Love Over Laws

STORY TIME!!!

 

‘Oh, hallelujah! Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!” the lady shouted, hopping about in extreme ecstasy.

We were all witnesses of it, and although we weren’t jumping about like her, we were all just about as excited as she was, considering all she had been through since we had known her.

At the time I was born, this lady who was now jumping about was bent over in this really weird position. Growing up, I always thought she was messing about, but after a while, I noticed it was pretty serious; she never stood up straight. Always bent over in a really uncomfortable position. My parents had no idea what was wrong with her. The only real piece of information they ever gave me was that it was sudden. They were just in the market one afternoon, chatting heartily when instantly she just cricked over, and that was it.

So I and my brother Evi grew up seeing this woman in a pathetic state. Always needing someone to help her, always in obvious agony. Of course, we helped her every now and then, but it was always quite a disheartening feeling to see her in that state, year after year. If only someone could help her. Because everybody else who could possibly help was of no help at all.

Then that man came into town. That man who came to preach and teach the word of God with some serious level of authority. I still remember the first time I heard him. Wow! I was taken aback. He was something else!

His name was Jesus.

So that day was another Sabbath, and as usual, the whole family was on their way to the synagogue. Our dear friend was with us as well. Something I really admired about her was her dedication to fellowship. Even though this condition had left her in an awful state to the eye, she never failed to come to the synagogue.

So this great teacher named Jesus was at the synagogue, and he was teaching. We listened to him as spoke about the commandments of God in a way we had never really heard before. Simply awesome!

Then as we listened, he stopped for a moment. He was looking at someone. I followed his gaze and realized it was in the direction of our lady friend. Everybody turned to what he was looking at. The lady seemed quite uncomfortable.

But Jesus gently beckoned to her and said in a clam but firm and audible voice, “Come.”

Slowly, with the help of one of the people living with her, she came to the front of the synagogue where Jesus was preaching.

He looked at her for a moment, then said, “Woman! You are loosed from your infirmity!”

Immediately after that, he placed his hands upon her low shoulders, kept them on for about five seconds, then let go.

What followed left us all stunned.

She stood up straight! For the first time in my life, I saw this lady standing like a normal human being. I couldn’t believe it! Such an awesome miracle!

As she jumped about in sheer delight, overjoyed at the reality that she had been healed, we were happy too, lifting our hands and praising the Lord. Little did we know that someone wasn’t happy with what was going on.

The synagogue ruler.

He was really strict and unrelenting when it came to keeping the rules intact. And of course, it was a Sabbath day; we weren’t supposed to do any sort of work. So with what was going on, he definitely wouldn’t be pleased.

He rushed forward and once in front of everyone, he raised his hands and in a harsh voice announced, “Listen, people! This is the Sabbath day. we’re supposed to keep it holy. That means no work of any sort. Including healing. If you really need to be healed of some sickness, there are six days you can come and get healed. But not on the Sabbath day! The law is the law, and it should be kept as such!”

That certainly dampened the mood. Of course! We were supposed to obey the law.

But then Jesus looked at the official. And trust me, he looked very annoyed!

“Tell me, if your lamb needs water on the Sabbath day, don’t you untie it from its stall and lead it to where it can drink?” he asked calmly.

The synagogue official raised his hand to argue, but stopped halfway. A nice question. Clearly he couldn’t dispute that.

Jesus shook his head, looked straight at him and said really harshly, “You hypocrite! You care for your animals and don’t forget to do what’s necessary for them. how much more this woman, who is a daughter of Abraham, and has been bound by the evil one all these years? Shouldn’t she be relieved of all her pain and grief on a Sabbath day? shame on you!”

As the ruler stood there, clearly rendered speechless by this harsh rebuke from Jesus, he hung his head in shame.

And we, we rejoiced and praised the Lord.

Because this man Jesus was showing us something about the heart of the Father. A God who loved us. A God who loved His people.

 

 

Isn’t It Extreme?

Hey y’all! (Black American lady’s voice. lol, I love the way they say it)

So like I said, I’ve been really busy at present, and it’s not reducing any time soon, but I just want to share one of my few written works that won’t make it unto a stage. I trust you’ll like this one!!

 

You’re overdoing it! You’re being too extreme! You’re taking this Jesus thing too serious! You’re not the only Christian in the world, take it easy, man, stop acting delirious!

 

That’s what they say, don’t they? When the passion for the Holy One of Israel turns you upside down,

They think you’re just being fanatical over something simple, and you need to pipe down.

 

But, think about this for a moment…

If this God that we speak of is great, awesome, majestic and all the heavy words that could ever be spoken,

Then isn’t it ridiculous that He lowered Himself to human status and gave up His life for a people unlike Him, imperfect and broken?

 

They might say that we’re overreacting, and that we’re going over the edge,

But tell me, what’s more insane than knowing the Eternal Immortal One for 3 days lay among the dead?

What else is more inexplicable than knowing that the Lion of the tribe of Judah,

For the sake of humanity became a Lamb whose execution was terribly brutal?

What else could be more astounding that the One in whose presence there is fullness of joy,

Became a Man of Sorrows, acquainted with grief, smitten by God, and his body destroyed?

The Commander of the Undefeated Army of God taken out like a whack player that needs to be benched

The All-Consuming Fire for 3 days had His perpetually fiery blaze quenched

Keith Green said, ‘Oh Lord, You’re Beautiful’, because He is the Perfection of Beauty,

But as He trudged down the Via Dolorosa, there was no comeliness in Him, that song would have been the soundtrack for Jewish foolery.

Cruelly, they mocked Him and made Him a laughingstock as He carried the despicable cross,

What a shock to know that the Great I AM was later on spoken of and the sentence started with, ‘He was!’

The very Hands that hold the universe in place, from spinning galaxies to crawling snails,

For our sakes were slammed against a horizontal wooden beam and pierced through with two thick nine-inch nails,

The Head that is crowned with indescribable and uncontainable Majesty,

Was pierced with an ugly pile of thorns, tell me, isn’t that a travesty?

The One Who places in humanity the breath in their respiratory system,

Laid in a tomb, devoid of any oxygen in His airports, listen!

 

Because of the love He has for you and I…

The Perfect was made imperfect,

The Master became a servant,

Matchless Infinite Worth was made worthless,

Falsely accused, but His lips stayed wordless,

Hung up on a tree, bruised, broken and hurting,

Put up on display like the major act at a circus,

The Father turned His back on Him, breaking the Eternal Trinitarian circuit,

And he cried out, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ the greatest of all curses!

Because there’s nothing worse than being separated from God, that is for certain.

But you know what His work did?

It immediately tore the curtain,

Ensured our salvation was purchased,

So we wouldn’t have the face the furnace,

We are now the real definition of what the church is,

Redeemed, cleansed by the Blood and finally made free to worship

The King of Kings, Elohim, who deserves to be worshipped,

All because of that perfect Sacrifice by the God-Man Jesus Christ

Who is my Maker, my Saviour, my Refuge and my Portion,

My vindication, validation, mediation, sanctification, He is awesome!

My Keeper, my Feeder, My Leader, my Shepherd and my Teacher,

He’s my Wisdom, my Redemption, my Refiner and my Healer,

Praise the Lord, somebody!!

They can say we’re over the top, we’re doing too much and that we’re being just too extreme,

But believe me, there’s nothing more extreme than the fact that God became man, lived among us and died a wretched death to conquer sin and hell… for you and for me.

 

 

Hey Ya!!

I’ve briefly disappeared off the blogosphere. Trust me, the life of a worker/law student isn’t one that affords much rest. I’ve been so busy that I barely even spend time at home. It’s a Sunday to Sunday thing for me. *sigh*

All is well, though. God is still good, and is still faithful. Sweet Melodies 94.3FM is now my main station – I listen to it all the time (OK, actually, it’s always been like that, but whatever!) I’ll get back to my website as soon as I can.

But in the meantime, about my spoken word thingy, you’ve never seen me with my friends, right? Well, that’s changing in the next couple o’ seconds. I proudly present to you Throneroom Perspective with a poem entitled ‘Kill The Double You’. Do take the time to watch it and subscribe to our Youtube page. Things are gonna get really interesting as time goes on. You’re gonna be seeing a lot from us soon!!

 

Pushed Out Of The Way

Now, even though I do spoken word, there’s this experience I had whilst doing my thing today that I’ve never had before, and I just felt that I’d write about it.

Now, before today, I hadn’t done anything spoken word-related for two and a half months, so throughout the week, I was extremely nervous. Not that I was facing an unknown congregation, but just doing my thing and goofing up.

Such an irritating fear. But one thing’s for sure: it reminded me of my need for the Mighty One to take control. After all, I wasn’t doing it to be dope or gain applause for myself, but to be a mouthpiece of God to that soul in the building that felt less than loved, to be a voice of assurance that God has accepted that person in the Beloved.

So throughout the rest of last evening to this morning, I kept praying for the Spirit to take over when I ministered, that I’d be set aside and the congregation would see Him instead.

So this morning, I defied those fears (and a threat of ‘running stomach’) and made it to church, ready to do my thing. So as I mounted that stage and set up the mic, I delivered it pretty flawlessly, to the glory of God.

That was for second service.

For third service, even though I had already done it, there was still a tingling feeling of nervousness within. When the time was up, though, I certainly wasn’t going to chicken out. I mounted that stage once again. But the next five minutes were significantly different from the other five I had spent in the other service.

If I tell you I know exactly how to describe how I felt, I’m a horrible liar. But let me see how well I can put it.

At a point, it almost felt like I was being carried through the poem. I had to remember the words all right, but it felt like I wasn’t the one speaking anymore. It was as if I was just being used, almost like the words were coming out of my mouth without my express permission.

Thinking about it later, there’s only one explanation.

The Holy Spirit was taking center stage. The Lord answered my request and pushed me aside, simply making me a tool to proclaim His message.

I’m so grateful. God made Himself so real to me today, in a way I never expected. It really is a joy to be used by Him. it’s better than the applause you’d get for putting in some dope punchlines (I did put in some for this, though. Some you’ll only understand if you’re a football, or specifically, EPL fan!). I pray that my life will continually be surrendered to Him, not just in this spoken word ministry, but in every aspect of life. This has shown me that indeed, this thing I’m doing is all part of a mission that is far greater than my selfish desires, and my life is better off laboring in His vineyard whilst diligently seeking Him.

Anyway, in case you haven’t seen the video, check it out here. This was the one for the second service, and I pray it blesses you the way it surely must have blessed someone in that congregation!

When Love Doesn’t Work Out

Another old thing I wrote a while back. How interesting that I wrote this on the back of what was the most painful relationship attempts. Anyways, there’s still a lot of truth in it… 

It is always a painful situation when you find yourself in a break-up or a failed relationship attempt. The causes in the first case are uncountable; from unfaithfulness to incompatibility, anything that led to the relationship ending on a sour note. In the second case, the one pursuing his/her interest may have been rejected harshly or led into a nasty shock, or something else. Either way, bitterness, anger, hurt and pain are just a few emotions that take over. Believe me, they are not pleasant feelings at all. All you wish is that you may, somehow, get back at the one who hurt you, even if he/she is going through the pain as you. Sometimes, you wish things would turn around and all those fantasies would become reality again. It can even cause you to develop an inferiority complex, making you think you’re never going to be successful in a relationship; no girl/boy is ever going to fall in love with you, and the like. It can make you look down on relationships in general (Some people don’t say “LOVE SUCKS” for nothing). No doubt, a failed attempt at love can cause emotional and mental damage. People have gone mad, even committed suicide because of love gone bad.
An unsuccessful chance at love shouldn’t bring you down so low, though. You never know why things didn’t work out. Your partner or love interest, most likely, just wasn’t the right one for you. One step you need to take is to do stuff that will make you think less and less about the other person. Go out with your other friends. Read books. Watch movies. Play games. Listen to music. Anything that will take your mind off that person. Just do it. Make the attempt to move on with your life. It will never be easy, but with time, it will work. You’ll never do yourself any favours by brooding over the issue. All you’ll do is probably develop a negative impression about yourself and keep those harmful feelings within, which will eventually destroy you.
But, most importantly, commit it all into the hands of God Almighty. He knows the plan for your life, and He knows exactly why things didn’t go as you had wished. He knows that there’s something much, much better in store for you. Besides, only He can clear you of all negative feelings, because without His intervention, that tint of bitterness towards the person will forever remain in your heart. Hate it or love it, there’ll come a time you’ll think it’s totally behind you, but… there’s still that little wish, that things could work out, or that you could get revenge. Just ask Jesus to help you let the pain and anger go. And always remember, the guy/girl you fell in love with may not love you back, but your friends do. Your family does. And most of all, GOD LOVES YOU! That’s a love greater than any kind of love your boyfriend/girlfriend will ever have for you.

Don’t forget to pass by the new website! Visit Qwamena’s Space now!

The Tragedy of Archibald Firtizwald

This right here is definitely one of my favourites ever. My personal favourites. Riveting, touching, and I was just plain cruel to the boy. Smh at myself. lol, well, this is one of my oldies. A really sad story…

 

Seventeen years old. That’s how old Archibald Firtizwald (actually known as Benjamin Dolpyhne McCann) was.

A young, turbulent, trouble-filled and ultimately sad life ended so suddenly.

It all started at birth.

He was born to young parents. He was something like the result of an unplanned pregnancy, with the father demanding he be aborted, only for his mother to refuse. Eventually, his father relented and accepted responsibility.

Poor as they were, they couldn’t afford to go to the hospital, so they blessed their stars when a friend, who happened to be a midwife, was around when his mother went into labour. So he was brought forth with no problems.

And that’s when things got really hard for Benjamin’s parents.

His father had been without a job for about two years, and his mother had never really completed high school, so her chances of being employed were close to impossible. So getting proper care and nutrition was a big issue, and the source of many fights between the young couple. His father had to sell so many of his personal items just so Benjamin could be okay.

A year later, though, he was fed up. He told his ‘wife’ he was sick and tired of giving up his livelihood for a baby. That brought about another huge fight, and despite all she did, he abandoned them.

The selfish man was found dead two weeks later. Shot to death because of a drug-related scuffle.

So now Benjamin’s poor mother was left alone to cater for her baby. Totally handicapped job-wise, she had no other option but to turn to begging.

Of course, some gave, some didn’t, but she managed to gather up enough to cater for herself and the child. But her luck shined on her one day, when some relatives, the McAdamses, came across her on the street and took her and Benjamin in.

So for the next five years, Benjamin grew up in good conditions, and was looking quite handsome as he became older. But at the age of six, tragedy struck.

His mother went out with some friends to a concert one Wednesday night, and never came back. Her untimely demise resulting from the car she sat in with her friends colliding head-on with an oncoming, speeding truck.

Losing his father hadn’t been so painful, considering he hadn’t really gotten to know him, but losing his mum was a huge, devastating blow. His smile disappeared. His countenance changed. Even at that young age, the happy Benjamin was gone, and present was a moody and unhappy little boy.

His uncle, auntie and two cousins, Robert and Victoria, did all they could to try and help the lad move on. But as time passed, and the reality that his mother was well and truly gone began to sink in, there was very little they, or anybody else, could do as he turned into a temperamental, unpleasant person.

At the age of twelve, he decided he was sick of living with the McAdamses, because being with them only conjured images of his dear mother. So one night, he packed a few belongings in his school bags, stole some of his uncle’s money, and set off while everyone was fast asleep.

He ended up leaving Scotland completely.

Through bus, ship and train, the second of which he somehow managed to board and get off without getting caught, he made his way to Ireland.

In this new and cruel world, Benjamin Dolphyne McCann knew he had to struggle to survive. So he tried begging for a while, then realised he might be recognised and taken back to the McAdamses, so he went into hiding. Finding some fellow street boys, he went with them to raid some houses and take whatever food they found.

But on one particular mission, disaster’s ugly head popped up.

The owner had left some soup on his gas cooker overnight, thus making it cold. Benjamin, the self-imposed leader of his new group, thought he might get the soup a little warm before they took their fill. Turning the knob, he realised there were no matches around, so he went out of the kitchen to get a box of them, forgetting to turn it off.

When he returned with the matches, telling his squad outside he’d be with them in a jiffy, he struck the matchstick against the side of the box.

The result: his face got terribly burned.

The sight of the fire and the screams of agony that followed scared some of the boys, inciting them to run away. Two of them, however, went in and recovered the badly burned Benjamin. Carrying him a few metres, they realised there was little they could do to help him, so they dumped him in a gutter.

A good Samaritan saw him and immediately sent him to the hospital. His face had been so badly damaged; he needed reconstructive surgery to repair his face. When asked for his name, Benjamin, fully aware that the hospital might know of the fact that he had been declared ‘Missing’ in Scotland, gave the name Archibald Firtizwald. That and his age, now thirteen. Nothing else.

So the surgery was done, paid for by the Samaritan, and Archibald’s face looked significantly different. He took this as a ‘blessing in disguise’. Now his relatives would never find him.

The person offered to let him stay with him, and Archibald agreed.

So he moved into Mr. McAteer’s house, had himself registered in a school, and seemed to getting back to proper life.

However, Archibald’s problems were far from over. He still wasn’t a happy person deep within; it had been seven years since his mother passed away, yet he still couldn’t get over it. And he had no friends.

At school, everybody saw him as a weird, dirty kid. The boys mocked him on a regular basis, and the girls avoided him like a tarantula. Nobody to talk to, and although Mr. McAteer was good to him, he was almost always unavailable, with business meetings and trips taking up his time.

Unfortunately for his current guardian, some guys had taken notice of his affluence, and one night, after three years of having Archibald around, they broke into his residence, and after forcing him to show them his money, they shot him right between the eyes.

Archibald saw what happened and ran away before the armed robbers took notice.

He left that city and came to a quieter town, where peace seemed to be the order of the day.

Now sixteen, yet to turn seventeen, Archibald had faced more troubles than most teenagers his age could imagine. It had all turned him into a very withdrawn person, extremely hard to reach out to. That’s what the next family to have him realised. The girl in the house, the only child, tried to get close, but once he resisted, she chose to act like he didn’t exist at all.

At his new school, it was the same. Whilst everybody had a friend he or she walked with, Archibald kept to himself. The boys dismissed him as ‘gay’, and most of the girls just saw him as plain weird. He often got pushed around by some of the bigger boys, but he just resisted the urge to fight back. Even when he thought of loosening up and participating in some extra-curricular activities, some people managed to make him look stupid. From playing football to learning to playing a musical instrument, someone had to make him mess up, thus discouraging him from doing anything.

Academically speaking, he was  poor. Very poor. His teachers constantly complained about his inability to answer the simplest of questions in class, as well as his constant failures in assignments and class tests. Archibald was even more miserable this time round, with teachers and students putting him in their bad books.

There were a few girls, however, who saw a troubled young man who needed help and love. One of them was called Golda.

One afternoon, after class, she met Archibald at his locker and tried to talk to him. Even though he tried to ignore her, one mean guy, Bill, who was known to have a thing for Golda, didn’t take kindly to seeing the ‘gay boy’ near her.

A tough, well-built guy, he beat up poor Archibald, right in front of most of the students. Archie threw a few punches here and there, but he ended up with a black eye and a broken nose. With a number of the students laughing at him, he trudged home, not only hurt, but unhappily equipped with the news that he had failed a few tests and would have to rewrite them the next week.

Typical of him, he refused to mention who beat him when his new guardians found out. They asked and asked, but he just wouldn’t answer. They threw up their hands in frustration and declared that he could do whatever he wanted. They were tired of his silence.

The next day, Archibald went to school as usual. But after being pounded by Bill the previous day, he was faced with giggles and pointing fingers wherever he passed.

Golda tried to apologize for what happened, but Archibald, eager to prevent another beat-down, avoided her completely.

He ran into one of Bill’s close pals in the washroom, however, who said to him, “I see you’re happily bustling up and down the school, right? Well, as long as you keep your poofy, arse-loving self away from Golda, you’ll remain this way. Do you understand me?”

Archibald looked at him evilly. “All I know is that you’re a pathetic, poo-eating idiot. No wonder they strangled your mum to death. She must have begged them to, just to get away from you.”

This enraged the boy, who immediately threw a punch at Archibald. They fought for a minute, before, by a strange twist of fate, Bill and a few others entered. Upon seeing Archibald overpower their friend, they threw him off and began to brutally pummel him. He was coughing blood by the time they were done.

As if that wasn’t enough, they pissed on him, and laughing, they left him in the bathroom, lying there, smelling of urine.

By the time Archibald got home, he was fed up.

“I HATE MY SCHOOL AND THE PEOPLE IN IT!” he screamed to the empty room. “I HATE MY GUARDIANS! I HATE RITA! I HATE MY REAL PARENTS! I HATE MY LIFE! AND IF THERE IS A GOD SOMEWHERE, I HATE HIM TOO!”

Night time arrived, and Archibald was thinking of how life had been so mean and vindictive to him. Losing both parents, getting burned, losing Mr. McAteer, and being tortured and mocked by his fellow students. It was far too much for him.

The next day came. He woke up and got ready for school as usual.

At breakfast, his male guardian told him reports had come of his academic performances being terribly poor. He just acknowledged he wasn’t studying hard enough. “But that won’t happen anymore,” was what he said before leaving for school.

Classes started at eight o’ clock, but Archibald just walked about town, doing nothing.

He arrived at nine o’ clock.

He went straight to the bathroom, entered one of the booths, and locked it.

He took out a piece of paper and started writing. He paused for a moment as two boys walked in. He listened to them talk about him, and didn’t react as they labelled him ‘useless’ and ‘stupid’. When they left, he continued writing.

When he was done, he folded the paper, put it in his pocket, and opened his bag.

In it was a pistol.

He shook his head, said to himself, “Finally, I’ll be free from this bloody world,” and placed it in his mouth, twisting it to let it point up to his brain.

No hesitation within, he pulled the trigger.

The sound was quite loud, thus attracting a number of people around. The first person to find his lifeless body was Bill.

The bully was petrified, and alerted the authorities.

In a matter of minutes, classes had been abruptly cut short, with many students in a state of shock over the awful incident that had just taken place.

Now all those who had been mean to him at any point in time were feeling terrible, seeing they had only deepened some hidden wounds within that poor boy and driven him to take his own life. You can guess the worst culprits.

As the appropriate authorities came to take his body away, they searched for a suicide note. They found it. And it pretty much summed up his life and feelings.

To whoever gives a crap,

                My real name is Benjamin Dolphyne McCann and my life has been messed up since the day I was born. My father, I was told, was too much of a b**** to man up and take responsibility. He died. My mother also died when I was six. I never recovered. I left Scotland to try and put it behind me, but it didn’t work. I had my face burned trying to get something in my stomach. I was abandoned. I was helped by somebody who took me in. Armed robbers came around and killed him. So I left. And found myself here. And nothing but torture and ridicule have I had since. Is this life worth living?

                I’m fucking tired of suffering. I’m tired of having people laugh and look at me with disgust. I’m sick of being treated like s***. I’m tired of this life. I’m better off six feet under. Don’t miss me. I’m not going to miss anyone, not in this f*****-up school. Not some motherf****** kids who call me useless and stupid, like Augustine and Zack did today when they came in here. Maybe I’m going to join my mother in heaven or hell. I don’t know. But I don’t care anyway. Any of them is better than this screwed-up earth.

                P.S.: Today is my seventeenth birthday.

                It drove a dagger through the hearts of all who had known him just before his death. If only some of them had pushed a little harder. They just might have been able to help him.

 

Archibald was buried a week later, the McAdamses around to finally know what had happened to their poor little Benjamin.

 

 

P.S. The website’s now got a mini-mall!! Amazon-powered! You can do your online shopping right there. And don’t forget to check out the other cool stuff on the site. You know the deal. Visit Qwamena’s Space now!!!

 

Website Update

Hey peeps!

Remember that website I mentioned a couple of months ago? Well, there’s been a slight shift somewhere. If you already visited it, there’s been some changes somewhere. Now the site name ends with info, not com. Still looks good, tho. The same pages are on. I’ve added a football page, where you can keep up to date with the latest scores and league standings. There’s also a ‘Life Changers’ page, where I share some scriptures and the impact they’ve had on my life. I trust those will bless you immensely.

Well, check it out. I’ll be sharing my musings (look out for that) where I talk about different, different stuff. All the latest updates on this blog will be communicated there. So head on over to http://qwamenasspace.info/