Swiftly or Not…

SWIFTLY OR NOT…

Two days ago, I noticed something I had never seen before in Isaiah 60. It was a huge surprise because it is one chapter of the Bible that I can say I have read at least a hundred times, there was a time I had to read it daily for several months. Yet I missed the significance of the last sentence of the last verse.

“The least of you will become a thousand,

The smallest a mighty nation,

I am the Lord;

In its time I will do this swiftly.” – NIV

He is My Peace

My favourite writing position is with a pillow propped behind my back, my head resting on the bed frame or the wall – depending on where I am. My right thigh supports my laptop while my belle balances it.

As I write this, my laptop tils a little from one side to another and it is the only time I am grateful for my soft and round belly. I want a flat tummy one day in the future, I don’t want them abs although I suspect I’d be one those who would get one as they try to pop out whenever I start a workout regime.

Of Great Fears and Little Ones…

 

A little under three years ago, I chopped off my hair and laid my scalp bare after cutting most of the hair off in early March 2017. At the time, I was tired of the hair and wanted some freedom from my long, shaggy hair.

Curse God and Die

When I think about the story of Job, I think the Bible is slightly unfair to Job’s wife. Maybe not the Bible per se but renditions of the story over the years. And no this is not me ‘feminizing’ or quarrelling with the male centric narrations of the Bible – that is a different matter.

Sarah vs Abimelech

Genesis is one of my favourite books of the Bible, fascinating people, scintillating accounts of their life. It has everything, intrigue, incest, violence, hope and it is a fitting beginning for the turbulent world we find ourselves today. Whether or not you believe the creation story as recorded by Genesis, you can’t deny that it tells a compelling story.

You Can’t Please The World.

The story of the man, his wife and their donkey who kept changing positions according to the dictates of the strangers they met along the way never fails to crack me, no matter how many times I see the depiction. The funniest one to me is the cartoon that shows a man with a marked resemblance to former Nigerian President Dr Goodluck Jonathan and his wife with Nigeria as the donkey.

Where Is Your God?

This morning I got Isaiah Chapter 36 as part of my scripture reading for today and I had to go on to read the next chapter, the story was that engaging. I knew about the story of the Assyrians and how an angel slew 185,000 fighting men in one night. I also knew there had been letters mocking God that King Hezekiah spread before the altar of God for him to read. I remember that image from My Book Of Bible Stories or was it Uncle Arthur’s Bible Stories? 2 Kings 18 tells the story from the beginning.

Lessons from the road to the well.

I was reading the first four chapters of the gospel as recorded by St John recently, and I discovered something in the first three verses of chapter four that I had never seen before. The words literally jumped out of the pages of my copy of the Message Bible and hit me in the gut.

Jesus- patron saint of misfits.

Yesterday morning I headed to my brother’s room in search of my headphones, he likes to ‘borrow’ them and keep them in his room until I go on a retrieval mission. He was trying to cling to the last wisps of sleep but I snatched them out of his grip by shaking his feet and hitting his ankles.

“you’re awake” he mused

Akara Chronicles

I was writing about going to ‘Mango village’ while I was in JSS1 with Glory (I can’t remember if Martha came with us or if she was supposed to be the sentry} but as I wrote, I remembered the story you are about to read and began to write it instead.

 

When I was in JSS1, I was a bony, big eyed bibliophile who had only one bucket, a green OK plast contraption that provided for all my needs which was only one- washing my body. I washed my clothes at the tap and formed a pouch with my house wear, as other girls did, for taking the clothes to the dormitory without needing a container for them. You didn’t need a bucket of water to flush the toilet, you simply needed a paper or leather (nylon) bag and a good throwing arm for flinging the products of your business far into the corn farms that framed the back of our dormitory. If you were not in the frame of mind to expose your tender buttocks to other girls and most importantly, the teachers in staff quarters who used the road a few meters across from Culverwell, you would brave the faecal landmines to have only the budding ears of corn and God as witnesses to your bowel unloading activities.