Today I recieved this message from a Bible web service I have subscribed to;

Spiritually, we can grow dull. It can seem like we are in a
fog. Things are not clear. We do not have a note of victory and
triumph. We can, and must, press through these impediments.

Pray through — until praying is not hard. Pray until you enjoy
it, because you have broken through the things of your flesh
and this world that would hold you back from enjoying daily
fellowship with your Father God.

MATTHEW 26:41 NASB
41 “Keep watching and praying, that you may not enter into
temptation; the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

I felt that in so many way, it spoke of my heart and faith. I haven’t been prayoing for quite a while now, because prayer had become this dull, joyless routine. It felt unreal. So I guess I hid. But the more I hid, the more the darkness (or f0g) grew dense around me and I feel like I have to physically push through it to reach the light of God’s presence…. It is engulfing!

A friend of mine is involved in a not so right relationship- the relationship is not exactly wrong but what she s doing in it is not right. So while we talked, she told me how she had managed to silence her conscience until it finally shut up. So every time she does something that would not be to the honour of God, she just clams up her mind and concentrates on other things.

For a moment I wished I could be like her. I have a conscience that eats me and gnaws at my consciousness till I have to face whatever it is I have done, and sort of ‘wipe the slate clean.’ It is also not an ok habit. Because it deludes me to believe, even though for a moment, that I can wipe my slate clean before God. I can’t. Though He tells me that for His OWN sake He forgives and forgets, I know it is not that he has forgotten I ever did that. It is just that he does not hold that against me. In His dealings with me, it is as though I never sinned, though I do.

How liberating. Then, I don’t have to shut off my conscience and snuff off the fire of the spirit. Knowing that there is nothing about me that God doesn’t know- not my weaknesses, not my failings, not my gifts, not my future, insecurities etc. He sees and knows it all. And graciously He has provided a way to deal with my sin, once and for all- at the Cross.

But for your grace I would not be saved

But for your grace I would go astray

I’m forever grateful

That you have been faithful

to me Lord

Thanks for amazing grace.

We all have varying memories of times when we were kids. Some, like mine, are quite scanty. But Stevens in the below piece seems to have been digging in his memory archives for the follies of childhood.

I used to wonder:

Why was mum forcing me to leave for school if she really loved me.

Si we would just stay together in the house?

Why couldn’t they allow me use a biro instead of a pencil?

Why didn’t they let me eat meat instead of mashed bananas?

Why didn’t they allow me to go for the main service in Church instead of asking me to go for Sunday school (and the way I was serious about God)?

Why did they ask me to pray for food – only when visitors came to our place?

Why did they ask me to go to bed early when I wasn’t even sleepy?

Why did they buy me stuff I did not like – like those ‘ yellow dungarees’ and the green suit that came that Christmas day?

Why did Cucu say I was her husband?

Why….

Me at Pre-unit was a whole rebellion

Only if I had a choice!

I can’t remeber any clothes I had that long ago. Ohh. There was one pink dress and red shoes (were Bata Bullets and Bubble gummers in shops then?). And there was that dress with a name associated with Moi, commonly used to make seat covers (Ntonga Nkere Moi- meaning touch and I will go and tell Moi, the then President of Kenya.)

But I remember our dog Sim and the photographer in his motorcycle, who used to come home every sunday coz that is when people were clean and smart enough to have their photos taken.

I also remember my grandmother’s kitchen, with the pole in the middle; and her cowshed.

There is also the maize that was planted in a place where there once used to be a cowshed; its leaves were dark green and it was so tall it felt like a forest. Next to it was the sweet avocado tree that bore fruit once in a year, and always, too few fruits. Below it my grandma’s grave with sisal and red, yellow and purple flowers.

My aunties spoke about ghosts of Lang’ata Cemetery, especially one that carried a bucket, and I got too spooked to pass near that grave especially after dusk. Times I had to take food to my then still single Uncle Miice and I had to pass by that grave at night or take the longer route via the gate. Spooky. What was I so afraid of? That was life on the farm and no one was likely to be idling around ready to scare dear me out of my skin.

Childhood!

Mr Kamau drives the bus

Everyday every day

He waves to Tom and Mary

And drives down on the hill

(This is one of those lazy but happy days)

There are those memories,

Things we did when we were young,

Failure

Achievements

Disappointments

Heart breaks

Joy….

Days that pop back into our minds once in a lifetime

Days that keep you challenged…

See, we have come a long way to turn back

In this day…

Just do one more mile…

Just one!

Take me to the secret place
where I am forever changed by your love

I often realize ( i think that can be re-written to -I often hits me) how wretched we all can be. Wretched in the sense of ungrateful, forgetful, spiteful, and oohh so starying.

Like sheep without a shepherd, we keep on straying away. I found myself praying Psalm 23. Just to remind myself that I have a Shepherd who watches over me with a staff and a rod to discipline my (un)circumcised heart.

I stand here in this place
I see the glory on Your face
…….
All I want is You

“Ask, and it shall be given you.”

Matthew 7:7

Some devotion by Charles Spergion (I aint sure if the name is written like that or with a u- like Spurgeon)

We know of a place in England still existing, where a dole of bread is served to every passerby who chooses to ask for it. Whoever the traveller may be, he has but to knock at the door of St. Cross Hospital, and there is the dole of bread for him.

Jesus Christ so loveth sinners that he has built a St. Cross Hospital, so that whenever a sinner is hungry, he has but to knock and have his wants supplied. Nay, he has done better; he has attached to this Hospital of the Cross a bath; and whenever a soul is black and filthy, it has but to go there and be washed. The fountain is always full, always efficacious.

No sinner ever went into it and found that it could not wash away his stains. Sins which were scarlet and crimson have all disappeared, and the sinner has been whiter than snow. As if this were not enough, there is attached to this Hospital of the Cross a wardrobe, and a sinner making application simply as a sinner, may be clothed from head to foot; and if he wishes to be a soldier, he may not merely have a garment for ordinary wear, but armour which shall cover him from the sole of his foot to the crown of his head. If he asks for a sword, he shall have that given to him, and a shield too. Nothing that is good for him shall be denied him. He shall have spending-money so long as he lives, and he shall have an eternal heritage of glorious treasure when he enters into the joy of his Lord.

If all these things are to be had by merely knocking at mercy’s door, O my soul, knock hard this morning, and ask large things of thy generous Lord. Leave not the throne of grace till all thy wants have been spread before the Lord, and until by faith thou hast a comfortable prospect that they shall be all supplied. No bashfulness need retard when Jesus invites. No unbelief should hinder when Jesus promises. No cold-heartedness should restrain when such blessings are to be obtained.

This a beautiful post by Stevens. It makes an interesting read and deserves more light.

MEN OF INTEGRITY…Where i got it…
Its one of the best pieces i have ever read on leadership…

Enjoy…….

The Kind of Leader Companies Are Looking For
by Charles Foster Johnson

Whatever we know about the art of leadership, we cannot program it. Tens of thousands of books on leadership notwithstanding, its characteristics are maddeningly elusive.

But one trait of leadership makes every cut: perseverance.

Here’s why. True leaders broker values, which are things that are not easily implemented. In the best organizational cultures, they are resisted; in the worst, they are strenuously opposed. Because values entail organic and intrinsic change, they produce conflict. If this does not happen, they are not values. They may be opinions, suggestions, ideas, or strategies—but not values.

Therefore, what every leader needs most is perseverance. A hard head. A tough mind. A thick hide. In Nietzsche’s famous words, “a long obedience in the same direction.”

Jesus knew something about values and the backlash they can produce. He put it this way, “No procrastination. No backward looks. You can’t put God’s kingdom off till tomorrow. Seize the day” (Luke 9:62, The Message).

To illustrate the power of stubborn persistence, Jesus told a story about a widow who bugged the daylights out of a judge for a favorable ruling until, lo and behold, the judge held in her favor (Luke 18.1-8, The Message). “I better do something and see that she gets justice,” the judge reasoned, “or else I’m going to end up beaten black and blue by her pounding.”

In Luke’s Gospel, the widow is a metaphor of marginalization. On five different occasions in Luke, Jesus tells stories about widows. They were among the lowest of the low in first-century patriarchal society. Having lost their husbands, they were cut off from their religious identity and economic livelihood. Frequently, they had to turn to prostitution in order to care for themselves and their children. Possessing no power or influence, perseverance was all they had.

The widow in Jesus’s story has no money to buy off the judge, who would have likely accepted a bribe given his unsavory character. She has no political power, no well-heeled connections to use as leverage against this rascal on the bench. Her only alternative, her sole strategy, is to pester the fool out of him. She badgers him. She bothers him. She bugs him. She will not change the subject. Day after day, she shows up in his courtroom with the same plea. Same song, fifty-seventh verse. The literal translation of the Greek text is a comical image: “she wore him out with her continual coming.” She will not back down, give up, cave in, or go away. She has a value—namely, justice—and she will not quit until her value wins.

She’s not going to be quoted in the Wall Street Journal, but this widow is a corporate wunderkind, a hero of hard-headed stick-to-it-iveness. She is precisely the kind of leader companies today are looking for. Finally, because of her long obedience in the same direction, the woman’s vision for justice gets implemented.

A medieval monk was approached by a simple peasant in the village that lay at the foot of the mountain monastery. “You holy men up there on the mountaintop are so close to God,” the peasant said. “You seem so peaceful, so strong in your faith, so at one with yourself and the Lord. Please tell me your secret of how you live so intimately with God.” The monk replied, “Simple. We fall down and we get back up. We fall down and we get back up. We fall down and we get back up.”

Everybody falls down. Leaders get back up.

One thing I have discovered about life- it will not always fit into our perfectly planned schedules. You know those days you sit and dream of what and when. Sometimes it happens-talk of God meeting our desires. Other times not quite like we planned.

I have heard tales of God’s lateness is not denial. I want to add that when God comes early, sometimes we might think it is not God. But He doesn’t have to go with our programs.

Sometimes God shows up when we least expected Him. It is something about God’s love. Like He sought us while we were yet sinners, before we even thought we needed him, so even today he shows up. Warm waves of love when we are doing fine and we wonder, now what does He want?

Other times it is when we are tired of pursuing our dream, and we have let it go, and we no longer care what happens, then He surprises us.

I love when God surprises us. Because I know that I will not stop smiling. And I will not stop praising.

Sometimes things worth celebrating occur. You celebrate. Or you pass up the opportunity. Other days nothing really seems to go on. Today was a kind of celebratory day for me. Until… nothing happened. But all of a sudden I just wanted to go back home and slink into bed. Hormones? Moods? Or my age-old enemy trying to sap the joy from me?

I could choose to go by how I feel. Pull this long face, shuffle my feet on the ground, grouch about everything. But it is tiring.

There are those days when you want to be miserable and no matter what one does, nothing can change that. Other days, you are really fighting the blues. I guess it is all a battle. You are not guaranteed nothing will happen to mess up your otherwise perfect day. Or maybe, nothing will happen. But you could still be miserable. You could still be on edge. I will choose to smile when I could hold a really long face. I am trying it now.