“Suffering is a symptom of visible creation in the throes of death. A visceral expression of the gradual demise due to the poisoning of a once perfect world. The culprit? Sin, a poison that corrupts and destroys. The antidote? Christ, bringing life and hope to a suffering dying world.” – Makafui.
“There aren’t many free gifts in life, and none is comparable to the gift of eternal life given by God through Jesus Christ. If at all ‘life’ has a secure resting place, it is in the hands of He who made it.” – Makafui.
“There’s nothing more miserable than ignorance of the secret of Life. You may blunder your way to the pearly gates of Heaven, but you will not enter by mistake. There is Someone you must know to have access to what lies beyond those awesome doors. Do you know Him? Really know Him? And does He know you? Because it would be utterly devastating to be told on that fateful day, ‘Access denied,’ and, ‘I don’t know you.'” – Makafui.
Walking down memory lane, I come across many strange sights;
Strange, not because they’re unfamiliar, surprising or unnatural;
But because down memory lane things just look different.
Some things which seemed heavy, look like feathers now;
Some things that flitted through barely leaving a mark,
Now seem to have made and left trenches deep and wide;
Fleeting moments that were regarded ordinary, barely noteworthy,
Now seem to be set in gold, with silver linings and adorned with pearls.
“There are three notable events in the life of any individual: Birth, Death, and Judgement. Birth is joyously celebrated, Death is sad but honoured; both come with a lot of ‘fanfare’, but Judgement seems to be largely ignored; though it is the one event that weighs in the eternal balances, the activities littered between Birth and Death. We must then carry this consciousness, even if it is in the name of selfish self-preservation, that Judgement is as sure and ubiquitous as Birth and Death are; and that it is the solemnest and severest event of life.” – Makafui.
The mysteries of divine irony:
That an ancient symbol of shame
In one day became the ultimate symbol of hope;
The price was a life so pure that shame fled.
The crying cross that weeps blood,
Lamenting at the silence of the Saints –
Silent in comfort, but powerfully verbal in persecution –
Blood-marked men wrung through the wheels of suffering
Their robes made white by a thorough washing in Blood.
Here’s a story for those who love such things:
I was once a man (seems like so long ago) who didn’t have much,
But I knew how to love, and loved all I had.
One day I got something I grew to adore and prize
Above all else I had, and I desired not much more.
But not long after, I began to lose the little that I had.
After each loss, I would say to myself and to Him on my knees,
‘I’ve lost something quite dear, but I’m still grateful.’
“The book of the mysteries of fate is written with the pen of faith. Dark nights and cloudy days may be fate, but they can not put out the flames of faith.” – Makafui.
Thirteen minutes ago, I got a call.
It wasn’t good news, Granny was ill,
And I somehow knew this was going to be the last time.
We spoke over the phone, and she said not to come over;
The voice was Nanny’s voice as I remember it,
But it carried something more now,
A certain weight I couldn’t place,
Though she sounded frail also…it was the strangest thing.
Nanny spoke like I’ve never heard her speak before,
And I listened as if I was in a trance:
It began with weak breath – presumed death;
Then serendipity brought hope that led to disappointment.
But desperate faith called forth something unlikely –
The gradual correction of an apparent design flaw
Hidden from view, known to few, but with lasting effects.
These are matters of the heart…literally.