Category: My Life

My wife and I celebrate 20 years of marriage today. It’s been a journey of hope, faith, and love, as days have become decades.

The story of how we met is told here and here. There’s more to our story that showcases the incredible battles Sola fought, that underscored her commitment to God’s word and her unalloyed love for me.

Here’s the missing piece of the story of how we met, from Sola’s narrative.

The Lord had told me Uche would be my husband long before he knew me. We were on campus together, sharing a few things in common but radically different in many others, one of which stood like a Colossus, seemingly towering over everything near and dear to me.

The depth of our differences is not the focus of this piece, though they make for an intriguing collection, which Uche may narrate in time to come. The one giant that stood between Uche and me was tribal in form. Uche is Ibo and I am Yoruba.

On account of serious extended family squabbles, my father, as the Patriarch of our Clan, took an oath from me, my siblings, and others in our extended family that none of us would marry from the Ibo tribe. At the time of the events leading to the decision, it seemed right to us all. But little did I know that we’d taken a permanent decision because of a temporary problem. This pledge will be greatly challenged by God’s choice for me in marriage years later.

And so it was that as a student on campus, heartily chasing the Lord and seeking His will above all things, He whispered to me one cool evening in 1991, “Uche will be your husband.” My first reaction to this was a laugh laced with sarcasm. Has God forgotten my tribe and Uche’s tribe? Did He forget my father had us vow never to cross the Yoruba tribe boundaries? As the apple of my father’s eye, the first of his strength whom he doted on, such a matter was a taboo. So, it was like a joke, but alas, my torturous journey had just begun.

Anyone who knew Uche in those days will agree he was not a friendly brother. He was too serious all the time. He chased life as if each day would be his last. Unlike me, I was carefree with no worries in the world. How could God be telling me Uche will be my husband? We are too different to mix. We can never get along, I thought. But these paled in context to the issue of Uche’s tribe. He is Ibo! He cannot be accepted into my family. I can’t even get myself as the first child of my family to introduce Uche to my father.

God began to work His wonders in my heart as I prayed and fasted for many months, seeking help and sometimes His deliverance. I wished so many times that God would change His mind. I felt trapped and unloved by God for bringing such an unromantic man my way. Uche hardly greeted me with a cheer of any color in his face during those terrible days. Little did I know that God was also working on him.

How will I get him to even look my way? How and what could put us in the same corner, so I could tell him how his facial appearance was so off-putting? I could say these things in my heart, but each time Uche showed up, I froze. Something in me loved him, but I could not find a vent for its expression.

I began to notice over the semesters that he became more interested in me, but for all the wrong reasons. For instance, he’d come to the Bible Study classes whenever I led and sit down, just to oppose me and ask questions to ridicule me. I couldn’t fathom such behavior. I hid my disgust. He was the President of the Fellowship, so maybe he is right, I would think. But why the anger? Why the gloomy face? Why the unfriendliness? What did I do wrong to this brother? God was at work, but how could I understand?

Uche didn’t know me. I didn’t know him either. We both knew God’s voice and followed obediently. But Uche had no clue what it was going to cost me if he proposed and I agreed. He knew nothing of my life and family. Will he understand if I explain? Will he see the looming challenge as a perfect excuse to bail? While my love for Uche was seeking to bud, I labored greatly under the burden of my father’s resolve. The tension was too terrible for me. I had no one to share these matters with.

Then it happened.

One unforgettable night in August 1992, after a powerful 3-Day Fasting and Prayer End of Session Program, Uche sent a sister to ask me to see him in front of our Female Hostel. It was after midnight. He had at this time never spoken with me for more than 2 minutes on any matter. So, I was shocked that he was sending for me at that hour of the night. Something was wrong, I thought. Nothing could have prepared me for that night.

I waited. When he eventually came, he greeted me well. In a bid to possibly break his fast for the day, he gave me money and asked me to help him buy a bottle of 7up and a loaf of bread at the little Kiosk inside our hostel. I promptly obliged and returned.

Then he said, “God told you I will be your husband. He has also revealed to you that you’ll be my wife, so let’s start.” That was Uche’s proposal!!! I was stunned. Filled with fantasies of having a Cinderella-type proposal with my Knight in shining armor, I was devastated.

I didn’t know when I ran back into the hotel as fast as my legs would carry me. This couldn’t be happening. This must be a mistake, a nightmare of the worst kind. I cried myself to sleep that night. I was depressed and sad for many days. I thought of God as being mean to give me such a spouse, and then thought of my father every day, wondering what would happen when he hears this. He loved me dearly and showed it without reservations. How would he take this news?

About one week later, I sent Uche a note asking to see him. Would I say no, or would I say yes? I battled in my spirit and found no peace each time I was inclined to say no. I knew the Lord had spoken to me, but I wasn’t ready for the consequences of this reality. Uche’s arrogance made it worse. If only he knew what lay ahead of this decision we are making in obedience to God’s words and promptings.

It was on 2^nd September 1992, a Wednesday evening as the sun strolled gently to its setting; Uche and I sat together like two foreigners trying to figure each other out. My dread of him was gone, and a mixture of pain and love made for a very uncomfortable feeling. I said yes to him, but I knew the journey of a million kilometers was just two steps in.

When I eventually mustered the courage to tell my father, I wasn’t surprised by his response. “If I see that boy here, I will kill him.” He meant every word because of the hurts and pains inflicted on him and his loved ones in the past by someone of Uche’s tribe. He struggled to accept Uche and felt I’d betrayed him. I couldn’t appease or assure him, but I held onto God’s words, and with the determination to have my parents’ consent before marriage, I prayed through. My father’s acceptance of him as a would-be Son-in-law was from 1997 to 1998. By this date in 2000, we became man and wife, one item.

Too many events attempted to derail this union before it started, and for over 7 years, we weathered the storms. Before my father passed away in 2015, he and Uche were very good friends. Whenever he’d acknowledge I married well, I’d see the satisfaction in his eyes and promptly thank him for granting us his blessing.

Today, as I reminisce, I am in awe of God and what He has done in me through this union. It could only be Him.

I have watched Uche bud into the man of my dreams. Behind the façade of his strong face is a hilarious comedian known only to those closest to him. He is fearless but not a careless risk-taker. He is a warhorse in terms of work ethic, but his compassionate heart dreads people’s injuries and the sight of suffering in the lives of others. He is a reckless giver, and if the parts of our bodies were easy to give out, he would have had none of his left in his name. Two great attributes I celebrate in him are his readiness to own his errors and apologize. He is comfortable in his skin; never threatened by my successes, rather he gave me wings to fly as I made exploits as an apostle in the marketplace.

Join us today to thank God and celebrate His goodness, as we renew our vows and dare to dream of a greater tomorrow that beckons.

The Covid-19 virus arrived in Africa in slow motion, as it has on each continent it touches. It may leave Africa as slowly as it came. If we don’t enforce rigid laws and reset our value systems as individuals and as nations, it will more likely be an unimaginable wreck.

I had only been in Uganda 2weeks of a much longer stay when I began to feel it was time to get out. I discussed this with a few friends and asked for prayers from supporters. I needed to hear the Lord. This was before the announcement came ordering all schools and places of worship to shutdown. 

Schools have been my litmus test for social safety for years because no parent will release their child to attend school if it isn’t safe to go. You can often gauge how much turmoil there is in a place by looking at how many children are in school. 

To the glory of God, I arrived home from Uganda on Monday. My trip back has gone down as one of the most unforgettable adventures I have had since relocating to Uganda.

This is my story.

It was Saturday, 21st March 2020 by 8pm. I had just returned from watching the National Prayer Meeting called by President Yoweri Museveni of Uganda, at a friend’s church office. As I reflected on my plans for Sunday, I received a WhatsApp message from a dear brother and friend, Uche Obiofuma. It changed everything.

From the message, I learned that the international airways in Nigeria would be shut by midnight on Monday the 23rd of March 2020.  If I was to make it back into Lagos before the borders closed, I must leave that night for Kampala. I was at the time, in Arua, 10hrs drive from the airport in Entebbe.

The first thing I needed to do was to change my flight booking. I got on it immediately but I couldn’t pay online. I called upon a higher power, Sola, my wife. She’s gifted in this area and was not going to have me stranded in Uganda indefinitely. She assured me she’ll take care of it and I departed Arua for Kampala at 10pm.

A thousand thoughts kept me awake on that ride. From the unknown to the known yet uncertain, I engaged my imagination and had a good prayer time too. I got assurances from the Lord as the journey progressed, despite the annoying information from the bus conductor before we left the garage that, “…we could have a breakdown…, this is just a machine and it can disappoint… but don’t worry… blah blah blah…”

I arrived Kampala on Sunday morning, having traveled in a very worn-out 55-seater bus that leaked rainwater from Arua to Kampala. I was so concerned about leaving Uganda on time that getting very wet and cold on that bus didn’t dent my energy. I needed to get home! 

While on the ride to Kampala, I didn’t know that Uganda had recorded its first case of Covid-19 and the President had promptly announced the closure of the land and airway borders. The confusion as to when this directive was to take effect unnerved me.

After several calls, I gathered that all flights in or out will end at 12midnight that day, Sunday. All roads and water-way borders would be shut at 12noon the same day.

I headed for the airport immediately and met a crazy crowd of people all gunning for the same thing; a seat on any aircraft leaving before 12midnight. I began to wait for my flight change to be confirmed from Lagos. Other passengers were offering more money to get a flight booking and flight change. A lady and her six children were duped $10,000 by a fake agent. Another gentleman booked a flight to London that will take him from Entebbe to Addis Ababa, to a country in the Middle East, to Amsterdam then to London. The tension was increasingly worrisome as my confirmation delayed.

Eventually, I got the message that payment was confirmed!  Thank God my wife was able to get through! I checked into my flight immediately to end the chance of any last-minute complications. This was the last flight out of Uganda and I must be on it!

Witnessing Jesus to my co-traveler has been my style over the years. Onboard the flight, I was surprised to observe that the social distancing rule was in effect. Just before we taxied out, a passenger in a seat row in front of me began to throw up! I made several attempts to call the attention of the flight attendants, but they ignored my bell or didn’t see me waving frantically. I sprang to my feet and dashed forward to get their attention as the aircraft began to taxi. Sickness was on the plane and the fear of what it could mean, in combination with the frantic confusion of our hurried exit of the country created a tense environment. 

Passengers looked in the direction of every sneeze and cough. The vomit was a level 10 alarm!  A calm apprehension rested on the faces of those that knew someone onboard was ill; mine too. But what were we going to do? Jump off the plane? Everyone acted as though oblivious of the issue.

I was wearing one of three facemasks I bought on my way to the airport. I quickly pulled out the remaining two and wore them, too. Somehow, having three masks seemed safer.  Not long afterward though, someone’s fart invaded my airspace. It made me question the work of the facemasks, but I still didn’t remove them.

When we arrived in Nairobi, I promptly alerted the medical personnel at the reception gate that this passenger was ill onboard. I hope they did the right thing. I was off to my next flight.

Onboard the flight heading to Lagos, it was a full flight. Sadly, the social distancing rule wasn’t adhered to. Forgive me, but I wasn’t surprised.

We are largely a complicated people in Nigeria. Only a death threat by force ensures our compliance with simple rules. You feel it and see it as soon as you touchdown in the country. The chaos, hush, and push to get ahead kicks in, only to arrive at the baggage claim area and wait for another hour for one’s luggage to drop.

I’m very glad to be home, though emotionally exhausted. I am taking all the necessary precautions to shield my family from whatever I could have contacted on my journey. It is a hard reality that makes my reentry brutal.

Nevertheless, we shall pull through with songs of victory, day after day. If there’s a place to be now, with the world charged with so much pain and uncertainty, it is one’s home, wherever that is. Sadly, for some people, home is just a word, not a place.

I have a dear friend in the hospital now. His daughter wrote this in her update today on his welfare: 

So today,…we’re sitting at home alone, praying for comfort and encouragement, and choosing to hope in the midst of the cold and the rain and the unknown that we serve the God who sees us, and knows us, and loves us, the God who came down to dwell among us, and the God who has promised to be faithful to the end.

As you keep your heart free from the bad and fake news flooding social media and TV, please take time to pray for family, friends, and strangers that need divine assistance for the next step in their journey this season.

I pray that you and yours will emerge from this unprecedented challenge, better people; reset or reformatted in your heads or hearts, ready to engage fresh priorities that will help humanity, fulfill your purposes and see Jesus glorified.

May we all be able to hear the Lord clearly despite the confusion and pain around us. Our love for others will be on trial with this crisis. May we not miss a chance to show this troubled world why Jesus is all we need.

Thanks for your prayers and support. We remain undaunted until the whole world hears! Matthew 24:14

While leading the Christian Union
fellowship at the Polytechnic Ibadan, I attended a meeting
with some friends where Bro Gbile
Akanni was teaching. This man’s perspicuous presentation of Biblical truths is outstanding.

His message that day centered on
Samson. The lessons from Samson’s utter disgust for that new jawbone of a donkey
with which he’d successfully slain a thousand Philistines totally overwhelmed me.

When he ended and made the altar
call, the atmosphere was so charged some people were already weeping before
they got to the altar. I was among them.

About twenty of us knelt before the
altar and for fifteen minutes or more, were left to pray and cry our hearts
out.

When the tempo of the prayers began
to die down, Bro Gbile raised the song – Oh
to be like thee and instantly we reprised with renewed passion for a few
more minutes.

He soon began to pray for us and
his first words hit me like lightening. He said rather emphatically, “May
you never succeed,” and paused for a few seconds, in a rather dramatic way.
I immediately opened my eyes and looked up at him. I wasn’t alone. Most
of us before the altar had our jaws drop in shock. He saw our bewilderment and
said, “Relax, I’ve not finished.”

He continued, “Oh, may you
never succeed or even appear successful outside the will of God for your life…
May you meet divine hindrances each time you step out of God’s purpose…”
The Amens were not loud; in fact, I was busy reasoning with and trying to
understand this kind of prayer.

At the end of that meeting we all
dissolved into the night without the usual banters that accompanied a gathering
of students from different campuses.

Late that night, I lay in bed
wondering if I haven’t jeopardized my hopes for a prosperous career
in computer science by saying Amen to this man’s insane prayers.

But I made a
shocking discovery that evening. My desire for riches, for a successful career,
to be accepted and respected, totally eclipsed my hunger for a pure heart and a
genuine fellowship with Jesus. I thought I loved God but it was clear I loved me more.

This discovery was a harsh awakening. It not only exposed my hidden struggles with this
dawning reality, it seemed to give it life. Though I was saved, my search for
success and purpose lasted years. Why?

Selective obedience and compromise trailed
my spiritual experience as I fumbled my way through life, pretending I knew
where I was going. This is the case for many people in church today.

The paradigm shift Bro Gbile’s
prayers foisted on me needed a midwife
to help birth. Though I wasn’t looking for one, that singular encounter stuck
with me. I had to understand or redefine the meaning of success and more importantly, I desperately needed to live free! Free from my shriveled dreams and the burden of people’s expectations.

Someone said and I agree, “Success
means having the courage, the determination, and the will to become the person
you believe you were meant to be.” That person may not make the headlines among men, but if they connect with their purpose, they’ll be in heaven’s dailies often.

Few years ago, Abba graciously
led me to Yei in South Sudan where I now work with young people, especially students. My search for success and even significance is over.

Success is not the acquisition of more stuff and titles. It’s a journey that begins with an awakening, leading to a discovery with God at its core.

The discovery of purpose bestows on one a sense of deep satisfaction and joy that flows from knowing you are doing what you were made for, with Abba’s smile as your fuel.

You can make this discovery.
Click here, to get some help.

Flipping through my journals
earlier in the week. I stopped to reflect on the recorded events of this
season, exactly 19years ago.

I’d not slept for as little
as 10minutes since mid October the previous year and on the 24th of January
1993, I was on admission in hospital diagnosed with acute Malaria and acute
insomnia. I thought I was going to die. The emotional trauma made me hate
life. Death seemed the best option.

My problems that season took
a drastic twist when I learnt from my Head of Department on campus that I had
an outstanding elective course which I’ll not be allowed to take that final
semester; consequently, I won’t graduate with my classmates.  

I was just a few weeks
into my courtship with Sola,
and we were both struggling to understand the whys of our inevitable and
immediate “call” into an intimate relationship. The complications of
that season were just too heavy for my mind to manage.

I had every reason to be
happy; my final exams were over, project done and a sweet girl I didn’t ask for
offered moral support. But no, I was the most miserable soul on earth. Too many
issues invaded my thoughts and slowly, I began to spend my day and night hours
just thinking, fantasizing and wondering what could have been.

The idea that I’d failed
couldn’t leave me.

In those days, there were no
mentors and those that could have played that role were like submarines- too
deep for quick access, always in war mode, too busy with official assignments
and too strange in appearance for ordinary people.

As I narrated my ordeal to
the doctor, my dad who’d brought me to the hospital couldn’t take it anymore.
He slammed his fist on the doctor’s table and shouted, “Why didn’t you
tell me all this since…!?”  As close as we were, there was an
invisible chink that made a huge difference.

                Lesson 1:
Close friends, mentors and family (your tribe) could be the ladder leading out
of the dungeon of depression.  You
need a tribe. Don’t ignore their grace. Granting them permission to speak
into your case is humility. God lifts the humble.

                Lesson 2:
I felt I could “think my way out” of my challenges. I tried to, but
realized my efforts were powerless to the seductive nature of depression. It
makes you both the subject and the object of the issues. You are like a boat
lost at sea and also the turbulent storm tormenting the boat. You can’t have
the peace that passes all understanding by trying harder to understand. Until
you surrender, the storm is you. Sadly though,  people around you will
suffer your blasts too. They don’t deserve it.

                Lesson 3:
As I lay on that hospital bed, thinking of my life. I said, “Lord, you
know I could have maneuvered my way out of this mess. I didn’t have to tell my
department the whole truth, thereby punctuating my journey like this.”
 Victory is not far away when we engage the Lord in an honest dialogue.
He longs for it!!  

He said, “Yes I know,
but you are not here because you told the truth, you are here because you
believed a lie.” Which lie?

“You believed your
joy and peace come from doing good, achieving set goals and seeing your plans
work out. But your joy is in me. Nothing else can satisfy.”

 “You are not a
failure. I’m the only one that can define you to you. I love you in your
weakness and in confusion. I love you not because of what you can accomplish
but because of me. I love you for me.” I couldn’t understand this.

                Lesson 4:
The Bible was stale and prayer meetings were a bore those days. I spent many
nights listening to any station broadcasting in English language from my small
transistor radio. Depression reveals how wide our focus shifted from Jesus to
other gods.

                Lesson 5:
You are not immune from depression because
you have a successful career or ministry or a happy home or healthy children
etc. Like we willingly choose Jesus as Savior and Lord, we choose worry
that soon leads to depression. The feeling of hopelessness is just a
feeling. Faith and feelings don’t mix well.

                Lesson 6:
The only antidote to a lie is truth, not commonsense. Knowing the truth
 does more than set free, it makes free! The difference between the two
states is profound. The persistent application of truth regardless of
present circumstances honors God. That’s what faith is all about.

 Do you have any memories
along this troubled path? What did you learn?

After
a long sojourn in the USA back in 2004, I returned home to a great and
unforgettable welcome from my family and friends.

I
was oblivious of the complicated challenges of a new life n the mission enterprise that awaited me. I soon began to
feel everything and almost everyone was different but not me. I knew absolutely
nothing of culture shock.

For
instance, I couldn’t drive on Lagos roads within the first week of my arrival.
I wondered why the roads weren’t marked and road users were so aggressive.

The
blaring of horns were driving me insane; the unstable electric power supply,  the noise of generators and the soot from
them, the dust, the heat, worsened by the high humidity of Lagos, the bad odors
here and there and many other issues seemed to make home a most unwelcoming place.

“This
can’t be what I’ve been missing!”

“How
can anyone survive this madness?”

“Is
something wrong with me?”

“Why
am I so moody?”

“Can’t
these people see this and that is wrong?”

As
Neal Pirolo put it in his wonderful Book – Serving As Senders, “He [the missionary]
returns. He is not prepared for the changes at home. He tries to cope. He
internalizes all his frustrations. Alienation whispers, “Nobody cares or
understands. Forget them!” He argues with himself, “No, I have to get
out and share a vision for the world among the church people.” “But
they are so ungodly,” Condemnation thunders. “This isn’t getting me
anywhere,” he yells back at himself. Reversion reasons, “Okay, let’s
just forget it. I was there. You were here. We’re back together. No big deal!“”

I
suffered serious traumatic stress disorders and didn’t know it. But those were
a kind of initiation into the often very confusing life of cross-cultural work;
which has led some to abandon their call, end relationships, depart from the
faith and even commit suicide.

Despite
the lavish reception my wife plans and executes each time I return from these
mission trips, I’m still harassed by a barrage of re-entry issues that leave my
emotions in tatters.

For
instance, I can’t understand why my weight loss should be a better subject for discussion. Maybe my frail looking physical appearance makes louder statements. 

I wonder why friends who rarely checked on my
family while I was away, suddenly arrive to hear my testimonies and stories?
Why should I spend 2hours in traffic, driving myself home from the airport?

Debriefing
with my mentors has been of immense help. We are looking forward to a team that
will co-own this thrust and shoulder our
plans, pains and progress with us.

May
Abba gift us a Home Support Team who would invest their experience, wisdom,
time and treasures to help with our re-entry challenges. It’s a serious affair.
I’m certain we’ll do better with such friend.

If you are interested, kindly post your comments and we’ll
connect with you.

May
Abba’s love, which we celebrate this season, renew your zeal for the lost in
this World He loves.

Merry
Christmas and a most fruitful 2012!

Four years ago while on vacation in the UK with my family, my wife and I had a most unforgettable experience. Ed, 6years old then and as active as most kids his age gave us a good reason to re-evaluate our duties as parents.

If the windows of that train could be opened, I’d have jumped off to be with my son. My dear wife freaked out as we pulled away and the tension in the coach was almost tangible. All chit-chats ceased and I guess most of us were trying to imagine what next.

I chose to return home sooner and weeks later, it proved to be the right discussion. The responsibilities I feel as a parent with the needs in South Sudan continues to stir my spirit. I have kids needing the grace of God I carry, both as a parent and a leader, but the train I come and go with seems to thunder-in and lightening-out often, leaving us limited time for deeper interaction.

As I depart again this morning to Yei via Kampala, discipleship is on my mind. Leaving my kids to go be with other kids and families is a big sacrifice for us. But we keep a level head by focusing on the goal.

I’ve had hard times, when the dust hazes of life obscure my view of the Lord and I stumble along the way, wondering where He is and why He seems so distant. “Is He angry with me again?”

“Am I feeling this dry and empty because I’m nursing my wounds alone or because I’m ashamed and burdened with guilt?”

“God must be weary of my pendulum lifestyle. I would if I were Him, because I suck. Maybe He’s punishing me with this silence, and it won’t end until I’m finally alive to my hopelessness?”

“But could this dryness be caused by my ignorance? Is it a result of living on feelings?

During my seasons of spiritual dryness, the enemy gives me a makeover with doubt and self-pity. “You are the only one having these issues… Do you hear other Christians talking about this–?”

“Maybe I should just withdraw myself from people and go to that prayer mountain, or attend a conference or seminar, or go on a long fast, engage some deep spiritual exercises and come up again.”

Spiritual dryness is a symptom, pointing to a bigger problem that needs immediate attention.

Over the years, my battles in this valley of the shadow of doubt have been closely knit with:

1)      My sins. Many times, the root of my spiritual dryness is un-confessed and un-repented sin. Sometimes though, after repenting and confessing the sin(s), the freshness and release I sought never came. Something else was in control.

2)      My feelings. Spiritual dryness and my feelings or emotions seem inseparable. The ecstasy I feel after a spiritual encounter doesn’t last forever but I always wish it did. I feel it’s at those times that God is happy with me. But life has in store, seasons of pain and confusion which when they last longer than expected, fear arrives with hard questions for faith.

3)      My problems. Life challenges have a way of making selfishness seem legitimate. My quest for self preservation picks during chaotic seasons. I, me and my take centre stage and when personal efforts fail to change things (like they often do), I embrace melancholy with both hands.

4)      My priorities. I’ve caught myself attending to urgent matters, leaving little or no time for important things like maintaining an intentional and regular fellowship with the Lord. Preceding some of my dry spells were overloaded schedules; occasioned by wanting to please everyone that makes a demand on my time to chasing chores and deadlines I refuse to jettison, because satisfying or fulfilling them gives a certain measure of self-worth. I forget my worth is already defined in Christ and His finished work.

Are you going through a period of dryness and don’t know what to do? Remember, the streams of Christ’s love, grace and life flow endlessly. It’s your duty to maintain a tenacious disposition to His promises and move from having a devotional life to living out a devoted life.

Job made some profound confessions here- Job 23:3, 8-9, 15-16

What has been your experience with spiritual dryness? How do you deal with it?

This great poem by Rudyard
Kipling was posted here by Seth Barnes recently
and it stuck to me. My adaptation of it on a day like this keeps me imagining what life would be like…

If I can keep my head when all around me
Are losing theirs and blaming it on me;

If I can trust myself when friends and family doubt me,
And I still make allowance for their doubting too;

If I can wait and not be tired of waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, don’t write or talk too wisely;

If I can dream – and not make dreams my master;
If I can think – and not make thoughts my aim;
If I can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;

If I can bear to hear the truth I’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things I gave my life to, broken;
And still I choose to stoop and build them up again with worn-out tools;

If I can force my heart and nerve and sinew
To serve my turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in me
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;

If I can talk with crowds and keep my virtue,
Or walk with kings – nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt me;
If all men matter to me, but none too much;

If I can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run –
Then the earth and everything in it would be mine,
What’s more, I’ll be a man and not a child!

If you read the original Poem, you’d notice I omitted this piece:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;

Not just because I don’t know
how to play Pitch-and-toss, but simply because this is hard to imagine let
alone experience. I missed my flight to Abuja last week and I’m still mourning
the fact that I had to buy a brand new ticket at such an exorbitant price to continue my journey.

It’s my birthday today and I’m
wishing these great virtues for me as I move into 2011.

Why not join me?!

My itinerary for the last quarter of 2010 was set long
before I arrived Sudan. I knew I’d leave Yei on Sunday 5^th December
and would stop by in Kampala for a few days before heading home. With mission accomplished as at other times too, I feel I should be more
excited and joyful about going home than I am currently.

But there’s a strange mixture of sadness and excitement all
cascading inside me as I head for home. It’s not the first or second time, so I’m
beginning to think it may not be the last.

My mood swings are engineered by some imaginary and real
issues:

1.     
I’d started missing some of my disciples and
friends in Sudan terribly, even before I left. I’m coming to terms with the
fact that there may never be a good way
to part on this kind of trips. Many showed and voiced their sincere displeasure
at my departure. Should I develop a tough skin for these moments?

2.     
As my departure drew nearer, my heart became more troubled; I felt there’s
still so much to teach, to ask, to supervise and to learn. Is God getting all His due? I couldn’t hide my
feelings, forcing someone to ask, “…so why don’t you just stay
here?” Good question!!

3.     
I miss my church, my friends back home, some TV
programs that slavishly poke my humor and humanness and of course, I miss my family. I
miss my wife so much sometimes I cry. When I see kids here, I think of mine,
longing to hold my boys in the way only a dad can and should. They are missing
me just as much.

4.     
I imagine I’m missed for various reasons by
various people here and at home. It’s sometimes a wonderful and yet traumatic feeling
to feel missed. So I’m sitting here,
halfway home, feeling that tension from two quarters I’m so passionately involved with. If you were me, what would you do or be doing?

5.     
Then I also imagine there’s a lot of work waiting
for me at home, appointments to keep, broken things to fix, errands to run and may
be much more. I always dread these with all my heart. Who will help?

6.     
After almost three months of continuous ministry
to others, I feel I should disappear to some remote location alone. Did I say
alone? But I’ve been missing my family all this while! My mentors insist on
this but it takes great discipline which I’m still struggling with, to shut
down or at least, hibernate for a few days after arrival. How can this be properly
managed for the overall good?

7.     
You see, I’m already planning my return to Sudan with some intense excitement.
What’s my next plan based on what happened on this trip? I don’t know all the
answers yet, but I’m dreaming… Before you conclude I’m a superstar,
consult my wife. She knows the truth.

8.     
I’ve had some major concerns on this trip and
each time I think about them, I seem to end up more confused. It can be very
scary to be confused and admit it publicly with, “I
don’t know.” I’m wondering if it’s
normal to feel lost with some critical life issues. Enter the mentors!

Regardless of what you think of my blues, I’m convinced that there’s something more terrible
than feeling lost or even being lost as a matter of fact. It is
maintaining a steadfast drive with a confident disposition but without divine
direction and destination. Also, there’s
something more tragic than missing your target and I think it’s hitting
someone else’s target and then owning it as yours.

I’m in good company, but feeling spent on the inside. I’m
afraid to imagine that though much virtue has left and is still leaving me for
the good of others; there’s a blues, more like an anticlimax that has
to be addressed.

Have you been here before? What did you do?

Darl,

When we said what we thought was our last good-nights yesternight; I couldn’t sleep, so I had to make that very late call, to wish you a great day today and also seek an exit into sleep-land.

There was a tad of gloom that pervaded my spirit as we spoke, though I had many reasons to be more joyful, as I’d shared a few with you on the goings on here. STILL, I struggle… , wishing we were together. It’s your birthday today and I’m not there again.

Knowing how you cherish our special days, makes it more challenging to discern how best to light-up your day and make your joy fuller when I’m away; especially with the boys growing older and my absence a little louder with each trip.

You know how I hate to be far from home but you relish the opportunity for an expedition such as this. We’re surrendering better to Abba’s sovereignty. Yeah, He concocts wonders in His matchmaking workshop; ever seeking to announce Himself with and in everything. He doesn’t just love to say, I AM THE LORD! He delights in proving it. He smiles.

I celebrated you here last year and I’m back here this year, celebrating at the very same spot, but you are STILL hundreds of miles away.

Darl, I appreciate you for being in my life like this... I can’t stop wondering why of all men, I should be the one, to have and to hold you… but alas today, of all days, I’m not on site.

The events at home soon after I left burst my surprise package meant for today. But I know you know I understand. I know you know Abba’s smiling. You fill His joys and that of many that appreciate Him for our ministry here and there.

Our common passion for His cause will STILL guide your actions and words, He’s there for you and I am too.

Some days, our adventures with the Master are nice when the waters are calm and not as stormy as now. But you never complain. The last 6weeks have been loaded with activities, duties and issues meant for both of us to tackle, but it STILL pleased you well to let me go, pouring out your blessings and affirmations as I left.

You’ve sacrificed much…

You’ve sown much…

You’ve sweated much…

You’ve served much…

Having done so much, you’re STILL standing; helping to save many.

Truly, truly I say unto you Darl, you may miss my presence today, as I miss yours, but we’ll not miss Abba’s embrace when we finish. I promised, I’m taking us there.

May Abba’s pleasure continue to prosper with your every effort. I prayed long and hard for you this morning; asking The Sweet Paraclete to put a flavor in your week, that’s unique to Him; one that will linger. He assured me.

May the Lamb that was slain STILL receive the reward of His pains as you mark your day today my Darling. (I could rap this line for you:)

On behalf of the boys and me, here’s a toast to you again! We love YOU!!

Your One&Only…

[This video clip is a song by Bebe & Cece Winans that comes close, yes, close to what I think I should sing to you today. But there’s STILL my return to wait for.]

Abba smiles again.