The truth is that we live in times of ominous present and uncertain future. There seems to be nothing tangible to hold onto. We are blitzed with bad news every now and then. News of wars and tumults, famines and catastrophes, diseases and death.
The world is arming itself at the fastest rate in history. Do we want to destroy ourselves? I mean the world is changing so swiftly that I sometimes wonder where we are racing to.
The shifting seasons
Life keeps on shifting; swinging like a pendulum, sometimes without warning. We never really have the time and opportunity to order our lives. We sometimes have that ecstatic experience when we see God in glory, glamour and splendour. It warms our hearts. It melts the snow. Sometimes it gets dull, cold, dark, husky and silent. We wonder if there is still any hope for us. We say to ourselves, ‘We are not out of the woods yet”. Robin Hood is better suited for the woods and not us. “Woods does not bring out our elements.” Really? Woods crafts a world-beater!
I don’t want to be a Robinson Crusoe; I want my way out!
Our dream-filled hearts quickly turn into a pawnshop of broken dreams. We sometimes hide it in ‘I am fine’, but occasionally wear our hearts on our sleeves. Fiendish problems befriend us fanatically, sticking like a leech.
For how long?
What will provide a Rosetta stone into our true selves? How long can we avoid facing our demons? It seems that fairy tales are written so that we don’t have to confront our greatest fears. It is so easy to wrap our lives in mystery, obfuscation, and denial.
Is your heart as silent as the cemetery? Are we nurturing a monster that will finally maul us? Is our zenith disappearing as fast as it comes? Are our lives labyrinths without a centre? Are our minds a dangerous neighbourhood to travel in?
Questions and questions. Never mind, we learn by asking questions, mostly by asking myself questions.
It will rain again.
We should cut the slack now. The rain will come again. Oh, I know the earth will be drenched again. The smell of the moist soil will fill your compound once more. The crickets will chirp in joy, and the termites will fly again. The rabbits and pigeons will raise their young ones again.
Yeah, it stopped raining a long time ago, and the weathermen predicted a devastating drought. However, hope is never lost even for a tree that is cut.
Start planning for a requiem mass for Mr Drought. For all is not lost save him. As long as you are still alive, you can see the redemption again. No one is beyond restoration. Work on your dreams, praise God even when you do not feel like. Speak to Him even when all you hear around is deafening silence.
We can always separate our emotions from the worship of God. God is trustworthy than our emotions. This is not incomprehensible to me.
We have all the fixings that we need for something unusually special to unfold. Your dreams should not die easily even when they face roadblocks the size of Malagasy Island.
Give me a megawatt smile for this. You cannot afford to be sitting duck anymore. You may be a commonly found household item, but inside you exist a powerful powder keg. Go for the gong.
Ask rain from the Lord in the season of the spring rain, from the Lord who makes the storm clouds, and he will give them showers of rain, to everyone the vegetation in the field.