Christianity as I see it, through my eyes

So I scored 15% on the last challenge despite all that hard work, somehow though (miraculously), I passed and was permitted to move on to the next challenge. Tough to explain; that is grace.
Should I fail on the next challenge, I am sure this grace thing would step in and cover for me again like before. That is faith.
On the next challenge I still work as hard as, or harder than, before rather than…. That is works.
Though I Know already that my attempts at doing good works, diligent as they may seem, would only, and always, produce results which are akin to filthy rags of righteousness (that is surrender) and despite the assurance of grace which I have through faith, I still do these works. I refuse to rest on my oars and just allow grace abound, even though it is said to abound even much more where such failure (iniquity) abounds. I double my efforts on the next challenge in an attempt not to continue in iniquity while looking up to the giver of grace to perfect all that concerns me. Now that is maturity.
That is Christianity, a life of surrender (dependence and total reliance) which ultimately brings you victory and fulfilment.

live and let live

Fear in  relationships is always real. Fear of the unknown I’d say. Fear of uncertainties, stuff you just aren’t sure of, some which may not even exist. Seems like the biggest killer of these pairings. "He hasn’t called all day, I wonder what he is up to." "She hasn’t answered the phone all afternoon, I wonder why. I bet she would have some airtight excuse to give when I ask later." I beg your pardon, not excuse; I mean ‘reason’ hehe.

Sorry ladies J I know you were about to reach for my jugular just there. na reason I talk o, no be excuse eh

These fears begin to corrode the trust you had built and soon you begin to breed suspicion then mistrust creeps in and soon hate is real and you begin to wonder, like black eyed peas, “Where is the love?” Where has the love gone? I think it is still there, just hidden away from sight by the fear, suspicion and mistrust.

My thoughts are simple, in addition to being plain and open, telling your partner all that goes on and trying hard to make them a part of your day even when they are far away, we need to do more.

1)      Let us be appreciative of each other. "Why hasn’t he called all day?" "Why hasn’t she answered the phone all afternoon?" "Why doesn’t she call too?" If these bug you that much then simply appreciate next time she calls or the next time she answers the phone on the first ring. Do not take it for granted; make her know you appreciate it. Make her realise that it put a wider smile than usual across your hairy face. Make him know that that text which woke you from sleep brightened your entire day, even if all he could come up with was “good morning beautiful” (some dudes sha o smh. ehen did you spot the double ‘that’ in the sentence? gosh!!! I have been dying to do that) and vice versa o!! and eh if she sends you “good morning beautiful”, you bera reply bruv. I don tell you my own o toh! Don’t start arguing about how males are not beautiful but handsome. Just know that it will get clearer by and by #lipssealed#

We need to express more and a good place to start is showing appreciation. Don’t keep the happy all to yourself, let dude know he was able to make you smile; might have been all he set out to do that day. It is nothing to be shy about eh; make your partner know how he/she makes you feel. Some babes be forming hard to impress so much that dude starts wondering if Hitler owns a branch of her family tree hence nothing makes them laugh. Oh let us not talk about my sisters in the choir who are feeling the boi eh I mean the brother (hehe) but think it is sinful to tell him (talk for another day sha). I hope dude finds someone else who enjoys his jokes and is willing to make him know they do. Ah yes o and Vice versa too hehe.

mehn!!! I need to keep vice versa-ing before these babes think I am betraying them fa.

Nuff said there, on to the next.

2)      Kill the idea of stereotypes. I saw this on bbm the other day. It said something like

girls be crying after their tenth heart break “guys are all the same”. "Who sent you to date all of them since they are all the same?"

Girls, ‘em guys are not all the same. I think often times we make our partner become ‘the same’. We come into the relationship with expectations and preformed ideas of how guys ‘usually’ behave or how a typical Nigerian girl ‘usually’ acts and when they show up to be that way we gladly toss out hands in the air and say “eh I knew it na, you are all the same.”

You Lie!!! 

They are not all the same. In a lot of cases they end up the way you expected they would because you expected they would (I hope my English teacher isn’t reading any of this #facepalm#). Some dudes already start treating the girl like their ex because they think she is ‘just another one of them’. Truth is, she would gradually begin to fit into that mould and eventually become another one of them. This is why I have a bone to pick with relationship mentors who teach us that guys are always this way or that and ladies are always the one way or the other. They say you need to know about this basic make –up in order to cope with certain parts of your relationship blah blah blah.

It is not altogether false but still I know women who bathe and get dressed faster than their husbands just as I know too many guys who chatter more than some women ever could.

Pardon my endless rant please but hear this (preacher mode hehe); what you expect is what you attract. Don't believe me? You need to read 'The Secret' by Rhoda Byrne. Little wonder God says to us to come to Him with expectations in our hearts. It is those expectations that will be met. If you expect your man to be another Nigerian guy then that is what he will be and please don’t lie to yourself about those expectations, we all have them. Oh and vice versa o.

I say, come to the table with bare hands and be ready to ‘learn’ this person like you never had any experience before. Come with a fresh notebook and register for this course, not as one you are repeating or are already experienced at, but one you are offering for the first time ever. Give your partner a chance to be himself/herself and see him/her through a new lens, not the lens of your previous experiences or tutelage. Truth is; some might turn out to be the same as the others but you would be able to say in the end that, you gave it your best shot; you tried it out without fear or prejudice. Don’t come with hidden agenda or like some investigator, hoping to find out the bad or possible good before jumping in or gingerly stepping away. Yes, I am asking that you put yourself in a position to actually get hurt. That is what love does after all. If you love me then you are wide open for me to walk all over you unless I love you too. Look at Jesus eh, love guided him along the way he went and look where that landed him- naked and pinned to a cross with nails, spear holes in his side, whip lashes across his back, a crown of thorns on his head, vinegar for a drink and some silly folk dividing his clothes before he could even finish dying fa. Why?? Because he loves you and I; doesn’t make sense but he did it for love’s sake anyway.

Ohkay, no preaching today please, all I am saying is, kill the stereotypes and be willing to try again as though you never did before and while you are at it, be appreciative of the big things and the little ones alike. Do not be afraid to express exactly how you feel whenever you feel it. Best of luck and plenty of grace too, I have a feeling you will need it. Thank me later J

P.S.  no cross things o, Jesus paid it all.

Being God;Being me;Made by God;Becoming God

Quite depressing being God, no? No one ever remembers you until their lives are in shambles. Your phone rings only when there is sad news or a need to be solved. Each call is about a complaint. No one calls or visits to find out how you are doing. They always ask of one thing or the other and it is never your well-being. If they ever wished for your well-being, it would be as a robber does; only so you have some more for them take from. I know what that feels like.

Now I doubt even God knows how I feel; after all he shouldn’t have any needs of His own. He is all sufficient isn’t He? Even if he had any troubles, they are not such that he would need to share them with anyone. Still even He craves our attention. He wants to share with us despite our limited capability, sadly we never give him a chance.

Hold on a sec!! This is not a rant about God, I am not about to plead His case on his behalf. I’ve got enough worries of my own for which no one seems ready to help. I really do not want to bother about His, at least not now. That is how we all are most of the time, in truth, we only really truly remember him when all else has failed us. He is that last resort. He knows this too hence he uses affliction, often times, to draw our attention to Him to remind us that he still exists. Even if all we remember to do is blame Him for the mishap, at least we still do remember Him at such times and our unarguable dependence on His existence is brought to the fore.

I am trying so hard to make this about me and not about God but that is terribly difficult now. I can’t help it. I am seated in church and the worship session is on, so I can’t help but talk about Him even in my own pain. I cannot complain about the pain because that is what has brought me running to Him today. I am not justified to complain...

No job, family is not the way I had envisioned it would be, ‘friends’ are very few and far between, courtship is wobbly, money is thin, the church has failed me and life just seems less interesting than I thought it would be and a lot more tasking than I had envisaged. I have run to the only thing that sounds real and sure., the only existence which still ‘appears’ to be standing firm. I am ashamed to acknowledge this but, that is the truth.

Maybe at other times I had been ‘drawn near’ by my love for Him and had nothing else to  distract me from Him but it is obvious to me at this time that I have come running now in search of Him to be a balm to soothe the pain and hurt. In need of a touch from the one whose hands were seemingly made especially for touching and mending the pained, bruised, wounded and broken. Sounds like a psychopathic being eh? But He does seem to prefer the broken jars. Those are the kind that willingly let Him remodel them anyways and that is what I have become. My pride won’t let me admit that I am broken, cracked seats better with me.

Indeed ‘life’ appears to be going down south in too many ways. Big guy up there, I hope you can hear my heart or read my scribbles, good thing you said your ears are not dull neither are your eyes dim.

Now they did it!!! They are singing “you are the pillar that holds my life”. This is my problem with most Christian groups, we are often quick and able to encourage ourselves. We take away the sting of the injury for a while without necessarily dealing with the root cause. You tell me that He is the pillar holding me up and keeping things together and I want to jump to my feet already and join in the worship session. Already forgotten all about why I had been pensive all afternoon. I suddenly feel secure and assured of the brightness and greatness to come but let us face it; I am still going to drive out of here in my old jalopee Chrysler, with the leaky roof and the orange reserve light which shines brighter than my headlamps beamed at me-the sad reminder that in the physical, nothing has changed. I need to fight off that temporary euphoria which wears off once the worship session is done and the endorphins run their course. Drat!! Now my tears are dry in this emotional burst of happy without the joy to it. I think I can manage a smile but my heart is still bleeding. Internal haemorrhaging is the more deadly kind, so I am told. How then can I say the church has helped me, symptom treating folk; the church too has failed me.

“Here I am to worship. Here I am to bow down. Here I am to say that you’re my God....”

They have turned it up a notch with the next song. The organist however isn’t enjoying this. You would think he hated the song or playing the organ all together, judging by the look on his face. If only he knew, knew my troubles, my thoughts and worries, if only he knew my heart at this moment. He wouldn’t have any difficulty playing that ‘thing’ and worshiping like he should. I don’t blame him anyway, I know him quite well and I can say that I was there a few months ago. Not a care in the world, nothing could put a wrinkle across my forehead and praising God seemed like something I did as a hobby, simply because I wanted to, not because I needed to and surely not because I felt I couldn’t help it. It came easy, without any effort and without a struggle of any sort. I always wore the so called garment of praise but now I wear a different one, one which I need to take off FIRST each time I am to worship God. These days though that garment of pain and sadness has become cast on me and taking it off has become increasingly difficult that I think I now need it broken off me, if I would ever get rid of it. Now you see why I am here. I don’t want to take this off like an overall I would put on again, I need it broken, and sadly that would mean breaking me as well or at least cracking me. Maybe not all of me but certainly something would have to give.

I guess I always needed that breaking and subsequent remodeling but I looked too raw and fragile for even a heartless ‘god’ to break me so He left me. Now though, with the wrinkles and scars, that decision should be much easier to make. It takes about six months to build a Rolls Royce, I hear. The prospective owner waits anxiously while the car is carefully handcrafted to his specifications. Like that owner, I am in waiting now, waiting for the newly sculpted jar which is me to be finished and put out in view for all to see and appreciate.

The acronym for my life up until now would have been ‘seamless’ but after this I think I would change that to ‘Made by God’.

#LearningPatience#LearningDependenceonGod#LearningAbout God#learningGod#

Family

I had been out there in the parking lot of the Cali International airport for at least three hours waiting on the arrival of the delayed airliner, someone had to pick mummy up and i got the honours so here I was. waiting was no fun until my mind took over and went into overdrive and showed me this:

She would have been about five years old, pretty as they come and looking dashing in her carton brown three quarter shorts and the pink sneakers to match her pink blouse. The smile on her face told me there wasn’t a care in the world that could bother her, not even the weight of the bag she was carrying. Who would leave such a damsel alone along the busy walk way of the Cali international airport? Apparently no one, which is why closely behind her was ‘aunty’. I wish she would take that heavy bag from little miss though.

Tall and elegant in the way she carried herself.  Her hair was made into tiny braids, there must have been like a thousand of those,  all packed into one bunch in the back held together with a green ribbon which matched perfectly with her green shiffon blouse. Below that was a belt around the waist of her perfectly penciled blue jean trousers which continued seamlessly with the reason she looked so tall, her five inch high wedge sneakers. Good thing five year old had ‘aunty’ watching over her from behind but why didn’t she reach out to take the bag which five year old was now dragging along the walk way. Aunties making nieces carry their travelling bags is just wrong I thought.

Mummy wasn’t taking chances either; she was two paces ahead of five year old. With glistening skin that only an excess of female hormones could produce she wore a free flowing gown to hide the reason but I could tell that tummy was big, big enough to stop he from seeing her toes without a mirror. She looked to be in her late twenties and was heavy with child, her second I thought. In that case, grandmother’s practical lessons on family planning, as evidenced by the age difference between mummy and aunty, had paid off.

Who were they here for? Who was so important that these two generations of ladies had come to meet today?

As mummy’s pace quickened a smile began to form on her face then her arms spread out into a hug, I followed her gaze and it landed on daddy. A handsome young man in his late twenties; sharply dressed with a suitcase in hand. His shoes, I couldn’t help but love his shoes.

The puzzle was finally complete, or was it? Where had five year old and aunty disappeared to? Ah there she was, she had dragged her bag across the car park and was about to hop into a car. Her mother was helping her put the bag into the boot. She wasn’t with pregnant mummy after all.

And aunty? She had stopped along the walk to have a chat with one of the men wearing a reflective jacket. Only then did I notice the name tag hanging off her neck. She was an airport staff. She wasn’t with five year old after all.

And so, three happy lives were made into one just by fiction of my imagination and the coincidence of seeing them take a few strides in tandem along a walk way. Maybe that is my idea of a near perfect family but now it is gone, broken apart to form real and hopefully happy lives.

Maybe someday I’ll have such a happy lot and be able to create such images in the hearts and minds of many who see us. Maybe some will wish and work towards having same but for now I will keep wishing and working towards mine.

If that is ever possible.

Boys2Men; You See

I work with teenagers you see, and on this night I became afraid when I received an SMS from a teen who is so dear to me. So dear she is, and she knows it too, that she would dare to break my beauty sleep at almost midnight, first with a call and then an SMS.

“he’s done it again” she said, “he sh***ed my friend…I now get it clearly…”

We had been having this argument over the last few days, you see, about ‘how far was too far’ and that this particular fellow (name withheld) was obviously after her hymen and nothing more. Blinded by love, actually lust; she found it difficult to reason with me and so I was afraid for what might happen.

Now again I am afraid after receiving this SMS, afraid for a different reason however.

I am lying here in the darkness of my one bedroom apartment with my friend snoring away beside me and I can’t help but type out these thoughts unto my nokia ‘torchlight phone’. It seems like the only way to successfully drive these tears away because I really am afraid you see.

What does this sixteen year old ‘get’? Too many females out there already see men as the ‘devil’ and it scares me to think that she too might just be gaining the same idea. I want her to be chaste but not because she hates or fears men.

You see, I had always hated to teach my teens that males are simply sex hungry freaks of nature. At first I taught that only because I wanted to scare them away from males and so keep them in check but I always failed when they asked questions like “what about you uncle Yellow, are you also that way? Shouldn’t we be friends with you?"

Though I knew there were exceptions to this nasty tag handed to males, I wasn’t willing to grant these females a chance to even think that way, lest they fall into the wrong hands. I was afraid for them you see.

Then after a while I too began to believe it and then again I became afraid. Afraid for myself; were these females safe with me? For I too am male and if this premise was correct then they weren’t any safer with me than they were with other males I had warned them about.

Just then I discovered a vital truth; not all males are men, many are yet boys. Like children who they are, they are yet to put away ‘childish things’ (1 Corinthians 13:11). It is those boys who are the freaks of nature wanting sex before its time or wanting sex and nothing else.

Every male thinks of sex you see, I know I do, and would like to experience it. It is called a sex drive; actually every human has same, males and females alike. However, only the children (the boys and girls) are unable to wait.

A boy would do anything to get some cookies; he would promise heaven and earth to mummy, he would cry, sulk, whine, beg, threaten and even act violently. He would be on his best behavior if he knows that would impress mummy enough to give him the ‘cookie’. Usually, all this would last just long enough for him to get the ‘cookie’. The boys in the ‘sex world’ are no different.

These boys make it hard for the men to get along with the women, you see, because now the women have mounted their guard. I noticed something else though; the boys only have their way with other children- girls. These girls can't wait either, hence they are unable to spot a boy apart from man and so fall prey to the tantrums of the boys.

Why don’t we all just wait till we are grown up, mature and able to put away childish things?

I stand for sexual purity; No Sex Until Marriage (No-SUM) is my slogan. Join me, but please, entry is restricted to men and women only (sorry guys, I’ll refer to you as ‘ladies’ in subsequent posts iyeh. Bear with me this once, thanksJ), no boys or girls are allowed beyond the front gates.

#sigh# I’m no longer afraid, I know the truth to teach her just in case she got it wrong and the others too, gotta keep my kids safe you see. Like mama Dettol would ask, if I don’t take care of them, who will? #wink#.

I had better catch up on my beauty sleep; I hope the sleep train hasn’t gone too far down the tracks....

WhY????

Hi, my name is Yellow and this is my blog. I'm pretty new to this blogging thing and that is quite a shame seeing as everyone else is so into it and it has been around for a while but here i am all the same.

I follow a couple of blogs but never had the courage to start mine off until about an hour ago when I finally got the nudge I needed.
I had however been writing pieces for the blog over the last few years and these would make the bulk of my first few posts.

So why start a blog anyway and what do I hope to put 'out there' which isn't already 'out there'.
I seem to have a peculiar sometimes strange and awkward view of issues, secular and religious, and that view is all I hope to put up here for you my prospective readers to see. Hopefully there would be feedback from you and a chance to discuss some of these matters so as to know your thoughts and views.

I will be talking about stuff which range from everyday life, like events which occur while walking down the road or taking a cabby ride, to matters of conscience and religion. Issues which affect our daily existence and inter-personal interactions.
God help me to be funny as well and keep you willing/interested to come back each week to check out a new post. That is right, for a start I'll have one post up each week and see where things go from there.

Thank you and welcome to Yellow's blog. Say in a few weeks time I'll tell you how I got the name yellow and probably say a thing or two about who yellow is.
For now though, know that I am Nigerian, mid-twenties, weird and funny and a Christian who hopes to reach out to young people and make them have a slightly different outlook to life than we already do.

Yellow.