Skip to main content

Why I jumped


‘Search me, God and know my heart. Try me and know my thoughts. See if there is any wicked way in me and lead me in the everlasting way. Psalm 139:23-24’


She says:
I jumped because…
I just don’t know if l was worth it
Worth what this life was throwing at me
Worth the fame and glory
Worth living!!!

I jumped because…
You never answered
You never answered when my mother died!
You never answered when they took my childhood!
You never answered when he cheated and left me!
You never answered when l lost my job, my friends, my home!
Dead silent, you were!

I jumped because…
Maybe...just maybe l thought it was better where you are
To be re-united with my dear mum
To be free from pain and suffering
To get the fullness of joy

He says:
I died…
For you to live
My life for yours
I left my father’s house so l could make things right for you
So, were you worth it?
Yes! More than a jewel or gold or diamond you were

I didn’t say…
Life would be easy
You would never experience pain and suffering
Or that l won’t be there for you when you call out to me

There is a reason…
Why l let some things happen; good or bad
‘What kind of God will let bad things happen to good people?’
A question l hear several times
The Israelites had to undergo turmoil in the hands of the Egyptians
Before l gave them a promised land


So, what kind of God am l?
One who works for the good of those who love him
One who makes sure we have what we need when we need it, and then some
Gives strength in tribulations
One who searches for you when you lost in wilds of the world
And most importantly, one who loves you!


Labels

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Five Scars and a Breath

 Some stories find you and change you. This one did. In today’s post, I’m honoured to share a deeply moving account of pain, survival, and unexpected grace. It's a story of resilience, recovery, and what it means to return from the edge with five scars and a breath. Shared with permission and written in her own words: Five Scars and a Breath " At the beginning of last year, I became fluent in the language of pain. I knew the routine by heart - walk into the hospital, wince through registration, and recite my prescription like a nurse: Start with 40 milligrams of Nexium, top up with another 40 if the pain doesn’t retreat. I wasn’t a doctor, but I played one with practiced confidence. Until one day, the pain didn’t follow the script. They gave me 80 milligrams of Nexium, then paracetamol. The pain remained, stubborn and screaming. Then came the opium. Relief arrived cloaked in a darkness so absolute it stole my sight. The pain retreated but not without a warning. I finally surre...
Post a Comment
Read more

Seal the Sand on Me, but Don’t Seal Me

 Part 1 "Peter! Peter! Light the bonfire and open the gates. It is time." Mama Lushana called out to the farm boy, her voice carrying the weight of tradition and loss. The title Mama —a sign of respect in her community—had been given to her by the church. It meant "Mother" and was used by everyone to address her, though not all knew the trials that earned her the name. Flashback Lushana was born in the 1940s, one of only two children her mother bore before tragedy struck. Her mother died in childbirth, leaving Lushana and her younger sister to navigate a harsh world under the care of their stepfamily. Determined to provide for her sister, 13-year-old Lushana agreed to marry into a well-off family. Her dowry would allow her younger sister and step-siblings to afford an education. Her husband, Habbu, was an evangelist, often away on preaching missions. While he spread the Gospel, Lushana stayed behind, carrying the weight of countless household and farm ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Hey Mr. Mood!

It is Saturday evening and I have a feeling that I recognize all too well. It comes suddenly even after I have had a lovely time earlier in the day, I call him Mr. Mood. I am writing this article while seated beside Mr.Mood so as to easily describe him because once he is gone, all I am left with is a sigh of relief to not think of him. Writing this post with Mr. Mood is not easy, he keeps pulling me and I keep trying to push myself away from him, and when we reach a stalemate, we tango till one gets tired.  Mr.Mood sometimes likes to make me feel sick giving me a headache, forces me to crawl in my bed and not to leave unless answering nature calls, to lose my appetite, or to be nonchalant when forced to interact with people. And when our fight for control begins, he holds power over me when he causes me to be stuck in a never ending negative thought process pattern: ‘I HATE MYSELF! PEOPLE DON’T LIKE ME! I CAN’T DO THIS! GIVING UP SEEMS EASY!’ But then I take the power back when I m...
Post a Comment
Read more