up high walls and muster all the defenses you can to keep people away but it is never enough. Your charade never lasts long enough. Within no time all your guards are willfully lowered and you are hotly in pursuit of a new friendship. There is just something about them that draws you closer and before you know it, your entire being is already hooked. In a very short space of time, you know the right dates, their favorite colors, the people they care about, their favorite drink and the gift that would be most valuable to them. From past experiences, you are almost certain it will end in tears but you convince yourself that there will be no regrets whichever way it goes. You will have given it your all. Early warning signs of a heartbreak are there in plain sight but it is already too late to salvage your heart. A heart that has become all too familiar with this cycle of events.

You have resigned to your fate. You have learnt to live with your curse because that is the price that life chose for you. You keep hope alive. You hold on because someday, you might encounter someone who will love you just as much.

Fathers’ Day

There are two days in a year that give me cold chills: my dad’s anniversary in February and Father’s Day in June. I am graced for a lot of things but my strength fails me on these two occasions. They are a constant reminder of my loss; one that my heart has refused to accept and whose weight my feeble body cannot bear. I’ve started seeing conversations around Father’s Day begin to build up and I am obviously hard hit. It’s coming up and I am already under the weather. I don’t know how Sunday is going to be but I am hoping I will have amassed enough strength to go through the day.

This Sunday, I would have visited his grave. I like to do that sometimes especially when I need to clear my mind or when I want to give him an update on my life. Thanks to the cessation of movement, I won’t be able to. Before his death, we would have a hearty conversation on father’s day which would be followed by an M-pesa message for him to treat himself. Unfortunately, this treat would almost always be a drinking spree where he’d brag to his friends about his daughter who was the sponsor of this merry. I tried buying him gifts instead of sending him money but he’d not appreciate it as much. I remember buying him an exquisite leather wallet from Ethiopia. When he received it, he called to ask why there was no cash in it. The gift he appreciated most was money because he could spend it as he wished.

Fathers’ Day means different things to different people. For a huge majority, it is a day to celebrate their fathers. Social media platforms will be filled with messages of appreciation accompanied by flashy images of special moments spent together with their fathers. For some, it is a constant reminder of their deep longing for a father’s love. The day reminds them that they were rejected by those who sired them. These are people who grew up without a father or a father figure. Some of them know who their fathers are and have made attempts to reach out to them while for others, it’s a taboo conversation. A conversation that they are either too scared to start or one which their mothers have clearly stated is out of bounds. For some, it is a day they wish did not exist. It is a painful reminder of someone they wish did not exist in their lives. It is a reminder of the abuse they endured or continue to endure in the hands of one mandated with the responsibility of protecting them. It’s a reminder of the scars they attempt to hide from the world because who would believe them? For others, it is a celebration of men who stood up and took responsibility for another man’s child. Men who mended their mothers’ broken hearts and raised a child they didn’t make.

While this day means different things for different people, I hope that we can all go through it with sobriety and sensitivity.

Image source: https://www.dealsplus.com/

Facing my Fears Part 1

The dictionary defines fear as an unpleasant emotion caused by the threat of danger, pain, or harm. At any point in time, we have been afraid of one thing or the other. Join me in this journey as I share my fears and how I have overcome or how I am journeying through it.

The fear of losing my dad

I have always been a daddy’s girl. Well, until 2 years ago at least. My father and I were close from as far back as I can remember. We had so many similarities and interests. We shared a deep bond of love;one that I am yet to find elsewhere. It isn’t a surprise that what I feared the most in my life was losing him. I had never envisioned life past the day of my dad’s death. There was no way life would go on without him. On several occasions, I had experienced nightmares of his death and I would always wake up so shaken and terrified. I thought that when he died, I would be hysterical, crying uncontrollably and screaming my lungs out. That’s how I had always envisioned it. When it did eventually happen 2 years ago, I was surprisingly composed. I didn’t cry or rather my emotions were too numb.

Now that I already lost him, I understand why this was my greatest fear. Almost everything in my life revolved around him. This explains why more than 2 years later, I am yet to find a sound footing. I am no longer who I used to be but I don’t know how to define the ‘different’ me. I am no longer inspired to conquer because my greatest cheerleader is not waiting on the other side to celebrate my conquest. I know I will get beyond this someday, for now it’s one day at a time.

The fear of failure

My father was a smart kid and this fear has a lot to do with him. My dad loved good performance (just like every other parent) but it was almost like an obsession. He celebrated my success each time I hit a target score. He was sarcastic whenever I failed. He made it clear that he was disappointed. With the need to always have his acceptance, I knew all I needed to do was to have a near perfect score. With time, I developed a fear of failure;it didn’t just mean that I wasn’t ‘smart enough’ it also meant that I wouldn’t have dad’s approval. Failure meant rejection and mockery from the person I loved the most and that has never been easy.

I have failed, terribly. I have borne the blunt of being rejected for not being ‘smart enough’. My first big ‘failure’ was in my Kcpe exams. I had a score of 429 out of a possible 500 marks, 21 marks shy of my target of 450. I didn’t cry but I was thoroughly disappointed. To make matters worse, despite being index 001, I was position 2 in my class. My ‘failure’ meant I wouldn’t qualify to join Alliance which further added to my misery. When Kcse came, I would be heartbroken on learning I scored a B plain a million points (figuratively) shy of my target of an A or A-. I have carried that B grade with so much shame to this day and especially because it meant I couldn’t gain directly entry to the University. My dad requested me to repeat but I chose not to honor the request. I rarely talk about it. It’s intriguing how I got a chance to go to college and later join campus and studied what I would have studied if I got an A grade but that has never eased the pain of my failure.

I was doing quite well in my CPA exams. My dad couldn’t have been any more proud of me. I had done the first 2 parts and passed all papers. Then came the shock of failing one exam in Section 5. I should have been happy to have passed the other 2 but I was far from happy. Immediately I received the results, the first question in my mind was how I was going to raise 3000 for the resit. I knew my dad would not pay for it. He wasn’t one to be associated with failure. To say he was angry is an understatement. All my ‘passes’ no longer made sense in light of this one failure. He came around eventually but only after I prayed for God’s intervention at a prayer retreat. At my campus graduation, someone asked me why I didn’t graduate with a first class (I was a smart kid, wasn’t I?) because a second class upper wasn’t ‘good enough’.

A month ago, I went on a hike with a group of friends. I am relatively fit and I love hiking so I thought this would be a walkover as usual. Sadly, I was last to get to the peak. This served as a perfect reminder of my numerous failures in life. Some which I have overcome, others I am yet to come to terms with. On our way down, I had to redeem myself and I finished second but it didn’t take away the shame I felt for finishing last.

For a long time now, I have carried the weight of never celebrating my victories and wins because of the pedestal my dad and some relatives laid out for me. No one cared to understand that I was already disappointed in myself enough. They had to remind me of my failures. Majority did so unintentionally but the pain they caused sank deep within. It hurts that to this very day, I am living in the shadows of failure constantly feeling that I do not measure up. I have lived life believing that I am only as good enough as my report card thus I am constantly afraid to fail. Even now when my dad is long gone, I blame myself for disappointing him any time I fail.

I write this to you who is constantly under pressure to conform to a certain standard that has been set for you by the society. I write to you who is constantly afraid that you will not be loved and accepted because you do not measure up. I write to you who has hit rock bottom because you have failed yet again. I write to you child of God who’s been trying to live out a perfect christian life but you’ve sinned yet again. I write to you who is afraid of accepting Christ in your heart because religion has so many rules to conform to and you are afraid of falling short. I write to you brethren who are walking in shame because of the constant condemnation that the devil has brought upon you because you failed yet again. I write to you who has been labelled ‘ungrateful’ by people for failure to celebrate your ‘success’ because it wasn’t good enough for the people who mattered. I write to you who lives in constant fear that nothing will ever work out because your history speaks for itself.

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. (Isaiah 41:10 NIV)

You are not the sum-total of all your fears and failures.

Image Source:https://virtuousgirls.wordpress.com/

2019

It’s been a unique 12 months. As I reflect back on where I was a year ago, I am amazed at the changes that this year brought. At such a time last year, I was without hope that a new Dawn would come. I had nothing to look forward to. I just wallowed in my despair. The pain and grief that 2018 had brought, had sapped out the life in me. I had zero expectations for the new year; no fond memories to relive, actually; I was not happy that I was alive. I had no reason to be alive. All the dreams, aspirations and desires for the future had died with my father.

On my birthday in 2018, God gave me a song; Narudisha by Gloria Muliro. I didn’t dare believe it because I had prayed, praised, danced and ushered in 2018 with great expectations yet as I reflected back on what 2018 had been, I was lost for words. There was nothing no one could say that could convince me that God had an agenda for my life. Nothing could change the fact that I had trusted but been disappointed and I couldn’t dare trust Him again. I had lost hope in friendship because most of my friends failed me greatly in my hour of need. Luckily for me, I needed to be at work on the eve of the new year and on New Year’s day which was a much needed distraction.

I got into 2019; waiting for whatever life would throw my way. I had purposed not to pray, fast, serve or do anything that would be deemed ‘Christian-like’. I knew God had a different plan but I was determined to be like Jonah in the Bible. I had an unwritten set of terms and conditions that would guide my relationship with God. I told God I wouldn’t ask or pray for anything; He was free to do whatever He pleases. I wouldn’t be mad at Him for what He would do. After all, the worst that He could do was already done; my father was dead!

I went back to school. This is actually one of the ways that I deal with stress. I was actually surprised that I was accepted into the course! It was a leadership training that would run for 12 months. The course placed very high demands but it was going to be worth it in the long run; it was a good way to kill time. I went through the class; almost gave up midway because my energy stocks were depleted but I needed to finish! I made this bed and I had to lie on it. I finished! Right on schedule, all assignments done, a book to my name and an award! If you ask me, I was the least deserving person for the graduation and award.

I chose joy. In January, I attended a worship night in town and we were asked to write 1 thing we were trusting God for. I only wrote 1 word: JOY. That’s the one thing I had been starved of and the only one I was willing to take a plunge for. It hasn’t come easily but I have had a couple of joyous moments and memories. In July, I had a chance to attend a wedding in Rwanda. The only reason I chose this trip was because I needed to clear my mind, I was quite stressed! When we landed, I received a call with the news that my mum was admitted. It didn’t make any sense because I had spoken to her a few minutes before leaving Kenya and she was okay. I felt so helpless! Here I was looking for a place to clear my mind but I was miles away from my sick mum. The following day (the day of the wedding), I received a call (again). My grandma was dead! She died in her sleep. Second to my dad, my grandma was the most important person in my life. We shared a special bond. And the calls kept coming; everyone just wondering how I was taking the news because they knew I loved her deeply. I made a conscious decision that morning; to go and enjoy the wedding, get a taste of the rwandese culture and deal with my misfortune later. It was pretty hard but it worked. I chose joy when I was heartbroken and mugged on the same day. I chose joy when the news about death and sickness kept coming. I chose joy!

I cultivated new friendships. Those who have been my friends in the past can attest to the fact that I have been such a bad friend in 2019. I had zero energy to go out, attend social gatherings, be in crowds etc. I was busy at school, but I did not intentionally make time for friends. I have kept to my self for a huge chunk of the year. But again, God had a different plan. Right in the spaces where I was spending most of my time (work and school), He had placed people who would be my friends. I didn’t have a choice whatsoever. There was no way to run away from school or work. Friendships are work and I was graced to put in the work that was demanded of me.

I walked away!! Sigh! I walked away from toxic relationships, places, things. I have always been the kind who give chances, who opt to see the best in people, who apologize even when they are not on the wrong. In 2019, I chose to walk away. If you’ve come from a violent background, you might understand me when I say I am inclined to take in too much shit (sorry, that’s the perfect word in this context). There were enough ‘red flags’ but I kept choosing to extend grace. Until, the last straw came! The day I walked out, it was for good. I am proud of this new girl who is gradually realizing her worth and getting comfortable with walking away. That was the good in the ‘goodbye’. No regrets! There was a heartbreak to nurse, but my heart is healed of that pain.

I chose obedience. I had a set of terms and conditions to guide my relationship with God but I promised Him that I would obey. Despite and inspite of how messy our relationship was going to be, I would go wherever He sent me. My assignment was and is bigger than any pain I might be experiencing. I chose obedience. For the first time in my life, I opened my house for teens mentorship🙆🙆. I love my space! Thoroughly and extremely! Opening the doors of my house to strangers was huge! I have loved the journey though! It has been filled with lots of opportunities to learn, unlearn and relearn. I also went back to mentorship. I visited several schools, talked to more teens than I have ever done before and signed up to support several initiatives that deal with teens. I became consistent in my blogs (partly because it was part of my school assignments). On one occasion, within an hour I had 200 views. I was not excited, I was scared. I actually prayed that I would be careful to post only that which will cause people to see God. That I would be obedient even when what He asks me to write about is uncomfortable, unpopular and too vulnerable. Lastly, I got a chance to preach at the midweek service in our church!! This one tops the list! Just 4 days after burying my grandma, I was on the pulpit talking about ‘A Hunger to Please God’. I still shiver at the thought that someone could trust me enough to give me such a platform.

I have mourned as I lived. This is quite different from what I did in 2018. In 2018, I was consumed with grief. I actually stopped living. I sunk into depression, got suicidal, walked away from people and places that reminded me of him. I lived like a zombie. I was so grumpy. I walked like a ticking time bomb waiting for the slightest trigger to explode. I stopped doing the things that I used to enjoy! I was like a dead person walking. Life had no meaning and my existence was a constant pain in my flesh. In 2019, things have been different. I mourn my father daily but I am also alive to the people, things and circumstances around me. I have enjoyed my work, I have gone to mentorship events, I have comforted those who are mourning. I have learnt when to talk about my loss and when to be silent. I have learnt not to trivialize the pain of others. I am learning to be present in social spaces. I am learning to be active in my own life. I am learning not to hurry the process, beat myself out for not hitting milestones as I expect but to celebrate each day I survive. I have had bouts of depression and suicidal thoughts in 2019, but it has been better than 2018.

2019 has brought with it growth. Painful as it has been, I have grown immensely. I love that God has kept speaking even when I haven’t been conversational. I love that despite my distance, there are friends who have kept pushing me to engage with them. I love that I have learnt to live despite my grief and sorrow. I love that my being vulnerable and real has been an encouragement to scores of people. I love that my writing has been a tool for Him to minister to His own. I love that my family has been sane, healthy and survived through the storms. I love that through my writing, I have expressed my emotions and got healing. I love that some of my areas of pain in 2018 are testimonies in 2019. I love that my hair is growing back gradually.

 

I appreciate each one of you who has kept coming back to this space to read my blogs. Thanks for the feedback and encouragement to keep writing. I pray that 2020 will be an amazing year for all of us. I hope to write more of testimonies and joyfilled stories this year. I hope that I will allow God to keep using the blogs to speak to us.

 

Leadership Bootcamp

Late last year, I heard about a Leadership program that would pioneer in 2019. Earlier in the year, my application for a similar program with the same institution had been turned down so I was quite apprehensive about it. While the prospect of finally getting to publish my own book was thrilling, I couldn’t get past the prior rejection so I let it pass. The more I chose to ignore it, the more I heard about it and I knew it was something I would enjoy doing only if I could get past the anger I felt because of the rejection. On the last application date, I sent in my application expecting to be turned down again but surprisingly, I was accepted.

On the induction day, I heard about what the course would entail and I remember wondering if I was cut out for that stuff. I heard about the financial investment required and I knew that would definitely be a struggle. I was working at a place with a crazy schedule and given the amount of time this demanded I knew this would be a major stretch yet I was willing to go for it! The desire to publish my first book was greater than any setback I would have to encounter and for that one reason, I was willing to push myself against all odds.

Through the year, I have read amazing books; books that have changed my mind and opened me up to a world of amazing possibilities. My best course book still remains ‘Church Shift’ by Sunday Adelaja and the second best was ‘Communicating for a Change’ by Andy Stanley. As expected, my favorite part of the course was writing my book and publishing two blogs every month. I love writing and as such this was the easiest assignment to do. The hardest nut to crack was the Bible-in-a-year reading. I began, fell along the way, gave it two more attempts and eventually gave up. It is the one assignment I gave up on.

Having been out of employment for 21 months, exhausted my savings and barely making ends meet; my most impactful class was on Financial Stewardship. This class reignited my hope for financial freedom and helped me to set off on a journey towards rebuilding a savings portfolio to replace the previous one. 5 months later, I am proud of the progress I have made. Further, I enrolled for a Financial Masterclass through which I have read several books on finances and I have well advanced on my journey towards financial freedom. I have began a rice business which is growing well.

This journey has not been without its fare share of challenges. The relational energy that I and the other students have had to invest in the program is worth mentioning. While most of the work is done individually, we had group assignments and discussion questions plus accountability that had to be done within the groups. Time spent in the classes, doing assignments, travelling to Yatta and Kampala and practicing what has already been learnt has been draining and stretching in equal measure. Raising funds to cover the costs of the course has also presented its own share of challenges but I am grateful that my fees is fully paid.

Apart from my financial journey, the other aspect that has changed is my view on discipleship. I have learnt that at the core of the discipleship process is relationship. That the most effective way of growing leaders and Kingdom generals is through discipleship. This entails a huge investment in terms of time and relational energy but the results are worthwhile. I have made a commitment to disciple teens during school holidays and young adults that are within my home fellowship. So far, we’ve had 2 sessions with the teens and it is quite fulfilling.

If you would love to be challenged, stretched and grow as a kingdom leader, this would be a great place to start. 

Image Credits: ©Travelling Light

Out and About Part 3

Obedience

One of the most invaluable lessons I have learnt in my walk of faith is obedience. More often than not, it involves water walking moments. Moments where I am either unsure of where I am headed or if I am taking a step in the right direction. I have also had a couple of moments where obeying goes against the grain and I have often been forced to choose. I have often obeyed yet I have also disobeyed.

One of the things I learnt earlier in ministry is to go only if I have been sent and only where I have been sent to. This would easily seem as a precautionary measure but often it is an act of surrender. While God has given each one of us the free will to choose what to do and where to go and everything that comes with it; choosing to accept His will over ours is an act of surrender. It is actually saying; I am not out of options yet I choose to follow Your will for my life.

We had been invited to attend a Challenge Weekend at a girls’ school in Murang’a in 2015. I was at a bad place during that season. I had tried to pray but it wasn’t working. My heart was heavy with the burden of pain that I had carried all through my life. I had a fierce battle within me with regards to attending this Challenge Weekend because I felt I needed to be ministered to not to minister. I was not ready for what this weekend demanded of me and yet I still chose to obey and go. During a free session, one of the students approached me. I had received an instruction from God not to join the rest of the team but to just stand at a certain place. She requested to speak to me and I obliged. As she shared her story and what she had gone through, I saw myself in her. It was as if she was describing exactly what I had gone through. We bonded so deeply because we perfectly understood each other.

In 2017, God sent me on assignment to accompany a lady who had been invited as the guest of honor in a school prize-giving day. I did not have any clue why I had been sent or to whom I was being sent. During one of the presentations by the students, God brought my attention to one of the girls. There was just something peculiar about her. I sensed that she was trying hard to put up an appearance while what she really wanted was to appear invisible. That was the person I had been sent to. I did not know what I was supposed to do or to tell her but I just looked for her. When I found her, God asked me to tell her that He loved her. I was blown away. I obeyed, passed on the message and waited for a response. She was not very receptive; she did not understand the whole idea of God sending someone to her. I could tell she was going through a hard time but she wasn’t willing to share. I left her and requested her to look for me if she wanted to engage further. I gave her my number before we left, she hasn’t reached out yet but I believe my purpose was accomplished.

I pray that we will constantly choose to obey even when it doesn’t make sense because more often than not it doesn’t make sense. I pray that we will choose to walk in faith even when we are not guaranteed  of a positive outcome. I pray that we will turn down offers to minister where we have not been sent because despite the fact that we might doing what is right; obedience is better than sacrifice. I pray that we will still choose to obey even when we have constantly been disappointed because He sees the bigger picture, always.

Image Source:Mine Is Jesus, May 10, 2013

Spread The Love 2019

 

On the 1st of September this year, history was written. For the first time in my life, I witnessed several churches close down their places of worship and spend the better part of their Sunday changing the lives of young people. This was quite a bold move, I must admit. How on earth does someone dare to do that? The outreach event that was taking place is known as ‘Spread The Love’ abbreviated as STL an initiative of Mavuno Church. The focus of STL events in the recent years has been public primary schools. Different Mavuno campuses identify public primary schools within their area; a needs assessment is carried out and based on this; areas of dire need and priority are identified. The idea is to walk with the school, help them solve their problems while sharing the love of Christ; not just through words but through actions. Over the last years, a number of public primary schools have received a face lift. It always blows my mind to see the transformation. To see dignity being restored in the schools and to see God’s love been demonstrated.

At Mavuno Lifeway, our venue this year was Njatha-ini Primary School; a public primary school located off the Northern Bypass. Prior to the STL day in September, a fundraising campaign had been carried out in our campus to help meet the budget expenses. People gave generously and this enabled proper planning to take place. It  helped with the purchases and works that needed to be done in preparation for the STL day. People were encouraged to give in 3 ways; giving of their time by committing to participate in STL, giving of financial resources to help with the expenses and through helping the church get partners to join them in the STL. Prayer for the activity was also encouraged. It was overwhelming to see just how sacrificially people gave for this activity.

The work was divided into 3 major activities and a team leader was charged with the responsibility of overseeing the process from allocation of work, supervision, providing direction, decision making and co-ordination. The teams were: the clean up team, painting team and tree planting team. When someone arrived, they would be directed to the registration desk where they would sign up for one of the 3 activities they would love to participate in.

They would then be directed to the team leader of the respective team for allocation of work.

Children, teens, young adults and others alike were all involved in the various activities.

We cleaned the classes and the compound,

painted some classes,

and planted trees in the school compound

Each of these activities was done to a precision that displayed such a high level of team work, passion and commitment to the course. It was amazing to see people aptly demonstrate that love does. That love is not just expressed in words but love is best expressed through action.

When the work was done, we settled down to some snack lunch and to receive an update of the work done that day. It was a glorious day by all means!! Why do we do this, someone might ask? We do this year in year out because we know well that the church is the hope of the world. That we are called to fearlessly influence the various mountains of the society. That as the church we are called to bring hope and restore dignity to a broken society. We do this because we understand that change begins with us because we have a mandate to make the society a better place for each one of us.

 

Images source: Mavuno Lifeway Facebook Page

Out and About Part 2

Gratitude

I traveled to Uganda for the first time ever for a mission. It was a long drive of close to 24 hours. A lot of times we travel and arrive safely and it seems pretty normal but it is actually a miracle to arrive at your desired destination. We had a rare incident where the front tire of the car we were traveling in almost came off. None of us knew or felt anything different. It took the intervention of a Ugandan stranger (a person we had previously ignored) to alert us that something was wrong with the tire. By God’s design, he was a mechanic and for about 2 hours, he cut short his journey to help us fix our tire and get back on our journey. We spent all the money we had for the repairs (it wasn’t even enough) thus apart from the breakfast we had eaten in the morning, we spent the rest of the day hungry! The site of food, about 10 hours later, would warm our hearts deeply.

During that one week long visit, I saw how witchcraft enslaves people. It was heartbreaking to see just how much people believed in the power of witchcraft and as a result , they lived in fear. They would constantly be looking for ‘protection’ from evil and from people who they thought did not wish them well. It was ironical that though people believed and engaged in witchcraft for wealth and protection, poverty was evidently seen in the lifestyle of the people in that region. It was sad to see young children being delivered from the powers of witchcraft having been involved by their parents. Before this, I had vaguely heard about witchcraft and its impact on people but it was until I got to experience it that I understood. It was sad to listen to stories about children dropping out of school because they could no longer cope up with the demands it placed on their minds. It was believed they had been ‘bewitched’.

In a different mission assignment, we were sent to minister in a church that was a cult. Before the service began, all doors and windows were locked and an exercise to chase out evil powers was performed. It involved beating drums in a particular rhythm and chanting systematically. When they were satisfied that the demons had left, they would open the doors and windows and the service would begin. In the entire congregation of about 100 people, only the pastor had a Bible. That was the saddest moment in the entire mission for me. How would this people grow in their walk with God? How would they learn about the truths about God by themselves? This church solely depended on the pastor’s teaching once a week for their spiritual nourishment. It was no surprise that when an altar call was done for salvation; the entire church, save for the leaders, walked forward to receive salvation. A deliverance session ensued and a call to acquire Bibles and study the word was made to the congregants.

In another location during the same week, some members of a church informed the missioners that they knew what number their name was written against in the book of life. They went ahead to mention that their pastor was one of the 2 prophets mentioned in scriptures (Revelation 11). I have never been as exposed to false doctrine as I have been in the mission fields. It has grieved my spirit to hear the level of deceitfulness that people have been led into by the very people who are expected to be shepherding them in the ways of the Lord. Further, it hurts that though in some cases the members of the church had Bibles, they had not dared to read the word of God for themselves. They believed every word as was said and they could actually defend these word with their very lives.

I have learnt to be grateful for many things that I take for granted. I am grateful that from a very young age I was exposed to the truth of God’s word. I was taught the true word of God; sound doctrine and truth. Through this and by experiencing God’s word for myself, I have known God for who He is. I am grateful that I have had a Bible for as long as I can remember thus the word of God has been within ease of reach. I am grateful that I have learnt to appropriate the power of God in my life and to use this power to fight against principalities, powers of darkness and every thing that tries to exalt itself against the knowledge of God. I am grateful for every safe ride to and from different places, something that I have experienced in my life daily. I have learnt to be grateful in everything.

Image Source: amazingfacts.org

 

 

Before You Ask

When will you get married? When are you guys going to have a baby? What are you waiting for, have a second baby so that your kids grow up together. Your siblings are long married and have children, what is your problem? The people you schooled together with are now driving, why don’t you have a car yet? When will you go back to school and pursue that Masters Degree? What asset do you have to your name?

We grew up hearing some of these questions and somehow, they formed our vocabulary. It is not unnatural to ask these questions because isn’t that what everybody asks? Sometimes, the questions are asked in a bid to draw comparison between the inquirer and the respondent. It is a measure of  ‘success in life’. It later forms the basis of our gauging how well or badly we are doing. Other times, it is a way of expressing concern on the welfare of the individual especially if we haven’t seen them in a while. Sometimes, it arms us with the information to use to gossip.

Could we pause for a minute and think before we ask these questions? What if the person has recently been heartbroken and their hope for marriage dashed once again? What if they are battling with infertility and your question serves as yet another reminder of their pain and despair? What if she has suffered a series of miscarriages and the very thought of another pregnancy cripples her? What if they have been struggling to get a job or their business keeps failing? What if all their savings have been used up in taking care of an ailing kin? What if they have recently walked away from an abusive marriage and they are slowly picking up the pieces? What if they have no intention of getting married?

Before we ask, it is prudent for us to question our motive. It is also quite important to be sensitive to the other person’s issues. If our aim is not to help, then why should we ask? 

Image by Arek Socha from Pixabay