I’m unqualified to write about fatherhood,
I have enough trouble just being a son;
Yet the thought is one that weighs heavily on the mind…
I realise I’m caught in a cycle where sons become fathers:
How would it feel to have a son today,
Who treats me like I treated my father yesterday,
And treats his son tomorrow like I treat him today – blessing or curse?
“We are in a time and season where ‘wearing a mask’ is no longer just a philosophical or psychological or social euphemism, but a socio-medical necessity and in some places a legal injunction. What a transformation there would be though, if the putting on of physical masks connoted the taking off of the invisible masks that men have been known to wear to hide insecurities and cover-up hurts and propagate cruelties. Then maybe we would see each other for who we are, get the help we need, and heal; Then maybe we would all see that we are all not that different from each other – that we are all frail and insecure by ourselves, and that our masks, irrespective of size or design, have done nothing but deceive us – giving us false security and offering us up to vain gods; Then maybe we will all learn that only by baring ourselves before He who made us, are we made whole.” – Makafui.
Take me to the Place where the saints gather,
To the convention of the just made perfect;
Where the clouds of glory settle and tongues of fire dance;
To the atmosphere so pure that I come undone to be refined.
It is where David dances and Solomon sits to be taught;
A place whose gates Sampson’s strength does not qualify him to guard.
“Is it not amazing, that He who was once God of the fathers of old, has become our Father? A drastic re-adjustment of privileges seemingly too awesome for most to fully come to terms with. So we have the sorry situation of children of God floundering about at a loss about their responsibilities and abilities. If only we would take the time to study the legal document which spells out the intricacies and implications of the change in identity….” – Makafui.
“Encountering God in His Word is beautiful, but can be scary sometimes. He has the tendency to turn your mind and worldview inside out…I think He enjoys it – re-educating His little children.” – Makafui.
#Job 38, 39
Thank You for touching me
When I’d grown numb from disappointments;
For pulling me up from the pit of depression;
For cutting me out of the belly of hopelessness;
For wrestling me from the arms of despair.
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: Continue reading
At a point in my walk it dawned on me that I had been trying to play chess with God. I had been trying to get a ‘feel’ of how He works, when He moves, and how He moves, and what He moves for; So I could make my decisions with His moves in mind – no, not against Him – that would be worse than ridiculous; It’s more like we’re on the same team with no well-defined captain, and whoever moves first plays. Clearly, I haven’t exactly understood the concept of surrender or yielding. It’s a very frustrating game to play; with my mind telling me I ought to be winning and my conscience asking me what I think I’m doing. My eyes see clearly that things are not going the way I expect, but my hand keeps moving anyways, making the next best move even as I ask God why He isn’t playing.