A lesson I learnt from God without realising it at the time

I grew up in a Christian home which meant I attended church regularly with my family. In fact, we went to church on most Sundays. As I got older, I found myself going to church on my own. It became more than just the choice that was expected of me. It was something I actually wanted to do. Needless to say, I’ve heard many sermons over the years, too many to even count.

Despite the number of sermons I’ve listened to, there’s a book in the Bible I‘ve only ever heard preached on once. That book is the Song of Songs. If you’ve heard many sermons as I have I’m sure you can attest to this. If you’re not familiar with it, it contains poetic depictions of the love and longing between a man and a woman. Yet I still found myself wondering why it was never preached on in church but more about that sermon later.

I was about 14 or 15 years old when this book took on a different meaning for me. I went to boarding school and we had a schedule for everything including study time. It was evening study time and I seldom studied during evening study time in my O’ Levels. Instead, I used the time for anything else from reading novels to performing impromptu skits for the class with my best friend and partner in crime. At one point, I even started writing a novel.

To give you some insight into my frame of mind at this point, I was in a phase where I was questioning and seeking. I believed in God, in His existence. I prayed and read my Bible regularly. I believed the things they taught me in church and in Sunday School or Catechism to be exact. Yet I still felt like I was missing something. It was as though I was looking for answers to life and wasn’t quite finding them. 

The way I was taught to live my life as a good Christian seemed both desirable and unattainable. I couldn’t see how the teachings applied to my everyday life. It was as though I invested time in prayer, reading the Bible, and attending church but to what end?  In my eyes, my life remained the same to a certain extent. I still spoke the same and acted the same and thought in the same ways. Still, I found myself wanting to know more about this God who loved me to the point of dying for me.

I believed I loved Him in return though I felt like I didn’t quite understand Him or His ways. In my seeking, I started going to church more to find the answers to questions I couldn’t even articulate. It was compulsory to attend Sunday Mass in boarding school but I began to go to the optional mid-week mass as well. I would attend prayer meetings that were also optional. Whilst I enjoyed them, I still felt like something was amiss.

I also started to read my Bible more. I was reading Song of Songs on this particular evening. I’d read the book before and, like many, believed it to be about lovers. Song of Songs 3:1-4 (GNT) stood out for me and it goes:

Asleep on my bed, night after night
    I dreamed of the one I love;
    I was looking for him, but couldn't find him.
2 I went wandering through the city,
    through its streets and alleys.
I looked for the one I love.
    I looked, but couldn't find him.
3 The sentries patrolling the city saw me.
    I asked them, “Have you found my lover?”
4 As soon as I left them, I found him.
I held him and wouldn't let him go
   until I took him to my mother's house,
    to the room where I was born.

I was delighted when I read this. It put into words how I felt in my seeking and questioning. I felt like I was searching high and low but couldn’t find what I sought. Not only that but, in my mind, it held a promise at the end that I would find this God that I sought. I would find these answers that I felt I needed. We were asked to share our favourite Bible verses and what they meant to us in our religious education class not long after that. I was so excited to share this passage and why I loved it.

Curiously, it was met with some discomfort, amusement, and a fair share of blank faces. No appreciative nods. No murmurs of agreement. No one adding their two cents on to what I’d just shared. I thought to myself, “Am I completely off-the-mark on this one?” I was still delighted nonetheless. I remember referring back to it again and again when I felt frustrated or discouraged in my seeking and questioning about life and God. In fact, I clung to it.

Remember that sermon I mentioned earlier? The only one I’ve ever heard based on Song of Songs. Well, that happened about 14 years later. To my pleasant surprise, not only did the minister preach on Song of Songs 3:1-4 but he echoed exactly what I thought and felt 14 years earlier. He said that what that woman described can be an analogy for the longing that we have for God because we were made for relationship with Him. He placed that yearning in our hearts. It also depicts the diligence and persistence with which we should seek Jesus.

The childhood home the woman brought her lover can be used as an analogy for our hearts. We should bring Jesus there and hold onto Him and never let Him go when we find Him, the operative word being “when”. It was such validation to hear that sermon because it meant I wasn’t off-the-mark all those years ago after all. I wondered where I would have gotten such a perspective from that was so spot on. That sermon sounded like it was preached from notes from my experience 14 years earlier. I couldn’t help but conclude that it must have been God.

I believe He answered my questions and seeking even though I wasn’t aware of it at the time. I didn’t recognise His answer for what it was until I heard the sermon. I had been saved a couple of years when I heard it. In my mind, it meant God was speaking to me even when I felt like I didn’t truly know or understand Him. He was present and responded to my seeking even when I couldn’t articulate my questions let alone recognise His response. His response still makes me glad to this day and is as relevant now as it was then. He is the one I sought and found, the one whom my heart loves.

Love,

Ways to cope when life deals you a heavy blow

One of my worst fears has just been realised. Just over three weeks ago, my father passed away. I pause just after typing that. It still feels so surreal, as though it were a dream or someone else’s story, not mine. The reality of it is still sinking in despite the ache that I feel in my broken heart. I’ve carried the fear of losing a loved one for a while now because, for one, it is devastating especially when it’s someone that close to you. I come from a close-knit family and now my family feels incomplete. There is a gap that daddy left that no one else can ever fill. Secondly, I have been here before. Ten years ago, I lost a daughter named Ruthe. The day she died, a part of me died with her. I gradually learnt to live again but I have lived in fear of going through that experience again ever since.

I noticed that since then, I wanted to hold on to my loves and never let go. I became more diligent about collecting memories, taking photos every chance I got. I could not part ways with a loved one before I properly documented the experience. I also tried to make sure that I didn’t leave things unsaid or undone just in case I did not get another opportunity. I remember certain moments vividly because I was intentional about being present and then filing away the experience in my memory bank so I could relive them again and again. On a subconscious level, I knew this memory bank would become a treasure trove when the time inevitably came that I didn’t have my loves with me anymore. It’s only now as I write this that I recognise what it was that I was doing.

One such time of memory collecting was four months ago at a cousin’s wedding. A wedding song was sung that my father requested. I saw him walk to the DJ to make the request and he made sure that it was slotted into the programme. When it was sung, he seemed to delight in it so much. I was seated at a table behind him and I watched him, his side profile, as he looked at the lead singer and sang along. He clearly didn’t know most of the words but he sang along nonetheless. He had this expression of pure joy on his face and his joy brought me joy. Daddy sometimes exhibited curiosity and joy that was pure and almost child-like and I loved it. So I filed this memory away like so many others in anticipation of the day when my fear might be realised and I couldn’t watch him or his joy anymore.

Yet somehow, through this loss, I no longer experience that fear as I did before. It somehow seems to have lost its power over me. Perhaps it’s a classic case where the anticipation of something happening is far worse than the actual thing itself. Perhaps it’s an acceptance of the inevitability of death and loss that I did not have before. Perhaps it’s the peace of God that I am experiencing. Perhaps it’s all of these things or maybe it’s something else, a reason I am yet to grasp. All I know is that I seem to be coping better than I ever imagined I would. I am heartbroken and devastated yet I also feel peace and hope. I want to share some of the things I am finding helpful in dealing with this loss.

My Faith

I believe in Jesus Christ. I believe that the Bible is God’s Word. According to that Word, Jesus holds daddy’s spirit just like He holds my daughter’s spirit. He counted out all of their days on this earth and when their days were done, He called them home to Himself. I believe they sleep now but I have the expectant hope that when the time comes, they shall be woken to live out in eternity with God. I believe that I will be called home someday as well. I was put on earth for a purpose and when it’s fulfilled I will also rest until I am woken or resurrected to live out forever with God and my loves. This belief comforts and strengthens me.

When I first wake up and the realisation hits me all over again that daddy’s gone, or when a memory of him brings me to tears I cry. Yet I do not cry in vain or in despair because of the expectant hope I carry. I also believe in the power of prayer. When I pray, I feel God comforting me and even taking my pain away. I pray in the moments when I feel unsure of this hope I carry or feel overwhelmed with sorrow. I feel at peace in my heart when I seemingly have no reason to because I look to a higher power. He brings me hope and strength for each moment of each day. He sustains me such that I feel a lightness of being. 

Relying on My Loves

Something else I’m finding so helpful in dealing with loss is reaching out to my family and my friends. I lean on my mum, my siblings, and extended family now more than ever just as they lean on me. My friends are a lifeline I draw on again and again. I always say that when I count my blessings, my loves, the people I hold near and dear, are right at the top of the list. A phone call, a text message, or sometimes just knowing they are available has been something I rely on every day. When I need to give expression to my grief, whatever that looks like in the moment, they allow me to do that and are there for me. Sometimes I just want to have a regular conversation. Sometimes I don’t want to speak at all. They are available through it all. If you’re reading this my loves, thank you very much. I love you deeply.

Doing What I Love

Doing what I love and enjoy can be so cathartic. For me, this means enjoying the simple ordinary pleasures of everyday life. I call this “going back to basics”. I find it can be healing for me. Things that I enjoy but would ordinarily take for granted give me something to do in the moments when, in my grief, I don’t know what to do with myself. They are like food for my hurting and broken soul. I take pleasure in a hot beverage much like Sheldon Cooper would recommend. Coffee or tea usually does the trick. At times, I sip it as though it were the last drink I will ever have. It reminds me that I am still alive especially in the moments when I feel like I really don’t want to go on. 

I take a walk in the park and immerse myself in the experience. I take a refreshing hot shower and feel grateful that I have hot running water. This past weekend I went to the beach. It was painful because I experience memories of daddy pretty much everywhere I go. The beach was no different. I tell myself it’s an indication of how much I loved him and the good times we shared. It’s a testament to the relationship we had. I tell myself the hurt will subside but the memories will remain. Sometimes I watch an inspirational or funny video. Whatever feels good at that moment, no matter how mundane or ordinary gets me through the rough moments. In short, I give myself some extra TLC.

Holding onto Good Memories

When something terrible happens, it may be difficult to remember the good times or to find the good in the world. I find that in those moments, my soul yearns for the good much like my lungs might yearn for air in an oxygen-deprived environment. Thankfully, I have a rich memory bank to draw from. I was pleasantly surprised and grateful at the good memories that flooded my brain even moments after hearing of daddy’s passing. I felt the need to surround myself with photos and thoughts of him, the things he said, the things he did, the things he loved and enjoyed. Every day I remember the good times we shared, the good things he did, and taught me. I talk about it every chance I get. I allow myself to be blessed and enriched by it even if, right now, it’s mixed with sorrow. When the sorrow clears, only the good will remain.

Talking About It

Grieving is a very challenging and difficult process. It is painful, life-altering, and may rock you to your core. You will need help as you go through it. One of the things that help is talking about it. They say a problem shared is a problem halved. I don’t know about halving but speaking what’s on my mind and heart has been really helpful. I give myself permission to talk about where I’m at emotionally, psychologically, etcetera. I say to give myself permission because a lot of the times I want to bottle in it. I am an introvert. I am a private person. Plus, I come from an African culture where talking it out isn’t the norm. I am intentional about letting it all out when I talk to my family and friends or when I am in a space where I feel safe and encouraged to talk it out. 

Choosing to Go On

This is a tough one. I will not lie to you, my friends. How do you go on when your life shifts in such a profound and painful way? How do you pick up the pieces when your world and your heart feel shattered? In the first few days after daddy passed, same as when Ruthe did, I remember watching people around me and thinking to myself, “How can they carry on as if the world is still the same? They are blissfully unaware that someone who meant the world to me isn’t in this world anymore. Even those that are aware aren’t affected as I have been. The world needs to take a pause.” 

However, the world doesn’t pause. Time doesn’t stand still. Whilst that sucks, I also find that there is power and a quiet strength I get from choosing to go on. Some days, going on means just making it out of bed and taking a shower. Yesterday I made it out of bed only to get back into bed at midday, vowing to “go on” later on because I couldn’t at that moment. Other days it means I have a productive, ‘normal’ day, ticking stuff off my task list and feeling like I have things under control. Whatever it looks like on any given day, I choose to carry on.

Taking Things Moment by Moment

A good friend of mine likes to say, ”How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.” I’m not sure why we’re eating elephants but I like the analogy. The best way to get past a mammoth task is one small step at a time. Learning to live in my new reality is a daunting and painful task I can only do step by step. Sometimes a step is 5 seconds because I feel I only have the strength and will to make it past the next 5 seconds. At times, a step is an entire day. Over time, I know a step will get longer and longer. What I need the most now is to be patient with myself and not rush the process. 

Helping Others

I find that shifting my focus to others’ needs and how I can help them to be very healing for me and possibly for them as well. I feel less alone when I help someone else. I feel really good about myself. My own pain doesn’t go away but taking the time to help someone with their need takes my mind of mine. I also like the idea of using my experience and pain to bring about some good for someone else. That, in turn, also surrounds me with goodness. Of course, this not an exhaustive list but these are the main things that are helping me the most during this time. I hope you get some value out of reading this and perhaps using some of it.

Love,

A practical lesson from God that’s stayed with me

One of the things I love and appreciate about my heavenly Dad is what I call His “teacher heart”. He leads, guides, and teaches me with patience, grace and aptness that I can only describe as divine. He has taught me so many lessons over the years which I have carried with me and have drawn from so many times. This particular lesson – keep your eyes on the God you serve, not your circumstances – is an example of this. Whilst it wasn’t a concept that I was hearing for the first time, this teaching took on a deeper and more personal meaning for me in May of 2011.

For context, I was going through a difficult time at that time. In the year leading up to that morning, some of the major changes I’d gone through included starting my first “big girl” job, moving house, becoming a born-again Christian, losing my daughter the day she was born due to a genetic condition and seeing two close relationships end in a very unpleasant way. I was learning to lean on God through all these changes and challenges. Much to my delight, I was discovering that I could ask a question of Baba and He would provide a timely, fitting and appropriate response in unexpected ways.

Sometimes, such as on this particular morning, I wouldn’t even have to explicitly ask the question. I was on a taxi on the way to work and in the state of mind that I was in, I felt like I was watching life happen from within a bubble. When I am depressed or going through a difficult time I tend to be absent-minded and more forgetful than usual. I got off the taxi at my stop and left my work laptop behind without even realising it! I remember floating into my office building, making it past all the pleasantries, walking into my office, switching on the light and immediately feeling confused. 

Why was my desk so bare? Where was my laptop? Why did I feel like something was amiss? Then it dawned on me in a weird, slow-motion sort of way. I remember panicking and immediately rushing out of my office to retrace my steps whilst simultaneously praying. I was already imagining the worst and relaying all my thoughts to God as I went. What were the odds that I would find the laptop? When was my last backup? Could I recover all my data from backup? Would I be able to ensure the security of my data on the laptop? How quickly could I replace it if need be?

I imagined someone finding my laptop even as I went to search for it. How happy would that person be at their good fortune? What were the chances that they’d want to return it? I must say that my faith in humanity failed in that moment as I thought those thoughts. Then another thought, seemingly out of nowhere, occurred to me. Simply put, focus on God, not your problem. I immediately felt that it was God speaking to me, reassuring me. However, my mind soon returned to worrying about the problem at hand. Where would I even begin to start searching for my laptop? Then I remembered something.

I’d sat next to the taxi driver, which meant I’d helped him collect and count fare from the other passengers. Someone had paid with a busted, counterfeit R5 coin that the driver refused to take. No one owned up to it and so I reluctantly decided to just take it as part of my change. I’d thought that would be the least confrontational and Christian thing to do. Had it not been for that incident, I wouldn’t have remembered anything about the driver or the taxi I rode on. Now, I knew exactly what the driver looked like and details about the car like the seats having yellow stripes on them. That incident with the R5 coin which had annoyed me, in retrospect, now seemed like providence to me. 

After trying to catch up with the taxi and quickly realising that would be futile – there were different routes a taxi could take – I was told my best bet was to wait at the taxi station for the car to show up. That was the hub where he’d inevitably return to after each trip. I quickly rushed back to the station and waited for what seemed like an eternity. What happened next not only cemented the lesson I was learning – keep your eyes on your God, not your problem – it renewed my faith in humanity. It answered a question I hadn’t even realised I was asking. How am I going to get through all this?

The driver of the taxi had arrived back at the station and spotted me long before I spotted him. He managed to get my attention and beckoned me to the car. I noticed how he carefully took my laptop from where he’d kept it safe for me and handed it back to me with a smile like it was no big deal. It was a big deal for me. I thanked him profusely and made my way back to work armed with treasures: my recovered laptop, my renewed faith in humanity, gratitude, and a life lesson from Baba – focus on God, not your circumstances. I keep a busted up R5 coin to remind me lest I forget.

Love,