Heads

Heads of garments, heads of fruits, heads of people… Heads. Heads.

You can gaze upon my face all you want. But to have a look into my head, no you won’t.

Cause you can’t.

And You’ll never know the strings of vessels that work hand in hand with strands of ligaments to pull this through. You’ll never know the gaps that had to be filled with cartilage or red blood peels all to keep this up; this straight looking, up-faced, high standing figure called a head. You don’t know.

You don’t know what it takes to clean me up. Floss after floss of cotton balls dangling up down and across my pores in zig zag motions, all to clean me, wet, dull and clingy, sticking right up to me telling me how I’m a story without a clean stop when I’m bleeding. I wonder if you really know where I’m heading at cause you don’t know me. You don’t know what it feels like to be me.

That’s how you can sincerely look forward to appreciating me with nothing. You’re expecting me to continue to spring up all of a sudden, give a genuine laugh all the time all of a sudden, have many reasons to always sit up and think for you when you would have me sit up and think for you because you’re certain doing nothing is your part while all I must do is sit up and think for you. But you have not been sincere enough to genuinely follow up my system. Now you can’t back me up.

So you accuse me and abuse me, all rightly. You treat me lightly yet you expect me to perform brightly. You conjure up your own magic and yet you can’t spell me. When Paul said to pray for our leaders, he was not speaking Anti. In the spirit he was true and he was matter-of-factly. You know we…dress up our lives with Makeup and acting, yet actually we pretend to know what our leaders are really facing. Forgetting they also have faces and dresses to act in. Believe me…

You don’t know the heart of the matter until you’ve listened to its beat. You don’t know the stomach of the warrior until you’ve fed it. You don’t know the bone of contention until you’ve chewed on it. You don’t know the joke of the oesophagus until you’ve told it. You don’t know the favourite joint until you can beer it stretch. You don’t know your own guts until you’ve spilled it. You don’t know the skin of trouble until you’ve felt it. You don’t know the slippery nature of butter fingers until you’ve heat it. You don’t know how elastic your ribs are until you’ve cracked it.

And you don’t know the breath of his shoulders until you’ve cried on it, taking in deep breaths till you can measure it. So why are you waiting? We never measured up to this, this beautiful privilege of the Good News but, the good news is He is waiting to take our hands and comfort us and equip us beyond measure in the power of His Spirit.

So He sealed it. If you know it, you can live it and get it into your head.

©Doebi

2019

You are a Blessing and that’s no joke at all.

It is tempting!

Especially when you live in a country like Nigeria where you are struggling to make ends meet here, trying to raise a Godly family in Nigeria, watching the level of corruption in the system, living daily in fear of kidnap, rape, one chance, 419, Islamist agenda’s, neck deep in Insurgence, SARS ‘wahala’ , lets not even get into NEPA and politics. Bottom line, with all this temptation left right and centre, my brothers and sisters

It is very tempting! To dwell on the curse.
To sleep with a negative and overly cautious mind, always anxious and suspecting every feather that drops next to you.
It is tempting to pay more attention to the curse.
But listen to this as you read carefully, we all must be conscious about Blessing others.
Pray the blessing upon yourself and your family every time. Pray for those who hate you, bless those who curse you, this is the key to make us thrive.
Why? you might ask?
The answer is simple, Where the Blessing exists, the Curse cannot!

Where the Blessing exists, the Curse cannot.

If I am blessed and you are blessed and your families are blessed and the ones who hate you are blessed, then there is a blessing in the Land and the Curse is inevitably lifted.

This has been God’s strategy from the beginning. He looked upon a dead and dark world and on it He poured an Eternal Blessing. A Blood so pure it washes clean all who receive His touch.

The root word “Bless” means to “Be marked by Blood”. A far more deeper meaning than its mistaken cousin “Bliss” which refers to the pleasures of things.

To pray for the Blessing of God on all people and upon all nations is to reinforce the place of Light in this earth.
It is to invoke an everlasting covenant God cut in His very own Blood. Living Blood He used to build the earth’s New foundation.
The one that we have not yet seen but by every faithful “God Bless you” we speak, we believe.
In every heartfelt prayer for the nations, for the ones who hate us, for a lost generation found in Christ we believe.
We are Marked by Eternal Covenant to mark others. Blessed to Bless nations.

No pipe that water flows through can ever be dry.

Today deliberately choose, decide to be a blessing. Speak Life and not death into situations, Shine light in honesty and truth , don’t cower in darkness. Don’t you dare blend in the crowd. You are made to stand out, to be a shining example, a city set on a hill cannot be hidden.

If you didn’t know before, now you do.

You Are A Blessing.

———–

Wahala: Nigerian slang for “troubles” or “problems”

©Msray 2019

A Letter To My Friend Seeking

IMG-20190304-WA0008.jpg

Dear Ijay, 

I am a firm believer in the need for people to unravel themselves. And this is true of every sincere person I have known.

We all get to a point where we pull things apart, sometimes by accident. In our soul and mind, bit by bit we spread all our pieces in a bid to know ourselves, to understand the ‘why’s’ without any demanding interference and this is good.

This sort of chaos unfolding is common when you have been stifled all your life. You are longing to know  – ‘Is my life being defined by what I have been conditioned to be?’, ‘Who am I really when no one is pushing me?’. So somewhere in the midst of this ruckus there arises a suffocating need to either free and continue to conform or be free and allow yourself transform, into who you truly are.

I have had to unravel this scroll of a life for myself too and I am still unravelling. Like the best kind of book with a climax and downfall every good story should have, I have gasped, laughed out loud, I’ve been shocked out of my wits!, bawled in frustration, been enveloped in cruel drowning silence. I have screamed loud enough for the quantum world to hear (into my pillow that is) and breathe a sigh of relief with my salt stained face. I have found my unfolding to be painfully beautiful in its honestly true and  deepest form.

Ijay, permit me to share with you what I have learned.

It was never my conditions that defined me, it was always who I chose to be, freedom isn’t free. After all said and done, constraint still posed an essential companion.

Knowledge begets responsibility and where knowledge is a full head, responsibility is an understanding heart that knows when and how to act.

There are truths that resonate within this stubborn blood and bone I peel away from my soul day by day. It is beyond social conditioning, unravelling this way brings me face to face with the perfection of intricate and carefully thought out design. I did not just fall out of the sky neither am I a mere miracle of Oduduwa in the sense of a tale. No.

I was formed from a spark of light in the dark watery depths of my mothers womb, where egg and sperm collide. This effect must have a cause, my perfect design daily combated by jealous imperfection screams of a perfectly covert designer.

It is why no matter how much I call myself god I have never been able to spell it with a big G. or have you?

I could never lie to the multiple layers of prickly cells underneath my skin. something of a truth has been weaved into my DNA. I cannot deny me and with this singular act of adrenal rebellion, I have learned the touch of peace.

It is cool and calm but it does not always put us at ease. When things started to change inside me, the world around seemed to align accordingly. If my heart hated it then I didn’t want it and there went my taste for addiction.

My Dear Friend, do not ever let anything stop you from unravelling. It is a necessary piece in this puzzle called life. There will be beauty and pains, you must experience fully. Unravel without the biases, without the trends, pay no mind to the hype elaborately expressed beliefs of  people (especially on social media).

Listen to the dirges of your body, those dreary songs that beg for more and lead to no end. Drown them out by listening more to the yearnings of your heart. Learn to sit on the ground, legs curled up beneath your core as you separate truth from the lies, the feelings from the facts, the assumptions from whats real. Don’t ever be afraid of this process, all of creation is on your side.

Soon you will cease to be ashamed of being naked, alone at 3am in front of the mirror. You will learn to say sweet things into your eyes because you know there is someone beautiful within, who is desperate to meet you.

In all of this Ijay,

I pray you fall. Deeply in love with the process of seeking and finding.

I pray you fly. Far above the noise of the earth.

I pray you’re unafraid. Of knowing you have a beginning and an end and maybe your end is endless.

And  if you find that you are eternal, know that it is okay to be all this and Forever.

 

With all of Heavens Love,

Msray 

 

 

 

 

 

Billy Graham (1918-2018)

For six decades, the tall sturdy frame of evangelist Billy Graham graced the TV screens of living rooms the world over. His unmistakable voice boomed over the radio in cars, tool sheds and stores, and left lasting auditory memories with most who listened. The message he had was almost always the same: the Gospel, in its simplest possible form, delivered with decipherable honesty and earnest. It was this plainness in speaking, as well as in his living, that endeared him to millions across the planet.

Early Years: From Dairy Farm to Bible School

Billy- or William Franklin Graham Jr, as his parents had christened him -was born in 1918, to a dairy farming family in Charlotte, North Carolina. It was the year in which the first world war ended- but that seemed a somewhat faint and far off reality from the quiet town which the Grahams called home. Billy’s later life was spent lacing the air waves with his charming Carolinas accent; perhaps God left nothing to chance when putting together the aspects of this exceptional evangelist’s personality. Apparently not even his speech.

Graham’s parents were practising Presbyterians (his mother moreso), who attended the local denominational church with their children on Sundays. They did have regular family devotions as well; but it’s not clear that young Billy was initially stirred by any of the early exposure he had to the Christian message.

It was at a revivalist meeting that Billy Graham got converted. The year was 1934. Mordecai Ham, a travelling baptist preacher, had come into Charlotte and was holding revivalist meetings. Billy was invited to attend by one of his father’s workers, and it was there that he made the formal decision to commit his life to God. Commentators point out that his wasn’t the storybook ‘bad boy turning to Christ’ event; master Graham was no mischievous fella. But he was gripped enough by Ham’s preaching about sin and salvation, to make a life altering decision that day.

Two years later, Billy completed high school. He hadn’t been an exceptional student by any stretch of the imagination; at one point, a teacher of his had warned that he might not make it out of school. Nevertheless, he scaled this hurdle, and went on to study Theology at the Bob Jones College in Tennessee. It’s safe to say that his issues at school probably came down to an apparent nonchalance about school work on his part. After all, he was in fact a bookish lad in his own right- it’s said that he sometimes got so immersed in his reading that he seemed to grow oblivious of his own self.

The Making of an Unshackled Travelling Evangelist

Graham’s time at Bob Jones wasn’t the happiest in his life. He found the rules too stringent, and the doctrine taught and practised there rather shackling (the institution’s authorities were so strict with their students, they screened whatever correspondences came in to them, and what they sent out. Feeling stifled of real spiritual freedom, he transferred to the more relaxed (but nonetheless conservative) Florida Bible School.

His trouble with the Bob Jones College hints at what was a severely polarized church at the time. The liberal Christians, wary of the supposed threat posed by the advances in science and the secularization of society, had retreated to an understanding of the Bible as not inerrant, while racing out of their pews to embrace the ‘progressive’ world beyond their church walls. Conservative Protestants were doing the exact opposite: they stared in defiance at the liberalizing society, railed against what they believed was America’s multiplying evils, and affirmed a straight jacket literalism in their exegesis of the Bible.

But Billy was learning (perhaps not very consciously) to thread a reasonable middle path. In later years, he would come under fire from both sides of the divide: liberals would label his preaching “too simple,” and conservatives would condemn him for being unnecessarily cozy with liberal ideals.

After completing his studies at the Florida Bible School in 1939, Graham enrolled at Wheaton College, hoping to get grounded in the ministerial work he was looking to begin. There, he met Ruth McCue Bell, the grand daughter of a missionary, who would later become his wife. And it was in this period that he preached his first sermon (in a small baptist church), at the behest of an academic dean at Wheaton.

In the decade that followed, Graham briefly pastored a church, worked with a Christian youth organization, and oversaw an alliance of Christian schools. It was at the end of this time that he turned towards itinerant evangelism.

The Start of a Remarkable Ministry

Chroniclers of Graham’s long life point to his visit to California in the early 1950s as the time in which he began to grow in prominence. He had been invited by a Christian organization, Christ for Greater Los Angeles, to preach in their city. When he did begin to deliver sermons there, his simple, earnest message drew people to his meetings. Secular historians say it was down to his charisma; many who were in the crowds insist that it was more the compelling nature of his sermons that brought the masses to the large meeting tents.

Some have said that his popularity was helped by local media’s favourable coverage of his crusades, which was in turn the result of his having admirers in the media circles, and his vocal opposition to communism. In a world increasingly torn between Communism (and its associations with militant atheism) and capitalism (cast as allowing for the freedom of religious observances), Graham’s condemnation of the former was sure to endear him to the US’s anti-communist elite and common people.

While it’s reasonable to view his preaching within the historical context in which it took place, we would be rewriting history if we gave it credit for Graham’s success at bringing people to Christ. The single most important factor in the success of his ministry was his dedication to the ‘total Gospel’, and its effectiveness, shown in the transformed lives of those who embraced the message. Besides this, it’s hard to explain how an increasingly skeptical Western society (one in which ‘theologians’ proclaimed that God was dead) would turn out millions of people to hear a preacher repeat the old fashioned gospel?

Going Global

In time, the crowds at the meetings grew so large, and the work of organizing such gatherings became so complex, that Graham and his friends decided to incorporate the ministry. They named it the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association (BGEA).

With wider media coverage and a more sophisticated media structure, Graham was able to reach other parts of the United States. Millions more were ministered to, and the conversions numbered in the hundreds of thousands. By 1952, the BGEA made its first landing in the United Kingdom.

It was in England, where the state of religion was represented by a staunchly liberal church, that Billy Graham’s international evangelism truly began. Many thought he would not be nearly as well received there; the Brits were supposed to be more measured, prim and proper, not given to the outward expression of emotions and overly simplistic teachings that characterized the American evangelist’s crusades. But they were wrong. After initial opposition by officials within the Church of England, Graham did finally set foot in the UK. And the crowds were just as big (and emotive) as the ones in the United States.

By the time he delivered his final sermon in 2005, Billy Graham had preached to over 215 million people across the world. He was a known bearer of the gospel, recognized for the way in which he was able to persuade his audiences with it. Between his going global and retiring in the mid 2000s, he had touched every inhabited continent of the world with his message. Thanks to his efforts, many accepted Jesus as their saviour.

An Uncommon Man’s Legacy

Graham’s influence stretched over the entire spectrum of human endevour. He was friends with (and counselor to) heads of state, from Dwight Eisenhower to George W. Bush. It’s reported that he had a good relationship with the Queen of England, Elizabeth II. He was also known to have spoken out against dehumanizing the underprivileged, including Black South Africans who were oppressed under that country’s White minority rule for the greater part of the 20th century.

It’s hard to exaggerate Graham’s impact on the Church’s approach to evangelism. His organized, media savvy organization helped take the Gospel farther than most had managed up until his time. His preaching, which emphasized mere (basic) Christianity, became a template for others who came after him.

Billy Graham passed on in February 2018. The world- or much of it -eulogized him. Countless words were spoken of his voice and looks, but also of his humility, faith and love. It’s certain that the man himself would have wanted to be remembered simply as a servant of Jesus, who put the resources of the age to good use in making the truth of God known to all people.

Ikenna Nwachukwu ©2019

Glimpse Of Glory: The Forever

As I sank deeper and deeper into sleep, awakening was a bright vortex beyond my reach. I screamed as I fell but my voice wouldn’t come out. I looked down and I saw their eyes huge and sinister now,  a million and one hands stretched out to grab me “No please let me go”, all I heard was laughter, screeching loud laughter, then voices, they wouldn’t stop speaking.

I could hear them all at once

you are of the grave, of this grave you are!”,

“who are you?”, I tried to make out the words but nothing.  I was limp, a ball of lead , noodles for limbs, I could sense my heart beat weaken, it switched from a steady thump thump to a silent thud and then a restless ease.  In that moment I stopped breathing.

Have you ever been in that place where your dreams are more desirable than the nightmare you’re  living? Well I was there, its called Death.

     I sank into oblivion, I know this because the voices, they grew distant as I got sucked into a whirlpool of memories.  Floating through the uneasy swirl I saw my mother. Her beautiful skin soft and sweet against the golden rays of sun.

I stretched my mutilated limbs to touch her but my limbs passed through the mist of floating swirls, a teardrop left my eye and floated towards another memory of her, the dull calm sunk me deeper into folds of empty unknown, until slowly, steadily, I let go.

***

“….and oh the joy that floods my soul, something happened, now I know He touched me and made me whole…”

It was the chirping of a blue robin perched on a stalk that woke me up, my crusty eyes struggling to adjust to the light that pierced into my cold flesh warming me sweetly… the sun!
I smiled as I rubbed a moist palm over my face, I burst out laughing! hands! I had hands! my joy could not be spoken in words.
I wriggled my toes as I stretched myself towards the sky to take in the full beauty of the morning,
Satisfied with the feel of the soil, dug deep between my toes.

Such bliss, such glory.

————————————-

~Unless a seed falls to the ground and dies, it is alone.~

To Be Passed On.

Msray
© 2018

GRAVE: The Begining

The day I died, was the day I went to prison.

My life had just begun, or so I believed.  It was shocking to me when I found out that i’d be serving time, being me, my obvious crime.

The cell had black grainy walls, tightly compact . Grains below, grains above, I could not see the sun, I could not see the clouds, my cell was very dark.

The grainy walls were porous. From time to time food and water were passed down to me though the narrow holes.

I spent my first days looking up, I was scared and confused.

Why wasn’t I enough? why was I here? who keeps feeding me? where is my mother?

Day after day the cell walls grew tight around me. I could not push anymore! wet faced, and exhausted from trying, I looked on, feeling my hope’s of freedom ebb away.

” this might just be my destiny, maybe I should wait and see,” I thought to myself. Days passed.

I know this because I steadily watched the transitions of night and day through the cracks in my wall.

I could hear crickets outside. One time I tried to whisper to someone lurking around the walls, I was very hot and I longed to feel the wind on my skin, to feel the light of the sun deep in my pores, so I whispered and I waited but no one came.

One day, I sat in my cell and looked around, I never really noticed those grainy walls, they seemed to have faces with shut eyes, they were sleeping.

Horrified, I ran to the middle of the cell and starred at the walls around me, all sleeping faces, then as if on cue they began to wake up, one right after the other, yawning and clicking their lips in reckless abandon.

They seemed calm, their eyes shone in unison,

”Look Lads One of Us!”, they were excited. I couldn’t understand this because I knew where I had come from, I was not  one of them,

”My skin is fair like the morning sun and my eyes bright as crystal waters, I am nothing like you!”, I replied with borrowed confidence from a lender I could not fathom.

They all starred in amazement, sheer mockery.

”You? of the sun? then what in Earth! are you doing down here?!”, they stressed the word Eaarrth, as though it was a hidden joke among themselves and burst out laughing. Their voice was loud and eery, like metal scratching on metal surface. It was horrifying, I couldn’t take it. I wanted to cover my ears but I couldn’t , it was only then I noticed I had no hands.

”Look at him, he thinks he is fairer than us, little does he know that he is of the dust  and back to the dust he must return, silly boy” they spoke as one, yet it seemed as though they thought differently, it was the most unusual conversation I had ever experienced,

”I am not one of you! I am only here for a time and I will be out just as I came!’. I tried a second time, But their cackling held me down like strong arms placed on feeble shoulders,

” Look at yourself before you claim to be distinguished, before you argue with eyes that really see you for what you are…”

I listened to them, for the first time in the cell I looked down, down from the opening, down from the walls, down at myself, I was brown, like them. A pool of tears formed underneath my eyes and stung my throat,

”No! this isn’t possible, I have always been fair like the morning sun”, my tears fell in uneven streaks leaving trails of despair on my now decaying cheeks, ”I am not one of you”, I said in limp defeat as I sat on the ground, and cried bitterly.

This time they said nothing, they simply watched me, countenance tranquil, a knowing smile on their faces I could feel it. They had me where they wanted me. They had me in defeat, But they never said a thing, they simply stayed still watching me sink. Soon after, I grew weary, eyes sore, soul torn I did what I hadn’t done before,

I closed my eyes and fell into deep sleep.

TO BE CONTINUED…

(13th September 2018)

Msray
© 2018

Tell Me The Truth.

“Truth is always thrown under the bus”

You see statements like this?
They are the problem with the world,
Scratch that,
they are the problem with us.

If Truth is a concept
You cant depend on it
In fact you shouldn’t
I know I can’t
first of, what is a concept?

A concept is,
“an abstract or general idea,
inferred or derived from specific instances.”

I don’t know that seems pretty inconsistent if you ask me.

If truth is merely abstract/ general ideas inferred. ( conclusions drawn from logical judgements made on the basis of circumstantial evidence)
The question will be;
How many billion circumstances does it take to produce the actual ” concept of truth”?

If and when still hypothetically speaking, you find the concept of truth, from these billions of circumstances, how do we trust it or them, when its so circumstantial

Let’s make a list of circumstances in life shall we?
I’m just kidding
That’s impossible

If the entire population of the world is 6 billion (fight the figures at your own peril I’m no statistician)
It simply means we have 6 billion times thousands of thousands of possible truths per circumstance

That’s a lot of truths
not to mention scary mathematics.

That’s aeons of concepts of truth that have not yet been subject to the basics of direct observation, criticism, I don’t know, critical analysis of the circumstances perhaps but I digress

Since we can’t talk to 600 billion, let’s talk to you and me.
if I believe in the “concept of truth”, it would mean that Truth is mine to define based on my circumstance

Let’s say in a day I laugh, cry, get betrayed get robbed lose a friend, eat ice cream, win 100million on bet naija, get a free trip to Malibu,

My truth will be defined 9 times that day, based on the 9 different experiences I had.

I guess that’s enough truth concepts for one day

Because I can’t even figure out which of my Truths or your Truths can be thrown under the bus.
Especially if you didn’t have anything good happen to you in your own day.

Do you feel my Headache already?…

Truth needs to be consistent, singular, standard, absolute, solid, steady, real and beyond the dynamic influence of your shape shifting circumstance, to be of any useful help to you.

Truth has to be greater than you for your own good.

Truth has to remain consistent whether you’re experiencing bitter or sweet (And even this is subject to your tongues opinion because taste varies and sometimes perception of taste is preconditioned to other circumstances we have been exposed to. mheeen these things can be so deceptive)

Truth must have and be tested, tried, found worthy, faithful and uncompromising.

Truth should not be intimidated by our circumstances, must be; “bring it on I can take it”, “it doesn’t matter I’m in control”, ” nope you were wrong there”, “yup you did the right thing, move on now”, unashamed, unafraid, unmoved, unshakable, unstoppable, unbribable, sustainable, self sustained, willing to die to remain true.

Sound familiar?

hmmm Truth you are so real, I could almost touch you.
Not concept but Essence, you’re essential for my survival, my stability, its funny I feel like I know you.
its strange feels weird, I don’t just want to say “the truth”
I want to be true…. its personal.

Can you really deny this subconscious dialogue?
that when it comes down to Truth or Lie it gets personal,
like its not just you and the characters in your circumstance

but its
1.You
2.The Character(s)
3. The Lie &
4. Truth

In your circumstance, you should choose to follow the way of truth and even if you lose all you thought you had, eventually you’d have what’s really yours,….. peace.

“mhen I lost everything but at least I stayed true”

That right there, that’s life.

You only stay true when you look truth in the face, watch truth pierce through you, and still you accept truth.

“you’re right, I was wrong, I’m sorry”

You are not Truth, but you can accept Truth in every circumstance and stay in the image and likeness of Truth,
You can Stay/Be True.

So what is truth? I asked and why does truth feel so real and personal? ( yup I’m asking for us all)

Jesus answered;
“I am the way, the Truth and the life. No one comes to the father except through me”.

That’s John 14:6 ( The Bible)

ahhh now I get it,
this is Truth
I believe.

©Msray_2018