Intercessors are up to fight the darkness. Worriers are cooking up solutions before the sun rushes them in a few hours. Insomniacs check Twitter to catch up on cancel culture. Shifts change to keep the wheels of capitalism running. God whispers to those who have invited Him to converse. My grandmother must be in God’s inner circle because they chat quite a lot at 3 am. Sundays are the best days because of the special breakfast and dressing up for church. God likes us to look decent according to our pastor. God is introduced to me as a caring father and provider, taking the place of an absent biological father. He is also the one who provides and there are designated times to talk to him, preferably morning and dusk. Those who carry the faith religiously wake up at 3 am to pray for the evil in this world.
I am curious about why the buildings are different. When my grandmother sends us to P.C.E.A Kianwe we sneak to the Catholic Church to see what’s happening there. My child’s mind wonders about God’s schedule to cover all the many churches in our village. My grandmother answers my questions but reminds God exists everywhere and not limited to the building.
I start to talk to Him about my annoying cousin and the man next door who scares me. My grandmother wakes up at 3 am to pray and I try but fail to stay awake to hear what she prays for. I catch her children’s names, grandchildren, something about the president, good health and I drift off. Years later she wakes up religiously at 3 am to pray for all her kin.
There are days I know that my grandmother’s prayers keep me alive.
Nyawira, her mother’s daughter, dresses me up every Sunday for church. I sign up for baptism classes and later confirmation classes that need me to walk back and forth from church to our house for lunch. I walk into the house mumbling about the sun and the teacher who went on into lunchtime leaving me with fifteen minutes to eat. I complain to my mother who gives me the option to quit.
When an African mother asks you to make a choice, treat that freedom with great wisdom.
Years later, I am in the youth group, praise and worship team nonetheless. They are the kindest people in the world because I only make joyful noises. There is a disconnect between me and the promised Father. I join the fundraising committee. We bake goods to raise money and our brunch is a resounding success. The Father seems so far despite my efforts to serve in the church. I volunteer more and the emptiness grows in tandem.
There is a great sense of inadequacy. Maybe the Father does not love me. I came to escape madness but it seems me to tail me everywhere I go. There is a fasting getaway in a few weeks. I try that, hoping to reach the Father. On the day I am conned of all my pocket money but the team is gracious enough to support me. We pray for a whole weekend and I walk away empty.
I leave church shortly afterward and the youth leader reaches out numerous times but I give a flimsy excuse for leaving church and the downfall begins. The next seven years present mental, emotional, and spiritual turmoil I wish on no one. I begin to cut the church down to size with my words. My work is filled with resentment for the Father and his children.
I isolate for two and a half years. Death knocks on my door to offer comfort but the Father refuses to let go. Even on the darkest days, He reaches out but I am too far gone. I remind Him of the many times He has broken my heart and how I tried to reach out but He never said anything.
“Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it.” – Proverbs 22:6
I give church one more try. God bless Pastor Calisto. Like clockwork, I sign up to volunteer for the media ministry. The teacher of the word preaches in truth and spirit. He forces us to meet ourselves and meet God beyond the religious Sunday attendance.
I left the church because it did not meet my expectations. For six years I wandered this world and picked up trauma that I did not need but it was the set up for the Father to show me who He is. That is how this blog started.
Before I designed any part of this blog, I searched God’s heart for what to do with it. I made a promise to Him that any platform I set up will be for His glory. When it got the attention I panicked because I did not think I could stand my ground in what God had called me to do. But still, the Father loved me and trusted me with an even bigger platform.
I was in spaces where I was attacked spiritually and physically in pursuit of God. I fell so many times and the thing about the enemy is that he is not a creator but an imitator. The devil uses cycles in your life to keep you trapped because then you cannot move with the Father.
The last six months have been the best in my life (yes even in the pandemic). The six before that were the hardest spiritually and emotionally because, after the healing of my heart, it was time to uproot that which is not of God. I have had dental procedures and felt immense pain that I never thought fathomable. Scale that to the spiritual realm and there will be near-fatal pain but the freedom, in the end, is worth it.
The end of my rooted pain is where my life begins and with it the new direction for this blog. I am going back to the Creator for this platform. Moving forward the content will lean on finding answers to life’s from God in pursuit of life’s answers with the intention to live out purpose.
I wish I had the roadmap of what that means but this is a trust and obey relationship with a loving Father and so I stay ready for the assignment. I invite you on this adventure. God has a record of doing awesome things with the most undeserving people.