They finished stong... you too can!

Be strong, be courageous, and finished Strong.

The Elders obtained a good report. They of old were Strong, They were Courageous, and they finished Strong.

Enoch was Strong in The Lord; He walked with God and was no more, for God took him.

Abraham was Strong in faith and courageously trusted in God, He obeyed God in impossibility and became the “Father of many Nations”.

Isaac held strongly to the promises of God and courageously sowed in famine and had a yield of a hundred fold.

Joseph feared God and believed so much in the “Dream of Greatness” God had given him that he despised evil and courageously said no to the allurings of Portiphar’s wife.

Joshua strongly and steadfastly meditated on the book of the law day and night and never let it depart from his mouth, observing to do all that was written within.

Gideon; although a coward and a nonentity, became strong and courageously routed a large army with just three Hundred Men.

Rahab, although she was a prostitute took courage and helped God’s people, she cancelled the death sentence that hung over her Father’s house and became a fore mother of the messiah.

Jephthah the Gileadite birthed in Sin, the son of a whore and called a bastard; did not let his background deter him. He became Strong and became a mighty man of valour, saving his people from the afflictions of their enemies.

Jabez was named sorrow because he was considered a ‘child of sorrow’ who had caused much Pain and grief. In his affliction he cried out to The Lord and became Strong and more honourable than his brothers; for God indeed blessed him and enlarged his coast.

Samuel took a courageous step to serve the Lord at the tender age of five and communed with God his entire life; he remained strong in his devotion to the Lord and was Israel’s faultless judge all the days of his life.

David, the shepherd boy after God’s heart who turned general and then King, was strong and of a good courage. With a sling and a stone he defeated a giant; becoming Israel’s greatest King who never lost a battle;

Josiah, a boy turned King at age eight, was strong in obedience to the laws of The Lord. He never departed from the ways of the Lord, but Served the Lord His entire Lifetime.

Daniel, the strong young captive Prince in Babylon proposed in his heart, not to defile himself with a portion of the King’s meat. He courageously fed on meals of vegetables and God made him ten times above his contemporaries.

Shedrach, Mishach and Abednego had their strength in the Lord. They courageously said no to the King’s command of ‘bowing down to a graven image’ and although they were cast into the fire, they did not get burnt.

Esther the queen had so much Strength on the inside; she defied the laws of the Medes and Persians courageously saying “If I perish I perish” and saw to the deliverance of her people.

Mary had a choice, to live her life carelessly and promiscuously like the modern girl of Judea, but she never did. She was strong, she was courageous and she preserved herself; she remained a virgin. No wonder she was chosen to be the Mother of the Messiah.

Jesus was strong and full of Courage that was why He feared not; neither did he Stagger; but died the death of a criminal, by being crucified on a cross for the sins of the world. For while we were yet sinners Christ died for us.

The Apostles were Strong and were of a good courage. They feared not, they refrained not from preaching the gospel. They were hated, persecuted, beaten, crucified on crosses and inverted crosses, drowned, beheaded and killed; yet they esteemed the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures of this world. And today they seated in Heaven with crowns of glory on their heads, reigning together with Christ.

They were Strong and were of a good courage, they finished Strong.
If they did… how much more you? Be strong, be of good courage, for you too can finish Strong!!!

THE FIRES OF FELLOWSHIP

There was the crackling sound of burning sticks, accompanied with the light produced by the leaping tongues of the flames, resulting in a warmth given up by the kindled logs.

We were burning, we were aflame and it was good. It was beautiful. There was love, warmth and fellowship. We achieved much together; we reached for the heavens and had no limits. Indeed it was very beautiful.

There was so much harmony, grace and understanding; until suddenly my ego came alive, my pride took over and I discovered how amazing I was. I realized how excellent my personality was. Like coming out of a day dream, I became aware of my exceptional talents and gifting and felt special and different from the others. I saw the brightness of the flame and though it was my own doing. I thought it was by my effort, and mine only that I burned so brightly.

I fell into the pit of selfishness and reasoned that I was being limited by my companionship and fellowship with the others. I thought they limited my shining and hindered my glory. So I decided to go out on my own and make my own flames burn brightly. I thought the burning was by my own ability and it was I who kept the fire aglow.
Selfishly, I deserted the brethren and departed on my dream of shinning alone, on my quest for lone stardom. I considered not the others, for all I cared they could burn out and be snuffed out when I am gone.

When I was all by myself, I burned brightly; but it was only for a short while as my brightness suddenly reduced. I tried everything I could do to keep the flame alive, but it kept diminishing until it died down and was quenched.
I did everything possible to rekindle the flame, but I was only a smothering wick and all out in the cold. I was a shadow of what I used to be, just smoking as a reminder of the once blazing log I used to be. I cried and cried. I called out to heaven: “Look at what I have become”. I was cold, charred and dark. I was not illuminated, neither could I give forth light. I was void of warmth, neither could I give forth warmth.

I was frustrated, until in my desperation, I looked back in the direction I had come from and I discovered that those I had left were still ablaze and aglow. They had not burned out as I expected them to. They were still in fellowship and burned brighter than they had before I left them. In my selfishness I had abandoned them to die out. But instead of them to die out, I did. I burned out, but they glowed all the more.

In shame and humiliation I returned back to where I had departed from and to my amazement, they accepted me without prejudice and rejection. They embraced and welcomed me back to the fellowship and I was back in the kiln I once deserted.

Suddenly I was rekindled and burned brightly as I once did. I then realized that the blazing and glowing was never mine or any person’s, but was the resultant effect of the power of fellowship. The fires of fellowship is what kept us aglow. THE FIRES OF FELLOWSHIP.

THE WISHES OF A SON

 

There he is before the casket, looking in the quiet and sleeping face of his father; there he stands looking in the face of his father for the last time. His heart is heavy, his mind is troubled, it is a shame for a man to cry, but he sobs like a baby as he realizes that this would be the last time that he would see his father’s face.

He realizes that he would never again hear his father’s voice, he longs to feels his father’s pulse but the old man’s body is so cold and void of life, so he sobs and stains his middle aged face with tears – tears of regret.

He wishes that he could have just one word with his father; He wishes that he could hear the voice of his father on last time; He wishes his father could take his hand and call him son; He wishes his father could scold him one last time. He longs for it. He yearns for it. But he would never have it for his father’s late and now rests in peace.

Now he feels an emptiness, a vacuum so huge that only a father can fill; for the first time in several decades he feels like a child again; a child longing for his father’s embrace; a child longing to hear his father’s baritone voice, before the darkness fell, before the darkness of adolescence and waywardness drove a wedge between him and his father.

He remembers the beginnings of the resistance, when as a youth (young teenager), he threw away the covering of his father and charted his own course. He remembers how he rebelled against his father’s words and took to riotous living; He recalls how he threw off the restraints and chased after the winds. He recalls when he was disciplined by his father and he spat in his father’s face.

Yes, he remembers when he stood in his Father’s face, looked him in the eye and said horrid things to him. He remembers how he broke all his father’s commandments and joined wrong companies; he remembers how he took to marijuana, tobacco and heroine turning deaf ears to his father’s instructions. He remembers how he partied, womanized and gave into alcohol because he despised his father’s instructions and thought the world wiser.

He had gone on in life and had become a man; he never deemed it fit to re-build his broken relationship with his Dad. His father was growing old, so he deemed it not too appropriate in this modern age to consult the grey head full of wisdom; He had founded his laws and principles of life on the wisdom in the street, neglecting the wisdom of his father.

He had thought when he had money, he would make it up to his father. He never deemed it right to return in humility and beg forgiveness of his father, he thought that time would amend the hurts that he had done his father; but he was betrayed by time, for time didn’t heal as he had expected; time flew by until his father aged to death.

Unexpectedly, it came and left him empty. He expected things would have gone right before his Father’s death, but they didn’t; now he feels cold and abandoned in the world out here. He stands there before his father’s body lying in state and weeps his heart out. He wishes.

He wishes he had listened to his father; he wishes he never went against his father’s will; he wishes he never disobeyed but followed his father’s instructions, he wishes he had kept his relationship with his father... he wishes.
He wishes that one more time his father did pop open his eyes and he did tell his father that he was sorry, that he loved him and missed him. But all he could do was wish, for his father was gone, gone forever.

He had missed and misused the privilege of having a father and had lost his only opportunity of being a good son. Now he weeps and weeps but tears would never be able to undo what has already been done. Tears would not be able to bring back his father, and only opportunity he had in a lifetime, he wasted it.
He would never have a father again. As a man, he feels the pains more than any child would ever feel. So he weeps, weeps, weeps….
There are so many like him in the world today. 

Fathers are an asset to the world and are gifts of God to us. Let us hold them in High esteem and ensure we obtain their blessings. For one could only have one Father and he doesn't not live forever.

THE HEALING GOD

Are you broken, Pierced, and shattered?
Is your life torn, shredded and hopeless?
Are you pained, hurting and wounded?

You are indeed wounded.
Your world is turned upside down.
You are defeated, abused and wasted.
You keep away from stilled waters;
You are scared of reflective panes;
You hate the mirrors.

For they remind you of what you have become.
When you behold your image in the mirror,
it reminds you of what your ever haunting past is.
You fear to look in your eyes,
for in them are mirrored sorrows and nothingness.

But broken, you don’t have to hurt forever.
There is a ointment that soothes;
there is a balm that mends every broken heart;
there is a heart that stills every troubled life;
There is a suave that wipes away the hurts of life;
There is a healer Who is ever ready to heal the broken.

Indeed, he sees you and knows you;
He is love and he sees you differently;
He has always loved you and will always love you.

When he looks at you,
He does not see a wasted man;
He does not see an immoral child;
He does not see an abused woman;
He sees a lovely soul.

When love looks at you,
love sees perfection;
He looks beyond the scars, the wounds, and the filth;
He sees a vessel of honor, and a lovely man or woman.

He wants to take away your wounds, cares and misery;
He wants to give you a better life.
He wants to heal you;
For he is the great physician that heals all hurts,
and longs to mend your broken life.

You, who have been broken by sexual abuses,
broken by abortions, broken by rejections, broken by hatred,
broken by incest, broken by alcoholism, broken by drug addiction;
The great physician is here for you;

 He Says: “Come! Come to me all you who are weary; all you who are laden by cares of a wicked world; Come to me the healing one, come to me the healer;
Lay your burdens at my feet; cast all your cares upon me, for I care for you.
I love you and I want to give you a better life”

So come, come and lay your burdens at his feet;
Let his healing waters flow through you and wash away every slime and sludge of a past too gory;
Come oh come to the Healing one!
Come oh come to the Healing God!

Broken Girl

Broken… Broken indeed she is.
She is a broken girl.

She was pure, she was innocent;an angel indeed she was.
Birthed in artlessness, she was birthed into an evil world full of Beasts of unbridled passions and slaves to wantonness.
While the world was still new to her, while in her childlessness everything seemed beautiful and perfect; her innocence was stolen from her and perverted men made a woman of a mere child… a little girl.

While children of her age were in the Warmth of parenthood and love, she was in the horror of sexual abuse and horrible assaults; she was pierced by men old enough to be her fathers; she was toyed with by brutes whose devilish libidos have enslaved them to defilement and dis- virgining of girls under the ages of ten.
For years she is humiliated and ravaged and she grows into womanhood without an education but with a haunted history of sexual hurt.

She grows up without courtesy and dignity, without the knowledge of what is evil for evil is the only good she knows. She doesn’t know how to write her name, neither does she have any history of where she comes from; for she was stolen from her family or sold by her folks due to poverty and has been locked up in a fortress of Gommorah becoming the instrument of sodomy. She knows not what love and affection are but she knows a hundred and one ways of making sex.

This is all she has known for many years and this is what she would know her entirety if she is not rescued or doesn’t die from sexually transmitted diseases. Her flesh is spent and her body is aged. She is just a teenager but she looks like a woman in her thirties. The circles around her eyes and beneath her eyelids show that she is tired of life; in her own eyes she is nothing more than a soiled rag.

Looking into her eyes you see pain and hurts that words only fail to express, she is sad and shamed and her soul bears mortal wounds inflicted by long years of sexual insults. Her mind is dumb, her heart is cold, her soul is dead to men… they are all the same; swine mortals that prey upon women; that feed their lusts upon the bodies of female folks. She has lost all dignity; she has no honour within; her spirits lie defeated within

The world is no more real to her. It’s a grotesque picture of wounds and ills, void of good. Deity is non- existent; to her God ceased to exist, the day she walked into the hell of sodomy.
Her tears have longed dried, she’s hardened and braced to live her darkened life of sorrow and bleakness.
She is ravaged, She is cold,She is broken…
She is the broken girl.

 

PRISONER TO MARIJUANA

Right in the heart of a big city, in the most secluded of streets; Hidden in an abandoned apartment building is this prisoner. What is he prisoner of? He is a Prisoner of ecstasy, a Prisoner of his own craving, being controlled and mastered by a Master, his master Marijuana; He is enslaved by a weed that is of no value to him, that gives him no nutrition, but only destroys him.

It was his quest for pleasure, his search for freedom that led him to marijuana. He wanted liberation form a stressful world, a liberation from the control of everyone else just himself, mastering a new world of extreme pleasure and heightened excitement, and Marijuana offered him that. His first tries at it, free him from his mental worries and troubles, he could sleep like an infant with nothing to worry about.

He had found a companion in Marijuana and his regular intake let him soar, it gave him the power to fly, to travel in the world of pleasure. It became his true friend and it began talking to him, inspiring him to do greatness, promising him conquests beyond his wildest imaginations, showing him the strengths in him that no other had.

He used to be a man familiar with the human world around him, relating with people in his environment. But now, he lurked in dark places, and abandoned buildings became his refuge because his new found friend was not accepted by society and was disliked by authorities.

Gradually, gradually, he began to spend more time in darkness and began to dislike the light.
Day light became an enemy, family became distant, the authorities became the unjust, because Marijuana had told him so.

It used to be trips once in a while to explore the unknown world; then it became daily trips. He latter moved on to trips of three to four times daily but now he lived in the unknown world. Although he couldn’t be there always, he wanted to be there always. He couldn’t help himself, he was lost in this world, this world had taken control of him; in fact Marijuana had taken a control of him. His body reacted to the slightest absence of Marijuana. He had not only learnt to smoke it, he had learnt to drink and eat it.

Cannabis had become lord over him. He had to be high on Marijuana or dead. Marijuana had other friends and he became parleys with them. He was introduced to heroine, alcohol, petrol fumes and industrial spirits.

Now he realized the jerk he had become but it was too late because his body his body, mind and soul had become enslaved to Marijuana. He had to steal to keep in touch with his new found friends, who were no longer his friends but his masters.

Now his flesh is wasting, his mind is spent; Marijuana must be in his blood stream, before he can think aright, before he can get a control of his emotions. He has no will of his own; his new masters rule him and mercilessly afflict him.

Now his life is different from no vampires, always sulking in darkness, always on trips that now border madness. The one time free man in search of happiness is now in chains and slavery to narcotics. He is now a prisoner to Marijuana.