Today marks exactly two months to my 30th Birthday. I always do a sort of retreat towards my birthday, either the week leading up to or the month or- like last year, retake the 40 day reading/meditation of Rick Warren’s A Purpose Driven Life. This time I want to go into the new decade with joy and not following a period of petitioning God. Don’t get me wrong, those retreats always end with renewed hope which is why they’re needed and valued. But as things stand now, I wanted to get the petitioning part out of the way two months before so all I’ll be doing towards that time is thanksgiving and celebrating. Well, I don’t consider myself a ‘master’ at retreats and I struggle with making room for God and shutting distractions out as much as everyone else- if not more. But, I feel like I can share something from my experience(s) with such efforts which is why I’m writing this. How to know you need a retreat. Usually, we have something push us to our knees prior to making a move to fast or shut ourselves off seeking God. Sadly, it takes that much to get us to run towards God but it is a fact that without the illness, the frustration, the painful limp we’d likely think we’re doing just fine and never make an intentional effort to seek him. When things are going well we say a cursory prayer of thanks, but when things are not going well? We get into bible exegesis and battle mode. It is in that point where we question, seek and so find. I doubt Job would have ever had those deep conversations with his friends about God without his life being ruined. Still, perhaps you’re one of the really good Christians, one of those mature enough to seek God without having to be pushed against the wall with a crisis first, then likely you may just sense that you’ve not been able to meditate with depth. You may feel the Spirit move you to do a deeper study of scripture. Or commit to praying for a certain thing/people etc. Whether it’s a push factor or a pull factor, taking a retreat is something I find to be essential in this Christian journey. For me it’s typically the push factor, to be honest. But something I learned with this last retreat made me realize something which I think will influence future retreats as spurred by the pull factor. A lesson from the latest experience… So I took this retreat as a period of battle. I went in desperate, angry, seeking answers- in fact, demanding them. They say we should PUSH- Pray Until Something Happens- right? So that is what I would do, pray, cry, rant and self-torture all in a way to ‘twist God’s arm’. Fortunately, this time I didn’t take the retreat on my own. That made a considerable difference. I had a Christian friend guide me through, someone I could trust to be completely transparent with, who I cared enough and who could most importantly relate and so help in the right way. The fact that I had someone to be accountable to, to send meditation report to daily. Someone to debate the scripture with me, to recommend verses for meditation and to question the self-torture I was doing, the interpretations I was making… all this ensured I was doing a lot more real seeking than I had in a great while. It wasn’t just a retreat and self-denial to say “God abeg act”. It was also a searching, and trying to please God for real and not just what I think He would impress Him. It was interesting, going beyond just reading and verses and using them to back up my praying to actually studying them. Writing them out, what they mean or turning them into an exploratory exercise… this made the word come to life like never before for me. For instance. On the day we focused on thanksgiving, Phebe (the friend who guided me through) suggested Psalm 124 for meditation. As an exercise, I wrote my own interpretation of this Psalm which asks “What if the Lord had not been for us?” Several pages resulted from this as I wrote all the things that could have happened but didn’t for reasons that could only be attributed to God. By the end of the exercise, you are sure of one thing: Things may be bad, but it could have been a great deal worse if God had not orchestrated some things for reasons only he knows. Perhaps writing exercises don this time made it matter more to me since writing is my way of reflection. Perhaps something else would work for you. Yet, one thing I came away with which I want to share because I feel this is would apply to everyone is- sometimes the prayers aren’t to get you the thing you demand – or not immediately. Rather as you go seeking him, the closer you go the more you begin to question the basis of that demand, in the retreat the Spirit develops in you a desire for God which surpasses the desire for what you came to ask for. In that way, you’ve been thought to surrender. Your need has been addressed by making it null and void in the face of your need for Him. Some may read it as resignation, but it’s not. The need is still there. The desire is still there. But in seeking him you’ve been given a new perspective that dwarfs all else. As a friend says “people believe prayer changes things. But that’s not true. Prayer changes us and we change things. That is the power in the retreat. We go in with our focus on one thing and in the course of it, our focus is redirected to what God wants us to focus on. It’s a lesson I hope I remember so the
The Lies We Christians Let Slip…
I regularly find myself faced with a situation where I have to defend my faith based on the gullibility of some ‘Christians’ like these ones in Kenya who seemingly believed their pastor brought Jesus back to earth just for their church service… This is when unbelievers call us out like… Is this your faith? Are these your ’Men of God’? And I find myself shaking my head speechless because those antics actually deserve all the scorn they receive. Still, it is easier to recognize and call out the apparently unscrupulous acts of such imposters pandering miracles to the gullible and vulnerable than it is to recognize the fallacies adopted into our own everyday words and actions as Christians. For instance, several people believe the practice of circumcision is widely accepted as right because it is ‘Christian’ despite the fact, the bible clearly shows this is a Jewish tradition which new Gentile believers were told they did not need because of their salvation no longer depended on such rituals. Then there are some popular ‘Christian’ idioms which are completed unfounded. How often did you hear/say the phrase “salvation is personal”? We thought we were being profound with it and often used it to disavow needing to concern yourself with someone else, after all, “we should all carry our own crosses, right? Well, no. Even Christ had someone to help him with the cross to Calvary and we’re called upon to take care of each other. It’s not a competition for salvation we are all to help each other in the body of Christ. Finally, one of the most popular idioms yet ‘the Lord helps those who help themselves’. Admittedly one of my favorites, because after all, it makes sense right? Even the gospels say to those who have more will be given ???? Yet this often is often twisted to justify human attempts to earn/deserve what God gives for free. Such that Christians are told/or feel they need to do more to win what God gives by grace. In so many ways we cannot help ourselves and it is God that must meet us where we are to save us. I love how the following quote captures how this idiom misconstrues the gospel’s message: What lies/customs/idioms have you found out are false or misrepresentations of the gospel as you go along your Christian journey? Drop a comment and educate me, please!
The Journey is a Triathlon, But You’ve Been Trained for a Sprint
When I present myself as a doctoral student, a writer, with a youth development organization as well as a regular blogging gig on the side- I often get ‘the look’. That look says “oh wow, so you’re doing all that eh? You’re one of those I can do it all women eh?” I typically take it in and smile, but I know the truth. I’m not doing much. This isn’t the hardest I have ever had to study- that would be the year I wrote my A levels. This isn’t even the period where I’ve had to do the most multitasking; that would be my 3rd year in undergrad. And emotionally, this isn’t the even the lowest I’ve ever felt. That would be me at age 17. Yet, this year has been hard for me. Very hard, and I’ve needed to find out why because the made me uncomfortable. I’m supposed to publish two pieces monthly on my blog Moniquemusings.blogspot.com. I haven’t met my goals for the past two months. Prior to that, I had to ask for two extensions from my supervision for my literature review drafts. I haven’t been reading as much as people assume a doctoral student is- quite frankly reading stopped being fun. And I have been a colossal failure as a leader of Better Breed Cameroon- the youth development organizations I am to be running in partnership with friends who are just as busy in other areas. In fact, this post you’re reading was supposed to be published in December last year. It has been in my mind that long. So how does one react to the undeserved looks of respect and acknowledgment for what they know they are not doing? How does one explain that similar to a weight-loss journey you can hit a plateau on your career journey? If you find an answer let me know. Though I haven’t been counting, I can bet a hefty sum that I’ve said ‘I’m tired’ more over the last eight months than I have in the course of my entire life. And I’m not just saying it, not just telling others to solicit pity nor even empathy. I feel it. It’s merely me registering the fact. “I’m tired,” I say, getting up from sleep, or barely two hours into work, way too early in the evening… I’m tired. Not so recently (this post is several months late remember), I came to what I believe may be a significant discovery. Yes, a Ph.D. isn’t quite the ‘hardest’ level of study. Yet it’s the most strenuous because all other levels have been a straight forward race- more specifically a baton rally. My schooling trained me to study for the next series of tests or exams. To push for a short period then pass the baton. Make it from point a to b in record time then you can rest. But the Ph.D. – and adult careers in general- are different. There’s nothing straightforward about this race and there is no one to pass the baton to. At most, you have a short rest stop – that brief vacation or pause between deadlines- where you have to juggle the holding of the very heavy baton and struggle to get some refreshment with one hand. The baton is yours forever and to put it down is to quit, not fail, but quit… another way this career level differs from the place which supposedly trained us for it. Who would have thought to be able to fail and repeat the exam was a privilege, but it is. I dearly want the privilege of being able to fail again. I didn’t appreciate it enough. I do now, at this stage where everyone EXPECTS that you succeed, it’s not something that is asked nor would it marvel- it just is. Like what choice do you have? Several articles have been written about the pressures in academia, and I don’t mean to add to them. My point applies to most of us irrespective of what career path we pursued. I just wish they could be a bit more clear on what exactly is stressful- that it is the work/life balance (or lack thereof) as opposed to the readings with unnecessarily multisyllabic words. It is the fact at this point in life the academic is also, a struggling breadwinner, a parent, newlywed, going through health problems they likely never had before because these things come with age and much more. At this point in life, we’re exhausted from all we’ve already overcome to get here. This if they’re in the humanities as I am- they are also coming to realize as they do more learning just how redundant what we are learning is. The more we know they more we realize how messed up our society- and ourselves are. Is it any wonder we’re going for therapy. Having satisfied basic subsistence needs (to an extent), we’re now finally able to contemplate ourselves, our hurts, traumas, desires and the sort of life we’d really like to live- and now we have a range of complex theories to scrutinize them all with. It’s truly debatable I this is a good thing. So it is not merely that we are constantly doing- but also that the what we are to do and be is ever-changing. And much too often you are to be more than one version of yourself (apply more than one type of intelligence) to carry out simultaneous roles. Even if school trained you for the marathon of life, you find out later that you are really signed up for an ultra-triathlon because the hurdles are life-long. That work/life balance? A school can’t and probably shouldn’t teach that. But perhaps- just perhaps- in addition to teaching what is needed to get and do the job, schools could emphasize that it is not about how much you know prior to getting it but more how capable you are of adapting, learning on your, feet juggling
Let’s be real: Being a Christian Is Hard.
Our churches are beginning to sound like the marketing interns who have been commanded to get a certain number of customers each day. Nearly every message preached speaks of Abraham’s blessings, of everlasting life, of healing, of forgiveness…. of the “Good News”. I know, I know, that is the gospel, right? It IS the Good News. And we are to preach it. But can we be real as well? Can we tell the truth, the honest-to-God-truth about actually being Christian? Being a Christian is HARD! Yes, we believe we are saved, have a heavenly father who loves us, chose us, listens to and protects us. BUT, all of these do not change the fact that actually living like a Christian is called to is extremely difficult ( Note it is impossible without the help of the Spirit but still difficult with it). Have you ever had an experience that had you looking at the sky or crying on your knees and saying “Damn, Lord you ask entirely too much”? I have. At least twice this year. Let’s put aside the popular pitfalls of fornication, lust, adultery, drunkenness and more which usually get the spotlight when people think of what makes being Christian tough. To me, those sins just get popularity because of our culture. There is a multitude of regular ways we fail at being Christian because the bar is so high- the bar is literally heavenly and divine. Being a Christian is turning the other cheek when slapped. It’s praying for the person you want to cuss out. It’s forgiving people who are not sorry. It is deciding to give of whatever little you have to the spread of the gospel which is often misunderstood and abused. Being African and Christian, being a woman and Christian is having to study and question because of how the message comes to these groups to justify wrongs. Being a Christian is resigning to the fact that your life is not yours, it’s Gods and that may mean what you want to do, will not be- rather he works our hearts to match the desires he has for us. Being a Christian is being the peacemaker when you’re most likely drained from being hit from two sides. Being a Christian is a perpetual state of self-questioning, a constant battle for self-control to not do what is ‘normal/expected’ of a human with hormones, selfish desires, and ambitions they were socialized to have. It’s believing in the unseen and imaginary- consider how hard that is in a generation where we have the motto ‘pics of it didn’t happen’. Being a Christian is doing what is right even when there are no credits to be earned because quite frankly, there ARE NO CREDITS TO BE EARNED. Being a Christian is using the long route even though you know that those who don’t go through that stress will still get to the same place. But you are following what you believe you ought to. To be truly a Christian is welcome the outcasts, love the unlovable, to resign to not understanding because A LOT does not make sense by our human logic. To be truly a Christian is to study the word for yourself and every day realize just how far removed you are from Christ-likeness. It is knowing you cannot judge because you sin differently even if society tells you ‘your own sin is better’. Trying to follow Christ is basically killing your ‘Self’ slowly. I recall a tale of Gandhi being asked about his opinion of Christianity after being given a bible to read. He responded “”I like your Christ, but not your Christianity… I read the Bible faithfully and see little in Christendom that those who profess faith pretend to see”. On this, Gandhi was undoubtedly right. To find anyone who truly emulates Christ is near mission impossible. Fortunately, we don’t need to be perfect Christians. Nor are we expected to achieve whole Christlikeness. We’re simply called upon to practice his ways and depend on his Spirit to enable us. Simple, but still extremely HARD! If you’re struggling with me, here’s me wishing you strength for the journey!
Look Back A Little More
Motivational messages often say we shouldn’t look back on the journey. That we should forget the past and look forward in hope. They generally assume that thinking of past pains is a negative exercise. They’re not altogether wrong, but I have found that the message is not carved in stone and applicable to all situations. There is amazing strength to be found in looking back on the journey. When we face tough situations, we tend to become engrossed in them. This new problem takes over our thinking, this dilemma is unique, hard, not something we can address. We find that we are breaking, tired, done for– but that has been the case many other times in the past. We just can’t remember. We don’t look back often enough. I have a gratitude journal to practice recording thanks for things that happen through the day, it is a practice I took up to try and find joy in the midst of depression. As I packed out of my place recently, I looked back at the journals for 2016 and 2017. There was a day in 2016 where all I wrote is: Thankful for still breathing. I know it was a rough day if that’s all I could write. But I cannot remember what made it rough. That’s the irony of problems – when we’re in the middle of them, it’s all we can think of. Then when we get through it, we can barely recall it. But we should. We should mark the ways the heartbreak happened, the ways the rejection broke us, the ways we were betrayed, record the depth of the pain – and above, all, record how we grew in faith, how God got us through it. We should be able to look back on past troubles to say God got me through that one, He’ll get me through this too. I’m at crossroads in my life at the moment. For the first time in a long time, I do not know have a fixed plan- just a prayer. I’m struggling to believe that is enough. As I left home this trip unsure of how soon I am returning, it was looking back that helped renew my conviction. As I packed my stuff up, as I visited family, looked through old photos and generally took trips down memory lane, I cried and realized why the present hurt so much. But I also had renewed conviction- I literally found myself saying: “Damn, I’ve been through a lot. This isn’t so bad as that time when….” So here’s a recommendation, in addition to a gratitude journal, perhaps we should have a problem/obstacle journal. You need not write through it every day. But regularly list the things you are struggling within it as evidence of overcoming/ God’s CV of coming through in your life. That would definitely come in handy when you come to the roadblocks on your Christian journey. So here’s your call to look back: Remember the time you got an opportunity by ‘chance’ when you thought there was no way out. Remember the night you went to bed hungry, remember the rejection that you became grateful for 5 years later, remember the disagreement that kept you restless and in pain… remember that day you should have died- be amazed at how many near misses have been just that- misses. Remember the bad times, and perhaps you’ll find (as I did) that this present problem pales in comparison. So this too shall pass, this too is part of His plan. Look back and be hopeful. Because if God has gotten you through half as much as he has gotten me through then He has plans we cannot fathom. All we have to do is muster enough trust in him to not fret as he unfolds his plans. Look back and have hope.
What Lesson Are You Learning Now?
Dear Christian Bro/Sis, Consider this: the Christian’s life is part prep school, part boot camp. We’re being groomed, pruned, molded and made ready for life in God’s kingdom. A popular song in Cameroon goes: Holy, Heaven is Holy (2x) Only the righteous shall enter there, Heaven is Holy I used to think the song meant we need to ‘get’ holy to enter the gates, but I now understand that it is not for us to ‘get’. Heaven is indeed Holy, so throughout our lives, God sets up exercises like a trainer to make us holy to enter there. With our everyday experiences, encounters, and study of the scripture, God transforms us to be adequate enough to pass through the entrance. In sum, we’re forever students in the school of Christlikeness when we commit to this journey. You are signed up for a class right now. Do you know the course title? Can you recognize what God is teaching you? Personally, I came to realize I have been taking a college level course in Surrendering. When I returned home in December of 2018, I was praying for motivation, for a sign, for the strength to hold on to something very dear to me. Something God had given me (so obviously it’s a good thing) and something I firmly believe is crucial to God’s purpose to me. As days became weeks and months, I saw no answer to my response. Or rather, not the direct answers I expected. I became angry. Is it a yes or a no? I’d demand in prayer. I’d like a ‘yes’ of course, but if it’s a ‘no’ be more direct please, give me something else so I can let go of this thing… And that was it, the problem, I wanted to see what I was trading this treasure of mine for before I let it go. I had this image (see here) in my mind which suggests that ‘God has a bigger teddy bear for you so you can let go of yours’ but I wanted to see that teddy bear first. Like, is it a teddy bear, or a toy truck? Is it one in my favorite color? Can I have some guarantee? But as this course has taught me thus far, I was missing the point. We shouldn’t be giving up our treasure only if we can get better. Our surrender must not be conditional. It is demanded. Whether or not there is a new/bigger Teddy Bear behind his back at all, if asked we are to let go of what we’re holding on to. And this is how I learned that I was praying all wrong, I had set out my petition as a multiple choice question with certain answers I expected- call them ‘signs’. If yes, this will happen, if no then you’ll offer me this so I know for sure… As I journeyed home praying I was expecting an answer to that limited scope prayer and the ability to hold on to what I was to be surrendering in faith. In this most recent advanced course, I’ve been taught that the dilemma and lesson it holds is in itself an answer- even if its an answer to the prayer we didn’t pray!???????????? This recent lesson inspired the poem below, I hope you appreciate it and let me know what lesson you are currently learning in your own journey. Who knows, your current ‘course’ may be my next one ???? ********************************************************************************* The Surrendering I thought the journey was for affirming. And came believing I’d have a firmer clasp on emotions too effervescent, on a dream shattered and now unrecognizable. I thought by now I’d know for sure Where home is. Could be. Hoped by now I’d look at you and no longer see mixed signals I’ve found that I’d hoped wrong. The aim of this journey is never what I thought it was You did not take me on this journey to hold me, But to break me more. To do it gently in a familiar place, to do it slowly so I am not jarred When I asked you to take my hands and lead me at the start of this journey You did take my hand, but to unclasp my fist, so I let go of the little I’d managed to hold on to To bare my palm, for both of us to see the bruises on that soft flesh from years of struggling to hold what was and is only temporary. This journey has always been about my surrendering Now I know, it should be easier. Understanding ought to make things easier Yet that adage does not apply in this case. Knowing only makes me apprehensive of what is yet to come. Now that I am surrendering, I know there’s more breaking to be done.
An Ode to the Angry Feminist (March 2019’s Missing post II)
Each March, in celebration of women’s month I do a post related in some way to feminism or the women’s movement. As with the last post (the #AboutmyFaith post made on 1st of April 2019), this one was to go up in March but for reasons beyond my control, it’s coming a bit late. So here’s March’s 2nd missing Musing post. *** For as long as I can recall, I’ve been forced to dispel stereotypes attached to my feminism. Just as Chimamanda recounts dispelling stereotypes in her renowned TED Talk, I often find myself saying ‘yes I’m feminist. Yes, I also like fashion,. Yes, I also read romance novels. No, I am not an ‘angry feminist’. For those who have familiarized themselves with feminist thought (particularly in the writings of Audre Lorde), anger can be understood as an appropriate reaction and a useful tool for social change. Very different from hate. Yet, between those who would like nothing but to undermine the idea of feminism by bastardizing its concepts and capitalist media’s butchering of feminist thought for commodification, one has a lot of stereotypes to dispel. Too often we are put in the position of defining what we are by rejecting what we are not. And each time I have been put in that position, I have felt that in refuting certain caricature ideas of what feminism is, I would be educating people who could then see that it is something they too should identify as, something they should stand for. Yet, recently I’ve had a slight change of heart on this matter. As the Anglophone crisis in my country has progressed, I have observed Anglophones (rightfully upset at the state of affairs, the government’s abuses, and the minimal support/understanding from the rest of the country) forced to refute stereotypes attached to their stance. Just as I have to with feminism. Those who identify as Anglophone now have to place conjunctions after asserting their stance, like saying: Yes, I’m Anglophone, no I don’t support the attack on the francophones posted in our regions for work. Or Yes, I believe there is an anglophone problem and we need change; no that doesn’t make me an ‘Amba Boy’ nor does it mean I support keeping children from going to school. To not add that ‘but’ or ‘also’ is to allow for someone with prejudice (whether intentional or not) to foist the stereotypes on you. And just as I would shun the ‘Angry Feminist’ label, so too, I have observed many try to shun the ‘violent/irrational Anglophone label’. This observation has made me question why? Why do we, who are standing up for something right, have to ensure that we are not wrongly perceived. Why is the onus on us to dispel stereotypes people wouldn’t have in the first place if they cared enough to educate themselves if they examined their own selves and dispelled their own biases? Yes, as I mention above, I feel the need to explain so to correct the false perceptions but if I’m completely honest, I also have a vested interest. I do not want to be seen as ‘the angry feminist’ for the same reason the average Anglophone doesn’t want to be seen as a ‘violent Anglophone’, because it is not a good look. We want to be liked, we want to be seen as ‘good’ and even if we are not seen as ‘good’ we want the fact that we are ‘bad’ to be understood as a reaction to something else far worse- gender inequality, socio-political oppression, etc. So we explain, and use ‘but’ and ‘also’. Unfortunately, in explaining, and exempting ourselves, we enable those who would undermine the movements (be the feminist movement or the movement against Anglophone marginalization) to further dismiss those who we have exempted ourselves from- the angry, the violent. By saying ‘I am not like those ones…’ we inadvertently say ‘Feel free to rant but exempt me’. But this isn’t what we want nor need. What is needed is understanding and empathy. My not being an ‘a violent Anglophone’ doesn’t mean I cannot understand/empathize with those who are. Similarly, I should not fear being identified as an ‘Angry feminist’ so much I lose the opportunity to explain that the anger – even if I don’t have it- is understandable, even to be expected. My not being angry or violent does not negate the right of those feelings/actions in other people. If I do not walk around in a bundle of angry energy it is because I am lacking in consistency and strength needed to keep that up. It is not because I lack the reason to be angry/violent. Everyday sexism, like every additional wrong move made in reaction to the Anglophone crisis, lends credence to the anger and violence of feminists and Anglophone separatists. The absence of my anger, therefore, is a boon that should be appreciated, angry is what we should be in the face of injustices and oppression. So here is an ode to the ‘angry feminists’: You are seen, understood, Your anger is valid. And even though I will not always feel with your fervor, The fervor is appreciated. Thank you
Music for the Journey (March 2019 Missing Post)
Twice now, I have come across an interesting post on Facebook which asked me to consider my life as a movie and suggest what songs are on its soundtrack. I love(d) the idea of my life’s soundtrack album but didn’t exactly follow the instructions the first time I considered it as per the post. That first time, I saw myself thinking of all my favorite songs, songs I have replayed over and over again at some point in life. While this is okay, it’s not exactly what a soundtrack signifies. It occurred to me only when reading the comments under the post the second time that I realized that I was to list songs which would accompany periods of my life. This realization made the exercise more introspective than initially perceived. Now, I’m a music lover and my tastes are extremely eclectic. My music gallery has everything from Accapella from Brooklyn to classical music by Europeans of the 1700s to American country music to Afropop to makossa and zouk. Even within the category of Gospel Music, there are subfolders – Black American gospel, ‘traditional’ gospel hymns, Nigerian gospel, South African gospel music each with beats of their own. One of my secondary school teachers used to say singing is ‘worshipping doubled’. While that may be debatable, as a music lover with such eclectic taste, I have also come to realize that I compound the moods I feels with the sort of music I choose to listen to at those times- feeling soppy, more Mary J Blige, Feeling frustrated? Cry it out with Tamela Mann! The music we choose to listen to [and the songs we favor] says a lot about the mood we’re in, want to be in, and what we’re going through… But they also tell a story of our growth. Have you heard of the saying ‘when you’re in a good mood you like the beats but when you’re down you understand the lyrics’? Similar can be said for our favored gospel songs. Consider your life journey, particularly your evolution as a Christian, how has your taste in music evolved? What songs do you relate to now which you didn’t get before? What songs got you through a particular time? I’ll offer my list in exchange for yours: My undergraduate years saw me excited about my faith for the first time. I was building my idea of what Christianity ought to mean and venturing beyond the ‘traditional’ hymns and locally composed chorals that I’d been taught in secondary school. I recall replaying Mary Mary’s It’s the God in Me and Kirk Franklin’s Thank you till the point where my neighbors got fed up. I was impressed by how gospel music could be made to RnB and Rap beats, and not necessarily somber. A similar type of joyful gospel was trending in Cameroon around that time too, and for the first time, we in the anglophone regions had imported French Cameroonian music like Je Suis Dans la Joie into our churches just as much as Nigerian. By the end of undergrad though, I was becoming more of a prayer warrior. Life – or rather, adulting- comes at you fast. I suddenly ‘felt’ our locally popular -often Nigerian- prayer songs. You know those repetitive songs we were taught to sing as intros to our prayers…. likeJesus, come and defend your name o Lord,Jesus come and defend your name o Lord,Lest my enemies come and laugh asking ‘where is the God I’m serving?’Lest my enemies come and laugh asking ‘where is the God I’m serving?’ ‘Flow in my life, cover my head to toes, (2)Give me the power to do thy will, o Lord I pray, amen (x2) I guess when your own prayers start getting deep, you come to see the need for an intro, outro, and bridge. With such prayers, you sometimes need to break into song halfway because a song says it better- or you’re too overwhelmed to even articulate what you’re feeling. Times when the likes of Jill Scotts ‘Hear My Call’, somber as it is, is most appropriate. It’s been a long time since then, and I’ve seen my tastes change many times over, with the discovery of a new (or new to me) song, or the change of circumstances, growth in knowledge which makes one I’d already heard all the more meaningful. These days, the gospel songs I’m repeating include; Tori Kelly’s Ever Be and her version of So Will I, Tamela Mann’s Change Me, God Provides, and Take Me to the King Amber Riley’s versions of I’m His Child and Reckless Love Lara George’s Dansaki J.J Hairston’s You Deserve It Pompi’ Silence Transformation Church’s version of One Thing Remains Tasha Cobb’s Gracefully Broken and Fill Me Up The Walls’ Group’s And You Don’t Stop and Satisfied Caleb and Kelsey’s medley of Oceans (Where Feet May Fall) + You Make Me Brave and finally, a long spew of Jonathan McReynolds’ profound songs like Cycles, Limp, Stay High, Maintain, God is Good, and Make Room This list will likely change within months to come, in fact just revisiting old favorites has made me make some adjustments on the playlist. Isn’t it amazing how that happens?Now, let me in our your soundtrack… what songs are seeing you through the journey at the moment?Looking forward to your comments! xoxo,Mo
All Seasons Matter
Dear Reader, As of January of 2018, I began a commitment to using my blog as a medium for sharing about my faith in Jesus Christ. It was, in my way, a means of ministry as well as exercise for spiritual growth. So each month since then I have published two posts each month. One being my regular musings on life, society and whatever else is on my mind, and the other being an ‘About my Faith’ post.Recently, however, I’ve been going through ‘some stuff’. Stuff that has put me in a position where I have neither the desire nor the conviction to share my faith as I’d felt called to when I first started this exercise. While I have felt this before, the lack of conviction, the self and faith doubt, I have yet to have this season drag on so long. Suffice it to say I feel like I’ve depleted my hope reserves and at the moment I’m not the Christian anyone can be proud of, let alone share. But perhaps this is why I feel I must share this, share what I have noted here in this ‘sunken place’. For one, I’ve found that very few Christians make good counselors. We listen to respond rather than to understand and empathize with the person. We have been trained to see God as some stern African parent who would be offended by our doubts and frailty in faith. We rebuke the person questioning, and wrestling with issues [especially if we can’t understand why they feel what they do]. We have been taught that we must always be joyful, always be faithful, always be anchored in prayer, always be firm in faith. We have been taught to hurl scriptures at the person who is down- as if they didn’t know said scripture verse before falling. In recent discussions with Christian friends (of varying degrees of faith and genuine friendship) I have found myself respecting the Christians who admit that they do not know. They who admit to their struggle, who admit that they have fallen too often to hold your own struggle against you- who do not expect you to overcome what they have yet to experience, what they cannot understand, or what they themselves succumbed to when they ‘were younger and not yet saved’. Ugh! The last group is the worse! The video above is culled from my favorite message by @priscillashirer (check out the full video HERE) and I feel more Christians should hear it. In this message, Priscilla reminds us that God has given us permission to doubt, that Christ did not rebuke John when he questioned and that this battle is ultimately God’s. It is HE who enables our faith, we could not on our own, hold this belief with must conviction. Please do watch the full video, it is a truly poignant message. Next, the more I have been told to ‘get over myself’ (in more polite/patronizing ways of course), the more I have decided to settle right down in this ‘sunken place’. This sounds retrogressive, but I mean it all the same. I have become weary of the people who expect you thriving round the clock- or at least pretending that you are. The people who preach using only certain seasons in our favorite Bible characters. These people will give you the verse of Job praising God in adversity, but not that of him wishing he was dead or not born. Like we can’t do both ????????♀ They will preach using the woman at the well, as if she would be that woman without having had four husbands and no damns left to give. If she wasn’t the woman she is she may not even have spoken to Jesus in that context, she’d have been too ‘well-bred’. These people praise the David who could stand up to Goliath without acknowledging how he would later be unable to stand up to his own self when it came to greed and lust… Nearly all biblical characters displayed flaws we would write off church members for in this day and age. Nearly everyone we would claim the blessings of had struggled. The seasons shaped and made them. It is those seasons of their human frailty, and their failure to be ‘holy’ that justifies Christ’s sacrifice… So why is it that we reject our own human frailness, we expect that we would be forever full of faith. At what point are we to be empty for Christ to fill us? I do not suggest that we glorify the seasons of depression, of failure and backsliding. Not at all. What I propose is that we be more understanding, that we stop thinking so narrowly. That we appreciate that ALL SEASONS MATTER. That we recognize that telling someone who is backsliding to lift themselves up with the word is okay, but asking God – who being God is far more powerful- to meet them in their sunken place and lift them out is actually how this thing works. And if you’re like me; going through some stuff, questioning and on the brink of failing. I pray that you learn (as I am slowly acknowledging) that there’s no way to fall so far that God- being supreme- cannot lift you out. And I hope we soon see the reason for this season. Amen. P.S I still whisper to myself “this too shall pass”, but now I equally think “this too may be part of His plan”
5 Love Poems From Me to You
As the people all over the world muse on love (genuine of commercialized fluff) on this Valentine’s Day, permit me share with you some of my favorite original poems relating to L.O.V.E. On Self-love Ode to We This is for my sisters, whose thighs touch. Whose arms hang like armpit drapes and whose stomachs bulge… It is okay not to be O.K Okay is never enough anyway, They always want more. So lift your arms and wave them ‘round Cross your feet and pout your lips Swing your hips to your own beat And repeat: I love me On Considering Love Kintsugi I thought of you when I learned of Kintsugi; read about that Japanese art of recovering broken things with preciousness, renewing the life of fallen pieces and restoring their worth two, four…a thousand fold. I thought of you, lover-to-be, as a Kintsugi artist. A master craftsman, able to see possibilities in fragmented parts, worn and not quite whole, still useful. See, I have shards of glass placed at the top of the walls surrounding this heart like those my grandfather cemented atop the fence around our family home-To keep thieves out, to slice careless hands who come to prey… But an artist takes care, a potter’s hand is patient. So I can see you pick up these shards nimbly, one after the next, appreciating the story of each fall, respecting the painful tale of each break.I can picture you pouring precious metal- emotions rare- unto sharpened edges piecing together what some would see as mistakes to create a testimony. I thought of you when I learned of Kintsugi, and I thought of I.I thought of us all, reflections of this philosophy; believers in broken things, people who would pour gold in cracks. Card carrying members of ‘Hopefuls Anonymous’Lovers; Kintsugi artists. On Discovering Love The Heartbreak 39 days ago at 7:47pm. Your words, uncomfortably shared, speared the familiar sinking feeling of heartbreak within me I find it hard to describe this feeling. Heartbreak resulting from unrequited love is unique you see. Not quite pain, more like an ebbing ache of inadequacy. Your heart twisting as if trying to find balance or return shamefully to the cage of your ribs it should have never left. Your windpipes forcing air out as though practiced in a Lamaze class. Keep going. Don’t cry. Just breathe. I wonder at the break. Why do I feel it? When did you matter? I am reminded: It was Tuesday, I was sick and you came. I looked horrible but it didn’t matter, your eyes smiled in a way that made me feel beautiful. You stayed, made me laugh and left me feeling better than the treatment I’d been taking for days It was 6th of June, I think, you shared a post that literally took my breath away, something I couldn’t believe you’d get. And yet you did. You got it and you defended it when the trolls came It was the evening I left our meeting late and worry remained in your eyes as I took a cab. You took the taxi drivers details. Chatting with me all through till I arrived to be sure I didn’t fall asleep therein and get carted away… It was that dinner we shared, you remember the night you took me out for my favorite meal? Two phone addicts somehow able to not think of our phones for hours. It’s been the never-ending conversation we have. Free flowing, humorous, unrestricted, digressing and yet still mutually understood. Able to go dormant yet reawakening within days with the same feel. The familiarity it bred It was me struggling to contort this large body to somehow lay my head on your shoulder in the taxi ride home. It was in my trusting you enough to drink in your presence. Comfortable enough to hold your hand and cross the road… I see now that it was a million little things. You may have come to me by chance but you did not come all at once. You are the dripping rooftop that slowly made the whole house damp. Weathering defenses, surprising us both. And this is how I got a heartbreak never knowing there was a love Lessons in Love Learning i. They teach you to forgive your enemies but rarely do they share how you’ll need to forgive your loves.We all forget, you see, that we lift our loves on a pedestal, we raise them up like the moon does the tide of our feelings. We make them gods because they make us feel more human, more magical, loved.We raise them up involuntary and without consent. We raise them up until they fall. Humans after all. ii.So today I will forgive you for not being all I dreamed you would be. I will forgive you for inspiring me to fly when you had no wings. No wings for you, no wings for me. I will forgive you for the rides of all-night talks and ecstatic daydreams you fueled, without telling me the petrol tank was uncertain, we were just kicking it. I will forgive you because you made no promise. I forgive you because you too are broken and should not have been put in a place to fix my own cracks. I will forgive you because I am learning the ways of love. iii.Now please forgive me for the selfish love I bore and thrust on you, a crown you did not ask for. The love that demanded more of you, than you were ready to give. Forgive me the luxury of rose-colored glasses that saw your promise but not your flaws. Not the vacuum you harbored still. Forgive me the good things I hoped and dreamed. Because I have learned even good things are burdensome. I have learned hope is heavy a thing around your neck weighing you down and adorning you brightly at the same time. Forgive me because I am still learning to love like God. On Recovering