“It will come about at that time, that I will search Jerusalem with lamps, and I will punish the men who are stagnant in spirit, who say in their hearts, ‘The LORD will not do good or evil!'” (Zephaniah 1:12) (NASV)

These are difficult times. The church is striving to re-define itself. A friend told me about how he struggles to follow online services due to short attention span. I told him about how I often fall asleep during zoom prayer meetings too. With this volatile environment we have found ourselves as a result of COVID-19, it is easy to slide into spiritual stagnation. Stagnation: uninterested, indifferent, lazy, purposeless, sluggish, inactive, lifeless.

Perhaps the analogy of water stagnation may help us understand the meaning of spiritual stagnation. Water stagnation occurs when water stops flowing because of a blockage in the pipe or channel that usually enhances its flow. This is not a particularly hygienic thing because of mosquitoes or other infection-carrying flies. And if nothing is done after a while, the water starts to change colour and produce a foul smell. The only way to avoid water stagnation either in the kitchen or toilet sink or  any kind of drainage system is to clean up every clog and ensure a regular water flow. This is exactly what obtains in the spiritual realm. If we have no oil in our lamp, we cannot be on fire for God. If we do not exercise spiritual discipline, we cannot enjoy the fullness of God. The Hebrew word for stagnation translates as “shrinking”.  Hence,

To be spiritually stagnant is to shrink in terms of your spiritual capacity.

To be spiritually stagnant is to no longer find the things of the spirit very appealing

To be spiritually stagnant is to not be where you are supposed to be spiritually

To be spiritually stagnant is to lose appetite for fellowship with God and with the brethren

To be spiritually stagnant is to see church attendance as another mindless routine

To be spiritually stagnant is to have a dying (or dead) hunger for deep things of God

To be spiritually stagnant is to be comfortable in your spiritual complacency

To be spiritually stagnant is to experience a stunted growth in the secret place

To be spiritually stagnant is to be met with lethargy in your daily devotional life

Spiritual stagnation does not necessarily mean that you have backslidden or that you have become an apostate although you might be just on your way to becoming exactly that. Spiritual stagnation can potentially lead to spiritual barrenness; we know the lot of the spiritually barren, don’t we? (Luke 13:6-9).

If you still do not get it, then you need to ask yourself if the more you know God, the more you want to know him. Three ways to know if you are spiritually stagnant or not:

1. the last time you opened your Bible and felt ministered to by the words on its pages,
2. the last time you went on your knees in prayer and stood up feeling purged
3. and the last time you shared the word of God with others.

Do not be dismayed if this is your current reality. Instead, cry out to God knowing full well that He is the one who works in you both to will and to do his good pleasure (Philippians 2:13). Ask the Holy Spirit to stir you within because spiritual things sometimes need to be stirred up for them not to become moribund (2 Peter 1:15). Ask God to bring you to a state of renewed spiritual vitality and bring your mind to a constant flow of his Living Word.

You have not been called to be a stagnant pond. You are meant to be like a spring of water (Isaiah 58:11).

May you not be spiritually stagnant. May rivers of living water flow out of your belly (John 7:38)

                                            

Welcome to 2021. Thank you my amazing reader who remained with me despite my inconsistency. I hope and pray that this year shall be a better year in blogging. 2020 showed us flames, didn’t it? We didn’t see it coming, there was no forewarning at all. Due to Covid-19, many died, many lost their jobs while many are still on the hospital beds. Some of us haven’t even moved near a church building since April. And now it seems we have moved into a new year with Coivd-19 still on everybody’s lips. As the human beings that we are, we have found a way to adjust; we have found a way to continue our regular lives despite the numerous restraints. Many of us who still believe in new year resolutions have drawn out some for 2021. Even those who don’t do new year resolutions have made plans for the new year.

Despite the air of uncertainty still looming around us, some people have already resumed the race– the rat race for productivity and attainments. I am certainly one of those people. There’s just no time to retreat into idleness. There are just so many applications to make, emails to send, proposals to write and businesses to launch. However, recently, I felt the Lord whisper to me: it is not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of God that showeth mercy (Romans 9:16). This was something I didn’t learn quite well in 2020. Despite the tumultuous experiences of 2020, it didn’t sink into me that my efforts were not enough to take me to where I wanted to be. I had banked so much on my moral sweat and willpower. Now I am re-learning the unreliability of human efforts and surrendering to God’s prerogative of mercy. Jesus wanted us to understand this principle of mercy and effort so much that he repeated the words of prophet Hosea who “desired mercy and not sacrifice”(Hosea 6:6; Matt. 9:13). This is not to say that I am going to sit idly and unambitiously; rather, it is that I have a new disposition toward the idea of the exertion of labour. I am resolved to seek God’s mercy on a daily basis in 2021 because, really, we are at His mercy. For I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy and I will have compassion on whom I will have compassion (Romans 9:15). While this scripture might sound a bit absurd or totalitarian in the ears of some sceptics, it accentuates our human fragility disguised as self-sufficiency. It also reminds us of God’s sovereignty over us. And the thing about God’s sovereignty is that it is trustworthy and reliable. No matter how our minds try to reject the idea of God’s mercy, deep down our souls is a yearning for help from the Supreme One. The truth is that we cannot earn God’s mercy (because if we could, it would no longer be mercy) although we need to acknowledge our need of it. More importantly, mercy, according to Tony Evans, is given for the purpose of receiving blessings to advance God’s kingdom, not for individual consumption. Therefore, do not ask for a self-serving mercy from God; rather, ask for a mercy that will serve the kingdom of God.

So, here is my new year resolution: I desire mercy and not sacrifice.

We all know the story of the Good Samaritan. That is why writing about it can sometimes be daunting. But maybe you are like me who often feels too familiar with Bible stories so much that I miss the fresh insights that the Holy Spirit wants to offer. I am currently reading the Gospels (I have read them a couple of times) and I am realizing, again, that the word of God never gets stale; it is new every morning. Therefore, reading the story of the good Samaritan again, with the help of the Holy Spirit, I found something new, something different, which I hope I am able to articulate clearly in this blogpost.

My Study Bible guided me to re-imagine the story of the Good Samaritan through the lens of characterization. There are a couple of people in the story, beginning with Jesus the story teller himself and the religious lawyer unto whom the story is told. However, within the world of the story itself, we have the thieves, the priest, the Levite, the inn keeper, the Samaritan and the wounded man in desperate need of help. Before I delve fully into character analysis, let me provide a little bit of context. The road from Jerusalem to Jericho, in those days, used to be referred to as the “way of blood” because of lurking dangers. Apart from the rocky and jagged nature of the road, it was a popular hideout for armed robbers who were looking to prey on vulnerable sojourners. Who else could be an ideal prey if not this ordinary man navigating a dodgy path all by himself? I use the phrase “ordinary man” intentionally because the Bible does not provide any biographical information about him which, again, confirms his ordinariness. He could be any man. He is every man– everyman travelling  along the Jericho road of life.

The thieves attacked this man, they took everything away from him, they stripped him of his raiment (which implies that they left him naked), they beat him black and blue and left him there to die alone as they moved on in search of their next victim. The plot thickens when, “by chance”, a priest came along. Thank goodness. He is a priest after all. He definitely won’t watch the wounded man succumb to the cold hand of death. Perhaps the wounded man was still half-conscious and could recognize the priest. Perhaps he sighed in relief that, finally, a man of God was going to rescue him. Maybe he even gestured for help, with his last ebbing strength,  when it dawned on him that the priest was not looking in his direction. The priest did not flinch. In fact, he crossed to the other side of the road and passed by the wounded man. I wonder what his (the priest) thoughts were. Did he assume the man was already dead? Was he just trying to avoid trouble? Was he afraid for his own life? Did he think it was a trap? Maybe he was not really wounded? Maybe there were bandits in hiding, waiting to feast on him if he had stopped to help? In a bid not to demonize the priest, I am trying to imagine if I were in his shoes. I am trying to rationalize his decision and justify his action because that is what we always do whenever we don’t do what we are supposed to do and whenever we do what we are not supposed to do.  Really, it is not rocket science. It is a story of a man in desperate need of help and the man who, having the capacity to help, chose not to.

And then came a Levite. It is not inadvertent that Jesus mentions his identity. In fact, it is very important for the plot of the story. Levites are into the ministry of help. They assist during Temple services. They are the members of the choir, they are the ushers, the church gate keepers, the guardians, the temple officials and so on. Travelling from Jerusalem to Jericho meant that this Levite had probably just finished ministering in the Temple (which is located in Jerusalem) and is heading home. So, when he saw the dying man, his first instinct as a certified helper was to rush to his side. He looked at him in pity; he noticed his pulsating breath and then hesitated for a moment. “What is the right thing to  do?”, he asked himself. Of course, he knew the right thing to do. It was what he was born to do – to help. But no, he needed to be tactical. There was a lot at stake for him if he offered his help. What happens when God’s people withhold their help? What happens when God’s people are insensitive and nonchalant about showing mercy when it is  most needed? How often do we hide under legalities when things come to the crunch? How far is “too far” when it comes to lending a helping hand? At this point, the dying man must have lost hope in humanity. He must have accepted his fate– to die alone without help. He must have lost his voice. He must have muttered his last prayers to God. His vision must have become blurry and his eyes already half closed. Maybe his skin was already turning into a sallow yellow color. So when the Samaritan came along, he was too weak to have noticed. Why would he even care at this point? If a priest and a Levite could deny him help, who else could show him kindness and empathy?

 Strangely, he had the strength to cry for help when he still had hope in humanity. But now that his hope is lost, his strength is lost also. So when then Samaritan knelt by his side to help, he thought to tell him that there was no need because he would not make it to the next morning anyway. But he was too weak to utter a word. All he had left was a faint consciousness. When the Samaritan first set his eyes on him, the first sets of emotions he felt were a mix of dread and compassion but he chose to activate his compassionate side. Meanwhile, he probably, for  a minute, entertained the thought that the dying man might be a Jew. He probably thought it would be best to leave him to die, considering all the prejudices and injustices that the Jews did to the Samaritans. He probably remembered that one time– when he was young– on the playground when Jewish kids threw sticks and stones at him and called him a mixed blood with gentile ears. But he dusted off the conflicting thoughts and focused on what was at stake: a dying man in need of help. His compassion overturned his resentment. He knelt beside the dying man and held him up with his hand supporting his back. He gave him a reassuring smile as he started to bathe the wounds. He brought out the ointment in his bag and applied it to the man’s wounds. He bandaged the wounds after applying the ointment. The man’s breath became stabilized but he still could not talk. The Samaritan, despite being in a rush, decided that he would not leave the dying man because if he did, he would die eventually from lack food, water and shelter. He gently carried him on his horse and sat behind him so as to prevent him from falling. When they got to the nearest hotel, he helped him to get down from the horse and literally carried him into the hotel lobby. He booked a room for two and he spent the whole night nursing his wounds. When dawn crept in, he was incredibly pleased to see that the wounded man was stable and breathing properly. He didn’t bother to wake him. Instead, he went to the hotel reception and paid for a few more days for the wounded man. He instructed the hoteliers to nurse the man back to health and promised to pay any extra expenses that may come as a result. He stepped out of the hotel, climbed on his horse and continued his journey home.

                                                                  •••••••••••••••••••••••

Back to my point about the characters in the story of the Good Samaritan. While God is the best judge of human intentions, it won’t be hyperbolic to say that the reason why the priest and the Levite didn’t help is not only because of their lack of compassion but also because they simply did not see a human being, they saw a scum of the earth. Of what gain is it to exert energy on catering for the despicable? Should it be your cup of tea that someone who chose to live a careless life got what they deserved?  I wonder if the Priest and the Levite felt pangs of guilt when they got home. I wonder if they shared the story with their families on the dinner table.

When you see people in need and you don’t help them, you are simply saying that their lives do not matter. And who are you to say that when all life is precious in God’s eyes? The thieves saw the man as someone to use and exploit, the priest saw him as a problem to avoid while the Levite saw him as an object of curiosity. Only the Samaritan saw a human being worthy of love  and care. Only the Samaritan saw him through God’s eyes. If we see everyone (regardless of how different from us they are) through God’s eyes, I believe we would be able to show more compassion and exude more empathy. God help me to see others through your eyes. The basic question from this story is: who is your neighbor? Your neighbor is not always someone that looks like you or shares your beliefs and politics. Your neighbor could be that person who is completely different from you and it behooves you to treat him as a full human being. It is easier to help those we know than to help strangers but sometimes it is more rewarding to help strangers because by helping them, we “entertain angels unawares “(Hebrew 13:2). Final note: do not rationalize why you shouldn’t help. Do not justify why you should help. Just help. And yes, HELP DOES COST A THING. It can cost you  your time, energy, money and comfort just like the Good Samaritan.

“Home, home, can I forget thee? ….Dearest and happiest home”. These are the lines of the song that my music teacher used to teach me chords on the piano when I was very young. Although I stopped attending piano tutorials not very long after that particular lesson, the lines of that song followed me into my adult life. It made me realise how much home has been a fascination for me even as a very young boy. Or, better put, I have been searching for home all my life. I am grateful to God that I have never been homeless even though I have always felt unhomed. I remember, as an undergraduate, how I used to stay back in school during holidays not because my family did not want me but because of my existential yearning and my homesickness for a place I have never been, a place I so desperately wanted to call home. I moved to another country as an adult but I still could not dust away this feeling of ­unhomeliness–not homelessness. I found an answer to this age-long question after hearing Gloria Gaither say that “we’ll never feel at home until we get home”. It dawned on me that home is a spiritual thing. “For this world is not our permanent home; we are looking forward to a home yet to come”(Hebrews 13:14).

I don’t think I am the only one who has been troubled by this feeling. As a matter of fact, there are thousands of Christian songs centred on this unquenchable longing for home (This world is not my home, I’ll meet you the morning, the great homecoming, going home and many more). This is why I get very surprised when Christians nowadays refrain from speaking about that heavenly home. I don’t know if it is because we are afraid of our mortality here on earth or that we have simply forgotten that we are pilgrims on earth. Abraham was confidently looking forward to a city with eternal foundations, a city designed and built by God (Hebrews 11:10). I have come to realise that dreaming and speaking about our heavenly home has a way of shaping our perspective. It can help us live with eternity in view. It constantly reminds us that there is a place better than this fallen world. A place where there is no sorrow, death or sickness. A place where we won’t worry about money or shelter. A place where there is no darkness but an everlasting light. Aspiring for this heavenly place does not mean that we carelessly crave death even though we are persuaded that, for a child of God, to die is gain (Philippians 1:21).

Japan is said to have the most powerful passport in the year 2020 but nothing compares to having a heavenly passport (salvation). “But our citizenship is in heaven, and we eagerly wait for a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ”(Philippians 3:20). I have been privileged to visit different cities of the world but nothing compares to the city of God which John caught a glimpse of in Revelations 21. The captivating High Gothic architecture of Cologne, the cultural fascinations of Vienna and the beautiful skyscrapers and beaches of Sidney cannot even be compared to this place of eternal beauty. The New Jerusalem has its streets laden with gold; it has the tree of life bearing twelve fruits. There is no darkness in that city neither are there artificial lights because the Son of God is the light that brightens it. No wonder Jesus spoke about this home with much gusto (John 14:2,3).

Do you often find it the difficult to dust away the feeling that ­– despite all the accomplishment and the happiness that the world offers– there’s got to be more? Do you often spot threads of vanity in your worldly pursuit of happiness? If so, you need start storing up your treasure in heaven because where you heart is, there your treasure is (Matthew 6:21).  Home is (should be) where the heart is. May God put the yearnings for heaven in our hearts. May the cares of the world not shift our focus away from home. May the vicissitudes of life not make us forget that we are pilgrims here on earth. May we always look forward to that great homecoming by the crystal river, where there is no sense of finitude but everlasting peace and joy. May we always look for that heavenly city where there is no feeling of alienation or tenuous belongings. May we yearn for that home of the soul , a land where we never grow old. May we always dream of our home beyond the blue sky, a home where we never roam from the throne.

…the light of the body is the eye: If therefore the eye be single, the whole body shall be full of light(Matt 6:22)

The word “gaze” is very important in the domains of film, photography and literature. It carries heavy connotations in psychoanalysis, philosophy and sociology. But, put simply, “gaze” is the act of seeing; it is how you perceive the world, yourself and others. Another word for “gaze” would be “perspective” and, as you may know, perspective is everything. In critical theory, the “gaze” is considered particularly sensitive because it often defines the power relations between groups. People often speak of “the white gaze”, “the imperial gaze”, “the male gaze”. These aforementioned “gazes” usually carry negative connotations in that they perpetuate structures of oppression(and hegemony) against certain groups of people. In other words, our secularized modern world is structured by sets of gazes that pigeonhole us –as individuals and collectives– into certain identities labels. But what if we didn’t see the world through these problematic gazes? What if we saw the world through the gaze of God? What does the gaze of God look like?

A very important lesson about “gazes” and “perspectives” is that our perception of reality often carries more weight than reality itself. A poor man may perceive himself as rich while a rich man may see himself as poor. Someone may consider himself a failure while others around him see him as a success and vice versa. This perception then defines each individual’s pursuit of happiness, satisfaction and overall disposition to life. But the more important question is: how does God see you and your situation? It goes without saying that God’s gaze is the Real gaze and it is not impossible for us to see everything through it. In fact, everything transforms radically when we begin to see life through the eye of God. This is why Paul prays that the “eye of our understanding” be enlightened (Ephesians 1:18). It is also why I like that song that states: “God I look to you. Give me vision to see things like you do”. It is the reason why I love the nursery rhyme: “God be in my eye and in my seeing/God be in my head and in my understanding/ God be in my heart and in my thinking”…

God’s gaze is not oppressive, it is a gaze of grace. When I look at myself through God’s gaze, I realize how much I am loved, blessed, forgiven, redeemed and wonderfully made. Therefore, I have no identity crisis or a distortive perception of myself because my identity is solidly shaped by how God sees me and what He says of me. When I look at my surroundings through God’s gaze, I see the genius of God in the beauty of nature. The heavens tell of His glory and the firmament declares the wonder of His work. The oceans roar his greatness, the mountain bow in reverence to him. In fact, the whole creation is His oeuvre, his masterpiece. Nature becomes more meaningful to me because I see it through God’s gaze. Hence, I see the world in awe and wonder when I see through God’s gaze.

By seeing others through God’s gaze, I become more compassionate and loving. I forgive easily. I become more passionate about evangelism because I do not want anyone to perish but that we all have eternal life (John 3:16). When I see life through God’s gaze, I begin to live with eternity in view; I realize that my life here on earth is but a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away (James 4:14). The world’s gaze makes us lust after power, position, prestige and possessions; it brands competition as a virtuous thing. But God’s gaze illustrates humility, kindness, gentleness and other fruits of the spirit (Galatians 5:22,23). When I see my situation  through God’s grace, I realize that all things work together for my good and am assured that the thoughts of God towards me are thoughts of good and not of evil (Jeremiah 29:11).

To see through God’s gaze is to see through the lens of His words. It is to turn our eyes upon Jesus as the things of the world grow strangely dim. It is to tune our ears to what God says per minute. It is to have God’s perspective on life and that is where true wisdom lies.

In my relatively long walk with Christ, I have finally come to terms with the fact that there are good days and bad days. On the good days, I wake up with much spiritual energy, ready to conquer the world for Christ. On the bad days (which, I have figured, aren’t actually bad), I cry desperately to feel God’s presence but all I feel is numbness. On those bad days, I have come to realize that my walk with God is not necessarily tied to how or what i feel. I have learnt that it is in those moments when I can’t feel or hear God that I need to proclaim His words over my life more. It is on those days when God feels most distant that He is actually closest to us. Therefore, even when we can’t catch a glimpse of Him, God is close to our broken heart and crushed spirit (Psalm 34:18).

However, if I would be honest with myself, the kind of distance (of God) that I am trying so hard to describe here is the one that is, most of the time, a result of my own doing. I am referring to the kind of distance that the Psalmist describes in Psalm 66:18 (If I regard iniquity in my heart, the Lord will not hear me). I am speaking of those moments when I willfully disobey God’s word – when I relish the momentary pleasure of sin.  In those moments, I am still conscious of my need for God and I usually feel remorseful after the deed is done. I ask for forgiveness and, by faith, receive it. But the story does not always end there for me. The challenge begins when I try to slide back into my devotional life with God. Of course, God has forgiven me and I have no feeling of guilt or condemnation anymore, but a feeling of loss remains. I feel like the momentum to pursue God has radically dwindled. I then begin to strive for the return of the hunger and thirst for Him. I become intentional in wanting to enjoy God in full force the way I used to.

What I am trying to drive at is: why yield to temptation to sin when you know that it will cost you so much to get back on your feet? Hence, whenever I am tempted to sin, I imagine the words of the Psalmists that states: “better is one day in your court than a thousand elsewhere”. That is, in my understanding, better is one day in the presence of God than a thousand in sin. We know that God hates sin and by willfully sinning, we are simply chasing away His abiding presence from our lives. Also, dwelling on the Psalmist’s words, I have realized that a day away from God does also feel like a thousand days away from Him. In my experience, whenever I turn my gaze away from Jesus, even if for a moment, it feels like I have been lost for ages. But thank God for His amazing grace and for always being ready to receive us in open arms whenever we wander away from Him. My point is, willfully veering into sin is not worth it but whenever we do, we should go boldly to the throne of grace and receive mercy.

Selah

Don’t Worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done (Philippians 4:6)

As I write this, I am worried about how to write about worry. But I am reminded of the scripture I have been meditating upon (Philippians 4:6- let’s just call it my scriptural antidepressant) and I whisper prayers to God to help and to let the write-up free someone from the prison called worry. I am a recovering pathological worrier. Whenever worry gets a hold on me, people around me think I have OCD. I remember times when worry gripped me and led me into dark, hollowed places. It paralyzed me and rendered me useless to myself, God and my loved ones. The spirit of worry buried me in the sea of unproductivity and regression; it turned me to a slave of fear. But, recently, in one of my moments of pathological worry, which is usually accompanied with pulsating headaches and throbbing heart beats, I remembered a song we used to sing in Sunday School:

Why worry when you can pray

Trust Jesus and he will lead your way

Don’t be a doubting Thomas but trust upon his promise

Why worry when you can pray

That was my Eureka moment. That was when I realized that my train of thoughts had been viciously attacked by the Trojan Horse of worry to the breaking point of prayerlessness. When I finally took the bold step of trying to pray, my mind went numb, my tongue tied, and my mouth heavy. “This cannot be my end”, I muttered, weakly, to myself.

Looking back on that particular episode, I realized God must have been watching. Jesus must have been praying for me. The Holy Spirit must have been making intercession for me with deep groaning that cannot be uttered. I am saying this because my story didn’t end in gloom and doom (and I’m grateful for that). Rather, Philippians 4:6 dropped on my mind and jolted me back to life. “Why not start with thanksgiving. Thank him for what he has done and even what he hasn’t”. I listened to the voice of the spirit and began to thank God and, there and then, I realized how ungrateful I had become. How I had focused more on the things I didn’t have to the extent that I could not enjoy the things I had.

I begged for forgiveness because, yes, worry is a sin– it is one of the common sins of the saints.

Worry is a spirit that is always up to no good. It sinks you in the sea of depression and makes you think you are the world’s best loser. It blindfolds you; it blinds your eyes to beauty and thankfulness. It makes you see; it makes you see thorns and shadows. It is an illusion; it is an illusion that grows into a cancerous reality. It feasts on your mind and rules over your thoughts until all you see is a cul-de-sac. Many stories of suicide began with small lorries of worries. Worry – the younger sibling of depression.

My worries weren’t unfounded. They were founded in the flesh and in worldliness, the kind that the Lord commands us to love not. I worried about real life things. I worried about my finances and future. Finances: what to eat, what to wear, where to stay(shelter). Future: what will tomorrow bring? These are things that would be considered “normal” worries by the world’s constitution (but unacceptable by the Kingdom principle). I had forgotten what Jesus said about the sparrows in the air and lilies in the field. I had forgotten how he instructed that I should take no thought on what to eat, drink or wear because my heavenly father knows that I am in need of those things.  I had forgotten Jesus’ injunction about taking no thought for tomorrow because tomorrow shall take thought for itself (Matthew 6:25-33). I had misplaced my priority as worries took first place– above the Kingdom of God and His righteousness– in my heart.

Don’t Worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done (Philippians 4:6)

Honestly, as a recovering pathologically worrier, it seems impossible not to worry about next month’s rent or career prospects. We do not always have control over these circumstances. But God does. Always.  This is why I actively seek to turn my worries into prayer. In fact, I like how my study Bible puts it: Do you want to worry less? Then pray more! Whenever you start to worry, stop and pray. It works.

For many of us millennials, we medicate worry by seeking refuge in the escapist world of social media. Unbeknownst to us that, by doing so, we compound our sorrows (in fact, several studies have established the link between depression and social media use).  When we worry, we are simply telling God that he is incapable of helping us, that we do not trust him. In consequence, we chase away the peace of God that passes all understanding from our life. We run from pillar to post and stop depending on God for our daily bread (Matthew 6:11).

With that said, I have also learnt that being proactive may not translate as worrying. We should not entertain the tendency to become superfluously laid-back because we’ve been told not to worry about the future. Jesus didn’t tell us not to plan for tomorrow (he himself is a master-planer), he told us not to worry about tomorrow.

Let me leave you (and myself) with this quote: “planning for tomorrow is time well spent; worrying about tomorrow is time wasted. Sometimes it’s difficult to tell the difference. Careful planning is thinking ahead about goals, steps and schedules, and trusting in God’s guidance. When done well, planning can alleviate worry. The worrier, by contrast, is consumed by fear and finds it difficult to trust God. The worrier lets his plans interfere with his relationship with God”.

            

 And the Lord said unto Moses, I will do this thing also that thou hast spoken: for thou hast found grace in my sight, and I know thee by name (Exodus 33:17).

But now thus saith the Lord that created thee, o Jacob, and he that formed thee, O Israel, Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name: thou art mine (Isaiah 43:1)

When my pastor read Isaiah 43:1 in church this week, it felt like my first time of hearing that scripture ­–  except that I had read it several times before, I just didn’t give it adequate thoughts. Sometimes we get so familiar with the Bible that we fail to ponder on its words as much as we should. The last line of that scripture has stayed with me since it was read by my pastor.

Of course, I know God knows my name and He calls me by my name but what does that really mean?

 I didn’t know what it means until recently when I went through a huge emotional and physical distress. I was at my lowest ebb, there was no hope in sight. It felt like the whole universe conspired against me. I struggled to pray or read my Bible. I struggled to attend church services. I began a fast with the hope to gain some spiritual weight and it was during the fast that my pastor read that scripture which flew straight, like an arrow of fire, into my bones. It was all I needed to hear.

 God does not only know my name, he calls me by my name.

In my prolonged meditation on this revelational knowledge that radically transformed my perspective about what I was going through, I realized that many things happen when God knows and calls us by our names. First, it is a sign of recognition. It shows that God thinks about us. He is concerned about us. We are not forgotten. He knows what we are going through. He is touched by the feelings of our infirmities (Hebrews 4:15). In my time of distress, knowing that God knows my name gave me a calm assurance that I was not alone. It was a profound spiritual understanding that settled in my spirit and reshaped the way I see (and carry) myself and the way I handle life’s situations.

God calls his children by their names. He is not the kind of father that forgets his children(‘s names). From Moses (Exodus 33:17) to David (Psalm 91:14) to Isaiah(43:1) to Samuel(I Samuel 3:4), God calls his people by their names. God knows your name in ways that even your earthly parents don’t.

When someone who is under no obligation decides to know or remember your name, it is because they have a vested interest in you. In view of this, Exodus 33:17 made me realise that finding grace in God’s sight goes hand in hand with Him knowing us and calling us by our names. In fact, in the Hebrew culture, to call someone’s name is to seek their presence. Therefore, God knows my name because He, in his abundant mercy, seeks my presence and fellowship (Luke 19:10, 15:4-7).

That God knows my name is a big deal.

He knows my name because my name is in the book of life.

He knows my name because I am His own.

He knows my name because He walks with me.

He knows my name because He is my loving father and friend.

I have walked safely through difficult times because He knows my name.

Song reference: Tasha Cobbs’ You Know My Name (ft. Jimi Cravity) and  Francesca Battistelli’s He Knows My Name

You leave home with the hope to make a better home elsewhere but, sooner or later, it dawns on you that we never feel at home in this world.

I was very happy for my friend when he told me about his successful application for a permanent residency in Canada. Let me not deceive myself, things are– generally– much better in the Global North. I told my friend that I wished I was him. I wished I was the one leaving my everyday stress and struggle for the sunless and comfort-filled paradise of the world. My friend looked at me and smiled. He told me, persuasively and optimistically, that I could also put in an application and that he would assist me each step of the way. It sounded too good to be true that I could gain residency in Canada by simply applying from the comfort of my room. It was actually true and I completely bought into that idea of being a PR in Canada. How did I not think of it all this time? How did I not consider it all those time I was running from pillar to post, trying to find the grand narrative of my life? I guess this is what people mean when they say God’s time is the best because it just felt like the right thing to do now. If truly the thoughts of God for me are thoughts of peace, then this must be that expected end.

A few days later, while browsing through my Facebook page, I stumbled on a post by one of my friends who now lives in Spain. In the post, he seemed to be complaining about the spiritual atmosphere of his host country. He concluded his post by advising people who are planning on migrating to be sure that they leave with a purpose. I really cannot tell what my Facebook friend meant by “purpose” but his post reminded me of my planless plan to move to Canada. I had not really asked myself what I was going to do in Canada, I had not asked if the place would be favourable to my ministry and if God had really said anything on the matter.

As much as i am a firm believer in having the good things of life, I am a firm believer in living a purposeful life too (1Peter 2:9, Acts 13:36). I believe that, as a child of God, my steps are (and should be) ordered by God (Psalm 37:23). I also believe that geographical location works hand in hand with the un/accomplishment of destiny. Therefore, If God is the one who determines my destiny (Jeremiah 1:5, Ecclesiastes 6:10), then I must allow him to determine if I should migrate or not. We live in a time when people move at least three times before they clock 50. Hence, if it has become normal for people to relocate because of education, job, ministry or economic prospects, it must become normal that Christians have an eternal perspective when it comes to migration.

I have been studying about David and I am not too surprised that the Bible refers to him as a man after God’s heart. He always inquires of God before making any decision but, in my case, I only thought about God after I had made my decision. It should not be “God, help me to relocate to Canada”, it should be “God, do you want me to relocate to Canada”.

In Genesis 26, we are told that there was a grievous famine in the land and common sense demanded that Isaac relocated to Egypt but God instructed him to tarry in the land. In the 12^th verse of the same chapter we are told that Isaac sowed in the land and reaped hundred folds. Oftentimes, I forget that God makes a way in the wilderness and streams in the desert (Isaiah 43:19). I forget that even if I find my current location full of struggles and uncertainties, God is able to turn things around for me while I remain in the “land”. In Genesis 13, we are told that Lot pitched his dwelling in Sodom because the land was well-watered, prosperous and beautiful. We all know the end of Sodom and Gomorrah and the narrow escape of Lot. I guess my point is: do not choose to live or work in “Sodom” when you are not concretely led by God.

Do not get me wrong, migration is part of what defines our life as humans. Imagine what the world would look like if people were not always on the move. I am not a migration pessimist, neither is God. In fact, if today I am convinced by the Holy Spirit to migrate, I will gladly pack my bags. After all, Abraham prospered in the land of the Philistine (Genesis 21:34) and Joseph prospered in Egypt. Ruth also moved from Moab to Bethlehem to become one of the materfamilias of the lineage of grace. I guess my point is that whenever we choose to leave from one country or city to another, it should not be out of pressure or a fashionable frenzy; it should be a purposeful leaving. We should be sure that God is in full support of our leaving and that His presence moves and abides with us. We remember how Moses insisted on not moving if the presence of God did follow him (Genesis 33:15).

With the presence also comes purpose.

Many a time, we do not have a very clear picture of what the purpose our leaving will serve but it is very crucial that we leave with a sense of purpose. God told Jacob in Genesis 46:3 that He would not only go down with him to Egypt, He would also make him a great nation – that’s the promise of presence and purpose that I am talking about. For this reason, I have come to the conclusion that if I will ever leave for Canada, I will leave on purpose which, I hope, will count as living on purpose – a purpose driven life.

PS: I understand that the subject of migration has many murky terrains. That is why I began and ended with my own experience. Also, migration in this context does not necessarily apply to involuntary migrants such as war refugees, asylum seekers, climate refugees among others.