I recently completed my 36th turn around the sun and I would like to share what has been the lesson of this age for me. Before I begin though, I must preface this by saying that I believe in God. Belief aside, even my logic affirms that there is a God. Still, I acknowledge that the questions that follow; Who’s God? How good is God? etc. are valid, but the existence of a supreme being has never been in doubt for me. I’ve had personal encounters, a life filled with testimonies, and the reasoning that there is simply too much intricacy and beauty in creation for there not to be a divine being. I not only believe in God, I am a Christian. Some might argue that’s because I was born into a Christian family, and perhaps they’re partly right; maybe if I were born elsewhere, I’d have clung to another faith. But it isn’t my family that made me Christian. They set the stage, but it was my own encounter with God that sealed it. I gave my life to Christ after a suicide attempt, so my journey is deeply personal (read conversion story here). This year, however, has been one of the most trying for my faith. It has pushed me to wrestle with belief and logic in ways I hadn’t before. In earlier years, I’ve had doubts, yes, but they were mostly tied to depression, suicidal ideation, or difficult circumstances, not solely intellectual questioning. The last time I questioned God this deeply was in 2021, when suicidal thoughts resurfaced after years of dormancy. It was painful to want to die while watching others who wanted to live lose their lives. In 2022, things began to shift. Therapy and a strong Christian sisterhood helped me heal. That season led me to reaffirm my vows to Christ through baptism in August 2022. I wrote about here it at the time. My promise then was simple: Lord, I won’t attempt to take my life again. I’m surrendering the life to you who obviously wants to keep me here. Help me appreciate that, see value in being here and to live for You. Since then, my faith hasn’t been perfect, but it’s been steady, until recently. Between late 2024 and now, I’ve been shaken by what I’ve witnessed in the global Christian community, particularly the rise of American Christian nationalism. Because American culture dominates global media, its distorted theology spreads everywhere. Seeing Christians justify injustice, inequality, and blind leadership in God’s name has been heartbreaking. I found myself asking: Am I worshipping a God of injustice? In those moments, I’ve had to remind myself of who God truly is- based on my own encounters, not others’ interpretations. I’ve had to pray: God, please defend Your name, because what I see doesn’t make sense. Thankfully, God is not threatened by my questions. He welcomes them. And I’ve been blessed with a church home (linked here) and a pastor who encourages honest questioning, and a small circle of Christian sisters who help me stay grounded. Without them, I might have lost my sanity amidst all the twisted rhetoric. Still, I often find myself overwhelmed, looking at the state of the world and thinking, Lord, just blow the trumpet, send another flood and start over (or perhaps not at all), because this seems beyond saving. Recently, I was reminded of a lesson from someone I dearly respect, though I’ve since been disappointed by their alignment with the kind of toxic Christian rhetoric I now resist. A few years ago, we did a peer-review exercise naming each other’s strengths and weaknesses. She told me I had a tendency to question authority too much. At the time, I thought she was using the exercise to criticize me (that was ego), but even then I couldn’t deny she was right. She explained that I often refuse advice from people who haven’t been through what I’m facing, and that I believe I know what’s best for myself. Looking back, I see truth in that. I do question authority. I need people to prove they’re qualified to lead or advise me. That trait has followed me since childhood, my mother used to say I was too strong-willed, too stubborn, that we couldn’t both lead the household. Through therapy, I’ve come to understand where that comes from. It’s a response to being failed by authority figures; parents, elders, people who should have known better but didn’t. When authority fails you repeatedly, you learn to save yourself. You start thinking, If not for God and me, I wouldn’t still be here. That breeds self-reliance and skepticism of leadership. But in African society, that attitude is unsettling. Age, titles, and seniority often demand obedience. People expect you to follow simply because they hold a position. But for me, it doesn’t work that way. I’ve been my own father and mother for so long that I can’t just hand over that trust blindly. Still, I’m learning that this trait, that is- questioning authority, is both a gift and a trauma response. It protects me from blind submission, but it can also hinder faith and trust. God is teaching me balance: to discern when questioning is wisdom and when obedience is necessary. I recently watched a short clip that illustrated this perfectly. A father tells his child to move away from a package on their doorstep without explanation. The child obeys immediately, they soon find out that the box contains explosives. At the time, even the father didn’t know. He just suspected and at his command the child respected. Someone commented, “This is why learning obedience matters. You can question later, but sometimes, questioning too soon can cost your life.” That struck me. I’ve always been the child who asks why before acting. But that story reminded me that there’s a time for questioning and a time for trust. Sometimes, I just need to obey first and seek understanding afterward. That’s what God
Musings on Love, Faith, and the Daily Call to Choose
So here’s what I’ve been musing about lately… We often hear it said: Love is a choice. Increasingly, this message is gaining traction among my generation. We’re moving away from the idea that love is just a feeling. I think we now know better that it’s not the butterfly-infused infatuation we grew up watching on TV. Sure, feelings kick things off. You’re drawn to someone, you click with a friend, you enjoy being around them. But staying in love? Staying connected? That requires a daily, deliberate choice. You wake up and realise you haven’t spoken to someone you love in a while. You could carry on with your day and let the silence stretch further. Or you could make the effort. Reach out. Send that message. Because love means choosing to show up for your people, even when it’s inconvenient, even when your instinct is to retreat and choose yourself, or be selfish and think “why didn’t they write me first?”. Sometimes the choice is easy: you miss them, you’re craving intimacy, they’re giving you what you want. But other times? It’s messy. Sometimes love requires you to give something up, do something uncomfortable, or hold space for hard conversations. Whether it’s your partner, your children, your friends—love is wiping snotty noses, waking up early, showing up when you’d rather stay in bed. It’s joining parent WhatsApp groups and making small talk with other adults when you’d rather be doing literally anything else. Love is action. It’s an effort. It’s a decision. Now, what prompted all this reflection wasn’t just romantic or familial love; it was a conviction. A spiritual one. A reminder of the fact that I made a choice a few years ago and how it’s one I need to recommit to in this season. That reminder came through a whispered statement: ‘Love is a choice, and the same applies to faith.’ Like, yes, if loving people whom you can see is a choice, how much more is loving a God you can’t see a choice? To love God is to wake up each morning and choose to believe. To believe He’s good, even when the world doesn’t look like it. To choose to trust in a Bible that, let’s be honest, raises many questions. A Bible, we know, wasn’t lowered from heaven in one clean piece, but written and compiled by men, shaped by councils and omissions ( who knows that the books hidden in vaults, sidelined by institutions like the Vatican, said, books no one ever told us how or why they were excluded). And yet. This same Bible has spoken to my spirit in a way that nothing else has. Its words do something. Not always immediately. Not always conveniently. But deeply. They manifest differently. They hold power. They’ve comforted me, corrected me, and carried me through seasons where no one else’s words could. Even with all its human fingerprints, all the baggage it carries from being used to justify slavery, colonisation, patriarchy, racism and more, it also carries something sacred. Something that can’t quite be explained but can be felt. It tells the story of a God who has pursued humanity with relentless grace. A God who loved us enough to become one of us. A God who laid Himself down for us. You see, it’s not a once-and-done thing. Choosing God isn’t something you do once when you “give your life to Christ.” It’s not a one-time conversion. It’s daily. It’s every moment.One of my favourite C.S. Lewis quotes goes: Relying on God has to begin all over again every day as if nothing had yet been done. Yes, the Holy Spirit is a helper. A counsellor. A transformer. He’s all those things. But let’s be honest, you still have to make a choice. You choose whether to heed His conviction. You choose whether to seek Him. You choose whether to be comforted by Him or by food, sex, shopping, work, etc. And choosing Him isn’t always convenient. It’s like choosing your spouse even when they annoy you, or when they’re no longer exciting. You made a vow. So when you stop choosing them, you’re breaking your vow. Same with God. If we framed it like that—like not choosing Him is breaking your vow—I think some of us would rethink the way we move. We’d check ourselves. We’d understand what this walk actually requires. Because listen, there are parts of this faith that are uncomfortable. Things that don’t make sense. Things you’ll never be able to explain or reconcile. That’s why it’s called faith. It’s not logic. If it were logical, we wouldn’t need faith. Some days, the only thing I can say for sure is that I’m choosing. Like how kids believe in Santa Claus. I’m just choosing. And today, as the Holy Spirit convicted me and reminded me of this, I’m saying it out loud: You made a choice, Monique. Are you going to keep choosing? You made that choice because you’ve experienced God. You’ve had encounters. You’ve seen His works. And though you’ve overthought this (because you always do), you landed here rationally—you’ve examined other religions, you’ve done the mental work, and this is the faith that makes the most sense to your spirit, that speaks love and grace the way no other one does. So yeah. That’s what I’m reminding myself today: It’s a choice. May the Holy Spirit help us to keep choosing Him. That’s all I’ve got for now.
For All the Stephen’s Brothers Out There… and the Paul’s too
Hello. So, if you’re new here, this is Monique’s Musings. I blog. I’ve been blogging since… 2013? Or no, maybe 2012? Yeah, one of those. Anyway, I’ve been blogging for over 10 years now. And I basically share my thoughts on anything and everything that comes to mind. Usually, it’s thoughts about Cameroon, social issues, my own experiences as a Cameroonian woman, an African feminist, my Christian walk… reflections on my faith journey, or anything else I’m learning in the season of life I’m in. That’s what this blog is. And today? Whew. Today’s one of those days when the idea trickled down to me over time. It came in pieces, not all at once. But today… Today was the straw that broke the camel’s back. It said, “Okay, it’s time. Talk about this.” So, it started a few days or weeks ago, I can’t remember now, I came across a funny skit by this Nigerian Christian comedian I follow (SEE HERE). He’s really good, makes great content. He did this skit about Paul writing a letter to one of the churches, and in the skit, the elders or the people in the church were threatening Paul. They were like, “We will call Stephen’s brother.” Now, if you know, you know. Stephen was one of the people Paul (then Saul) had killed. So “We will call Stephen’s brother” is like a backhand slap threat. It’s the line that would really ‘check’ someone like Paul. The comments section was wild. People were like, “Yep, that’s the one. Call Stephen’s brother.” And it made me think, because I’ve actually thought about Stephen’s brother before. In the past, when I’ve read Acts, I’ve wondered: how did Stephen’s brother or family feel? Scripture tells us they didn’t immediately trust Paul, but I imagine some never did. I imagine some people stayed pissed—rightfully so. Because think about it… the person who persecuted you, who has literal blood on their hands, is now showing up to preach to you? Nah. And that is actually what I want to talk about today. Because life is funny. And this Christian journey? This Christian journey is messed up, let me not lie. It’s not for the faint of heart. It’s not for the easily triggered. Because you will be triggered. Regularly. I get triggered on a regular basis. So, fast forward from that skit to about a week later. Here I am, having my own real-life Stephen Brother moment. Someone I know (I’m not saying he used to be Saul, but let’s say he wasn’t exactly the most upright, or the most obviously Christian person previously) is now telling me, who has been trying my best on this journey for years, that they got a certain blessing or breakthrough because they “started serving God.” As if it’s a magic formula. Like, “You know, I just started walking with God and boom, this happened.” And they’re telling me this like I’m not already walking with God? Like… wow. The audacity. And it’s not even that they’re necessarily wrong. I’m not saying they’re not telling the truth. I’m just saying… maybe don’t come at me like that? Maybe don’t assume I’m not already doing the things? Maybe don’t act like you’re automatically ahead of me because you got some blessings? Because here’s the thing, it’s not about how long you’ve known God. That’s not how it works. Whether I’ve been a Christian for 5 or 25 years, there are seasons to this thing. And I feel like that’s what some people don’t get. Some people think seasons are measured by prosperity. They think that if I’m married this season, have a job, and things are going well, then clearly I’m doing something right and God is pleased with me. But if I’m in a rough season, if I’m confused or struggling, then I must not be walking with God properly. We’ve taken capitalism, market analysis, and imported it into Christianity. So now, when someone’s life is flourishing, they assume it’s proof that they’re in the right with God. And when someone else is struggling, it’s assumed they’re not faithful or they’re doing something wrong. Like… huh? So here I am, sitting in front of this guy—not saying he’s Saul, but you get the point—and he’s basically telling me, “If you were following the Lord properly, all this would’ve come to you too.” Like… like it’s a formula. Just plug in prayer and service, and voilà, blessings. And I’m sitting there thinking… this must be how the early Christians felt. Like… Stephen’s brother. Because maybe Stephen’s brother didn’t get the gift Paul got. Maybe he was a believer, but didn’t get the same signs, the same fire, the same calling. And then he watches the guy who killed his brother now become the face of Christianity. Paul becomes the one doing miracles, planting churches, and writing scripture. Meanwhile, your brother-the first martyr—is barely mentioned after that. You’re grieving. You’re angry. You’re healing—trying to heal—and the guy who caused your pain is now being worshipped for raising someone else from the dead. But your brother stayed dead. And I’m just thinking about how many Christians are like Stephen’s brother—faithful, committed, but grieving. Struggling. Angry with God, even. Not because they don’t love Him, but because this walk is hard, and sometimes it feels unfair. And because it’s seasonal. There are seasons when you’re joyful, when you’re full of hope, when you’re winning souls left and right. And then there are seasons where you’re just… numb. Angry. Confused. But that doesn’t make you less saved. And the people who just joined, the ones who are new to the faith and still in their honeymoon phase—they look at you and judge. The audacity. So yes. Today’s post is me speaking for all the Stephens’ brothers out there. I see you. I get you. Heck, I am you. And I wish someone, such as a pastor or a teacher, would deliver a proper sermon on
In Praise of Being God’s Gen-Z Baby Girl (Jan 2025)
I used to call my good friend Ettamba “God’s first-born daughter.” You know how Jesus is described as God’s only Son, and we’re all adopted as brothers and sisters? Well, she was that friend who seemed to have the “ask and you shall receive” thing down to an art form. Whatever she prayed for, she got. It became our running joke—I’d tell her to “ask your Father for me, too.” But the Holy Spirit has a way of checking us when we need it most. I found myself convicted by an uncomfortable question: Are you insinuating that God is unfair? That He doesn’t do as well by you as He does by her? The conviction stung because it revealed something deeper—if I truly believed God played favourites, why would I serve a God I thought was unfair? Well, some years later, during a conversation with another sister-friend Phoebe (thank God for Christian friends who speak truth into our lives). She looked at me and said, “You know, you’re acting like a last-born now like this… In fact, you’re God’s last-born.” I burst out laughing. “What do you mean?” “You act so much like one of these Gen-Z cousins of mine, that last-born, ergo I did not sign up for this attitude”, she explained. “You rant at Him. You throw tantrums. You go straight to Him and report everything, with no filter. You’re like, ‘I can’t do this, I do not want to do this,’ and you just vent and say FIX THIS!’ When I tell you I CACKLED at this! Because I know exactly the genre of sibling she was referring to. As the first-born daughter of an African family, I carry the weight of responsibility that comes with that position. I’m tired of being the one who has it all together, who fixes everything, who carries everyone’s burdens. So, when Phoebe said I could be God’s last-born? I was here for it. Last Born Energy Think about it—last born children have a different relationship with their parents than the first born. They speak up. They rant. They throw tantrums when things don’t go their way. They don’t carry the same sense of overwhelming responsibility that weighs down the older siblings. They’re free to just… be children. Phoebe was right. I do give off last-born energy in my relationship with God. I literally told Him once, “I know I sound like a rebellious teenager in this season of my faith, but this is where I am right now.” And you know what? He can handle it. As I contemplate that last-born title and what owning it means, however, I see it as an ideal. Were we not called to be children? Who is more childish than the last-borns? It means rediscovering child-like faith and posture. For example, when we were children, we ran home bursting to tell our parents everything. “Look what I made in school today! I have a new friend! This happened, that happened!” Everything is worth sharing because everything feels significant to a child’s heart. But somewhere along the way, we grow up and stop sharing. We become formal with our parents, reserved, and distant. We stop running to show them the little things that excite us. I think the same thing happens with God. We grow up spiritually, and our prayers become formal, structured, and distant. We stop telling Him about the little things—the show we’re watching, the person we’re interested in, how we’re really feeling about that situation at work. We lose that intimate, conversational relationship that children naturally have. What if more of us embraced being God’s last-born instead of trying to be the responsible first-born who has everything figured out? What if we gave ourselves permission to: There’s something beautifully freeing about last-born energy. It’s the freedom to be fully known, fully seen, and fully loved- tantrums and all. Children don’t have complicated relationships with their parents (when things are healthy). They come home, they share, they listen, they trust. Maybe our prayer lives need less structure and more childlike intimacy. Less formal presentation and more authentic conversation. I’m tired of being the first-born daughter who tries to fix everything herself, who bundles up all her emotions and presents only the neat, manageable parts to God. I want to be His lastborn, the spoiled brat that drinks of grace in large gulps, the one who comes running at the least sign of wahala because big sis or daddy will fix it, who trusts someone- THE ONE- to handle the messy, complicated, beautiful reality of who I am. Maybe it’s time we all embraced a little last-born energy in our faith. Yes, in this life there will be trouble, but I’m not signing up for more than I need to. I’m owning the title of God’s Gen-Z baby girl with all my being. You’re welcome to join me.
Why a Black Pope Isn’t Necessarily Progress—and Why the idea Makes Me Uneasy (May 2025 Blog)
** In the past week, I’ve seen so many posts and comments from contacts eagerly awaiting the results of the ongoing Papal Conclave, hoping for a Black pope. A few days ago, I shared my own unpopular opinion on the matter: I really would prefer the new pope not be Black. First off, it’s not because I agree with the white nationalist nonsense about not wanting “a DEI Pope.” Far from it—I absolutely detest that thinking. But I know that if one of the Black or Asian contenders were chosen, there would be backlash. Many would assume that diversity politics had somehow “won” over tradition, and that assumption alone would make life harder for the new pope. If you’ve ever been a diversity hire for anything, you know how much pressure such a pope would face to constantly “prove” themselves. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. I should also note that I’m not Catholic, though, thanks to a few years of Catholic schooling, I’m somewhat familiar with Catholic doctrine. My issue here isn’t with Catholicism as a faith, but with the Catholic Church as an institution. Christianity, to me, is about your relationship with God, your faith, and your communion with Christ. But being the head of the Catholic Church isn’t just a spiritual role—it’s leading a system that, despite its spiritual mission, has a long history of aiding, abetting or actively partaking in the marginalising of historically oppressed groups. The recently deceased pope acknowledged some of these flaws and made attempts to address them, and I believe he managed to do so because he was white. A Black or Asian pope, on the other hand, would face far more scrutiny for taking similar steps. Either way, putting a Black person at the head of that system right now wouldn’t magically fix its issues. Instead, it would force that person to defend the system’s history of abuse of people who look like them. My perspective on this comes from seeing this happen elsewhere. It’s not just about the Catholic Church. We see this pattern every time women, Black people, or other marginalised groups are put in positions of power without any real systemic change to the institution they now represent. The problem with simply placing a minority or someone with a marginalised identity in a leadership role is that it often ends up being symbolic, representation without transformation. Worse still, if that person isn’t critically conscious of their position and the institution’s flaws, they can end up perpetuating the very harms they were supposed to challenge. Think about it: what real power would a Black pope have to address the Catholic Church’s problematic history? What repercussions would they face if they actually tried to dismantle the system’s oppressive structures? Isn’t it more likely that they’d end up serving as a convenient shield for the institution—a way for the Church to claim progress without addressing the root issues? We see this in other contexts. For instance, the current UK Foreign Minister is Black, but has that meant more critically conscious foreign policy decisions that address the UK’s role in marginalising the majority of the world’s Black and brown people? Has it made him more likely to discuss reparations? I don’t think so. Likewise, in Cameroon, appointing Anglophones to high government positions hasn’t solved the Anglophone problem. It’s not just about whether marginalised people hold office—it’s about whether the system itself becomes more inclusive and just. Putting an Anglophone in a position of power doesn’t automatically fix the systemic issues. Sometimes, that person even becomes the face of the very problem they’re supposed to be solving. My work with feminist advocacy taught me this the hard way. We push for women to enter certain leadership roles because representation matters. But I’d rather see a feminist man in a position of power than a woman who doesn’t care about women’s issues. That feminist man will know when to step back and make space. Meanwhile, a woman who does not acknowledge patriarchy and its dangers might uphold the same harmful norms, or do even worse because she feels pressured to prove herself. Diversity, equity, and inclusion can’t just be about changing faces at the top. We need to acknowledge that the real problem is systemic and what the odds are for that person to change that system, because racism, sexism, ageism, ableism, and other biases are embedded in these institutions; they are the knots and bolts of the tables we so want to have a seat at. So, while I understand the desire for a Black pope, I’m wary. True progress means tackling the system itself, not just changing the face of leadership. Without that, we’re just setting up marginalised leaders to fail—or worse, become the face of the very practices they were supposed to challenge. ** This was written shortly before the announcement of the new pope.
Musings on Motherhood, Or rather Opting out of it…
Have you ever considered that the reason one may want to have kids is unhealthy? This month’s musings are on my own coming to terms with unhealthy motivations for motherhood and why I take my current position on it. As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts on it. So drop a comment after watching the vlog!
How do you Identify?
A vlog inspired by a self-reflection exercise… Join me?
Inspired! A Christian Love Challenge
I’m blessed to be a member of a Cameroonian women’s ministry called Praying Brides” with the motto “From child of God to Bride of Christ”. This past week I was asked to join the team responsible for developing quarterly challenges and planning Praying Brides’ retreats. As my first task, I was to develop a challenge on a theme given to me by my friend Olivia Mukam who founded the women’s ministry. She said “so can we have a challenge that inspires us to practice biblical love for self and others in the ‘month of love’ and I was like: Cool! After a really bad dry spell having nothing to write/no zeal to write. I am truly ecstatic at the divine inspiration that birthed this challenge so I decided to share it with a wider audience via my blog. Here goes: Praying Brides Challenges us all TO KNOW LOVE & BE KNOWN AS LOVING more than ever over the course of 14 days spanning from the 13th to the 26th of February 2023.Our challenge has two parts; we’re challenged to KNOW LOVE (to experience self-love as God called us to) and be KNOWN AS LOVING (to reflect the love of God to our fellow man). Part One: KNOW LOVEAs per Jesus’s words, we would be keeping ALL the commandments if we but: “Love the Lord your God with all our heart and with all our soul and with all our mind and with all our strength… and Love our neighbours as we love ourselves.”This suggests if we don’t love ourselves, we’ll not be able to love our neighbours, not be able to fulfil the commandments, nor live as God has called us to. So over the first 7 days of the challenge, we will *pray scripture* and practice acts of genuine and biblical self-love. Part Two: BE KNOWN AS LOVINGAnd John said, “If you do not love your [neighbour] whom you can see, how can you [claim to] love God whom you cannot see?”. In the second week, we challenge ourselves and others to exemplify Christ’s love so that we be known as His. For as scripture says: “… By this everyone will know that you are my disciples if you love one another.” (John 13:35).Are you in? Check out the details of the challenge below! I’ve made a nifty table to illustrate the underlying scripture of all we are challenging ourselves (and others) to do. The table also has a column which gives examples of how we can act on the challenge. These examples are just that- examples… You might have a different way to fulfil the challenges, don’t let the examples box you in. I’ll love to know if you like the challenge and if you decide to take it up, do drop a comment or tag PrayingBrides on IG if you do! THE CHALLENGE THE (UNDERLYING) SCRIPTURE(S) / SCRIPTURE(S) TO PRAY EXAMPLES OF ACTIONS TO DO (YOU CAN ADD YOURS) PART 1: KNOW LOVE Day 1- We challenge you to praise God for his Creation- You ” For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.”Psalm 139:13-16 Write an abridged version of Psalm 139 that appreciates how God created you (if you don’t want to write it out, you can do a voice note or a video of yourself appreciating how God took his time to make you and all that which shows you are wonderfully made. Day 2- We challenge you to find God in you…assess and appreciate all the ways you reflect your maker and all the ways God is changing you/conforming you to be more like Christ… Colossians 3:10 and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge after the image of its creator. 29 For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters. Draw a figure of yourself, do a before after of yourself and appreciate your progress and God’s ‘shaping’ work as the Potter He is. Day 3- We challenge you to show yourself the ‘highest form of love’- discipline Proverbs 25:28 – He that [hath] no rule over his own spirit [is like] a city [that is] broken down, [and] without walls. Proverbs 15:32 – He that refuseth instruction despiseth his own soul: but he that heareth reproof getteth understanding Commit at least one act of self-discipline today (telling yourself no to some indulgence you know would harm you, putting up boundaries for your eventual peace of mind… basically doing something that future you will thank you for And/Or Reach out to one person (or more) whom you can trust to give you critical feedback on how you can work on yourself- listen to them with an open heart and commit to working on what has been brought to your attention Day 4- We challenge you to get to know yourself Romans 7:15-24 “For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. Now if I do what I do not want, I agree with the law, that it is good. So now it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me. For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing.” 2 Corinthians 13:5 Examine yourselves, to see whether you are in the faith. Test yourselves. Or do you not realize this about yourselves, that Jesus Christ is in you?—unless indeed you fail to meet the
End-of-Year Testimony
I didn’t think I would be sharing a testimony today. I’ve not been in the best mood/state in the past weeks. Some persistent needs/insecurities… Some “thorns in my flesh” To borrow Paul’s words have persisted for at least 10 years; although I have prayed as fervently as I could, although I have fasted and cried as hard as I could nothing changed much. God seems to be giving everything but that. Addressing everything but that. So I was once again fasting this week, seeking God’s face on the issue.Praying over the same things for a long time is disheartening. You know when you see Hof come through your faith soars and you have the audacity to ask for more. But given that this thing I’ve been praying for has not been answered my faith was waning. It got to a point that I was unable to pray… But here I am giving testimony, because upon reflection today, after discussing with a sister Melissa J earlier today I realized I’m focusing so much on the fact that there are still these needs, so much that I’m not appreciating enough the miracle of still standing. So this is what I want to testify to: sometimes the miracle is in the fact that the oil just didn’t finish, it must not necessarily be that the container will brim with oil. I’m thinking of the story of Prophet Elijah and the Widow at Zarephath (beginning at 1 Kings 17:7).The miracle is in that you are not consumed, not that the fire no longer burns. The fire can still be burning but you are not consumed. I entered this year with my faith bank low like the widow who used her last drop of oil but from March 2022 through Praying Brides’- a women’s ministry I am a part of, one sister after the other has blessed me. One of the things I prayed for was for God to settle me, it was imperative to have a place to call home be rooted somewhere, to have a community and a church. I have a place of my own I am trying to make home again. I have a church to worship at and I’m trying to build a community in a new city, learning a new language… In the year when I had so little faith, it in this year that I got baptized. I’ve now taken up residence there is a miracle in still being useful, still being blessed and a blessing while not being okay while being in need. It is that miracle to which I testify. So if you were like me, waiting for the “end of the trial” but the problem has been lasting much longer than expected. I’m here to say we need not wait to the end, just as we pray in advance, we can testify in the process. To testify to how he has been moving even if it is not in ways you expect. He’s moving.
The Dilemma of Believing
If you are a Christian who takes the faith journey seriously and one who uses their thinking faculties, then you may have come across the dilemma I want to discuss here. Believing requires striking a delicate balance of faith. As Christians, we have been called to have faith that God is able to do all things, and that we are able to do all things – according to God’s will- by His power at work within us. Thus, a lot of preaching suggests that we PUSH (Pray Until Something Happens) in faith. We are taught that keeping expectant hope for what we want is faith and that is the way it will come to pass somehow, someday. However, as Christians we are also called to surrender, to give thanks in all circumstances, to not hold God as a genie who exists to give us what we want and to note that this world is not our own and we may not get good things in this imperfect world. In this way, when you no longer ask, and surrender to God’s will –whether it is what you would like or not- you are also acting on faith. This constitutes the quandary of believing for something. If both of these are acts of faith, which is needed when? When is it time to PUSH and when is it time to surrender? I have had to face this dilemma over and over again in recent times and in confronting it, I have come to discern within myself some hazardous indoctrination. The more popular teaching of faith in our churches is that which says we should “push” and that which underscores God’s blessings as a reward of faith. You are more likely to hear a sermon on the parable of the widow and the judge than to hear a sermon on Ecclesiastes verse which says all is vain or the part of John’s letter where he says he has learned to be content either way. And although the Old Testament story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego being thrown in the fiery furnace is quite popular when teaching us to have faith in God’s ability, the part where they say “But even if he doesn’t” is often left out. In fact saying “but” has been likened to not having enough faith. Our teaching today claims that if we are asking for a ‘good thing’ and still haven’t gotten the answer we are asking for from God then it means we have not prayed enough, fasted enough, cried enough. I’ve carried this sort of thinking with me for a while now, feeling like I have to earn the answer from God. Suffice it to say that thinking is hazardous because it makes God’s blessings out to be ‘trade by barter’. This thinking is also founded on human logic. We have ascribed to God that human scale of assessment. We think that he- like the teachers of this world- will give you points based on what you do, because we see that as fair. It doesn’t occur to us that our human sense of justice/fairness may not be God’s notion of justice/fairness. Perhaps God’s notion of fairness is not giving to someone who checked all the right boxes, but rather giving to someone undeserving so that they can eventually check all the right boxes. If we consider that our metric may be wrong/different from God’s then we can see the danger in how we go about believing. This brings to mind a conversation I had back in 2012 after I introduced myself to a guy and let him know that I have a hearing impairment and would prefer to communicate by text message and not calls. I’ll never forget his reaction. He asked me if I was a Christian, I said yes. He said well if I have faith, I should go to a particular prophet of his for healing because as a Christian I cannot have an impairment, I am eligible for healing. To be honest I was offended, but I did try be cordial in explaining that such logic was not Christian teaching at all. Still, the conversation has remained with me because it has occurred in other ways; too often we are made to believe that we need to pray until we get the answer and if we give up praying for something, we don’t have adequate faith. I think this is wrong; yes, we should pray incessantly. But, if we are praying expecting for a certain answer then we’ll end up frustrated because whether we like it or not God is not obliged to answer us and give us even that which we think is good. As our churches tend to want to cater to human desire, we are made to believe that God will give us all that is good. But that is not the case, God give us all that he deems best for us to have to fulfill his purpose. Not all that we think is good. So when I no longer pray for healing from a hearing impairment and decide that “God your will be done impairment and all”, should I be accused of not having enough faith? Am I giving up? Nt, I think I am surrendering. Surrendering often feels like giving up though; because being humans we tend to do it only when we have no other choice. I do not claim that my perspective is the correct answer, on the contrary I wish we would have this conversation in the church more. These are just my ramblings on the delicate balance that we need to strike as believers… believing enough to go to God’s throne confidently for an answer, but also believing such that we do not need the answer because we have faith that either way good or bad it is well. This conversation is particularly necessary because hoping is hard work, keeping up expectations is draining. So I find it necessary to