Your Eyes

Your eyes are morning tides, drawing me in deeper with each gaze.  

Your eyes are outta space, shifting my balance and questioning gravity. 

Your eyes are the haze in which I lose my reasoning; sometimes by chance, sometimes by choice.

Your eyes are the appearance of truth, sweetening the bitter taste of your lying tongue.

Your eyes are were my common sense comes to die.

Your eyes are plastic swords, cutting bluntly through to my soul.

Your eyes are oceans and today I woke up drowning.

Sunday’s Best.

The Saturday night sun sets as routinely as any other, dense with pretty little secrets of the week’s misdemeanors; hiding it’s shame behind the darkness of the night camouflaging the depths of curious souls. Black hats are hung, Sunday dresses layed out, perfectly pressed and hanging in torment, judging us for everything we ought to be, but dismally failed to be. Because everyone showers more intently on Sunday morning, scrubbing off last night’s sin, baptising ourselves in colognes to shadow the stench of inequity and masking scarred souls and broken spirits in our Sunday Bests and everyone arrives at church wearing fake smiles, fake faith and seemingly holy.

So we sit in the church and hear a word that seems to speak right to us but come Monday morning will prove to have been spoken right through us; because we’ll put off the heels at lunch time and keep on the flowery dresses till bedtime and ponder a little more about the pinching message from the pulpit but because we’re quite acquainted with our demons, it pinches just a little but not enough to invoke change. Sunday’s spirit is just for Sunday, we wear a different outfit every other day. Skilled liars by Monday, unapologetic idolators by Wednesday, Friday brings out a sensual adulterer and soon we’re back to Saturday where we sin only half day because although we don’t know God, we respect the sacredness of Sabbath morning enough to go to bed sober on Saturday night. 

Christianity isn’t a title we wear every other day and practice only on Sunday, the Bible isn’t a Church syllabus that we open only when the word is being taught you us on Sunday morning. God isn’t measuring faith and holiness according to who checks attendance on Sunday (although it’s still pretty encouraged to do so) but also by how you live your life between Sunday. Christianity should be a lifestyle, a Christ-like character that Is part and parcel with the person you are, if you have to separate the two then you’re not doing it right. The Bible should be the lamp that guides your path everyday, otherwise you’re walking right only on Sunday and wayward six out seven days in the week. 

The devil isn’t worried about lukewarm Christians who wear a title without action because he knows they will fall into destruction all in their own. If your enemy isn’t concerned about you, if even he knows that you are your own undoing, then you should be worried. If sin finds a home in your heart and demons sit down with you for tea and scones on the morning after then it’s time for an awakening!.  Its time for us to invite into the home of our hearts the Spirit that makes evil spirits tremble with fear and commands demons to flee just by it’s mere presence, it’s time to open that Bible daily to feed ourselves with truth till we dissolve the lies that clog our system, it is time for change, it is time to give God his time, glory and honor from one Sunday through to the next.

It is time to not just be a regular attendant of the the Church but to carry God in our hearts wherever we are. Marking the register is simply not enough anymore!

Whining and Dining

Hello Friend,

See I understand the present arrangement and honestly, I’m happy to host you for each of your monthly visits, but there are grave matters that need to be addressed.

It is my pleasure to have you visit and share my space with me as frequently as you do, but considering I don’t complain about the mess you make when you’re around and I’m always ready and willing to clean up after you, I would say it isn’t too much to ask that you act like a decent guest. It is my house after you, I won’t have it look abandoned simply because you choose to be reckless.

I respect your presence and I treat you as kindly as I would any guest, mowing lawns when you’re about to arrive, trimming hedges for you, I even perfume my whole house in lily scents just to make you more comfortable, yet each time you arrive, you throw a tantrum and disturb the peace of my home. I try my best to keep calm when you’re around but your unconventional behavior pushes me over the edge and I just can’t help but explode.
I’ll be expecting you between the 13th and the 17th and I’ll be as welcoming as ever, hoping sincerely that this time you come with a change of attitude, please come gently with a bottle of non alcoholic wine so that we can drink and be merry. Instead of breaking wine bottles that are meant to be complementary gifts and use them to brutally tear up my insides like you tend to do. I understand that you’re on your journey down here already and I wish you a safe trip, I really do hope that you come in peace, leaving all negative temperaments at the door.

 God ease you as you come.

Rainbow Realities

I blame shitty, overenthusiastic college movies for my apparently unrealistic expectations. I packed my hopes and dreams, maps and duffle bags, I saved about a thousand (at least) pins on DIY ideas for my college dorm room and crafted a hopeful to-do list for me and my roommate/best friend who I was to meet upon arrival at the dreams-come-true station that is College. But someone should have really told me that it wasn’t the best idea to have a book of prospective destinations for a summer vacation for me and the foreign boyfriend who I would meet casually during orientation, you know just like all the sorority-related movies led me to believe would be the foundation of a college happily ever after.

Life sure taught me an unwelcome lesson in my first year of College; where I was debating whether to go black or white, life burst out a rainbow of realities and I was lost in the collage.

I landed in Miri, beaming with a bright light of misguided hope, and before other tragic realities tore me apart, the density of the heated climate slapped me upon arrival and it was pretty much downhill from there. I bought sunshine-yellow duvet covers because I’d been dull before, but I was going to be happy here, well at least that was the plan. What they don’t tell you is that Orientation is more work than fun and even after the campus tour, you will probably lose yourself once or twice or for half a semester. They also don’t tell you that there are no BFF at first sight moments in real life, because I remember talking to my roommate exactly five times the whole year, each time involving either the light switch or mopping the floor. We were simply the direct opposite of BFF.

The most cruel joke College (or maybe just myself really) played on me was that after crossing oceans and taking three flights to casually meet a foreign fellow, I found myself with one who was a bus ride and one river away from home. Life really showed me. Don’t get me wrong, my not-so-foreign boyfriend is great, he’s the dream type of guy, and we’ve done all the movie type things; riding into the sunset at the beach, midnight walks that involve disregarding vicious mosquitoes, romantic night drives and all the Romantic Novel cliches- his only flaw is that he’s not foreign.

I packed fantasies and falsehoods with me but reality meet me here. I meant to lose myself half a dozen times before finally finding who I am and settling comfortably in my true self, but life isn’t so kind. Assignments and Exams will my let you explore several personalities at once, not if you intend to mantain good grades that is. And outside of the movies, you don’t go to college to fall in love and make friends, there are class attendances to be mantained and commitments to be met otherwise you come out of there with a broken heart, a sheet of paper and nothing more. So college woke me up to the unromanticised parts of life and threw me into a sea of responsibility, independence and life changing decision making and I downed half the sea before I learned to swim.

And when I had embraced all the colors of the rainbow, College gave me a sheet of paper – black and white!

Court Adjourned!

“You are under arrest,” the agents of darkness forced my arms behind me, chained me intently and in that moment I was a prisoner of sin. I found myself locked up in the deepest parts of the world, with very little option but to befriend the demons that surrounded me. I could not afford my own defense and once I was comfortably acquainted with the roots of my inequity, I didn’t seem to want it. In the heat of my sentence mercy found me and appointed me a public defender.

The judge; in flames of blazing fire, unquestionable majesty and a glory so great it was blinding, sat in His throne and demanded the Prosecution to make its case. The accuser of the brethren, in all his naught and devious charm, enthusiastically stood up to impeach me for everything I was. He made his case craftily, opening books of sins I myself had forgotten. He tore me up, from the inside out exposing me brutally, undressing me of all the pretense that came with each Sabbath morning and revealed the truth behind every action. He convinced the court that I dressed up every Saturday morning, perfect attendance, not for the sake of the word but because I had an overly attractive Youth Leader and I never grew weary of gazing at him. He called me a liar, a fornicator, a thief, a cheat, an idolater  and he wasn’t wrong. He revealed incriminating evidence that I was proud, drowning happily in a pool of self importance, silently judging the world for their inadequacy because I felt righteously complete. ” She is a lover of the world and all its pleasures and pays no regard to things of Your law, your honor,” he closed.

A voice authoritative enough to shake the floors of the earth, unsurprised  but still wounded but the extend of my crimes, instructed the Defense to make its case. ” I have come that you may have life and have it in abundance,” my public defender began, He spoke calmly but firmly and I was hypnotized by the melody of His voice. “We accept the charges, we accept them all but the price for the defendant’s crimes was already paid.” He lifted his hands and my eyes were flowing like rivers in the rainy season, the scars on the defender’s hands were the evidence of my salvation, I was guilty but through him I was cleansed into perfect innocence. The crimes I had committed were all quite right and they were all  undebatabley mine but His death had washed them all in sacred blood that I may not be condemned to a lifetime of imprisonment but inherit forgiveness and a Spirit that would lead me in perfect righteousness. The public defender pleaded my case, with his own life and blood, he lost his life that I might have mine and for this purpose, to destroy the works of the devil. ” Has not the Son of man come to save that which is lost?” defense rested.

The honorable, the only Lawgiver and Judge who is able to save and destroy, the one who has perfect knowledge, weighed the arguments of both and found me; guilty but not condemned, sinful but saved, my chains of worldly imprisonment were broken and by his judgement I was set free. I leaped into the arms of my defender, cried and pledged my life to his service, my heart was filled with love, awe and unquestionable sincerity. The gavel of the judge was pounded and it was finished. 

Court Adjourned.

Gowned in Glory

I’ve probably planned and re-planned my wedding a thousand times over since I was ten. Wedding gowns changing almost as frequently as the groom, bouquet arrangements by the season and venues by maturity as I grew to discover that the world had more to offer than the Rainbow Hotel. I hoped to build at least two remotely decent friendships so that I would have people I can tolerate as my bridesmaids. I had a playlist of every romantic Usher song that was fit for the occasion and I planned to learn how to move my feet according to rhythm before the big day. I dreamed of walking down the aisle to whoever or whatever species I would have chosen as my spouse and I simply couldn’t wait to grow into the long awaited title of “bride”.

Then I found God, or God found me and in no time at all He had my heart. I couldn’t help but fall in love with the fact that He is God, Lord of lords, King of kings, the Alpha and Omega and even in all His glory, His might, His power he created me and chose to love me. But the most romantic gesture is that He made me, down to the detail and called me good but even then he didn’t program me to love Him, he gave me the will to choose and waited. God waited twenty whole years for me to choose Him over the world, to choose cross over curse, to choose His will over mine and to choose to love him.

Good proved His love for us through the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross and from that day on he was committed, he gave his proposal through his commandments and our acceptance or rejection comes in either following or rejecting those commands respectively. But I’ve been waiting for my wedding day a long time and when the proposal came I jumped to a Yes! I said Yes Lord I will love you enough to obey your commands and in the midst of commotion I will search hard for your voice and listen. I said Yes, Lord I want to come home to you on that night and with all my days before then I will hold on to your promise and remain faithful to you alone.

I will bathe daily in the purity of the sacred blood of Jesus, lotion myself in grace, perfume myself with the Lord’s mercies that are new every morning, clothe myself in a gown of his abundant favor and veil myself with the Holy Spirit that it may cover the and protect my saved heart. And each day I will prepare to be his bride and wait joyfully for the return of my groom. I will rewrite my vows in prayer each day until they are perfect and I will say…

Lord you know the bride price you paid for my soul, you know the sweat and tears it took to earn my filthy heart, but you labored still. You know my flaws and shortcomings, you know my sins and weakness and you love me regardless. You know that my heart is too small and too broken to love you whole but your grace has carried me and exalted me and made that little fraction of my tainted love enough. You’ve broken my old self and rebuilt me to be the bride you deserve, you’ve mended all my broken parts with love, stitched all my doubt with faith, bandaging my impatience in trust and you’ve prescribed me a dose of your Holy word, full of truth and promise. I will remember to worship you; in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer. Holding on to the promise of eternity where even in death, we shall never part. And I long for the day you will change my title and call me – Yours.

The Unmentioned

I don’t really know how it is where you come from, but where I come from, sex talk between parents and children is just about as popular as surfing is in landlocked countries – it’s non existent. I guess I can understand the discomfort of discussing such matters, because from the receiving end it’s pretty uncomfortable, but can we take a moment to consider the greater dangers that come with NOT addressing the issue at all?

Because parents are too embarrassed or simply reluctant to raise the topic of sex with their adolescent children, they leave room for the world to feed their children it’s own views on the matter. The few very unfortunate times the issue does surface, you find that parents don’t teach, warn or even talk, they attack the child as if they are currently partaking in sexual activities, even when they are not; this just makes the children unwilling to consult their parents. So the next time they get curious, they will ask their peers, the internet and other unapologetically misleading sources and fish out information like; it’s really not that bad you just have to be smart about it, you can get at least three or four abortions as long as you don’t let the baby grow too long, you can get on the pill and not use rubbers or AIDS is so common these days it happens to the best of us. The world is cruel and selfish, it cares very little about the well being of the young people hence they are fed tweaked realities about sex everyday and they swallow them eagerly because they don’t know better.

Someone has to take that first step to create a bridge over the deep waters of discomfort and cross over to tell the young people how damaging sex before marriage can be. They need to know that it isn’t okay to give up your virginity for mere attention or money and then continue to sleep around just to keep you appearances. They need to understand the worth of other human beings so that they aren’t so unaffected by degrading them and stealing their virtue from them. They need to accept the harsh truth about STD’s and pregnancy and someone needs to hammer it in that killing souls is by no means okay – what better person to do this than a parent? What better place for this information to come from than from a place of unbiased love and nurturing affection?

It’s time for parents to stop shying about these things and talk about the truths of life and making love because having been the first to sow a seed in their minds, even when tell world tries to corrupt them, they will remember the foundation that you would have established for them. Making your children feel comfortable to talk about their problems might be what prevents them from getting involved in premarital sex or what gets them to stop before they get lost in it, it may be what has them running to you when they are in trouble instead of resorting to drugs, alcohol, suicide or any other escape they may think they have. It is also important to teach your children the implications of premarital sex from a spiritual point of view, so that they know that they don’t only damage their bodies, but their souls too.

Talk to your children about the unmentionables, or someone else will and you might not like what they have to say.