Easter 2024

 

*In a singsong voice* 🎵Easter, Easter, Easter.🎵

Easter 2024, God be so kind, He's brought us to yet another Easter celebration, thank You Lord.

As an Anglican, the week leading to today was observed as the holy week, remembering and reenacting (if possible) the days, hours, leading to Christ's crucifixion, death and resurrection.

The journey before then, was lent, marking our Lord's 40 days fast in the wilderness. I don't have much to say, just don't let Christ's sacrifice on the cross be in vain. Accept Him today as your Lord & personal Saviour if you're yet to do so. God bless you.

Photo Credit: You version Bible App

Ruth or Naomi?

Who would you rather be?

I'm almost sure we're familiar with the Bible story of Ruth, the young widow who choose to stick with her Mother-in-law come rain or sunshine. 

Every sermon I've ever encountered have always been centred on her, Ruth's POV ie. The sermons, exhortations, words of encouragement, ministrations etc etc were always about her; her devotion, sacrifice, selflessness and where it led her eventually (one of Jesus' ancestors). That's all good and fine and lovely. However, at the back of my mind, I always did wonder about the person of Naomi (typical curious me); who was she and what did she do to have evoked such devotion, such loyalty, such love (etc) from not one but two of her daughters-in-law, how did she interact with these ladies? 

Mind you, she was a Jew and they, well, Moabites, the people they ordinarily wouldn't have relations or interactions with. So, how did she navigate their differences, so well that made these ladies to fall in love with her to the point of giving their (at least one person did) all for her? That, is the question.

Since I'm yet to hear a sermon on Naomi, I decided to write out the thoughts I'd formed about her over the years. Should this count as a sermon? *Coughs* I don't know, I'm simply sharing my thoughts😁. By the way, you can read up on this story here (please click), thank you.

So, I keep hearing about how we should be like Ruth, how she was this, she was that, well, how about Naomi, shouldn't we aspire to be like her too? Selfless, caring, magnanimous, and empathetic? Despite all that happened to her, here she was, still looking out for her daughters-in-law. She didn't try to hold them back, seeing as she was all alone in the world. She didn't think, 

"who would take care of me, who will keep me company, who would give me grand children?"

Naomi had every right to be bitter about the hand, life had dealt her. She had every right to want to hold on to these two ladies, after all, they were now her daughters, her sons' wives. But no, she released them, she put their needs first before hers, she saw that they still had so much to live for and did not want to be an obstacle in their way, the one to hold them back, a cog in their wheel of progress.

She gladly released them and with her blessings, telling them she had nothing to offer. Orpah complied and left. I doubt that meant she loved Naomi any less or that Ruth who choose to stay, loved Naomi more. I bet if they were in our present clime where technology has made long distance communication possible, that they'd still be in touch.

Now let's look at Ruth, what a remarkable lady. I daresay, it takes a high level of selflessness or should I say self-sacrifice to do what she did. She literally left home and kin behind and stuck to Naomi, wow. 

Now, was she constrained to do this? No

Was she coerced? No

Did someone come to preach to her about the blessedness of selflessness? No

This brings me to conclude that there just was something about Naomi that brought about such devotion from Ruth, such that would make her choose her over her own family and/or would be future happiness. What do you think?

So to answer my opening question, yes, I'd like to be Ruth. Even more so, yes, I'd like to be Naomi.

They're both remarkable, extraordinary women and I'd like very much to be like them. And I think we ought to encourage our daughters to aspire to be like both women. They both made exceptional sacrifices for the other, an example that I believe, is worth emulating.

Peace.

PS: I have a feeling that I'll be revisiting this story, this has quite evolved from what my original plan was; airing my thoughts. Now, I just might write a story (fiction of course) about these three women.

Easter Sunday Special: A Man of Sorrows

Easter for me is the whole essence of Christianity - resurrection day. If Christ had not risen, what message would we be preaching today? What hope would we have as believers? No resurrection, no Christianity. I want to imagine an alternate reality where the resurrection didn't take place. Peter would've probably gone on to become head of the fishermen council and we'd never have heard of him again, end of story. John, the beloved would've probably been so overtaken by grief that he pined away into obscurity and we'd not have had the Revelations. As for the rest, well, everyone would've have taken heed to the cry, "to your tents oh Israel"* and dispersed, never to be heard of again. And as for me? Well, I'd probably not be here by now, having listened to the lies of the enemy and gone down the way of Judas. 

So you see, Easter's not just a mere celebration for me. I'm celebrating the new life God gave me through his Son Jesus. I'm celebrating the fact that death's been conquered in victory forever. I'm celebrating the fact that by the resurrection, I've been given a new lease on life. I'm celebrating a whole lot of things, what are you celebrating?

During the church service this morning, I could barely keep from crying. The choir ministered two songs that took up entire new meanings for me; Cece Winans' 'It Wasn't Easy' and Nicole Mullen's 'My Redeemer Lives'. These words stuck out; "Don't think for a moment that I never felt the pain..don't take it lightly what I've done...it wasn't easy, but it was worth it."

Check out those two songs (lyrics) on the net in case you're not familiar with them. One last word, know Jesus for yourself. If you don't know him, you haven't started living (truly). He's the best thing that can ever happen to anyone (word).

A man of sorrows is what Isaiah used to describe him. He became nothing to make us everything. It's recorded in scriptures that he grew up just like us (imagine your growing up years). Yep, he was also brought up that way. There was nothing special about him. He didn't have the majestic presence of a king nor the mighty carriage of a warrior neither was he finely clothed. He was just like us; a mere man, a carpenter. He probably would've been referred to as a peasant were it to have been the Elizabethan era, yet there was no doubt as to who he was. All of Earth's creation testifies of Him. The only Man to have tasted death and live. The only Man that holds the keys to death and the grave.*

I could go on and on trust me, but I wanted this to be a short post for your edification and mine as well and so I ask, do you know this Man, the Son of Man?

Happy resurrection day...

And may it find expression in our lives...

Amen.

Peace.

*1kings 12 :16

*Revelation 1:18

Photo Credit: YouVersion - The Bible App

A Personal Word

This morning, something happened that made me laugh and at the same time, shake head for myself and at the same time, gave me great insight. It had to do with condiments that remained from my cooking stew session–pepper and onions. I had left them in a plate in the open air so they don't spoil easily. 

You might ask, your fridge nko? Well, I asked myself that question too. Until last two weeks, I didn't have one so it was easy to forget that I now had a preservation system and took my normal route of preservation. The night before, I had already started contemplating whether or not to steam them since they were not going to be put to use anytime soon.

So, where's this my 'is and was' speech leading to? Well, when this happened what dropped in my mind was that as believers, this is is what we do too. When we enter into God's kingdom, we've been completely saved and the old things have passed, but we forget that. We forget that we've come into power and authority and carry on living like we used to.

We forget that the kingdom life’s entirely different from the self life. We keep struggling and forget to rely on His strength. We keep doing things the usual way forgetting that Christ's made things easier for us. Labouring under the law and forgetting that we're now operating in grace.

So, that was what popped into my mind seeing those pepper and onion lying there shrivelling while all the while, they could have been chilling in the fridge, perfectly been preserved.

May the good Lord help us.

Peace.

Sunday Special: Journal of a Missionary Wife V

Hi there journal,

it's moi Ana, sure you know that. Well, here I am checking in. Today's sermon was really something and no, I'm not being biased.  Geoff looked so dashing seated at that altar today. I know I'm yet to mention how he got there (the wheelchair i.e) and I'm not so certain I'd be telling anytime soon. It still hurts that's why and I'm not so sure I'd like to revisit those memories, no.

Looking at him today, you wouldn't believe what he's had to go through. My Geoff's always been much stronger than I. Always has. God's been good to us I must confess. So, kids or no kids, I am dedicated to serving Him all the days of my life.

So journal, here's saying bye to all of my griping about starting a family. I sometimes ask myself what sort of life they'd have considering all of our non-stop movement. Well, over to You master of mine, Thou knowest best.

Bye journal.

Oh, I've got exciting news, I'm embarking on a new project. Geoff's feeling much better now and is beginning to get irritated by my constant hovering. He no longer needs me obviously and I no longer need him too (two can play that game lol). So! Get readyyy project of mine...

Take charge Lord.

Photo Credit: Source

Sunday Special: Journal of a Missionary Wife 𐌠V

*Earlier in the day*

"When peace like a river

Attendeth my way

When sorrows like sea billows..."

Ana belts out the beautifully worded song while carefully digging out the weeds that threatened to choke her plants. She stops to wipe her face and picks up with her singing.

"...Whatever my lot

Thou hast taught me to say

It is well, it is well with my soul."

This is followed by a heavy sigh. The years have not been kind to her one could see. Her once lovely face carried lines of care that told their own stories. It has been two years since we last saw her and like the proverbial water that's passed under a bridge, a lot had happened.

"For me be it Christ

Be it Christ hence to live..."

The last line's broken by a sob, she seems visibly weighed down by whatever it is troubling her. She's jerked out of her thoughts when a voice calls out.

"Ana, Ana." The voice calls.

She quickly rises and makes a move to wipe her face while hurrying to answer the call. The whole environment has an abandoned feel to it. Like something that once was but was no more.

Quickly wearing a smile, as she enters a small wooden shed, she comments, "I see someone's up." she makes to kiss Geoff.

"I didn't want to disturb you but I needed to make use of the toilet." A pause, then "what's wrong?"

Putting on another face, a quizzical one this time "How do you mean?" Ana responds.

A warning bell goes off in Geoff's head. His wife was not given to answering questions with questions. Ana only ever answered a question with another question when she was trying to evade the question or giving the real answer or...another bell goes off.

"You don't look like yourself," he manages to say giving her a tight smile.

"I'm alright darling. Really." She adds seeing as he's set to fire another question. "So, let's get you moving."

With an ease that shows they've been through this routine plenty of times, she scoops him out from the bed and into the wheelchair placed conspicuously beside the bed.

9pm

Geoff's finally managed to sleep. I worry for him. A lot happened after the last meeting Geoff had with the elders and It brought with it a lot of change both good and bad.

It's been two years Lord; two years since our life was turned upside down. Two years of pain and hardship. Two years of tears and fears. Lord, two years.

When you asked me to trust you I had no idea what you had in mind but I do know that you're good always. I do know that you're going through this with us. I feel consoled when I imagine you going hungry too, it brings a smile to my face like now. Yes, you do certainly know how it feels to be homeless and hungry almost always.

I wonder if things would've turned out differently had I taken Numi's dream seriously? What if I had told Geoff and not kept it to myself? What if I had probed Numi deeper? What if-

*sigh* enough with the 'ifs' Ana dear, it's happened. A lot has indeed happened and my dream of starting a family seems more farther away than ever. Why won't Geoff talk about it? I mean, I can't be the only one aching to hold my child in my arms am I?

Oh, how I wish-

Wishes won't help now, I shouldn't feel this way about Geoff considering all he's had to go through. Father forgive me, I feel so petty and selfish sometimes.

It's a good thing no one knows of this journal. I bet they'd pass out should they ever come to know how weak I really am, how poorly equipped I am to be their teacher.

*sigh*

Your strength's made perfect in my weakness Lord, take charge.

Photo Credit: Source

Sunday Special: Journal of a Missionary Wife 𐌠𐌠𐌠

Breathe in, breathe out, yes, that's it Ana. It's been one hectic day, haven't had a breather since my 4 am abrupt jerk out of sleep.

Geoff had been the first to hear it, the screams. He'd been going over his sermon when he thought he'd heard screaming, it was muffled at first but then intensified and that was when I woke up.

You won't believe this, but I felt anger first cos I was having a lovely dream. I dreamt that I was at a Park playing with a lil' girl. Could this be a sign Lord? Sometimes though, like this morning, I feel I'm too selfish, Lord only knows why he called me to be a Missionary's wife. I feel so unworthy, I find myself falling short too many times. He qualifies the called I know...but it's so hard.

So, it turns out the screaming was a laughing hyena, can You believe it? After the anguish it made me pass through? No wonder the locals weren't to be bothered when the screaming first broke out. I'd never have associated that scream with laughter, all the more reason to get out of here soonest.

They say every once in a while, they (hyenas) scream that way to attract persons to kill. It had happened before and some unsuspecting person would rush out, thinking someone was in distress only to fall victim to these rabid vile creatures.

One can't be too careful these days. I wonder if I should tell Geoff of my conversation with Numi? No, he has enough on his plate right now. My sweet looks more and more drawn these days, Lord help him. Who'd have thought there was more to been a missionary than teaching the Word? Laughs.

I'm so tired diary, so tired but in a good way.

Take charge Lord.

Photo Credit: Source

Sunday Special: The House Yonder II

This piece first appeared on Curioser & Curiouser (it really is a curious site). So, enjoy the second part of Mr. Grief's search. Will he find what he seeks?

****
With angry clouds streaking across the sky, Mr. Grief awoke with dawn’s first light as was his custom. His mind was made up to find this man people called Rabbi rain or no rain. As so often his custom, his mind wanders down memory lane wondering when it all went wrong. When did his life begin to disintegrate? Shaking himself loose, he mutters, “Not today Grief, not today.”

Showering quickly, he steps out of his house and almost unconsciously, glances towards Salvation Street. It had become habit. Everything looks better over there he thinks. With a fresh resolve, he enters his car and drives off to find the man they called Rabbi.

****

After driving a long while and nearly having an incident with the cops, he finally locates this Rabbi. It had taken him all day to track him down and so he took a moment to collect himself now that he had finally found him.

He is struck by the large crowd that seem to surround this man, he must be an enigma he concludes.

“…blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven…” That voice, he was certain he had heard it before. All of his life, that voice had prodded him, pushed him and encouraged him when all he wanted doing was to give up and die.

“…blessed are they who hunger…” But I know this voice! Grief says again in his heart and this time, it is with conviction he thinks it.

He hasn’t so much as gotten a glimpse of this man called Rabbi but already, he could sense a change washing over him, like cool cool water on an overheated body. He most certainly would enjoy talking to this man but first, he had to find a way to have audience with him, he wouldn’t want anyone recognising him. Finding a cool shade just far enough from the crowd but close enough to hear the man’s words, he waits, carefully keeping his face averted.

***

The Rabbi goes on with his teachings seemingly oblivious to the little man standing just beyond the edge of the crowd but he is very much aware of him and had anticipated his coming. This Pharisees he thinks, they will not hear and even when they hear, they will not believe. Yet, they leave him not alone. Let him wait.

***

The last stragglers finally leave and Grief rushes to seek audience with the young Master. Master? He stops short, where had that come from? He must really be tired he thinks. He stands before the Rabbi, he looks younger than he had imagined. They look at themselves as if asking, “What next?”

That was actually what Grief was thinking, now that he had come, what next? He suddenly finds that he cannot look the man in the eye. He feels so sad and tired and ashamed. Get a grip on yourself man, you are way older than he is.

“Master,” he finally croaks out. That word again. “I have heard that you have a solution to everything. I have a problem and I need you to help me.” He went on to pour his heart out to this young man called Rabbi, his fears, anxieties, worries, his fights with Mrs Bile, his desire to move to Salvation Street and very recently, his guilt. He just couldn’t stop, it seemed a dam had been opened. By the time he was done, he was surprised to find that he was crying and the young man was still listening, his composure oozing patience and love.

“Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.”

That sounded familiar, Grief was sure he had come across that before but where? The young man called Rabbi wasn’t done.

“Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God.”

Grief is crushed, he does not understand these words but surely they mean something? “But Master,” at this point, it no longer feels weird calling him that. “How does that help me claim residence on Salvation Street?”

The young man looks at him ever so lovingly and says, “Go home and ponder these things.”

Grief walks slowly back to his car. Admittedly, the young man called Rabbi had not said anything about his transition to Salvation Street, but he could sense that everything will be alright and for the first time in a long while, there’s a spring in Mr Grief’s steps.

No. 1 Salvation Street, that has a nice ring to it he thinks.

***The end.

Photo Credit: Jesusdaily.com

Sunday Special: Journal of a Missionary Wife 𐌠𐌠

Day 2

The village's awash with rumors of war, I don't even know what's happening but everyone is tense, even Geoff. I've been asked to stay within the walls of the village for the time being but I'm so sad. That would mean missing my daily walk. It begun out of need for solace but had become daily ritual. I don't know if I can take that, but I'll wait and watch.

Geoff had arrived with a stiffness to his shoulders which I had immediately recognised. It would seem things had not gone the way he had anticipated. 

Sometimes I wondered why he bothered. He cared too much and that was his weakness. Although, he always laughed it off whenever I pointed it out, he considered it as strength. I don't understand and I doubt I ever will.

Lord, help him, help us, help the village. Let there be no war. It would be terrible. 

Just the other day, Numi, the eldest woman in the village had recounted her dream. I shudder to remember it, it had seemed so vivid and now these?

Geoff is barely around, he's always in one meeting or the other with the village elders. I wish he wouldn't get so involved but then, I wish a lot of things.  Like starting a family.

Take charge Lord.

Photo Credit: Source

Sunday Special: Journal of a Missionary Wife 𐌠

Day 1

I rolled out of bed this morning with thoughts of Geoff on my mind. I hadn't slept well the night before and I couldn't even if I had tried. No, not because of the mosquitoes. 

The oil lamp had gutted out sometime during the night I think. My thoughts turn again to Geoff, Lord where is he?

It had been five years, five blissful years that I had promised to go where he went. I had sworn that his God will be my God and his people, mine also. I wonder if I hadn't spoken in haste.

It's 2 am. I say a prayer for Geoff and determine to put my mind to good use. I had clothes to mend and the garden needed tending and I had that corn to mill, oh so much to do.

When Geoff had first told me about the call, I had laughed. Now, I wonder who's laughing. Lord take charge.

8:00 am

It's fully day and still no sign of him. I feel my stomach knot. I wonder what my dad would say seeing me neck deep in cow dung. He had firmly resisted our marriage citing social differences but I hadn't budged and now, here I am in the middle of nowhere. Living with people who love you as much as they hate you.

Everyday of wakefulness is a testimony which is why I'm so worried for Geoff.

2 pm

I keep looking up from the Millery hoping to see Geoff walking down hill, my ears sharpened to catch the first strains of his easy laughter. He was always laughing, my Geoff. That was what had first caught my heart.

Lord, should anything happen to him...

7pm

Oh praise God, the village chief brought back word from Geoff...All's well. Now, I can concentrate on my sewing and then rest.

Photo Credit: Source

Death's Last Call

Idly wondering what the hullabaloo was all about, Keinde angrily flipped through the pages of her book. The minutes were precious, she couldn't afford to miss her deadline.

The noise drew closer still and she could vaguely make out what the crowd was chanting

"Crucify him."

"Burn him."

"Kill him."

"We want Belialas."

Not again she groans. This was a blood thirsty lot, ever ready to kill innocent souls egged on by the brotherhood's apostolates. Who on Earth would prefer Belialas the terrible over whoever was been led to the slaughter? This fella they were burning or stoning or crucifying at this early hour must be one hardened soul.

Since moving to this neighborhood, it had been one lynching or the other. Her family had strongly resisted her relocating to such a neighbourhood they termed as scum. Even the name pointed  out to the hopelessness of it, Dead End Zone. She wondered whether the developers were high on something the day they came up with such name.

Many said the early settlers had had one misfortune or the other befall them and they had hurriedly fled considerably lesser than they had arrived, hence the name.

Whatever the story, Keinde couldn't be bothered. She was here on a mission and was going to see it through. The life of a Journalist was a perilous one, not to talk of that of an investigative journalist.

Word had reached her Organisation of the nefarious activities carried out by the Sect called The Brotherhood and she had been dispatched to go digging.

It was said that they were responsible for most of the disappearances and killings reported on the media and the neighbourhood lived under their shadow.

The crowd's chant intrudes into her thoughts. With a sigh of exasperation, she gets up to close the window but her hand freezes as looking out, she recognises the cause of the crowd's ire. What? It was the young Rabbi, a really charismatic fellow. She had sat in on a few of his teachings and had even interviewed him. He was one of the few who openly rebuked the activities of the brotherhood.

Surely there'd been a mistake? Such a nice man, what could he have done? And the crowd chose him over Belialas? No, something smelt fishy and that's when her journalistic instincts kicked in. She could feel strongly that this man's death was tied to her investigations.

She rushed back to her desk, grabbed her note pad, a pen and tape recorder and rushed out the door. This would make for a good story she thought.

Photo Credit: Google

Sunday Special: The House Yonder I

This here is Mr. Grief, he lives at No. 6266 Despondency lane yonder down the hill, off Salvation Street. He had tried several times to be allocated a house on Salvation Street, but his requests were always denied or maliciously thwarted by the vile Mrs Bile who acted as estate manageress.

All his life, Grief had lived on Despondency lane, he was sick and tired of it. He saw how the other folks lived on salvation Street; they were happy and healthy and he wanted that too. From an early age, he knew something wasn't right, like something was missing and what he needed was right on Salvation Street. He could feel the pull strongly.

***

"No, no, you misunderstand me Bile..." Pause
"Uh-huh, exactly..." Another pause.
He was on yet another lengthy phone call with his estate manageress. An outsider looking in would see a shrivelled up figure of a man hunched over a desk phone. He cut a pitiful image, like the world bore heavily on him.

He had grown weary of having to say the same thing over and over without any change. The one sided conversation finally comes to an end and it is with a sigh he returns the phone to its cradle.

He looks out his window, the one looking out on Salvation Street. Oh, how he longed to be there, to be like those happy people, he tries to smile but realises he can't quite pull it off. It's been so long he smiled. He couldn't remember the last time he smiled.

Another world weary sigh escapes from him, how did they manage it, those folks? They laughed and smiled so effortlessly, everything they did was so effortless.

He had lost count how many times he'd sat here wishing for the same thing, a house on Salvation Street, he could just picture it. He feels tired. 

Tomorrow, he thinks, tomorrow, I must go to see the man everyone talked about. The man they called Rabbi.

***To be continued...

Photo Credit: Jesusdaily.com