Here Is My Heart - A Thousand Times

Since 2am, today, I have been hooked on this particular song, Here Is My Heart, by the band Jesus Culture. I have played it incessantly and sung along more than I can count - most of the time with my hands raised up to the heavens.

I can’t explain why, except that this song ignites the desperate longing to give all of my heart, my soul, my strength, and my mind to my Father and God who loved me first.

Though it is a very simple, short song, it is very true to the heart. I hope you enjoy listening, and I hope it means something to you too:

Artist: Jesus Culture
Album: Your Love Never Fails
Song: Here Is My Heart by Kim Walker

*Video, Courtesy Youtube.

Though It Be As Scarlet

With God, it’s different. No matter how grievous the sin or how offensive the rebellion, He’s always eager to forgive us and love us no less than He did from the beginning. Unlike an aggrieved lover, He’s not interested in falling–out over whatever transgression we might have committed against Him. Instead, He’s excited and enthusiastic to reconcile and put to right our relationship with Him.

In fact, no wrongdoing on our part can be too high or wide to separate us from His love if only we’d waste no time and come to Him for his forgiveness. For His mercy born out of His love for us has no beginning or end. It abounds in excess; and why, because He loves us unconditionally. Yes, He loves us so, and it’s important we know and never forget that He does.

For a lot of us carry ourselves as though we have no hope, presumably, in the face of a God who’s awfully judgmental, with no understanding of our weaknesses or imperfections. On the contrary, God isn’t like that at all. Knowing Him helps to see that what He desires most importantly is not to judge or condemn us, but to deliver us from the chains of sin, so that we may be free to live the life of complete liberty and delight, found in His Son Jesus Christ.

Hear, in the first chapter of the Book of Isaiah, the Father says, *“Come now, let us reason together….Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool.” Can you beat that? How uncomplicated our God is – He says, “Come now” let’s get it over with, let’s settle the matter and be done with it already. For all He wants is to be cool with us. So let’s not delay, but come to the throne of grace where mercy and love waits patiently, for us all.

*Scripture passage is from Isaiah 1:18

*Photo From Flickr

Jealosi

From the beginning, it was quite clear where I was heading with my life. Like my mother, everyone thought I was sweet. I was the most lovable kid in Church, or so our Pastor would say. I guess he said so in a way to woo my widowed mother; but nonetheless, I think he was right, for my lovability abounded for all to see. For though I was the youngest choir member, and though learning the drums proved forever difficult, I was always the one who would come first to church to set up for rehearsals. I was that committed, I was that much of a Church Boy.

Happily, I was showered with much attention for being the last and only son. And for that, I was the envy of my three elder sisters. Particularly, Comfort, the eldest, would knock my head at any given chance, as if to remind me of my place. But mother would always come to the rescue, lessening the sting of my sister's abuse. She'd explain that my sister was suffering from a disease called jealosi. She reminded me that I was the one with a bright future and it was only natural for others to be green with envy. She said I had greatness inside of me, waiting to come out. “Just keep living your life to the glory of the good Lord”, she'd often say. I believed her, and I was truly inspired.

 As a result, I talked a great deal about how I wanted to become a chemical engineer and a doctor all at the same time. Chemical Engineering was going to be my passport into one of the oil companies in Nigeria – where the salaries were fat. As for becoming a doctor, I just wanted to be like Ben Carson, the world famous neurosurgeon who was black and successful. How I was going to achieve both feats was not my problem. I was just simply young and vibrant, and of course, mama's boy.

From A Man Against The World

With my pen and journal, I write not just for the sake of my sanity, but also for whoever may care to see from where I stand:

Right now, I should be in ABU Zaria attending to my studies.  I should be at my 5th and final year by now, top of my class, with the bright prospect of making everyone at home very proud on graduation day. But that’s not the case, for I’m in prison.

They’d like to say that I had it coming, that my ears were deliberately deaf to the sirens, that I ignored all the warnings that shouted, “Stop!, Stop!, Stop!” But they’d never care to hear my own side of the matter.

It all began when I exercised my freedom of speech, when I started preaching my WEED RELIGION: Marijuana is far safer than tobacco; In fact it's even medicinal; Yes, it has tar but so does cigarettes too; Nicotine, the evil, evil substance responsible for lung cancer is found only in legalized tobacco but not in my weed, so why can't a man get legally high, and in peace.

Well, it seems now that only my friends would agree with me. Of course, only those who’ve once shared the meaning and experience in a lighted stick would know. 

Squatting in a close circle, I can still recall Biggie passing me the joint when it was my turn to take a drag - long and slow - and then I'd pass it on to Shehu, Shehu would do the same and give Ijide, and from Ijide back to Biggie – and so the circle continues until the last puff. Those were the good times.

Anyhow, there's one thing I know: if the lawmakers, the police, and all those who opposed my reasoning would just take a chance and smoke my weed, I'm sure they'd consider changing their minds. If that ever happens, they'd be making, for the first time, a conscious effort in seeing the big picture. That's all I'm asking.

Sadly, who would understand? Here such arguments hardly hold water. Basket minds are what you'd find in the Nigerian courts and big parliamentary houses – makers and perpetuators of an ill-informed law. For with a mixture of their collective ignorance they've created a law that has made the streets quite unsavoury. Even in the nooks and crannies of my beloved Kakuri, the mere scent of pot would set the police against you as if you were the most wanted man in the land. They've even succeeded in making it out to be a noble cause: The War Against Cannabis.

However, I sometimes feel I should have kept my mouth shut. In this world, if the bulk of the population chooses a belief, false or not, one man should have no business carrying placards in full view that say: ME AND MY WEED DISAGREE WITH YOU. Then again, I guess I would have been a coward if I had not shouted in the streets, the joints and, in the university – where I woefully thought perceptive minds existed. Anyway, with the help of a good smoke, how can a man not speak – how can I not speak my mind, of the lovely hemp plant, Cannabis Sativa!

"There’s a reason why the other man thinks and acts as he does. Ferret out that reason – and you have the key to his actions, perhaps to his personality". – Dale Carnegie

I Am Like My Dog

Momo is gone. For four days now, he’s gone away. I don’t know how to find him or where to find him. He’d made certain to keep his whereabouts vague that no sniffing on my part would find his trail. North, east, west, south, I wouldn’t know. 

Still, I’d like to know why Momo would leave in the first place. For quite intentionally I had been a very, very understanding owner; I wasn’t like overprotective and controlling as the neighbors were to their own dog, Isis. I gave my dog more space and respect than Isis or any other dog in the neighborhood could ever wish for. I never even treated him like a pet dog, never cuddled him to the extent of shaming his manhood. Or neither did I put on his neck the forbidden leash. He had carte blanche, as Nana would say; absolute freedom from his duties of being a pet, a protector and a best friend. I also didn’t starve him, if I might add. All I asked was that he comes home as soon as it was fully dark – 8, or 9pm at the most.

Now he's gone, either dead or taken. And I am helpless to bring him back, even now that I feel I sent him away, that somehow it’s my fault, I think, for two reasons – the only explanations I have.

Less important of the two reasons, is that I was a little bit inadequate in keeping his waywardness in check. You see, Momo’s been gone many times through the wee hours, but many times he’d come back before the first light of dawn. And since he always did remember home, I wasn’t too strict. A little abandon won’t kill; and by the way, I myself wouldn’t like to be restricted and deprived of adventures. 

However, in that, lies the second, more important of the two reasons that I think it’s my fault: I treated Momo the way I wanted to be treated. Free, loose, with no inhibitions. To save myself the guilt of being hypocritical I had to be patient and understanding. But now he's gone, either dead or taken. And I wonder if this is a lesson for the two of us. 

“FOR THOSE WHOM THE LORD LOVES HE DISCIPLINES…” – Hebrews 12:6

*Photo courtsey of Curiousphotos.blogspot.com

Mr. Bash

I remember watching my good ol’ friend, Mr. Bash, stare at his telephone for an approximately good ten minutes. If you ask me, that’s a pretty long time, considering the fact that the object of his attention was a black boring electronic device and that he, Bash, stared with an eerie fixation in the presence of an intrigued me, seated alongside with him in a quiet room – except for the sounds of the whirling fan and the ticking clock.

We were in his sitting room, and from across where I sat I had a good view to tell, with good authority, that the communicating machine was not the slightest bit interesting, like ringing off the hook – in fact, it was obviously the blandest piece of equipment in the room. But, eventually, it all made sense when Bash looked up at me and asked, quite directly, “How come I never hear from God?” BAM!

Now, I can’t really say if the dude actually expected God to ring him up at that particular time via his telephone. And I don’t know if God would have communicated in such a way, but seeing all things are possible with God, who knows, He could have done it, with a sense of humour. However, there’s one thing I know, I can empathize and relate with Bash’s desperation over not being able to hear from God. 

I know it does suck to have just a one–way connection to the throne of grace and not have an actual exchange. You seemingly find yourself praying and not getting a reply.

It sucks even more to hear people close to you say that the Father speaks expressly to them – giving them guidance, encouragements, and even filling their hearts with the knowledge of His will, when you on the other hand hear nothing but zilch.

With Kate, I Know It’s Not Love

“Love…does not seek its own”

-1Cor 13:5

In my heart I know it’s not Love. Though it’s passionate, it’s surely not Love that I have for Kate when always I desire nothing less or more than to undress her, touch her and have sex with her, to my heart’s delight...and content.

Really I know it’s not Love – nothing to do with Love or the “making of Love”. It’s just sex, spelt L – U – S – T. That’s what I feel and it’s all about gratifying, satisfying and pleasuring ME - just ME. 

So it seems when I asked Kate out and got into this boyfriend–girlfriend thing it was really just sex to get. And get. And get. Not Love, to give - even once.

Now here we are, all messed up – Kate and I – wondering why I think we shouldn’t continue anymore. 

Well, I guess it’s a little clearer now. At least for me, it is clear enough: With Kate, I know it’s not love.

Love, Lust & Wisdom

So, so unwisely have I spent myself on many fields not my own. I have sown seeds that sprout nothing but nothingness. Nothing of love, sacred and beautiful - just of glands, of hormones fired in search of a thing that only lasted for a while and left me exhausted and empty, yet with greediness for more.

But now, I search for meaning! For the time has come, and it’s clear, in fact, clearer than any other thing that has ever dawned upon my heart. For I see now to forsake my lust and fix my mind on searching out my woman. I can no longer continue my youthful exuberant mediocrity. I cannot go round about anymore, spilling my streams on the streets – fornicating enough to earn the name, Don or Igwe, the King of Girls.

What is such a title, when somewhere out there my lady waits with a heart full of love – love far more precious than my aimless lust and yearnings marked with nothing more than a self-seeking streak? It was never about me, but about us, about our love. More so, it is of love versus my lascivious ways that the matter arises, my stringent quest for common sense: Which one would I live for? Is it to continue to gratify myself under the pretense of having a blast, or rather, the spending of time in finding the wife of my youth, my good wife, whose bosom and warmth I am deeply certain would satisfy me more than all my past sexual tomfoolery combined.

And not just for a while I know would she satisfy me, but always; and then, it would not be just sex, it would be the making of love, passionate and fervent. So I search for my heart’s content, for the one who alone is, for me, enough.

*Inspired By The Book Of Proverbs 5

  

Half Letter [A Silver Lining In Gaddafi’s Mess]

Dear Colonel Gaddafi,

Shoes don't come falling down for no reason. These shoes, embedded with the meaning, “we hate you and we want you to disappear from our lives forever,” were all along going to find your head eventually. You should have known you had it coming. You should have prepared, and saved yourself the pain of being stoned, loathed and insulted by your own people.

But that is not the issue. It is not the reason I have decided to write to you, my comrade and friend. I write to you for a bigger cause, and in the midst of your present crisis, I trust that what I have to say would cheer you up, lighten your mood, and at least, make all your vain attempts at controlling the Libyan uprising count for something. I'd like to call it the silver lining in all the mess and commotion you have created in Tripoli and the rest of Libya. 

As a fellow oppressor, I think I have learned a very meaningful lesson from your predicament. Thanks to the event of your woes, I wouldn't have seen it. It came to me like an epiphany, in three words: “Dictators Are Buffoons”.  Why, for the first time I realized the reason people revolted in spite of our efforts to contain them with fear and………

Okay, okay… I think now is a good time to stop writing this letter. If I continue I fear I might begin to mock too seriously. The man Gaddafi deserves some sympathy, at least….a little tiny bit. I confess I don't know the Colonel personally. I am not a despot like him, I am neither his friend nor comrade, and most importantly, I wouldn't want to treat his difficulties too lightly. However, if I were truly his friend, I might have sent a letter to him in such a fashion as written, of course, without the ridicule and malice – for I would be but a true comrade.

For the purpose of the letter, I would have said the obvious to him: “domination is never foolproof”, especially against the enduring power of the human spirit. For never has cruelty and oppression lasted well with humans - who like birds want nothing more than to be free.

If only Gaddafi had sought to inspire his people rather than oppress them over his four decades as head of state, I think his leadership would have ended well with a legacy to be proud of – one of love and respect. Now, for his methods and ways, he has lost all credibility and influence as a leader.

I point to this because I believe it cuts across every form of leadership and influence in human relations. In the story of Muammar Gaddafi, I think we all have a lesson to learn. I'd bet on it that we'd all prefer and choose the love of our families, friends and influences over their shoes.  For a true and lasting legacy lies not in things, but in our relationships, in the hearts of those we love and care for. 

*Cartoon by Liza Donnelly 

To Be Free Of Guilt

Have you ever seen a man ridden by guilt? Well, you may likely find him wallowing in self-loathing, a very nasty predicament. Also, you may find him driven by the pangs of shame into hoping that the passage or perhaps the reversal of time would save him from his sense of regret.

But, of course, time won’t help. For with every passing second his mind suffers in woeful contemplation. And as a result, he may end up declaring himself unworthy and a sinner with no right to forgiveness.

For many of us, we needn’t look far for an example of a man in guilt. Our own lives have in one time or another suffered guilt, sometimes very severe. In fact, I’d dare say that the feeling of reproach is universal - at least to every normal person.

Nonetheless, in whatever way these experiences are common to us, we shouldn’t let them suffer us unnecessarily. We must not be ignorant of the fact that we can be free of guilt, no matter how grievous the transgressions that might have led to it.

Evidently, guilt is a typical trickster, seeking to convince its victims that they have no right to a second chance. Around us, we see its work: stark, helpless, riddled lives of those who had fallen from not only grace, but from every prospect of a good life.

Against this misery, we must fight, and the mind is where we fight. It’s where the guilt emotions try to take control and steal our peace of mind. In counter, it is where we must resist by maintaining a sound mental state.

Besides, when it comes down to freeing the mind of guilt, it is all about what we accept as truth. Would we think ourselves deserving of shame or of life? It is up to us, for in reality we can only prevail if we have the right mindset.

And what better way to build the correct frame of mind than meditation on God’s Word. In it, we are shown the love of the Father that says to us, “Come now, and let us reason together... though you sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow...” Surely, in these words, we can’t help but discern the richness of God’s mercy and grace.

Just like the story of the prodigal son, God as Father waits eagerly for our homecoming. Not minding our erring ways, He is ready to forgive us over and over, all because he loves us unconditionally. Beating ourselves down is not what He desires; rather, it is the pleasure of reinstating us to a life of liberty and delight.

In view of such love shown by the Father, do we think any of us should spend any more time floundering in guilt? Certainly not. Instead, let’s avail ourselves of the liberating truths of God’s love and forgiveness. For it is only in the knowing of the truth – as stated by our Lord Jesus – can we truly be set free.

By accepting the mercies of God, we can answer the voice of accusation that ever tries to put a guilt trip on us. We could say something like this, “hey you, hush! I recognize am guilt free for God my loving Papa has forgiven me my sins”. This is simply the veracity of our lives.

Yes, our imperfection may never desist in this life and time; however, it is not an excuse for us to agonize and suffer whenever we make a mistake. Let us not be ill with guilt but accept the cure of forgiveness that God so willingly wants to give. Remember, because of the work done on the cross, “there is therefore no condemnation” for us. We are absolutely free.