What He said…

“And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
Romans‬ ‭8:38-39‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Stop trying to separate yourself from the love of Christ. 😒

http://bible.com/116/rom.8.38-39.nlt

If the questions were different.

Why do women stay in abusive marriages?

Was it love or fear or duty or just plain folly?

How do you live with a man that professes love to you one minute and slaps you silly the next?

It baffled me. I just couldn’t understand. My dad never hit my mum much less yell at her. I didn’t see it happening to me either. I wouldn’t take that nonsense.

If you loved me you wouldn’t hit me.

If you loved me you wouldn’t yell at me.

If you loved me, my happiness will be your priority.

So when he hit me and yelled at me and seemed the most joyous at my pains. I packed my bags. It was time to leave.

But they told me not to.

If you leave your husband, who will marry you?

What will happen to your children?

What will people say?

Will you now return to your father’s house?

There are no perfect marriages anywhere, this is your cross, you have to carry it.

He will grow out of it. Just give him time.

And so i stayed.

Even though the arguments were endless and the beatings were consistent.

I still stayed.

Even though the circle was never ending – I say something, he gets annoyed and slaps me, I break down in tears, he does the same and even though we’re both crying, I feel sorry for him, I aplologize, he does the same. And we’re happy again. Till he’s unhappy again.

I start to make excuses for him.

Maybe if I didn’t ask him why he was home so late.

Maybe if I talked less and listened more.

Maybe if I prepared his meals in time.

Maybe if I became his mother, wife, slave,  friend, cook, cleaner, plaything. All at once.

Maybe if I let go of my pride,dignity, opinions, needs.

Just maybe, he will learn to love me.

Maybe that’s what marriage is all about. Sacrifice. Servitude.  Suffering.

What if the questions had been asked differently the first time he cracked my ribs.

If you die, who will take care of your children?

Who will bury your father?

Who will teach your daughter that love is never made by fist throwing punches and words causing scars?

Who will teach your son that women are not in any way lesser than men and a man’s strength was not displayed by oppressing others?

After all is said and done, the sanctity of life far exceeds the shame of a broken marriage.

***                   ****.               ****

What would you do? Or what would you advice your sister/friend/daughter to do?

Would be nice to know your thoughts

I’m stronger than I think

I’ve been eating a lot lately, daddy will be proud, and drinking too, coffee, and needing notepads, empty ones with glitters.

They say the same kind of evil doesn’t happen twice to the same person. They were wrong. It happened twice. The first time, I thought h it was cute, I even wrote about it , you know, I was simply deepening my well of experience and gathering real life stories to tell my children but then it happened again and this time it was neither funny nor cute, it was bad and embarrassing and it hurt. It wasn’t the kind I wanted to write about. And that’s not what this is about. This is about my accelerated eating habits and drinking massive amounts of coffee and needing plenty blank notepads.

But at least I’m writing and I’m happy and I even sang last night never mind that the person I was singing to was sound asleep and Etisalat was busy laughing at me.

I was happy and I sang.

When you’re happy and you sing, everything becomes insignificant.

It’s like a magic potion. Happiness and singing.

Lool.

I’m hungry again.

Are You Jesus?

Not sure how I got there (it’s probably because I’m a chronic stalker), but I stumbled on Seun’s blog and saw this post which I couldn’t help but share on here.

I think it’s a good read for anyone regardless of your beliefs but if you are one of the millions that if given an official form to state your religion you’d tick “Christianity”… this is for you. So please, grab your coke & popcorn… just a few seconds will do 🙂 – https://seunajayee.blogspot.com.ng

 

“This write up touched my heart. I am sure it will touch yours too.

A few years ago a group of salesmen went to a regional sales convention in Chicago. They had assured their wives that they would be home in plenty of time for Friday night’s dinner. In their rush, with tickets and briefcases, one of these salesmen inadvertently kicked over a table which held a display of apples. Apples flew everywhere. Without stopping or looking back, they all managed to reach the plane in time for their nearly-missed boarding…

ALL BUT ONE!!! He paused, took a deep breath, got in touch with his feelings and experienced a twinge of compassion for the girl whose apple stand had been overturned. Although tempted to leave, he told his buddies to go on without him, waved good-bye, told one of them to call his wife when they arrived at their home destination and explain his taking a later flight. Then he returned to the terminal where the apples were all over the terminal floor. He was glad he did.

The 16-year-old girl was totally blind! She was softly crying, tears running down her cheeks in frustration, and at the same time helplessly groping for her spilled produce as the crowd swirled about her; no one stopping and no one to care for her plight. The salesman knelt on the floor with her, gathered up the apples, put them back on the table and helped organize her display. As he did this, he noticed that many of them had become battered and bruised; these he set aside in another basket. When he had finished, he pulled out his wallet and said to the girl, “Here, please take this $40 for the damage we did. Are you okay? “She nodded through her tears. He continued on with, “I hope we didn’t spoil your day too badly.”

As the salesman started to walk away, the bewildered blind girl called out to him, “Mister…” He paused and turned to look back into those blind eyes. She continued, “Are you Jesus?” He stopped mid-stride…. and he wondered. He gently went back and said, “No, I am nothing like Jesus – He is good, kind, caring, loving, and would never have bumped into your display in the first place. “The girl gently nodded: “I only asked because I prayed for Jesus to help me gather the apples. He sent you to help me, so you are like Him – only He knows who will do His will. Thank you for hearing His call, Mister.”

Then slowly he made his way to catch the later flight with that question burning and bouncing about in his soul: “Are you Jesus?”


Do people mistake you for Jesus?

That’s our destiny, is it not? To be so much like Jesus that people cannot tell the difference as we live and interact with a world that is blind to His love, life and grace. If we claim to know Him, we should live, walk and act as He would. Knowing Him is more than simply quoting scripture and going to church. It’s actually living the Word as life unfolds day to day.
You are the apple of His eye even though you, too, have been bruised by a fall. He stopped what He was doing and picked up you and me on a hill called Calvary and paid in full for our damaged fruit.


Please share this, if you feel led to do so. No condition attached just that it could bless someone. Thanks”


LORD help us to be like you. Amen.

We never got closure.

My sister warned me. Said i shouldn’t ask.

But i did. I needed to know.

And the story started.

She was in her mid-fifties, but she already had 10 children.

She got married when she was 16 and lost her first husband when she was 36.

And for years, they lived in abject poverty, barely surviving each day. One day, her children, 7 of them, were so hungry they wailed so much it brought physical ache to her heart, the pain of seeing her children cry for food was so great she had to do something, anything, to pacify them. So she stepped outside, picked a few stones and went on to cook them, lying to her children that she was boiling yam and in a few minutes they would have food. It killed her, she went into the room and cried out agony. But then out of nowhere came an angel, it was her friend from church, bearing 5 tubers of yam. She cried harder and went on to cook actual food for her kids.

She finally found a rich man and married him. She didn’t care that she was going to be his fourth wife. Her children finally had constant food to eat, clean clothes to wear and they were finally able to return to school. Life was good again. She even started a business, traveling out of the country to get goods to resell. 4 of her children had gotten married to good men and women. 2 had traveled to the united states.  She even had three more children. Life was really good.

And then one day, she came to the north – three of her daughters lived there. Her first granddaughter had just turned one. She spent a few days and bid them farewell. She was going home but first she had to see her step-daughter in Lagos.

She never got to Lagos. She never got home. She never came back to see her daughters in the north.

The last time they saw her, she was dancing joyfully with her one-year-old granddaughter, singing ancient praises and thanking God for life.

That one year old, is my sister.

27 years has gone by and my momma still dreams of her momma. I think she still aches. You see, they never got closure. They never found out what happened to her. If she lived. Or not. She was a good woman. Momma said she deserved the world.

But i don’t think she got it.

I’ll never let you go.

Have you ever had someone listen to you sleep for one whole hour?

Have you ever had someone constantly search your soul, wanting to know the depth of your thoughts?

Have you ever had someone look at you like you put the stars in the sky?

Have you ever had someone hold you like they’ve known you before the world was set in motion?

Have you ever had someone ask you your dreams? Including the ones you had with your eyes open?

Have you ever had someone call you beautiful? Every clumsy flaw, every speck of dust, every droplet of magic, every detail of your being?

Have you ever had someone whisper your name with such melody that makes you want to dance?

Have you ever had someone love you so much you start to feel the ocean in your little tummy each time your catch a whiff of their scent?

Have you?

Have you found Love?

Of all the mediocre things you’ve known, Love shouldn’t make the list.

You deserve someone who will love you with deliberate intention and consistent fire.

If you haven’t found it, Wait For It.

If you have, Never Let It Go.

If our eyes saw souls.

First, it was his stride, and then his eyes.

He was in the wrong place. He had to know this.

He wasn’t carrying a worn leather bound book but she could still tell.

She could tell he was a preacher. It was in his eyes.

And those eyes were staring straight at her

She had to get away from him. Fast!

She wasn’t about to waste this night listening to some gibberish she stopped believing in a long time ago.

Davian, her sweet little boy, wouldn’t understand why they were being thrown out of their home.

He started walking towards her, as she knew he would.

She took a couple steps backward and bumped into a burly drunk, spilling his drink. He cursed in disgust and grabbed a handful of her hair intending to fling her off his path.

And she wished he did.

But the preacher was fast. Too fast.

He grabbed her arm almost immediately and she could swear she saw heaven in his eyes.

But it was just for a split second and he was gone. Vanished. Poof!

Her head spun as she lifted herself off the floor, it was 8:21am. Her first thought was Davian.

How was her baby?

Did she sleep here?

In this bar that reeked of Alcohol and obscenities?

Why was her head so heavy?

What had the preacher done to her?

Why was Julia wearing a pink hat?!

Julia, the young girl who had left her foster home few weeks ago to work at the most popular bar in town walked towards her, a bright smile on her face. The girl couldn’t be more than 16 years old but she dressed like a whore and wore too much make up. But none of those could hide her childlike innocence or cheerful spirit.

Julia’s hat. There was something strange about it. Just as strange as the preacher.

“Julia why are you wearing a pink hat?” Trish asked.

The girl gave her a puzzled look waving off her question as she drew closer and peered into Trish’s eyes.

“Your eyes look a little weird Trish,what happened to you?” Julia’s voice was laced with awe and suspicion at the same time

Trish felt blood rush to her head and she held onto a bar stool to steady herself as she looked around, 2 of the three men at the far end of the bar were wearing a raven black hat, No, those were no hats, they were halos but they were so dark it looked as though they might swallow up their heads, the 3rd man’s halo was dull yellow with a shadow of depression all around him. Gennifer, the girl every man wanted wore a blazing red halo while her friend wore an envious green one.

And then it dawned.

she wasn’t seeing hats or halos

She was seeing people’s souls!

Her head was still spinning as she staggered out the bar. The street was a kaleidoscope of colors! She was almost blinded. Children bounced around in bursts of cute pinks and excited blues, mothers hurried off in greens, the old lady in the coffee shop was a calm cream, the bus driver screamed off in a fiery red.

She hurried off, trying not to stare at people. She pulled her long jacket closer – she was beginning to shiver and that’s when her eyes caught a whiff of her reflection in a store window. What she saw weakened her knees. That wasn’t right, she stepped back and stared at the mirror.

She couldn’t be white.

Her soul couldn’t possibly be pure and innocent and good. There was a mistake somewhere, something wasn’t right. She was a damaged young woman who made a living off whoring. Whores were not pure or innocent or good. This had to be a mistake, she argued with herself as her eyes welled up with tears.

She wasn’t sure what was happening to her but she was sure of one thing.

She was never going back.

“…Yet now he has reconciled you to himself through the death of Christ in his physical body. As a result, he has brought you into his own presence, and you are holy and blameless as you stand before him without a single fault” Col 1:22