Bondage Broken

Dear Friends,

How long are grudges supposed to last for anyway?

Is it till we are tired of the extra pain in our hearts, whenever the person walks into the room, or is it till we are desperate to sleep well and finally get that unnecessary discomfort out of our own heads, whenever that one person crosses our minds?

Or seriously, are we waiting to realize what we already know, that we are defying the number 1 commandment? That we are hurting God? That we have no right?

Either way this casual form of hatred is fueled by darkness, inspired by an eternity of madness, that slowly waits to kill us across seconds…..

So how long is it necessary to prove a point , that “YES!  I will continue to live like my sister does not exist, like she wasn’t made from the image of God,  like my total disgust towards her is an approved form of worship to the devil, the prince of hate, destruction and grudges.”  There is a difference between wisdom and living in death.

How long do I have to lie to myself that I am not at peace with myself, because I have an invisible black book  of enemies knitted in my soul, and it keeps growing and growing until my undefined end, when I stand before the throne of God on judgement day, and give Him a 1000 reasons why I just could not repent:

BECAUSE I WANTED TO BE RIGHT!!!

But hell isn’t made for those who have always been wrong, or those who truly love God, because if we are true holders of the cross, we would know how to treat our brother or sister first,

as Christ came when He gave up His all for us; His money, His Home, His freedom, His privacy, His family, His dignity, His marriage,His food, His clothes, His life, His blood, His sweat, Himself.

So, how much is a grudge really worth?…………………………………….        ……..

The next time I see those who betray, gossip, lie and persecute me, I will smile and say hi first. And I will mean all of it, as Christ died shamelessly on the cross for me and the one I labeled as “enemy”.

Forgiveness is bondage broken.

Psalm 49:13-15     Leviticus 19:17-18    Matthew 25:35    Colossians 3:13   Ephesians 4:31-32

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When we visit the homeless.

My visit to the food shelf, Sharing and Caring Hands, was truly a humbling and convicting, and immersive learning experience.  Surprisingly, it turned out to be one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, and I knew then, that it must have been a divine appointment. I left the food shelf not just physically fed, but with a deep spiritual and emotional satisfaction.

Last Tuesday, I looked around in desperation for any way I could get through this project successfully. The only challenge I was facing was time. As a student who works 3 part time jobs, I was not expecting to have the pleasure of a 2 hour bus ride. I knew the only day I could truly trust myself to get everything done was Tuesday because the entire week was meant to be jam- packed with events and preparations for the approaching finals week. I spent so much time panicking on how soon I could finish the assignment, I did not prepare myself mentally or spiritually for the encounters I was about to experience.

Finally at work, I was able to google a nearby food shelf which was meant to open as soon as I got out from work. So quickly, I rushed out earlier than usual, with the fear of traffic, and the ignorance of God’s overarching plan over my day. The food shelf happened to be only 6 minutes away from my workplace. I arrived more than 45 minutes early, in a car, while those who were truly in need walked wearily to the entrance. I kept asking myself insensitively where a parking lot would be at a homeless food shelf that catered for many living under the poverty line.  I cheated by parking in the back where staff and patients would park. I made sure to take off all make up and jewelry so that I could rightfully fit in without any suspicions. I even wore a scarf and painted sadness on my face.

As I was trying to get into the mindset of a homeless person, I was wondering what to expect from an experience like this. I was one of the first people to arrive to the shelter. When I got there, I was tasked with trying to figure out where I wanted to sit and with whom. I had to prompt myself once more to make an effort to socialize.  As much as I had tried to disguise myself, I realized that I still could not blend in, what betrayed me even more was my African accent.  I awkwardly sat next to a couple and their male friend, because there were only 2 women in the dining room at the time, and the second woman seemed like she wanted to be alone. As soon as I sat down, I received a dirty look from the woman who was sitting next to a man. I quickly got the cue that I was unwanted, so I left.

I then sat next to the other woman, the lonely old one. For privacy reasons, I will call her Jill. Jill completely ignored me for the first five minutes, and until then, I had to initiate every conversation with her. She answered with one word answers. Her eyes were tired, and her hair was extremely grey in just the front. Her face was covered with the wrinkles of worry and sadness, and I am glad I got to see her smile before I left. She later told me that her husband had just passed away the month before. She said this through smoke burnt lips, broken teeth, and tear stained eyes. At that moment I started noticing how dark  the room was becoming, and there was nothing I could really say to comfort her, because I was slowly slipping to the past of my losses also. We both cried together over past love. The room wreaked of sweat, spit, and drugs, and I started to realize that I was not that  far broken from anyone else in there. I had been there before, even if it was my first time there.

Then walked in Emma, a resilient Ecuadorean woman with her baby carriage. I mention that because she was so proud to be from her country. She burst into the middle of the line, cutting right in front of Jill and I . At that point I was too bummed out to care about the extra minute of waiting for my food, besides I was trying to fit in. But she had so much life, and so much to say. She told us about the love of Jesus Christ and how He had saved her from that dark place that everyone seemed to be slipping into. She sang out loud and quoted many uplifting verses. She poured her motherly love on us. Soon a sermon erupted from the midst of the long food line. She was the one who made Jill smile again. I’m glad she came when she did. There was only so much my melancholic temperament could do for Jill.

The food was served by teenagers. They were very kind and patient to us. They treated us like we mattered. One of them offered to hold and serve Emma’s plate, while she attended to the baby. Even though there were arguments and struggles between some of the men in the room, the volunteers were different. They were neutral observers, just like me, but like Emma, they gave a light to the entire room, not to mention the food they gave us was amazing. We had barbeque ribs, and fries with a pickle, and brownies, with dapples and ice cream. It was really sweet.  I actually enjoyed myself. It felt like a family dinner, with Jill helping herself to seconds and thirds, and Emma seriously preaching to everyone on the table. It was amazing. Sadly, there were grown men next to us, who were discussing how they were going to use their monthly earnings from begging to buy more drugs. Some people hid the food in compartments they bought with them, and kept going for more.

The volunteers were friendly and humble and offered more food to their guests. We all said a prayer together before we ate. This was led by the volunteers. However, they did not join us for dinner. In general, everyone was thankful for the food, especially since they knew it cost them nothing and they could always come back for more. It was somehow hard for me to accept that, because I know that unlike everyone else in the room, even though I came for food, I left with the bread of life, and empty pockets, as I came in.  That day, I made a friend, two in fact. I learnt that regardless of what we see  on the table, God’s love is always made available for us, if we can only see beyond our basic earthly needs, he will refresh and sustain us. Us humans, we have a hunger that not even a loved one or seconds or thirds at a food shelf can satisfy . I learnt more than anything that like everyone else in the room, I was wounded somehow or  broken, and my brokenness could only be mended by Jesus. I was truly grateful for this experience and the free food shared with brothers and sisters in Christ.

 

  • 1 Peter 1:6-7

 

“And when I come to die, Oh when I come to die, Oh when I come to die, Give me Jesus.”

Breaking Through Mirrors and Breakthroughs.

Let’s talk about the mountains on my body. The tiny boils of fire that the enemy uses to eat away at my soul. The first one was fearful isolation.

When I’m dead to this world #anotherbullet

Dear God,

I am writing these lamentations to You because I’m tired. I’ve complained to my mother, my family has been ashamed of me, random mad men on the bus have teased and insulted me, ex boyfriends have gagged at me…surgeries didn’t work. I’ve failed too many exams obsessing over the wrong anxieties and now my co workers probably think there’s something wrong with me because I’ve made a mountain out of the dirt inside of me. I’ve spent majority of my life, 25 years, being angry and disgusted by the design that You made me to be, that You allowed me to become. So I’m writing a complaint to the manufacturer of my soul. I know You can fix this broken vessel, because I’ve tried everything, and no one, none of these people, no one could save me from the pit I’m drowning in, not even myself. So this is me, pleading, answer me, please.

I spend most of my days trying to lift my head up …. but then the weight of guilt and pain forces me to look down so that my head covers that invisible necklace  that suffocates and burns into my neck and spine, choking my life, yet spelling the words “U-G-L-Y, You ain’t got no alibi”, so how can I even see You? The truth is I have 5 imaginary dwarfs trying to suck holes into my soul. Though small, they appear loud. Those little leeches, accompany tiny mountains. Those mountains, whoever sent them are reminders of dark spirits. And they try to remind me of their presence everyday, and even when I toss in my sleep. I’ve noticed how much for a while, these thorns in my flesh have managed to dictate my posture, how I walk, my lack of eye contact, the constant state of self torture and hate, and even bigger, the life long hindrance to fulfilling my true calling and destiny. I can barely find myself, when I’m constantly hurting from these growing scars. I NEED YOUR HELP!

I laughed at the verse of the day Ephesians 2:10; “For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them.” I ask You, Lord, what can you with someone who is so broken that whenever they look into someone else’s eyes all they see is their own dysfunction.Why do I never feel like I’m good enough to wear that dress, to go to that one party, to talk to that one person, to interview for that job. I walk to the state fair and people look at me like the walking freak display, because I have allowed myself to wear that chain around my neck. So I keep my head down, but You say I’m Your workmanship. For what purpose Lord? Will You always be the Only one, to love me for who I am? Is that why You allowed me to be and look this way?

Let’s talk about the mountains on my body. The tiny boils of fire that the enemy uses to eat away at my soul. The first one was fearful isolation. Growing from my lack of trusting others especially those closest to me, I hid even the most painful cuts, and this grew into layers of layers of lies and frustration. I was always hiding. I trusted  no one. Bad things had happened. People had taken advantage of me. Family had mistreated me. Friends had misused me. Siblings had mishandled me. But I was made to think it was normal. By the time I was 7, I was shivering from nightmares, drownings, beatings, starvings, touchings, and a life too dim to see Your light. Then I saw a sunflower. The weirdest plant, with the happiest glow. Like me, it was skinny, and had a big head, but more hair, especially in the middle. It made me smile. Still, that yellow pierces through my thoughts. It was too beautiful to wonder who loved me, and who loved me not. I think that was You smiling at me; me, my mother’s darker child.

This is a working progress of faith. To be continued…………..

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/2017/09/05/elevate/

 

Overcoming Fear and Accepting God’s hand.

Overcoming fear and accepting God’s hand through the trials.

I’m not new to this suffering. Neither is Jesus. Lately so much has been happening … riots, floods, missile launches, dirty politics…. my own weaknesses and imperfection. It’s so easy to give up and question God, like He doesn’t know what He is doing, like He is not the author and vindicator of everything that is good, like he didn’t make me fearfully and wonderfully to fulfill His true divine purposes for my life.

The world might raise me to hate who I am because the canal mind cannot begin to understand or discern who I  was made to be. I am better than what anyone can guess or calculate about me, because the manufacturer of my soul, God, is the only one who can rate my beauty, my worth and my potential. I am made to work for His divine purpose and His heavenly Kingdom. Forget this fallen world. Remembering God in these last days will make a difference.

 

Psalm 11

For the director of music. Of David.

In the Lord I take refuge.
    How then can you say to me:
    “Flee like a bird to your mountain.
For look, the wicked bend their bows;
    they set their arrows against the strings
to shoot from the shadows
    at the upright in heart.
When the foundations are being destroyed,
    what can the righteous do?”

The Lord is in his holy temple;
    the Lord is on his heavenly throne.
He observes everyone on earth;
    his eyes examine them.
The Lord examines the righteous,
    but the wicked, those who love violence,
    he hates with a passion.
On the wicked he will rain
    fiery coals and burning sulfur;
    a scorching wind will be their lot.

For the Lord is righteous,
    he loves justice;
    the upright will see his face.

 

 

Chosen Pt 1

I remember the first time I was dead. I thought I had never seen angels or experienced them before, even when men of God ministered to me that there were armies of celestial beings guiding and following me. I always thought, “I haven’t seen them in my life.” But no, I saw them, that one day, drowned in the swimming pool, when the whole unsupervised class, even the devil, thought I was good and dead. But no, that was just the first baptism. I was saved, carried through the tunnel of reversing clocks, by an angel instead. I was barely 4 years old, but that scene keeps replaying in my head. It’s like they had been sent to retrieve me from a different dimension of my past, for I was meant to be alive to share this one day. That day, someone saved my life, and it wasn’t my teacher.

Psalm 91:4:10-11.  No harm will overtake you, no disaster will come near your tent.

For He will command His angels concerning you.

The Honeymoon phase

 

A man’s kiss, a man’s clutch

A man can drive you crazy

with a single touch.

When he laughs, when he yawns,

You fight for his affection,

silly little pawns.

He makes you think he is there whenever

Truth is you rush to his feet

good or bad weather.

When he is done with you, your soul burns like hell.

Foolishly crying , you fell for his little spell.

Always there to run to his every call.

but never there to catch you when you fall.

Always the one to give

but you never receive.

How long before you realize

you’ve all been deceived.

Woman wake up! When will you see?

A few sweet words from his mouth

has set your heart free.

Time and time again, your mind will linger.

Thinking of the passion,

still wrapped around his finger.

He does not feel the same way, his heart is cold.

You will be wise

if you heed these words you’ve been told.

But don’t be fooled, that is not all there is to a man.

When he loves you, he will do all that he can.

When he thinks of you, nothing else can be true

But this kind of love springs

But once in a blue moon.

Holding on to him is like grasping on to

sand. It might take us forever before we understand

Some of you might wonder how

this heartless man came to be.

Ladies, look around you,

for the monsters creator

is a she.

 

Hosea 4:11

Whoredom, wine, and new wine, which take away the understanding.

 

1 Corinthians 6:18

Flee from sexual immorality. Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body.

 

Matthew 5:28

But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart.