Wow- just learnt a new thing. and if you click on the link below- well, so will you.
(No, i am not directing you to a hacker's site...)

achluophobia wiki def

The will.

Trouble changes us, if it sticks around long enough. We are worn down by our care, as poets have said. The will to live can be sapped by the feeling that things may never change. Sometimes, when you’ve been “ill” a long time- physically, emotionally, mentally- you lose all desire for healing. Perhaps you’ve struggled with one loss after another, one disappointment after another, one trial after another…. And it seems like things will never change. The Bible says that

Hope deferred maketh the heart sick..
(Pro 13:12 KJV+)

and

The heart knoweth his own bitterness…
(Pro 14:10 KJV+)

It’s true. No one can fully enter into your sadness, or grief, or pain, or disappointment; no one can truly understand what you’ve gone through. And the loneliness of that place can make life very hard.

But when Jesus met the man at Bethesda (John 5), He didn’t sit down with him to commiserate about the previous 38 years. He didn’t ask someone to bring them two pints, and some Kleenex. I’m sure- being our Lord, as we know Him- He knew that the guy had been through some pretty tough times. Thirty-eight years of being ignored, of having no friends to help you, of being passed over, of being the “cripple” that no one notices, must give you a pretty bad case of the “rejection complex”. You must imagine, sometimes, that God has forgotten you. In fact, in your mind it’s probably a fact. You must have some pretty bitter thoughts about God. Maybe you’ve been close to getting your healing, and things fell through. Maybe you’ve heard many, many promises. Maybe you’ve been really hopeful, and looked forward to things changing, and then it all fell apart on you again. Maybe many have come to you with prophecies. Maybe they’ve offered you pamphlets, songs, little Gideons Bibles… Or maybe they’ve looked at you knowingly, nodding, and told you it your fault: you sinned, you see. Yes, they all let you down, those you trusted. Maybe you’ve even contemplated suicide. Maybe you’ve tried. Or maybe, just maybe, you’re one of those rare people, your soul is stronger than most, and you are just waiting on the day when things will change….

But the Lord didn’t ask him what his thoughts had been. He asked him one simple question:

When Jesus saw him lie, and knew that he had been now a long time in that case, he saith unto him, Wilt thou be made whole?
(Joh 5:6 KJV+)

Very telling. The Lord wanted to know if this man had the will to be made whole. Because sometimes you’ve been in that dark place for so long that it feels like home. You’ve moved in with your favorite blanket, your cats and plants, and made it a cozy place. Sometimes you’ve been around the block so many times that you think that one more attempt is really just one too many. You’re not sure, anyhow, that this isn’t one more promise, one more song, one more pamphlet. What does this man have to offer that you haven’t been offered before? Besides, God deserted you such a long time ago. Who’s to say He means it this time? Where has He been for 38 years? It wasn’t your fault you got crippled in the first place: where was God then? Why has He been silent? Why has He ignored your cries for help?

So you have all these questions, but the Lord hasn’t asked you to explain all this. In fact, it’s almost like He has passed over all your pain and anger, all the bitterness you’ve nursed for so long. He wants to know one thing only:

Wilt thou be made whole?

The Lord makes it your choice. Do you have the will to be healed? Will you put aside your anger and bitterness, or will you hold it up before the Lord, demanding justice and retribution? Will you continue to accuse Him, pulling out your very long list of grievances, demanding that He answer you first, tell you where He’s been all this time?

Wilt thou be made whole?

Will I be able to get up when He holds out His hand to me, or will I angrily swat that hand away? Will I swallow my anger and pride, and trust Him yet again, or will I remind Him that there are many times when I thought He had come by to help, and was disappointed? Will I risk being hurt and disappointed yet again, and get up; or will I sit there, afraid? Will I get past my fear, and trust Him? What if today really is the day? Will I refuse to get up because of my hang-ups?

Wilt thou be made whole?

For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.
(Jer 29:11 KJV+)

I think Daniel Craig (the new Bond) is totally HOT.... Simply awesome. He makes a really good one, too. Although of course resuscitating yourself was always going to be a bit of a stretch, Casino Royale was pretty good.

Grief is a funny, sad emotion. Funny because it creeps up on you at the most unexpected times, and devastates you, takes away all the control you have; sad because- well, that’s obvious. It’s like you’re dancing in a room full of people, and then suddenly you’re alone… It’s a private emotion. No one can share in it. It makes all my old answers seem so childish; it has taken all my defences, all my certitude, and left me with questions only, and helpless. And no matter how I try to thrash it all out in a logical way- you know, I must face my future, make new plans, move on- and all the other inane things I say to myself in times of arrogance- well, those moments still come, with absolute certainty, when the wave crashes over me again, and I’m held in the stillness of knowing.

And it frightens me. I wonder if I’ll ever get past the rawness of the emotion (a major problem, of course, for a scientist: life must remain logical and controlled). I fear that I’ll be stuck in this warp forever. I don’t even let myself fully remember, anymore, because remembering brings back the hopes and expectations; and yet there are times when I must think on things. I can’t help it, I find myself probing at it to see if I missed all the signs.

There are no answers. None at all. Not one. And yet, I am not despondent- no, far from it. The grief is a pure emotion, just agony at the loss, and that’s it. The loss is still devastating. It will probably stay that way forever- how can it not? But in some small ways I have moved on, and rebuilt my paths.

Sometimes, any little thing will bring the tears on- a song, a film, a book, a poem… I no longer have the privilege of talking about it- everyone else moves on before you are ready to. I never had the privilege of control over it: I can’t make it disappear. So I must live with it, coexist with it, if not strict friends then at least acquaintances with a shared knowledge….

A lily of a day
Is fairer far, in May
Although it fall and die that night,
It was the plant and flower of light.
In small proportions we just beauties see;
And in short measures life may perfect be.

(Ben Jonson: A Pindaric Ode).
I am still grateful.

• I really think Drogba should cut his hair. Really. I love the man, but his hair really will not do.
• There’s much to be said for staying on the right side of the law. Spent a lot of time this weekend trying to “crack” some software, and really, after all that effort, I probably got some spyware onto my laptop, and a program that won’t be uninstalled into the bargain (such as it is one). I know the moral arguments as well; honestly, I do know better. I do. Call it a lapse.
• I don’t like mosquitoes.
• I don’t like mind games. I used to play a lot of games when I was younger- I liked the thrill of it, the manipulation of people’s thoughts to see how far you could take it, to see if they were aware of it… a form of arrogance. I have lost patience with it all now. I need the people around me to be honest, as I have become brutally truthful myself (most of the time, lol). And at the moment someone is playing mind games with me- I find it frustrating.
• I really love my baby sister.
• I’m amazed, again, again, at the kindness of strangers. It makes no sense, but those who have no blood ties to you are often so much nicer to you than your kin…Last week, was stuck in a foreign land, so short of money I was going to have to walk to the border… (Fun place to be, but caution: only to be done when you’re young). I was bailed out by a sister in Christ; she totally didn’t have to, but she went out of her way to do so. And I was looked after in various ways by another sister in Christ (yes, those are most useful people to have around, lol), who in spite of her own impecuniosity, did her best to make my life pleasant… I know the most obvious question is, Why was I in a foreign land with no money? No easy answer to that one, except to say perhaps I was pushing the envelope a little.
• There’s a place called Lobatse, in Botswana: beautiful little town! I so enjoyed being there. It’s a tiny town, village really, in the mountains; and when I went there, it was in the throes of a thunderstorm… magnificent lightning, rain coming down so fast that visibility was probably about 2 metres, at certain points. (and I do have a love affair with storms). Charming place.
  

1Pe 2:23 who when He was reviled did not revile in return. When He suffered, He did not threaten, but gave Himself up to Him who judges righteously.

I have to keep watch. My pride and arrogance are two traits that get me into the most trouble. I seem to be very prone to loudly protesting my innocence, and not just loudly but often in the most obnoxious way possible. Too often I am not completely innocent; in fact, you can be sure that the louder I get, the more guilty I am.

So the greatest challenge in my life at the minute is to learn to be as Jesus was. How could He go so silently, knowing He was innocent? The clue seems to be in the second part of that verse- He “gave Himself up” to God. That word is “paradidomi”, in Greek, which means to surrender, that is, yield up, intrust, transmit: - betray, bring forth, cast, commit, deliver (up), give (over, up), hazard, put in prison, recommend. (Strong’s dictionary)

I find that such a challenge. It’s a matter of trust, of course; to trust that the LORD will reclaim your name and reputation, will in every way justify you. It also means that in the face of fear, to trust that the LORD will deliver you, and make things right. The Lord Jesus had all power in earth and heaven to destroy His persecutors; in fact, He held back one of His disciples (possibly Peter) in the garden, when he sliced the High priest’s servant’s ear off. I mean, how awesome is that! If I had that kind of power, all my enemies, anyone who crossed me, would be toast! (Perhaps that’s why the LORD thought it prudent not to give me such power).

Apparently the LORD will give you your justice, and in just measure. You will end up with exactly what you deserve, not a bit less and probably considerably more than you do. I like to think that means that when I am wronged through no fault of my own, the LORD’s just nature will fight on my behalf. That’s way better than anything I could plan for myself as revenge. But it also means committing everything else in every way, entrusting myself to the Lord, committing my cause to Him (Prov. 16.3). I quite like that idea as well. I’m being looked after. Wow…

“I have grown cold, Lord. My heart has grown cold to God and man. Because of my pain, I have set up a wall that I thought would protect me… And something in me has known that if I become open to You, Your love will make me open to others; so I have shut myself away from you. Nothing in me is motivated by the God-kind of love anymore- how can it be, when Your love makes me weak? I have turned my face away from Your people. The quickest answer I have for anyone is to cut them off… And o Lord the longer I stay in that prison of my own making, the colder my heart grows, and the harder it is to come back…”

That’s something I would have written not too long ago, but grace brought me back.

I have a friend I love, who has fallen out of my favour. It is almost as if she goes out of her way to be rude, overbearing, abrupt, inconsiderate. It has become quite tiresome, actually, rather like dealing with a child’s tantrum; you understand, you plead, you cajole- but it is still emotionally exhausting. So perhaps I have offended her in some way- with women, that’s always a possibility, lol; I considered that for a few seconds, but honestly if you don’t tell me, how am I supposed to know? I won’t waste time trying to divine such things. So, that may seem amusing, but truly it is not.

Another friend asked how I can love this friend when she is so unpleasant- well, I don’t know. Does love change according to the whims of man’s fickleness? (Love is not love/ which alters when it alteration finds.). In that I have been granted grace, because I am more prone to violent fits of temper that destroy relationships, than I am to preserving relationships; and so the Lord has given me the ability to love well past the sell-by date (according to me). Because truly man changes. We are not any longer made to last, not in our bodies, not in our emotions and faithfulness. (The exception is of course the spirit). So of course people change; and it’s my decision to love this woman, in spite of how truly unpleasant it’s becoming to be around her.

But it’s interesting to see how falling away from God affects people, and how drawing closer to God has the opposite effect. I have seen lives changed forever by the revelation of God; and believe me, it’s 100 % true, it’s not by power or might at all. I have seen a woman known for her insane rages, when she would become incredibly violent, changed by the intervention of God (it could be nothing else) into one of the most loving people you could meet. I have seen someone known for their promiscuity reclaim their sexuality for God, and live a holy life (yes, it’s possible). There are many such stories. But I have also seen the other side: I have seen a Christian turn away from God, and fall away into darkness. I have seen a youth pastor give his life over to licentiousness, and lose his calling. I have seen someone gifted in music, a leader in the church, “acknowledge” his homosexuality (controversial, I know), and become prey to any man who is curious. (His decision, and I will not comment except to say that it really is no way to witness to the world; if it was so right, why all the agony, and why do has it given room for people to mock God?)

It breaks my heart to see how we gradually grow cold and indifferent to God, and how first the personality changes, then the character… Paul didn’t say it for nothing when he said:

Gal 6:7 Do not be deceived, God is not mocked. For whatever a man sows, that he also will reap.
Gal 6:8 For he sowing to his flesh will reap corruption from the flesh. But he sowing to the Spirit will reap life everlasting from the Spirit.
Gal 6:9 But we should not lose heart in well-doing, for in due season we shall reap, if we do not faint.
(Thanks to e-sword software).

But the hardest thing must be to stay so open to God that we don’t grow cold… For as long as we are open to His Spirit, we are refreshed, and open to correction before sin takes over us. It is a race, the race of faith, and we can so easily fall away, or “faint”, as the Bible says. Every day, in every way, if you are a Christian, you must look to the Lord for sustenance and direction. In all your joys, yes; but especially in your pain. Because if we are to be honest with ourselves, those are the times that can drive a wedge between us and the presence of God. Those times when you simply do not understand. When you’re angry. When you would rather shut yourself away. That’s when you must press into Him. The Bible says

Heb 10:31 It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.

And,
Heb 10:38 Now, "the Just shall live by faith. But if he draws back, My soul shall have no pleasure in him."
(Again, e-sword).

Hang onto the Lord, brother or sister. Don’t let it be said of you:

Gal 5:7 You were running well. Who hindered you that you do not obey the truth?

• My faith, by which I am shaped, blessed, fine-tuned, comforted.
• The moments when I realise how I’ve connected with another person, and been enriched by the experience.
• My family, by which I mean extended… I have one of those huge African families (they are not mythical, I promise); my maternal great-great-great-grandfather had 6 wives, his son had 6, the one after 3… so you can imagine. And you know people were quite prolific in child-bearing in those days…. It often aggravates me, because I don’t know half my “cousins”, but sometimes it’s quite diverting. Had an encounter yesterday that allowed me to practice my not-very-well-spoken-but-supposed-to-be first language… and I was amazed yet again by that side of the family’s ability to tell a story. Perhaps I’m descended from a line of storytellers….
• My two best buddies from varsity days. We hardly ever talk, but when we do, it’s like the old days still.
• More paddling in the pool. Ah, bliss.
• Death by chocolate. I’m not always a fan, but it was most welcome this morning, especially as I woke up early to bake it… so I love the simple pleasure of creating something special in the kitchen (not the daily drudgery of cooking lol).
• My mom’s cooking, while on the subject. I am convinced no one can cook as well as she does. Not only that, she can produce a meal in ten seconds… I don’t know how.
• The blessing of families in general. I watched a friend’s family close ranks around a treasured member who has fallen suddenly, devastatingly ill… They leave their tears for their private moments, and share their strength.

• Having lunch cooked for me by a kind man…. Awesome the gifts we are given along our path! I needed kindness; I felt so special.
• I finally seem to be conquering my fear of water! I actually stepped into the pool, managed not to jump right out again; in fact, I played around a bit. I guess we conquer our fears in steps, and honestly there I was, paddling away… (Note to naughty little kids: don’t push other little kids into the pool!)
• Having things come together without too much resorting to panic attacks on my part.
• Catching up with an old, very dear friend in the Lord.

• My new wonderful takkies (sneakers) simply top the list. Have waited a while for them. And these, unlike my heels from a year ago, I will actually wear.
• The realisation that I am definitely growing and changing. I move with purpose, with pain perhaps but still forward.
• The kindness of strangers, demonstrated over and over in my life. I keep getting blessed by strangers, and somehow that moves me more than when it’s done by those close to me.
• Serendipity (don’t you just love that word?): odd twists and turns, and meeting new people in the oddest places. I went to get some papers certified; if you know Botswana, you’ll know that’s not as easy as it sounds. If you know it well, you’ll know you can never ask for directions. So I ended up in a big glass building, hesitant, faltering… and my brave little sister simply marched up to the door we had been told not to use, pushed it open, moved the table that someone was using to block it, sneaked into a corridor… at the end of it all, we found a kind Zambian man, who was very sympathetic, and even asked me to come whenever I need help (- I will!!). AND we turned out to be somewhere in the Attorney-General’s offices, where these things are done by appointment. Ha!
• The power of new knowledge, which gives me even better power to choose. (Yes, perhaps I am intoxicated with power- again, a stereotype confirmed.). A death can also be a birth.

• That I’m able to do so much at all! I love the fact that I can travel, in spite of the obvious obstacles (for example, a green passport…)
• My friends- silly, mad, cute, funny, mean, in all their guises and shades, I love them still!
• The realisation that just as good times pass, so do bad times.
• The chilly, sudden storm of early evening.

1. My sister’s confirmation (first communion). She looked like a shepherd in a Nativity play… But it was so, so moving. Awesome.
2. Kind words. Ever noticed how warm and fuzzy you feel inside, when someone shows appreciation for who you are? I’m going to try and say more kind things to everyone.
3. Spending the day lazying about- I did not do a single useful thing. Except read a book that’s supposed to stimulate me into making better decisions. I hope it works on a subconscious level, cos I am taking in very little :)
4. The prospect of travel. I dread the border formalities, but I love the change of scenery. Looking forward to it…

1. Had a LOVELY hailstorm last night, and I know there was a lot of destruction as well, but gosh the rain was gorgeous, and we had so much hail it was like stepping (out) into the fridge!
2. Mitchell says he's quite happy to come to the doctor tomorrow cos of me! He minds the injections, but I make it better. Mitchell is ten years old, and too, too cute.
3. Watching mom learn how to use the internet is both aggravating and so cute.. I know i shouldn't be so condescending, but it really is cute.

(Everything is cute today).

1. Going to my old church for the first time in ages, catching up with old acquaintances and friends, and eating chocolate cake. Also, a great sermon, just what I needed.
2. The flame trees (above) on the way home in full glory, and although it’s humid, the weather is just right. So I started thinking good thoughts, like, well, anything is possible. My future is not written yet; nothing’s set in stone, so it’s really up to me what I make it.
3. All that shopping paying off…. The hours on my feet, going from shop to shop… It’s always so nice to wear something I really like (and feel deeply superficial as I do it).

Today, I want to honor some of the women in my life who live with courage. I watch them battle with great issues, and not give in, and never stop going. They fall, but get up, dust themselves off, and move on.

• She who is very close to me, who has seen enough trouble to fell any ordinary person… But she has survived it all, and remained dignified, standing tall. She didn’t just keep moving; she sought to conquer, putting her fears aside. Even now, with so much still going on, she is still keeping her head above water. She taught me that no mountain is unconquerable, and that life must be lived with great courage in the presence of fear. No matter how frightened you may be, you must keep pressing on. It may not get better immediately, but you will find courage in the darkness. And achieve a lot on the way.
• N, who falls down, hard, and gets up, and keeps going. She knows her weakness, and speaks of it so that it is becoming a great source of strength for others… She keeps her head up even though her “shame” is now public, and reaches out for help every time she needs it. She heard the bad news, dealt with it, and is now moving on with her life.
• L, who left to start over in a new place, leaving home and security and everything she was sure of, and is surviving.
• T, who is reaching for her dream in a far-off place, and who has not compromised that dream in spite of opposition…
• J, who’s taking baby steps to leave a bad place both physically and emotionally, who has finally found the strength to pull away… And the further she goes, the easier it becomes to look out for herself, rather than what was starting to drain her life…

I salute your strength!

1. Coffee with old friends, lots of laughter, and more of the usual talk... and it felt sooo easy, so maybe you never really lose relationships...
2. Lots of job opportunities suddenly, and I feel so affirmed in my career..
3. Losing lots of money playing a money management game, and realising I play things a lot safer than i expected. all my shopping trips, all my days at the malls, all the bits of indoctrination were completely wasted: I apparently would never spend if I actually had big money :)

I love the way people like Martha Beck and yes, the ubiquitous Dr Phil, deal with certain things… I’m not necessarily a great believer in psychotherapy, because the result is only as good as the people involved- i.e., your own commitment to getting to wherever, and as good as the person walking that journey with you…. But there’s definitely room for it. There are none so blind as those who will not see (or deaf either)! We can labour under such massive self-delusion, because we like the way things are, it feels so cosy, and we most certainly don’t want anyone to mess with it by probing. And the things we keep hidden in the dark soon gain power over us.

See, here’s a good example: thinking, “I am not good enough”. Say your father told you this ten years ago, that you were totally useless, after you crashed his new car while he was teaching you how to drive. So you’ve been anchored in that moment ten years ago, and you’re still being “useless” because you’ve never learnt how to drive, and you will not let that thought be challenged, because every time you’ve ventured out to the driving school (if you have, even), you’ve been completely intimidated by your dad’s words. Never mind that you’re an adult now, and you have never again tested your dad’s theory. With no disrespect at all, the only way your dad could be absolutely right about your inability to hold, steer, shift, is if he were God, and he is not.

And if you’re like a lot of people, you’ve taken that sweeping statement on your ability to make a mistake at one specific point in your life, and extrapolated it to a statement on your general uselessness…. And now you’re possibly an underachiever in general, completely ignoring your fantastic abilities- because you’re functionally blind to them, and functionally deaf to any external input on how great you do this, or that. And so you’ve been trapped, you’ve given your power to those things in the dark, all those insecurities, and the words you took for gospel truth. What if your dad was simply expressing something his dad had said to him, fifty years ago- the way parents often pass things on to their kids? Would you really want to give up your personal power and freedom to an inaccuracy?

How about challenging those negative beliefs you have about yourself? How about giving yourself a chance, today, to risk finding out if you are maybe more than you’ve conditioned yourself (or been conditioned, if you like) to be? Yes, sure, maybe you’ll fall- and, ouch, it may hurt awfully, too. But maybe you’ll find a new way of being, a more authentic you- wouldn’t that be fabulous, to be so free?

You don’t even have to do it alone. You probably have people willing to go on that journey with you, those who may even be able to see you better than you see yourself. Stop giving your trust to those who would disempower you, and stop worrying about overvaluing yourself. It seems to be true that those who worry most about that are usually doing the complete opposite. What is your true, unfettered worth?

MOST unusual in these parts.. At about 0800 GMT, people in Bulawayo, Zimbabwe who happened to look up saw the image you see above- a halo around the sun. Awesome.. And so were the cloud formations after that. not only is this really unusual at this time of the year- it's unusual, period! (Unfortunately, I do not have a telephoto lens). A 70-yr-old woman I asked said she had NEVER seen one before. People were so alarmed they ran out to scan the skies for signs of Jesus' return...

My sister says that Donald Trump is sexy (although I think her actual word was “hot”, she’s still too innocent to use words like “sexy”). I don’t know what planet she came from, really, but we have always accepted her as part of the family.

God went out of His way to make you original. Glory in it!

A thought has been gaining strength in my head… I have been thinking about the unique problems of the African continent. Not about the wars, fuelled by various forces intent on their own useless, short-term gains; not so much about the droughts that our governments always seem too slow to plan for. I’ve been thinking about the African, the individual born on this continent, with ties to this continent they call “dark” and “troubled”.

I know the African solution is not simple. I know that the history of Africa is something long, bloody, complex, something that Africans call on to explain all the reasons why Africa is like a child that won’t learn to walk. I have cried for Africa, I have wondered (as most Africans do) when it will ever end, and I, too, have sought ways to leave. I won’t even be hypocritical, and claim that I don’t still think about moving to the West. I am one of those not-so-uncommon Africans, skilled, educated, ambitious. I can get by anywhere in the world, perhaps a remnant of that colonial legacy that has blessed even as it has cursed.

But, like I say, I’ve been thinking about Africa. I’ve been thinking about the very fact that I am one of those people who have something to give, something to use to help Africa rise up. I know how hard it will be; I know that it will take more strength than I have. But I believe in the power of one- the power of one individual to make a difference, one voice to speak for many, one idea to change the perspective of the world, one invention to make better the lives of millions. Because it all starts with one, doesn’t it? All it takes is one person who is willing to start the journey, to make a sacrifice for many; and while that one does not always see the fruit of their labour in their lifetime, their labour is not lost.

I wish with all my heart that things would change for Africans. We are not poor: that’s a sad, sad misimpression, propagated by images of famine and war and disease. We are so, so much more than that. We have huge reserves of mineral resources. We have rich soil, perfect for agriculture, and the climate for it as well. If we in Africa were to stop exporting the things we grow, and turned inwards, we could feed ourselves and be fully satisfied, no problem. After all, there would be no so-called “developed world” without Africa. We have so much potential to be better, but we have lost our spirit. We are like children who are looking for a parent, like travellers who have lost their way, and need a map and a leader. We have lost our belief in our power to survive, and have learnt to sit with our begging bowls, looking elsewhere for help.

I know that most of the Africans in the Diaspora have no intention of coming back. That’s fine; I don’t hold this against them. I do think, though, that if we decided, today, us young Africans who have so much power to change things- I think that if we would only decide, that we could change things. And change them a great deal. We have probably spent far too much time waiting for change; we have wasted a lot of time waiting for other people to make a move to form some kind of union, so we could join in. I think it’s time for a new way.

It’s not all of us who are concerned with issues of where the next meal is coming from. Not all of us are living under bridges, or frightened because our nation is at war. Not all of us have little access to decent medical care. Many of us have more than a basic education. We have specialised skills that we can share with those who can’t afford even the basic education. Maybe it’s time for us to start sharing what we have, not just with those in our families, but with others in our nation, across borders. We need to believe in the power of Africa- that indomitable African spirit- to regenerate, to help itself.

It starts with one. I will be a force for change. I have resources; small as they are, they are enough for me to use to help the person beside me, who may have nothing. I won’t wait for someone to come from the West to help the orphanage in my country; I can give a little of my resources, whether it’s time, money, or expertise. I can share some of my education. I can give some of the little I have, and not feel like I am losing something, because there is a vision greater than me. I can do just that little bit to bring Africa closer to healing itself.

Yes, there probably will always be room for Western donors. I will not knock that concept, because we have such a long way to go. But what about us? What about retrieving our dignity, and dusting ourselves off to do what we can for ourselves? I think Africa is like an abused child, having lost its self-concept and self-respect; but for how long shall we rely on handouts?

erm- sadc building?
the infamous bus station..
my fav coffee shop
game city :D 

(That would mean, loosely translated: It’s up to You, Lord.)

Been talking to my girlfriends…hurting, confused, in adversity…. and it amazes me all over again how Christian women seem to encounter the same kind of problems, no matter what their individual situations are. I wonder at how people seem to think of Christianity as some kind of cop-out. It sure ain’t easy to walk that road. It’s almost like as soon as you open your heart to the possibility of God, you no longer have firm footing, and are almost always struggling to stay upright. I don’t mean that in a bad way, at all; but you know how human nature tends to be. We want to be in control, not just of the internal things (our faculties), but of our lives- and other people’s lives as well, quite often. Somehow being a Christian seems to show up all the holes in one’s self-sufficiency….
What happens when prayers for help seem to go unanswered? What happens when you feel you have surrendered all you are to God, and God seems to take no notice? What happens when you reach out to heaven as you fall, and feel like you make contact with- nothing (my personal nightmare)? What happens when you’re suicidal, and heaven is silent?
We are so utterly helpless…. In the face of cancer, depression, the death of a loved one, the failure of a career, the loss of a cherished dream… In the face of life’s pain, we are so completely cut off from our own resources. We are so fearful, then, and desperately hope God is waiting for just that moment before it all falls apart, to save us. But time and time again, it all seems to fall apart. What do we do then? How do we hold onto faith?
I think our calling is higher than just believing for all the things we may want or need… If God is Lord, truly LORD, He is not at all obliged to grant us the things we pray for. It sounds really harsh, but it’s true. And implicit in that idea is the idea of surrender- because if God doesn’t just give it all to us, then we’re at His mercy, aren’t we? The only thing that makes it bearable is this: we’re at the mercy of a loving God. God is not “loving” in the sense that a person can be “loving” towards another. He is the DEFINITION of Love. He is Love. And if we’re going to take the step of faith that would have us believe in God at all, then we have to go all the way. Otherwise, what’s the point?

I wish, over and over, that women were born with the resources that would make life a little easier for them. Honestly it takes us so long, most of us, to begin to enjoy life, because we’re so busy trying to find our feet, to define ourselves as separate, to assert our right to simply be here. I’m no feminist- at least, not in the traditional sense of the term- but honestly… why does it take us so long? Even our relationships would be so much better if we went into them knowing who we were… and I’m sure the other half of the race of men would so appreciate it if we had less of the “silly’ hang-ups we carry through life…. It’s almost like most of the time we’re building down; and it takes some small miracles to get us repairing, and finally moving forward.

Footfalls echo in the memory

Down the passage which we did not take

Towards the door we never opened

Into the rose-garden. My words echo

Thus in your mind.

T. S. Eliot


Was just thinking this morning how grateful I am to be alive, to be able to breathe for the first time in many months without pain or regret…. And I was thinking, too, how grateful I am for the faith that has carried me through. It’s the season I never thought I wanted to face again- an anniversary of joy, that is now colored by pain; and this morning, I realised that I have been carried these past months by a Love that was way, way greater than the trials I had to face, than all the valleys I have walked through…. For some reason, I haven’t fallen apart. For some reason, right up to this moment, I have continued to be here…. Me, the quaking, the fearful, the mocker and cynic!


Earlier this year, not too long ago, someone I had grown to so cherish passed out of my reach … Along with his death, died hopes, dreams, expectations; and I was left only with emptiness and bitterness, struggling even to be grateful for what had been there (-it’s never enough, is it?). And God? Dear me, I was mad. I never directly accused Him of spiting my plans, but of course I felt that way. (If I’m to be honest, I still do. I still struggle. We can’t always know why things happen the way they do, not fully, on this side of eternity). But one day, as the loss began to become more real and brutal and present, and the pain a little more focused, I began to realise that it’s that age-old question, the same thing really as Job faced, but on a smaller scale: who knows better, God or me? At some point I must put my intellect down, and trust that He knows far, far better.

That was a kind of turning point for me, and maybe (hopefully) the beginning of a kind of healing. I’ll never stop missing him, of course, and I’m liable to burst into tears at any point during the day… You move on, sort of, but everything reminds you. And you never stop missing the sound of someone’s voice, you never really stop thinking about asking their opinion on something. But you know what? It’s ok. It’s not the way I would have chosen things to be, but I am trusting that it’s the best.

He lives on. Strange (perhaps weird) as that seems, he does. Death is obviously not the end that we always assume it is. The absolute worst thing happened: but I am not destroyed, nor are the things that were built, the things that were set in motion. All that was lost was what never was, anyway- things that were in an indeterminate future time. After all, the present is all we ever really have; and then, our memories.

Our relationship is probably the best it’s ever been, right now :) (He would laugh, I promise). Seriously, I am ever, ever so grateful to have been blessed with even the few precious months we had; and, at the end of the day, it was God’s wisdom that left things the way they were. I will probably regret some things for the rest of my life- that there was never a taking back of bitter words, nor a formal goodbye, or even that I never said some things I really wanted to say- but never mind that, anymore. I am so, so thankful that I can say my goodbye with hope. For me, for those in the way of faith, death is only a beginning; and someday we’ll continue where we left off….

So, it’s approaching the anniversary of the day we met, and I know I’m getting all weepy as the days go by, but I know he lives on- in the memories and hearts of those who loved him, and in how he loved, too.

(it's still roses btw us xx)

The way of love is the higher way. Anyone can be angry, and hold a grudge. Anyone can curse and rant; really, it is way too easy to express your anger. But how many can hold up those who sin against them, bringing them to God in prayer? How many of us can ask God to bring down blessings upon those who make our lives miserable? I am not changed positively by my self-righteousness; in fact, if anything, it creates more bricks for that wall that I build between God and myself. I become more like Christ when I not only forgive those who injure me, but bless them. That is part of the highest kind of love, isn’t it? What shows my difference from the world of darkness, but how well I can love when I am hurt? Surely I have wounded others too; why can’t I extend love and forgiveness to those who wound me?

Those times of pain and suffering- I always wonder why God allows them. Why would a good God allow suffering? I cry in my weakest hour. It is so hard to see the seed that is sown, for it is still underground, perhaps only starting to break open, to allow the shoot to grow towards the light. If I see nothing else, no other reason for the pain and suffering of this world, I often have the privilege of seeing the fruit of brokenness. Surrendered to God, my pain becomes a vehicle for blessing- myself, or sometimes others. Somehow God has taken all the trouble, and begun to make something of me. It’s so hard, I really can’t always give thanks for the hard times; and yet my spirit is starting to see how bread must be broken to feed many. That’s the significance of Christ’s death, isn’t it? His death is what has brought freedom to millions… And my little pain, my little suffering, feeds at the very least my own poor soul. At no other time do I have such incredible access to God’s resources as when I am in my deepest need, because at no other time do I so long for Him…

And when I am shattered, soon I am mended. And He Himself does it, and makes me better than I was before…

1Pe 5:10 But the God of all grace, He calling us to His eternal glory by Christ Jesus, after you have suffered a little, He will perfect, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.

When I was younger, I was hooked on the thought of love being a fantastic feeling… As I’ve grown older, I have come to realise that love is a decision, an action, a commitment. The “feeling” actually waxes and wanes (or disappears altogether!). I don’t love someone I am having a screaming match with, usually; no, I don’t. But the commitment stays, if I love; and after the argument, I must make a way for the other person and I to move forward together. Love stays put when all I want to do is storm out in a rage; love touches gently when all I want to do is lash out. Love is not self-denial, necessarily; love is giving all of myself, even when everything in me would withdraw. Love is reaching out to a higher way of being, even though I fail along the way. I guess the trick is not to give up; love never quits. Love gets up, and keeps trying.

Dear God, how I want to have strength and control- strength to fix all the problems of my (selfish) life, and control over everything, so no trouble dares show up at my door. But over and over I find myself brought to my knees by trouble, by depression, by despair… And shame washes over me, because once again I have lost the ability to hold it all together. And yet while I’m on my knees, somehow, in that moment when I realise my true helplessness, I tap into a power far, far greater than me, greater than anything I can do for myself. Suddenly, in that space of time when I can do nothing, some relief is given, even if it’s only peace so that I can go on. It drives me mad, sometimes, that I keep falling to my knees, when all I want is to stand on my own two feet; but perhaps I would not be here, if it were not for those moments on my knees, when I am given new resources. Your answers do not always come in the way I expect, or in the form I want, but Your wisdom is always higher than mine. In my quest to change You, to make You answer my prayers- it is me that is changed.

Self-forgiveness is a painful thing to learn, and a painful thing to live. It is so much easier to forgive others, than to forgive oneself. At least, that’s the way it is for me. (That old perfectionism again!). Like most women, I remember what I did wrong ten years ago, as if it dooms me to forever repeating the mistake… and like most women, I allow it to create a “negative monologue” in me. I’m yet to meet a man (although I’m sure there are, out there) who keeps rehearsing for failure by reminding himself how he messed up that thing fifteen years ago, on 29th February (lol), at 1649… And how humiliating it was, and “if only I had done it like this, I would have done better”…. Fact is, of course, we live according to our present level of knowledge, and gosh there’s no going back to fix all we did wrong. I know and accept that; the trick is then to let go of my feeling of failure, and the consequences of that long-ago action, so that I don’t have to live in that rut forever. And that involves self-forgiveness, a virtue we don’t always learn as children. It’s ok to mess up, you know; no one is perfect. We ALL make mistakes; we must get up, learn, and move on, LETTING GO OF SELF-CRITICISM as we do. Otherwise life becomes a bitter journey indeed.

(And a special reason to let go of self-criticism? The more harshly we judge ourselves, the more we become critical of and hurtful to those around us- including those we supposedly love. Oh, and life’s too short for that nonsense anyhow).

It doesn’t matter what I say; it’s what my heart believes that matters. And I can lie, prevaricate, fabricate- but my heart’s voice is true. And my heart believes what my head says to it- so, it’s ultimately about my thoughts. Thoughts become beliefs. Beliefs feed thoughts. And if my heart and my life feel like they’re being poisoned, it’s probably what I’ve allowed myself to think that’s poisoning me, and so what I’m coming to believe.

From today, I will take responsibility for my reactions to everything that happens to me -even the negative, and for everything I do. It’s not about “them”, it’s about me; and until I face that squarely, I can have no power to move on, because that power- my power- will be with “them”. But it has to come from the heart, this faith that I can do it…. Because the things I believe are the things I live.

God gave me this life, this little patch of grass to tend. Why do I allow weeds to flourish here? Why do I poison the land with my thoughts, attitude, beliefs, and, ultimately, actions? Part of it is the rebellion of pride, because I ‘know better than God’. He was wrong, right, to send these challenges into my life. If I were God, I think, I’d do better. Why did You make me this way? I ask Him.

But truth is a beautiful thing (or, Truth is a beautiful person!). No matter what I say to myself, eventually I must come face-to-face with all my built-up ideas, my castles-in-the-sky, and acknowledge that there is no such thing as “my” truth… There is a reason why there are laws to everything that happens in the universe, and as my friend says, I must either fall on the Rock, and be broken; or the Rock must fall on me, and crush me.

I must be a good steward of what has been entrusted to me- and, today, that means I must guard my heart, and take care of my thoughts, and not give power to those things that would destroy me. I must be strong of heart and character, and grow in stature, and deny those things access to my soul that I have given free rein to cause devastation… I must forgive others, I must love myself enough to fight for my life, I must heal my heart, I must reach out to others, I must heal my self-esteem, I must stop poisoning my body, I must exercise, I must eat and sleep well, I must change the directions of my sometimes very dire thoughts, I must tend my spirit. I must stop the constant self-criticism, I must face down fear, I must temper my perfectionism, I must let go of the bad relationships and traces of self-hatred, and I must make peace with those of my actions that brought me shame. In short: I must choose life.

Learnt something new the other day. Pride comes in many guises. I used to think that my perfectionism was just that, a desire for excellence in my life… But then someone challenged me the other day for feeling so terribly down when I make one small mistake. I can forgive others for pretty much anything, but me make a mistake? Forget it. And isn’t that just another guise of pride? Everyone else- all other mortals- can make mistakes, but I am too good for that. Everyone else is human, you see, but me- well, I must be superhuman, mustn’t I? I have to learn to temper that idea, and accept my humanity humbly.

Another guise- wanting to “help” others. Sometimes I guess I think I have the answers to other people’s problems. I want to “help others become better people’, quite as if I don’t have enough trouble solving the troubles of my life. I know a bit better, now. The only place I can really make a difference is within myself; and if someone sees that, and asks for it too, well that’s nice- but walking around trying to fix people is simply my pride in my intellect and wisdom, all over again.

Yet another guise: when my expectation fails, and I blame God. Surely God’s wisdom is infinitely higher than mine? Surely if things don’t work out, I have no right to be angry with God? He knows far, far better than I do; and even if I never see in this lifetime why disaster befell me, it’s still true that my knowledge is small, and God’s is great. My anger is simply my pride: I am effectively saying, Lord God I could have done this better.

Wouldn't it be wonderful if- no matter what you attempted in life or what direction you chose to go- you were guaranteed to prosper? Can you imagine what it would be like to know that, regardless of how many obstacles you faced, you would ultimately overcome them all? Would you like to be that strong, resilient tree planted by streams of abundant water, whose leaf does not wither and whose fruit is always sweet? If you were living that life, how would it differ from the life you’re living today? Who would you be then?

Isn’t it funny? The believer spends his/her life claiming to want to be “like Christ”, to (as Paul put it) grow in the knowledge and love of Him… And yet the only investment we want to make is to step aside at the till at the supermarket, to help little old ladies across the street, to give two bucks to a “street person”. When it comes down to it, we’re unwilling to get uncomfortable to be like Christ; for it only makes sense up to a point. And of course that kind of likeness to Christ is superficial, like make-up. Deep inside ourselves we remain the same.


I was watching a “makeover” show the other day, and again and again I am amazed by the ability mankind has to believe “making over” the outside can change a person. We are so hungry to experience a change in the inner man, but we have no idea how to go about it. We want healing from our bad thoughts about ourselves, so we make over the outside, because everyone knows that beautiful people are happy people, right? Could it be that deep hunger to be as we were created to be drives us to buy the next car, get the next job, or wife (or husband), or dress (or shoes), or ____- fill in the blanks. We are so driven by our desire to silence that longing- the longing for our Creator, the longing to be as we should be- and yet we can’t identify it as such. So we keep throwing things into the gaping hole, hoping either to stuff it shut, or to finally satisfy it. As my friend reminded me recently, we’re people living in sandcastles, longing for the palaces we were designed for.


For the believer to become a little more like Christ, God often has to pull out the rug from under him/her. We won’t willingly go to the cross. No, we’re comfortable here, and won’t leave our comfort zone. But when you really think about it, Christ was hardly, if ever, comfortable while He walked the earth. And as the writer of Hebrews wrote, He learned obedience through suffering. And how can a servant be greater than his master? There will be a time to embrace the cross, knowing the Father’s loving hand will stay the trouble or pain well before it’s past enduring. The point is not the pain- it never was.

A few weeks ago, I was puzzling over the concept of being “consumed” by God. Does it mean my own desires were all evil, to be set aside or slain somehow, and replaced by God’s desires? That seemed a very narrow idea to me- surely even though I’m a fallen man, I am made in the image of God and therefore retain some goodness? Surely a desire to eat well, work well, marry well is good?

Well, I got to reading Paul’s letter to the Philippians. “I consider everything a loss,” Paul wrote, “compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ.” That worried me. Did I care if I lost the whole world? Of course I did. I had no idea if I wanted to lose all to gain Christ, no idea if Christ took prime place in my life. What’s more, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know- it probably cost too much to know.

But that is it, isn’t it? Are we still consumed by and for God? Isn’t the reason much of the church is dead or asleep the fact that we’ve lost our passion? For me, I found I did count a few things a bit more important to me than Christ, and I had to fight to let them go. Even now I feel the twinge of doubt- maybe Christ won’t fill me as much as the stuff on the list I take to Him in prayer. Worst of all, God doesn’t always seem to answer immediately when we cry out to Him in thirst- sometimes we’re dried out and gasping before He lets us drink. I’m not grateful yet, by any means, but I know a little more about my gnawing hunger, my mad desire for Christ. I thirst for Him desperately- and I know if the church did, the Kingdom would be very different; so would the church, meaning you and I.

Only thing is, as soon as I’m sated, I turn away again.