Unreserved, Unconditional, Unqualified ....

I cannot get over the many times that He overlooks my faults when I come to Him. The seventy-times-seven times that He forgives and washes and cleanses and hugs and holds and assures and blesses and forgives again, washing and cleansing and hugging and holding and....  Thank you Jesus...

♥♥♥♥♥

Kolade, the whole gang and I had been caught. And I hated that it was Mrs. Orosi, the long necked mathematics teacher cum house mistress, who crept up on us. How had she known? She probably heard the dorm door open. The thing always squeaked no matter how gentle you were.

We knelt in the staff room the next day, our hands stretched up to the sky. What I hated most about the punishment was the way my armpits were exposed when I raised my arms. Those annoying male teachers will ogle me like I am some slab of meat at Balogun market.

Their punishment meant nothing to me. They could say whatever they wanted. Last night had been fun. It was my third time of going out of the school compound with the gang and I felt so proud to have had a partner this time. It was like being married, but not entirely. Kolade acted like a gentleman. I wonder who taught him to be so suave; his older brothers probably. He told me he had three of them! Shade and Kenneth were the star couple, but I didn’t envy them.

My mouth curved in a smile as I thought of the events of the night before, oblivious to the teachers’ remarks about silly children who were too eager to eat the forbidden fruit. One said ‘Their parents are to blame!’ Another said, ‘Ha! It is peer pressure o!’ I chuckled at their confusion. Whatever.

Then I heard that familiar sound of a shoe sole scraping the floor and I looked toward the door. My eyes widened when I saw her. My heart did a triple jump and slammed against my ribcage. Who had called her? How had she come so soon, all the way from Badagry? I looked away hurriedly and buried my face in my chest, willing her to disappear. I didn’t want to see the look on her face. The one that said she was disappointed in me. The one that accused me, yet pleaded with me at the same time. I hated to hurt her. And when she spoke I knew I couldn't wish her away. She was really here.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Akpan,” she greeted the head teacher.

Her voice had that slight tremor in it. The one that turned to a full blown quiver anytime she was sad or upset. The same one that sent daggers tearing through my adolescent heart. Oh, God I hated to hurt her.

She stood in front of me and bent down to peer into my face. My lips quivered at the look in her eyes.

“Queen, Ki lo tun se?” she asked in halting Yoruba. I lowered my arms, clutched the cape of my uniform to my chest and sighed deeply, my face contorting in what was a prelude to tears. Her voice rang loud and clear in my head, like the ominous school bell announcing the beginning of Maths class. It sent dread into my soul.

“Why do you keep doing this kind of thing? After all I told you last time?” She bent closer to me and I could feel her breath on my face; her warm breath that both comforted and frightened me. I covered my face with both hands and wept, the tears flowed fast and free, running down my arms. 

After what seemed like hours I heard the sound of her feet walking away as she said, “Mr. Akpan, if I beat her now, she will probably faint.” She knew the power she wielded over me. Yet I knew she loved me. I looked up at her just as she turned back at the door. “Please handle that for me, just be gentle,” she shook her head at me as if wondering how she came to be burdened with a daughter like me, “she’s all I've got.” She scraped the soles of her shoes on the floor again as she made her way out, probably to the car where Sule, the very docile driver would be waiting.

Two days later, on the first day of our mid-term break, I stepped into the house, unsure. I had agonized about seeing her again. I wondered what she would do. Would she punish me again? Would she beat me herself now? She would most certainly not have remembered my birthday the day before. She didn’t call the house mistress to ask to speak to me as usual. I had waited all day. Would she talk to me now? Ignore me? The questions chased themselves around in my mind till I was weary with the anxiety.

Naturally, I expected everything but the table set with delicacies and drinks and a huge birthday cake. Anything but the colourful card with my name emblazoned on it; everything but her wide smile as she gathered me into her arms, tenderly, like I was the best thing in the world. Tears pooled at the corner of my eyes and I didn’t even fight to keep them back from rolling down my cheeks and to my lips. I tasted the harsh saltiness of my misdeeds in those tears.

Later that night I turned to her as we sat watching TV, and asked the question that had been burning in my heart since she came to the school.

“You’re not sending me back?” I waited. She smiled; a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. I lowered my head and fiddled with the hem of my skirt. I wouldn’t blame her if she did. Maybe I was way past redemption now. I half expected her to say, ‘after your birthday.’

But she only shook her head and said, “No dear, you belong with me now. Surely you know that.”

A feeling of warmth flooded my heart. And I couldn’t help myself as my shoulders shook mildly, tears threatening to flow unbidden. Her words comforted me, frightened me, assured me and exposed my foolishness. The warmth in her voice reached beyond my mind, way past my soul. It touched the very core of my being. And I couldn’t help but remember what I had felt on that Sunday evening a few years ago when she stood at the orphanage smiling at me. 

She had looked at me, a scrawny eighteen year old, left to scavenge her way through life; condemned to have no education or loving guidance because I was already set in my ways. I had felt her warmth reach out across the room, wrapping me in such love ad protection as I have never known. Her next words had sealed the deal and I was ready to follow her to the ends of the earth.

 “Yes, she is the one. I will adopt her.”

Still I kept on fiddling with the hem of my skirt, vowing in my heart never to hurt her again. But even as I mulled the words over in my mind, I knew I needed more than my own will to follow through. I leaned into her and sighed, drinking in the freshness of her presence; the assurance of her thoughtfulness. I would keep her aura with me, I would think about her every time and hopefully, when my demons rise, I will fight them, and I will win.

♥♥♥♥♥

flickr.com

..but you received the Spirit of Adoption (sonship) and by him we cry “Abba, Father!”  Romans 8:15

Roy.

Something To Smile About + FemmeLounge

Hello People!

I stumbled on this, it made me laugh! and I decided to share it here. 

Just smile  :)

Top 10 Sayings of Moms in the Bible 

10. Samson! Get your hand out of that lion. You don't know where it's been! 

9. David! I told you not to play in the house with that sling! Go practice your harp. We pay good money for those lessons!

8. Abraham! Stop wandering around the countryside and get home for supper!

7. Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego! I told you never to play with fire!

6. Cain! Get off your brother! You're going to kill him some day! (like duh!!)

5. Noah! No, you can't keep them! I told you, don't bring home any more strays!

4. Gideon! Have you been hiding in that wine press again? Look at your clothes! (Judges 6:11)

3. James and John! No more burping contests at the dinner table, please. People are going to call you the sons of thunder! (Mark 3:17)

2. Judas! Have you been in my purse again?! (He can't help it mum!  heehaw!)

michz83.multiply.com

And the number one is:

1. Jesus! Stop working on that old wood and come in and eat! You'd spend your life on that wood, if your father asked ya to!*  (And He did, Halleluyah!)

Serious one here ------  * Please note that the word "spend" isn't used in the sense of time, but in the sense of "giving his all" "being poured out."

Kinda reminds me of Sunday school days. :)

P.S. Last week I posted a flash piece on www.femmelounge.com ( a great online magazine for young women!) titled On The Brink: When Nothing Makes Sense. 


If you haven't already, you can read it here  http://www.femmelounge.org/?p=5091  
I'm grateful to everyone who shared and left a comment. Thanks for the love!




Cheers!

Roy.

Out of the Ashes #Nain

 

She had been at the back of the house cleaning when she heard the commotion. It didn’t mean much to her at first. Children played and fooled around all the time but the more she worked the more uneasy she felt. What could be going on?

She washed her hands and headed to the front of the house. She stopped at her son’s door and peeked into the room. His clothes were strewn all over the floor, like he had left in a hurry. The last time she saw him he had said something about going fishing with his friends.  She shrugged and kept on walking. At the front of the house, women and neighbours had gathered, crying hysterically. 

“What is it?” she cried, apprehension seizing her on the spot. “What has happened? “

One of the older men walked up to her and bowed his head, his voice as thin as a whisper. “Your son. I’m sorry.”

Time seemed to freeze at his words. Her head felt like it was ready to explode. Thoughts ran through her mind at breakneck speed. She fell to her knees unable to take it all. Minutes later, she sat amongst five other women who tried in vain to comfort her.

Why her? How was she to know he was going to play and roughhouse at the river? He only said something about going fishing. He had just started to apprentice with one of the more popular and accomplished fishermen.

She covered her face with her palms and wept. She wept for all the hopes that had been dashed, all the dreams that will never see the light of day, her precious son.

*****

The pain clutched at her heart threatening to send her into fainting mode. She trudged along behind the coffin, swaying unsteadily from side to side, her black cloak gathering dust and debris behind her. Her little daughter clung to her, confused and afraid. She looked around at the mourners who had come along on the long trek to the burying place. All she could think of was her son, her precious son, her pride and joy. 

She never imagined that she will ever be in such a state. ‘We’ll be together, forever’ she mumbled what were the words of her husband, those many years ago when they got married. She was as excited as any starry eyed bride would be. Thoughts of their future always filled her with so much joy. It was her dream, her all consuming desire to raise a loving family. But things didn’t quite work according to plan. 

Walking behind a casket for the second time in her life, her heart was breaking into a thousand pieces. Her breath came in short gasps as she clung to her daughter’s hand for support. 

The song of the mourners washed over her like an evil dream. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. A teardrop ran down her cheek and came to rest on her lip. The saltiness of the tear was about the only sensation she felt. Her heart, her body, her mind was numb. Will she ever recover from this?

She must have drifted off in her mind for minutes, for she did not notice that the bearers had stopped. And everyone’s attention was focused on the tall man in rabbi clothes. He walked up to her slowly and surely, making her wonder what was going on. There were several men with him; all had something striking about them. 

When he got close enough and looked her in the eye, her heart raced and the proverbial scales feel off her eyes. “Master!” 

His words were few but comforting. “Don’t cry.”

He turned and walked up to the casket. The bearers had stopped and were watching with fascination. He touched the coffin and said boldly, “Young man, I tell you, Get up.”  Someone gasped at such audacity. What did he expect, for the dead to rise up and answer him? It felt like hours, really, but mere seconds later the coffin opened and Joses spoke. Her son spoke! He sat up in the coffin and was looking around, wondering where he was.

The master held him by the hand and handed him over to her. She held her son in a tight embrace, eternally grateful to be able to hold him again. Her heart rejoiced as she held Joses in her arms but her eyes were on the master as he walked steadily away, his men in tow. 

Luke 7:11

Roy

Happy New Year + A testimony!

Happy New Year!

Phew! I'm very late, I know, but my wishes are sincere, believe me.
I'm praying you'll have a great year ahead. Much more fulfilling than any other before now.

I want to share a testimony with you. A real testimony if there ever was one.

One day, a group of people were having a meeting in an office complex. They were seated in one of the many conference rooms in the building. All of a sudden there was a loud, ominous bang and the walls of the complex came tumbling down. There was confusion everywhere, people running pell-mell trying to run for cover.

One of the men who had been in the conference room, was thrown in the air at the explosion. he landed with a heavy thud of the floor, a slab of concrete quickly landing on his belly, a dislodged table after it. In short he was buried under a pile of rubble. He was able to look beside him. and what did he see, his colleague who had been sitting beside him, dead. He looked to the right, same thing. Several of the people he had joked and laughed and talked with were lying around the room in different states on consciousness or lack of it. All he could mutter was 'Jesus, Jesus.'

He struggled to get to his feet and found his way outside where he gathered that a crazy fellow had rammed into the building and detonated a bomb, killing himself and several other occupants of the complex in the process.

He couldn't believe it. Some people were dead, their heads blown off. He was checked by paramedics and taken to the hospital. He wasn't bleeding and he only felt a slight pain in his belly. At the hospital he saw several injured people. Some with their arms and legs severed. He was in shock but he just wanted to get out.

The doctors checked him and didn't find any bruises or injuries but they knew he wasn't totally out of danger. After a while he started having serious pains in his belly. It got worse and I think he passed out.

Anyway, I can't remember the details clearly now but he got real bad and had to be taken to the general hospital. They were to perform a minor operation. After a while he got infected, his lungs, his kidney, his liver, the infection kept spreading.

He had to be flown to South Africa for further treatment. At some point he fell into a coma and was unresponsive for a whole month. He was hooked to several life support machines at the time.

While at the hospital, his wife kept praying and speaking the word over his life. She got a cup of water and prayed then anointed him with it. She couldn't get any oil. She rejected all the doctor's reports and kept speaking life over her husband.

A month later he suddenly opened his eyes and spoke. It was a miracle and the doctors called him the man with the nine lives. His wife was overjoyed, glad that she had not given up on the word that could save and deliver.

The man got better and then told the story of where he'd been (you know we're much more than our bodies right?) and what he'd seen during that one month.

He had been taken up by an angel. They ascended until he could see the earth. He also saw hell, and people suffering and in agony.  He was then taken to heaven. and Jesus came and spoke to him.

I can't remember the details of their conversation now but it was something about Jesus asking him, "Will you come with me and be my friend?" Our friend said "Yes lord I will."

 And angels sang in the background. He remembered the song clearly even when he woke up.

Our friend was discharged a month after this. He spent only two months in the hospital after the doctors predicted that he had only a slim chance of survival.

What an awesome testimony!

No. It isn't fiction. It happened. Like seriously. The man's name is Mr. Olukoga. He was one of the 'victims' (now Victor!) of the UN Abuja bomb blast last year.

He gave the testimony live at my church on 31st night, complete with pictures of him in the hospital, connected to several machines, tubes running everywhere.

I was stunned.

I do not doubt the power of my God to save and deliver. I'm just amazed at the ways He chooses to show His power.

The fool says in his heart that there is no God.

Na bible talk am!



Roy.

Of Boundaries and Limits, Prophets and Wives...

Elisheba spread the quilt at the foot of the bed and sat down gingerly, taking in the contents of the room. She had had the same room since they got married, they had no more land than her husband was entitled to, no more money than was rightfully theirs.

She got up and walked round the room, touching this, feeling that. In certain ways the room they shared reminded her of the life they’ve had together. Even though he was hardly home, because of his job as prophet and judge, she had no reason to complain. She had been blessed many times over.

                                                   **************

She remembered many years ago when she considered Sam’s proposal. Her hesitation was not due to lack of feelings for this man who had spent all his life in the temple, serving. It wasn’t due to the fact that he hadn’t had any real close connection with his own immediate family. No. these issues had been settled in her heart. What she wanted to know was his ideals. Had he decided in his heart to follow Jehovah no matter what? To live by his laws and respect his commandments? Will he treat other people fairly, judge with equity and fairness?

 His position was important but will become more so when his call went beyond serving tables and temple proceedings. Will he live true to his call no matter what?

Her mother’s advice had been simple but profound, “Ask him. You want to know what his ideals are. If he’s with Jehovah for the long haul? Ask him! That’s the only way to be sure. Don’t assume anything.”

Elisheba took that advice to heart and she wasn’t disappointed. A few months later, they were married.

                                                      **************

She folded up the quilt again and set everything in the room straight. Sam was meeting with the people today. Many years after he became judge, the people wanted a king. They had rejected the Lord. Sam had tried to dissuade them but they would have none of it.

The coronation was to take place that day in Gilgal and she had planned to attend.

She set out early and got there just at the nick of time, after the King had been crowned, to hear Sam address the people. This was no simple coronation, it was the relinquishing of his place as judge over the country, to hand over God’s people to their chosen king, Sam had to give account.

The crowd was still ecstatic as she walked through their midst. Drums were pounding, young men dancing feverishly. Soldiers lined both ends of the open space, the whole length of it. At the far end of the field to the right, the altar had been set up. Blood ran through the grooves and trenches beside the altar. The peace offerings had been sacrificed, sheep, goats and pigeons slain.

Saul, the son of Kish sat on the coronation throne, under the tent where the crowning had taken place. His expression was a blend of strength and uncertainty.

The stones in his crown shown brightly as he turned this way and that, taking in the vastness of the crowd before him.

A shiver ran through her spine as the Horn was blown, drawing her out of her thoughts. It was crunch time. The temple guard blew the horn again till the noise of the crowd was lost in its compelling notes. All eyes turned to the Coronation tent.

Sam’s gait commanded authority as he walked upfront. His raised arms drew a hush from the teeming crowd.

“Listen!” his voice rang out, his gray beard shining in the afternoon glow. “I have done what you wanted; now you have a king!”

The cheer of the crowd was deafening. They screamed, hollered and whistled, waving their cloaks and tunics in the air. It took another blast of the horn to calm their excitement. There was more.

“Your King is here, but I,” he beat his chest lightly, his face stern, his voice booming like a thousand harps, “I have been amongst you since I was a boy, now I am old. Who have I wronged?!”

 The arena was so calm you could hear a pin drop. Elisheba caught a few heads shaking slightly.

 “Have I extorted from anyone? Oppressed anyone, defrauded anyone or taken a bribe that I should be ashamed now?!” He looked around expecting a response. Amidst the shaking heads, darting eyes and shifty feet, no one could answer in the affirmative.

Elisheba released a breath she hadn’t noticed she was holding. Her worst fears had been allayed; Sam was cleared, not only in Jehovah’s eyes but in the eyes of the people. It was the fulfillment of the decision they had both made when they became man and wife. Setting their boundaries and defining their limits hadn’t been easy. He, as a husband, Prophet and Judge and she, as a dutiful wife. It had all been worth the effort.

courtesy rollingout.com

She heard no more. She turned back and found her way back home; Sam’s next words a distant echo.

Out of the blue, the skies darkened and rain poured down heavily as she trudged on home. The thunder that tore through the skies was scary; it was a sign that the Lord was angry but also that he was merciful and will forgive.

She was totally drenched when she stepped into their house, but her resolve had never been stronger. They would keep their roles defined, he as husband and Prophet and she, a dutiful Wife.

1 Samuel 12:3

Something More Than Flour and Oil...

She sat feverishly on the wobbly seat, fear clutching at her throat as she watched the old man carry her son up the loft. She would never believe, not in a thousand years that her son, her only son, her pride and joy was gone. She stifled the wail that was bubbling up in her throat as she rocked back and forth on the creaky chair. She tried to picture the events of the past few days.

He had come in from the fields one afternoon sweating all over. His skin was hot and flaming. She cooled him down with a soft cloth dipped in cold water and gave him some herbs. He seemed better that evening but got worse the next day. She arranged to take him to the physician but her friend prescribed some wonder drug that was great for fevers. 

He only got worse.  She didn’t think to talk to the Old man about it as he was hardly around. If he wasn’t off somewhere he was holed up in his room, meditating, as he called it.

Now as she sat there, waiting, hoping that her son will return to her, she recalled her first encounter with the old man and chided herself for not consulting him earlier.

**********

The famine had started so suddenly. Nobody was prepared. Barns were almost empty, the fields were bare and water was scarce. Fearing for her son’s survival she set out to prepare what would be their last meal. Even firewood was gold, and she had to forage around for it.

She didn’t think it was anything when this old man called out to her and asked for a jug of water.  He did look tired and worn out. She shrugged and went to get some for him. It was just water, she could handle that. But his next words almost made her laugh. “And while you’re at it would you bring me something to eat?” Talk about pushing his luck! She didn’t even have enough!

“Don’t worry about it.” he’d said, “Just go ahead and make some for me, then you can use what’s left for yourself. This is what the Lord says, you will have enough flour and oil till the Lord sends rain to end this famine.”

Now, the amazing thing wasn’t the ludicrous request; it was the urgency with which she carried it out. Something about him just told her she could trust him then. So why didn’t she tell him her son was ill? In fairness she didn’t ever think it could get this bad.

She got up and paced the floor.  He had taken the lifeless body of her son up the loft to the little room she provided for him. What was going on in there? Her fear rose with each passing minute. Who was this man anyway? Why should her son die at this time? Had she done something to deserve this? Something she didn’t know about? Was she paying for a sin, an unforgivable wrong? Her husband had died mysteriously too. She had grieved for months, not wanting to be consoled. Will she lose her son too? She shook the thoughts away. Her son had to live.

She heard the old man’s voice raised in petition as he prayed for her son to be spared. Hope rose in her at the urgency with which he prayed. Maybe he hadn’t come to punish her after all. Maybe her son would live again.

After a while she scrambled up from the seat when she heard the old man’s steps coming down the stairwell, in his arms, her little boy!

Courtesy Yahoo groups

She stood rooted to the spot, her mouth refusing to work. The joy that flooded her heart could not be described. She found her voice again when she held her son in her arms, his warm hands clinging onto her neck.

“You really are a holy man,” she said looking up at the old man with tearstained eyes, “When you speak, God has spoken -- a true word!”

She hugged her son tight, grateful for another chance.

She would forever remember that sunny afternoon when she went out on a limb, taking heed to what had seemed an extremely ridiculous request from a stranger.

I Kings 17:10-24

Roy.

The Small Print By Abimbola Dare (A must read!)

Hi people,

I recently started following Bimbylads (Abimbola Dare) on twitter and got to know about her new book titled ‘The Small Print.’

I’m very excited about this! I have read an excerpt on Naijastories and I must say I really looked forward to reading the book. She's a great writer and now on my to-watch list. I'm just about to dig into the book but I’ll give you some info before I go.

Below is her profile and a description of the book.

Abimbola Dare started writing Christian fiction after a deep conviction to use her writing for God's glory. All her books are African themed, with rich, authentic African characters. She is happily married and lives the UK with her family.

Website: http://www.abimboladare.com

Twitter: bimbylads

Facebook: Facebook profile

Blog: http://www.abimboladare.com/bimbysblog

Book Blurb

Ambitious illegal Immigrant Wale Ademola has the perfect solution to avoid deportation: a contract marriage to attractive stranger, Jennifer Lennox. Nothing could possibly go wrong-that is until Jennifer makes a demand that threatens to jeopardize Wale’s greatest desire.

Sheltered Christian housewife Sade Williams thinks nothing of secretly working behind her husband’s back. When a devastating discovery at home causes Sade to question the integrity of her marriage and faith, she turns to her charming colleague, Wale for comfort. And then the unthinkable happens…

Embittered by a wrecked contract and a shattered heart, Jennifer Lennox sets on the warpath of vengeance… 
Twisted in a web of infidelity, deceit and lies, three individuals must battle insurmountable challenges- on a journey across two continents- to discover that it is in the midst of despair, confusion and desperation that God’s unconditional; all- consuming love shines the brightest.

Please purchase and spread the word!

@bimbylads, Congrats sis!

God bless

 Roy!