The Bitter truth

I know not about your faith but mine has been far from smooth sailing. You see things were simpler in the mosaic time, more in tuned with the frequency of  human nature.

The law was, “an eye for an eye”. Hate your enemy, love your friends. Then Jesus wiped all that away with his blood and instead gave us the new covenant that teaches us to be  christ like

Thank you Jesus but ehhh, how do I implement this in my daily life?

Half way through Matthew 5: 34-48, I had to do some reflecting, because I know I was guilty, very guilty of a misbalanced spiritual life.

So I said, Ok father, let’s talk. You know I’m selfish, I know I’m selfish. I even refuse to lend to people I hold grudges against, sometimes they’ve probably forgotten about it… but I didn’t.

I decided to freeze the problem at it’s the root

It was simply because I felt like whatever I give away, I will need.

You can notice how wrong that thought process is ( Matthew 6: 19-21). I suppose there are two kinds of people, those who find it easier to  share. And  me.

The Bible coax us to give, even more than we are asked without expecting it back. Pray for those who persecute us. Turn the other cheek, this is the bitter truth.

If you’re on this same both with me, then the two logical steps (which I am taking as well, is to pray for repentance.  Then, make a pact hat whomever will ask you for anything from henceforth, be it money,  a resting place, clothes, bags, whatever it is, you will say Yes, even if it hurts.

He assures me that from then onwards, it will only get easier, and I have faith in his promises.

If I’m not alone on this, then comment and share tips on what you’re doing to improve yourself.

I continue to pray that God brings out the Goodness in my heart and exterminate all greed. Have a blessed day.

It’s cold outside, stay warm.

Confessions of a New Born

 

I’m not a prophet, but every now and then I have a prescient, a message that weighs heavy on my heart.

But first I have a confession.

I grew up in  a christian household.  My father being a minister meant for us church once or more times in a week.  This was fine at first, I enjoyed being in the children’s choir, but with time I grew less infatuated with the routine.

I hated not having the choice of going. To worsen things, I was involuntarily a part of the Youth’s fellowship, Hence, I started to rebel .

One day in high school while our economics teacher was singing a tune,  I hummed along, completely unaware. It was a song from a popular christian group. By the time I realised how inappropriate I was acting, he was already searing through his thick rims at me. I  apologised, wondering how mad he must be. Instead, His grim face brightened up and he says, ” One day you’ll be able to sing out loud and not feel ashamed,”.

 

During my last year of High school, a preacher was praying for the graduating students. He later calls me aside and says; “promise me that you will not forget God in the future,”.   I had no idea what he was talking about as I made no plans to leave the tropical shores of my country at the time.

Leaving Nigeria was an exciting period for me. On one hand, I’d never been so far from home. Secondly, it meant freedom, not just from my parents but ultimately from God. I tried to maintain church going for about four months, then I folded up my Bible and forgot about that life. I was 16 at the time.

 

It was fun not living under any rule of conduct, but eventually loneliness surrounded me.

 

Med school was more bloodcurdling  than I anticipated. As a result, I spent 2 extra years, which I never publicly complained about, considering the number of students that drop out each year. Because of this, I always  prayed during the exams period.

In  2017, I reconnected with an old high school friend. We reminisced on old times, on when we’d present the news every Friday. We also got paired up a few times for Bible hour, I’d say the  prayers, and he’d preach.

I told him, I don’t do that anymore, and he seemed genuinely sad to hear it. That Christmas he sent me an ebook titled, “the prayerful woman”. I was swamped with final exams and thesis work, but I made out time to read the book, and it made me reflect on my life choices.

2018. I rededicated my life to Christ, and relinquished the control I thought I had. I’m akin to a new born in the kingdom. Now I  learn everything again. I would say that first, there was, and still is, a purge of Pride, selfishness and jealousy. I’ve also been getting lessons on God’s love and wisdom.

But today, I have something different in my heart, and it says;

“I will turn your weakness into strength, I will turn your enemies into allies”.

I’m sharing this Good news because of the slight chance that you, or even a nation (Nigeria’s election, America’s midterm is coming up) may need it too.

I’d also recommend you read Psalm 139, if your heart leads you to.

So there it is people. I am not a preacher, neither do I want to be! I am but a new born in a  24 year old woman’s costume searching for a her purpose through Jesus christ.

Happy Halloween. God bless you!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

but sometimes I have prophetic dreams

Satisfaction

I slept last night watching webinars on how to drive more traffic to my blog and commanding an online presence, I woke up  this morning lucidly dreaming  about how to make sales.

This has been occupying my thoughts for months, I’m unemployed and I need to be independent regardless of my parent’s fortune.

Today during our study session, my German teacher asks me ways I save money, so I tell her that I rather invest than quit shopping or travelling, because that’s just me. I want to take 4 usd and turn it into 8 and then $12 rather than keep $4  in a piggy bank every month.

This caused me to realise just how much I idolize money, I mean every one does, but perhaps some more than others. Later,  I open WordPress and the first article I see is titled; the blessings of brokenness.

I scoffed.

What could this man be thinking to identify brokenness with blessings.  In what Multiverse? Out of curiosity I decided to read the post which began reshaping my POV .

I thought ok, he’s not wrong, but I still need to  make money!

I scrolled through twitter and I find yet another sermon with Joyce Meyer explaining Psalm 63 with her experience, talking about what it means to put God first and be fully satisfied

So I started thinking about why he was bringing these messages my way. All I want to do is become a social media elite and capture subscribers, it doesn’t mean I’m being ungrate….

…..Oh, maybe I’m being a tad impatient in my queries and mission to conquer online marketing

Maybe my vision has shifted from waking up thinking, ” thank you lord,” to “how do I get people hooked on this product.

Maybe I’m too focused  on an evitable future brokeness that I forgot how he’s steered me from tribulations in the past

And maybe, just maybe although I pray and sing praises, at the back of my mind, I am really thinking about the grind.

so I ask him, where do I go from here? should I just quit on everything I’ve been trying to figure out for the past few months?

The first Bible I came across was Mattew 6:34.

I guess it’s settled then. No more moaning about money etc. I will try my best to keep my eye on the cross and continue this  heavenly race I’ve been so fortunate to be a part of.

In hindsight, money doesn’t equal satisfaction. It’ll just tries to replace Christ in our lives which it’ll never be able.

Sure I want to be rich, successful and respected, like everyone but from what I know, I am indeed impatient and this race has phases to it.

In truth, I need to embrace the not-rich, non social media elite Idara because this will be a part of that story that awes the world years from now and bring Glory to his name.

Thanks for reading my daily thoughts.  Leave a comment. Tell us how your day went.

God bless you.

 

The Preacher’s Daughter

Matilda sat on the first row. Clasped hands to her midriff, the holy book at her heel, listening to congregate voices, bellowing a tone she’d known since was born with all their energy, they sounded like an approaching thunderstorm.  The man she called father sat on a pulpit, glaring earnestly at the crowd who sat with their heads bowed. Not a minute later, he erupts from his place, yelling at the rolling thunderstorm to cease, the heads dare not raise. He starts;

“You  depraved unruly wantons, surely not only four people have ten shillings for the offering basket, for it is not I, but he, who commands us to give in order to see his glory.”

In unison, the congregation lurched towards the basket, including the leper who could barely move unaided, for they yearned to be worthy.

Satisfied with his deed, the preacher wore a pleasing simper. The choir continues. Matilda was deep in thought, for the family did not give, they were only benefactors of the offering, as preaching was her father’s sole profession. The church dispersed, wearing a dolorous aura after the sermon, for father had told them that they were sacrilegious and the Lord died for the righteous, like him. He told them that they were fortunate, for he served as a light, leading sinners to righteousness.

Ma would do a big cook-out after church, every Sunday, usually Matilda would be delighted, but she was older now, she felt contrition, perhaps due to insomnia and night terrors she had each night, or perhaps she was befuddled by the travesty of her family’s faith.

In the following week, Matilda stirred a ruckus at home by refusing to go to church.  In her family, there was no bigger offense. Ma pleaded and cried. The preacher reiterated;

“Listen to your mother, foolish girl. This burst of rebellion is a ploy from Satan to destroy your righteous soul, if I do not see you in that front seat, then you might as well not be home when we return”. Satisfied that he has scared her straight, he yanked on his wife’s arm and they left, for where could she run to, she had no friends.

Matilda sought this golden moment, she slung a bag over her shoulder and set off to discover life without looking back.

Over the next months, Matilda lived in a shelter, she met with all categories of people, a disgraced former militant named Joel, and Katya, a trollop and mother of three were her best friends. They had such ample life experiences that it moved her to keep a journal. One day, she would publish their stories.

In the following year, Matilda moved in with her boyfriend, Harry. His affections for her were questionable, but she figured that inviting her to live in proved them. She relied on him and soon exhibited a proclivity for debauchery, like Harry. Over the next three years, a more brusque, sullen part of him began to unfurl. He’d criticize her for everything, including what she dared to think.  Consequently, the night terrors reappeared.  She had an epiphany of why she left her family, Harry was no different from the preacher.  By morning, she was gone.

Two years after rehab, she started working in a small scale company that rented qualified potential employees to big scale companies who need employees on a short-term contract. In rehab, she had learned to focus through meditation. She got to interact with people, channeling back her hobby, journaling.

Matilda made decent money with her job, she quite enjoyed it too. It was at work that she met Paul, who became her life partner. She was content, but one night, the night terrors resurfaced. Paul woke up to see her in frantic tears, he prompted her to talk about the most dreaded topic; her past, her parents. Paul intuitively discerned the source of her panic, that weekend, he took her to his fellowship. She worshipped with believers and for the first time, a glimmer of peace like no other intruded her heart.

Over the following weeks, she studied the holy book and to her amazement, she found a deeper understanding, in contrast to what her father taught. She realized she needed to forgive her Pa, so she prayed about it daily until she became whole.

She became an Associate Manager at her company. One tumultuous day, Judit, a colleague requested for her. Judit informed her of a man seeking a menial job to make ends meet. Matilda went out to see a gaunt version of her father. His eyes leered on her,  a deep cry fell out his mouth as he fell to his knees, disdain overtook him, but she looked at him with compassion and declared;

“I forgive you, but I am not God.”

 

 

This story delineates the hypocrisy of religion, as in Africa and most nations. Most times, budding believers lose their faith because of the scrutiny. The morality of our actions doesn’t inhibit Christianity from being an individual race; Moreover, we are not our parents.