"She has white skin"

...he repeated excitedly through the phone as easily as I would have said "she has brown hair", in his plea to make sure I identified the right picture of him with his new teacher. "Nmeli, have you seen my picture with my teacher?" "No, but I'll check when I finish talking to you." "She has white skin..." I felt a little urge to somehow tell him "ok" or "I've heard"- to quiet him, somehow communicate to him that he shouldn't say that, but if you've met my 5-year-old brother, you know he'll want to know why. So I asked myself why. His innocence. I found the picture he described

Many things amaze me, one of which is how a soul I love so much is wrapped in a skin that looks so different from mine. But why should that amaze me?

...to find within eyes of a color that mine could never have, a love towards me that I can barely grasp,

to find caught in my hair, a strand that could not have possibly grown from me

to find that fingers of a different color from mine fits perfectly within the grooves between my fingers, and feel just right being there.

Hey! That person in the different-colored skin sheds tears the same color as mine, we even laugh at the same things!

I think they're mad too; whew! I thought I was the only one who had noticed that.

I'll confess though that in the moments when those cheeks turn red, I'm thankful I got the darker face 

hehe ;)

Tribute to my grandfather

When my mum asked me to write you a tribute, my first thought was that I didn’t even know you that well, and maybe it is true that I was too young when we met to know who was holding me, but your influence is very prominent in my life today. My mum, who is one of the best gifts that God has given me in life, was significantly shaped by your life; her quiet trust in God, her patience and the tenacity of her faith, the depth of her knowledge of and relationship with God.  Today, as I stand a young girl; most of what I know about God and a huge part of my relationship with Him was crafted by God through my mum. I can go wherever God leads me with almost no fear, and with confidence that He’ll take care of me, because I’ve watched my mother live that life. I respect God’s love for me more than any human’s, because I’ve watched that love uphold my mum in her most difficult times. I’ve heard stories of and watched God comfort my mum, and guide and direct her. I’ve watched Him provide for her in miraculous ways, over and over again. I’ve watched him transform her heart and take her over her fears. I’ve watched Him redefine her identity, her priorities, her temperament. I watched God teach a little daughter of His; my mum. I have had the privilege of watching the beauty that results from a life of faith, a life lived walking hand in hand with God, and that is very much a core of who I am today. You were instrumental in helping my mum find that door to a relationship with God; finding and accepting Christ. The relationship that has become the core of her existence, and has very much been instrumental in our family, has influenced my relationship with God, which I am finding is the greatest treasure that I possess. I know that you have influenced my life in the important ways. So no, we did not walk in parks together, nor did I get to play with your silvery white hair. No, you never gave me relationship advice or recount to me countless times how you fell in love with your wife. But stories of your faith, even at the expense of your life are familiar to me, and you were in the process of my receiving the most important thing a girl could want in life. So maybe I don’t know you that well, but maybe I do. Maybe I do, because I am knowing what it means to have my heart beat according to the rhythm of God’s heart; the same rhythm to which your heart beat until its very last beat. Maybe in that moment when you were holding baby Nmeli in your arms, she couldn’t yet speak, but maybe our spirits communicated in the very same way an experienced soldier would communicate with a new soldier, our fight; the fight of faith. So maybe all I said sounded like the babbles of a baby, or maybe I was completely silent, and maybe that silence was a signal of solidarity between fellow soldiers. I truly love that you lived your life the way you did grandpa, I am very proud of you, I’m proud to be related to you physically and spiritually. Your life has truly impacted my friends here in America, and all the people I’ve come in contact with these past 19 years. One of my friends Lily, on hearing the news of your death texted me “Hey Nmeli! I’m thinking of you and your family right now!! Praising God for the wonderful life that your grandpa lived and the faith warriors that he has raised up.” Until we meet again in Heaven and I tell you of all the victories and wounds from my experience of the war, I’ll keep being thankful that you lived your life the way you did, and I’ll keep fighting this fight of faith.

Love,

Your babbling granddaughter,

Nmeli.

In love with the idea of love

      Recently, God has been dealing with my heart on how I put romantic relationships (or the idea of them) before Him. In the most basic instinctive ways, I have put "the idea of love" before Him in my mindset. In other words, I have been more readily in love with "love" than I have been with God. "More readily" because although that is the first thing my mind leaps to when I see a cute boy, after willful reflection, it is not the same (of-course I know in my head that God is better). However by the power of the Holy Spirit, God is showing me in those first, tender moments when our eyes meet, that He (God) is more, He is more fulfilling than even the best, most flawless, loving relationship. As my mind is about to travel down the path so familiarly known to it, God's love and truth arrest it and remind it, yes in those instinctive moments, that He is better, He is more, that in essence, I'd rather have God than have that best scenario. It is not to say that I couldn't have both, I just must have God first, and more importantly. He is the core anyways, He's the reason why anything has meaning in the first place. My previous mindset about cute, "eligible" boys has marked my life with guilt, as I realize my selfishness and Godlessness, shame as I realize that I may have made a fool of myself in the process, inferiority as I feel that I need to prove myself to get their attention and even more fundamentally, that since I want this so much, I don't deserve it, that I'm not good enough, not pretty enough, and unfounded "heartbreak" when they choose someone else. You must realize that this "relationship" is only in my head, haha. Now, I can hardly look around without seeing boys that have previously been put in this category. I may have gotten tired of them or just replaced them with a new "more handsome", "more eligible" object. What I feel that God is doing is demolishing that fantasy world that has occupied my heart since childhood, and placing His throne right there in its place. I think He is showing me in practical ways that His love; the greatest love of all, the most satisfying love of all is after me, that it jealously longs for me. He is trying to show me that His love is what He put that desire in me for, that it is the only key that can fit in that hole of longing for love. His love is what that hole was made for. He's convincing me that I'm not losing out on anything good by loving Him wholeheartedly. He's rescuing me from the tendrils of my own illusions, and showing me that reality is what I'm longing for, and that that reality is Him.

Advanced Placement

You know those advanced placement (AP) classes we took (or not). But we were told that we were the "cream of the crop" (whatever that means), made to feel that somehow, because we took these classes, we were more advanced than the rest of humanity. So you better feel special as a part of this group, and I did. Finally, a bunch of smart, thinking, high quality people that I get the privilege of talking with, spending time with, rubbing shoulders with, talk about high places, man, I could safely say I idolized the "privilege", so much so that I reconsidered how public I was with my faith [call it wisdom]. You know what I'm talking about; when those smart cookies start reveling in their ignorance about God, or plain dishonoring Him, I would keep quiet, shy away from giving my honest opinions, cos, oh my gosh, these elite people might think...

In my effort to respect my "intelligent" friends, I disrespected the maker of intelligence, the maker of these microintelligents I was becoming enslaved to, of everything intelligent, of the manner by which we could deem anything intelligent, the maker of the intellect... you get what I am saying. Romans 1:23.

Now, I look back at the AP scenario and I'm like "really? So that was what was all that?" But we all have an AP circle, or even multiple in different ways. Even if you've never taken a class in your life; we have people for whom we would bend over backwards to please, compromise ourselves, deny the most important things about ourselves, should it even hint at displeasing them; they have an advanced placement in our hearts; you know, cream of the crop kind of level. You could be yourself, share your faith, dare to make mistakes, take risks and be embarrassed, but only outside this circle, cos who cares what the rest think? In essence, your AP circle consists of your slave masters. As my foolishness is gradually being washed away, I am seeing that my Advanced Placement circle should have room for only God. "Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God?Or am I trying to please people? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ." -Galatians 1:10

Born for this too?

Ok, so my mum is not the most soft-spoken person I've ever met, and people say that I am too sensitive (no such thing), so it makes sense that almost everyday, my feelings are hurt even though the words spoken weren't meant to have that effect. I remember thinking to myself, maybe two days ago, "I cannot stand this", and it came to mind that maybe there were some things that I had to learn to stand. I mean, if God made this woman my mummy; such an intricate, powerful and long-lasting role in my life, and expects me to honor her (in my words and attitude) no matter what, there's no way around it; I'm going to have to learn to love despite offense. In the midst of hurt feelings, my words would have to carry honor irrespective of what happens. Maybe God is requiring of me that I not only stand it, but love  in spite of it. I hear Him calling out to me to relinquish my right to pampered emotions. If I am going to be the girl He's making me to be, I am going to have to let Him keep chiseling, to let Him teach me to love in my words and actions when that is the last thing I want to do. I have a feeling this is going to be a challenging but rewarding journey.

"{Love }is not conceited (arrogant and inflated with pride); it is not rude (unmannerly) and does not act unbecomingly. Love (God’s love in us) does not insist on its own rights or its own way, for it is not self-seeking; it is not touchy or fretful or resentful; it takes no account of the evil done to it [it pays no attention to a suffered wrong]." 

                                                                                        - 1 Corinthians 13:5 (Amplified)

This is gonna be my new catchphrase "I forgive you because I love you"

Why I ran in

I was in the car driving my siblings to where they needed to be respectively as my sister was singing worship songs. I tried to join in many times but just felt unworthy, dirty, just...ugh. I felt like I didn't have the right to do that, like I was somehow a hypocrite, how could I use the same mouth... then she started singing "like oil upon your feet, like wine for you to drink, like water from my heart, I pour my love on you. If praise is like perfume, I'll lavish mine on you till every drop is gone, I'll pour my love on you." And I started to sing along, reasoning that regardless of what had happened this morning, what had gone through my mind, my mouth, that no matter how rude, God was worthy of my love; He has done enough in my life to deserve it, even just this week, so in spite of my filthiness I sang, and then I sang "...even when I fail you, I know you love me." and I think that just broke through me. It wasn't about me and what I did, it never had been. It was about God's love for me, that's the only reason I can approach Him, that is the only reason; his love, his sacrifice, stand-alone. If it wasn't my good behavior that made me able to come to Him, why should my bad behavior hinder me. If while I was yet a sinner God approached me in dying for me, I have a feeling that my sins and petty feelings of unworthiness don't scare him or stop him from leaving his hands wide open. And oh, God knows that when I feel so unlovable, those arms are where I need to be, where I want to be even when I don't feel like I have earned the right to go in; I haven't, I'll never need to, I never can if I tried. So I said I was sorry right there in the car to God, and ran in.

Unashamed?

I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is your power for salvation, but You see those moments when i shrink back from fear, You see how much I've dreaded speaking your name for fear of mortals made from dust. You look with patience at my trembling heart and always repeat "do not be afraid". Despite all the times I've ignored your voice, shied away, turned my face, despite me, despite my faults, despite my fear and racing pulse, your love constantly leads me on, it gently erodes my fears over and over again until the day, until the day I stand truly unashamed.

I would, but I can't

I would ignore it all, but he came, he died, and he rose again. He didn't live in a vacuum, he ate with human beings, went fishing with them, traveled, wept, did things people do. They knew his name; these people he met when he came into the world; his mum, family, his friends. They saw him grow, brought gifts when he was born, maybe celebrated birthdays, scolded him like every other child. He healed the sick, turned water to wine before their very eyes, to their shock maybe, but before their eyes all the same, he raised Lazarus from death. They questioned him, listened to him, reasoned with him, argued with him, befriended him, mocked him, played with him, humans. They saw him die, held by nails to a wooden cross waiting for nothing but death, they saw him pierced by a spear at his side, they took his dead body down, embalmed it, put it in a tomb. They mourned him, like we would mourn loved ones we've lost, and wondered what was next. Three days after, they saw the empty tomb, they saw him alive (probably didn't truly believe that he was more than a mere man until then), Thomas refused to believe until he saw and put his fingers through the holes where the nails were, and into his pierced side, he came back to allow him to do that! :) They saw him many times after he came back to life; these humans like you and me, and they watched him ascend to Heaven, right before their eyes! I would ignore all of that or passively believe, but I can't; he came, why?

I just can't

A talk with my sister

My lovely

"You are not going to like what I'm about to tell you." She said in her gentle yet resolved way. My mind raced through a thousand things she could want to tell me that deserve so much ado. "I've prayed for you about this, and I feel that God is telling me to tell you, so I'll just tell you so it will no longer be on me."

She went on to tell me how she noticed that I took offense at the littlest of things and held grudges for way to long. "I have seen you mature so much in your walk with God"{internal pat on the back}, "and I feel like this is an area that you should already be over."
If you are the only picture of God that a person sees, and they see you holding on to offenses like that, won't they maybe think that God is that way? That He is not a forgiving God. In life, not everyone is going to care about you or your feelings, therefore, not everyone will apologize, you need to be able to move past their offense in spite of a lack of apology...
There's so much more to what she said than I can write here, but I'll write this poignant analogy that she used.

"Okay, say that rain are the offenses that people throw at you. In life there is going to be rain, people are going to do some... you could be a duck and let it wash right off you into the river that you're floating on (issues that you have overcome), then the very rain meant to weigh you down will add to the river and take you even higher (because the river rises). But if you are like a cup; always holding on to offenses, very soon, you'll begin to drown, and the river (issues that you had already overcome) start coming back and overwhelming you."

See, just as love brings along joy, peace and all those awesome things, unforgiveness brings its cohorts; depression, bitterness (and a bunch of other things).
*hugs*
Love keeps no record of wrong (1 Corinthians 13:5)
Matthew 6:12: And forgive us our trespasses even as we forgive those who trespass against us.

P.S: To officially say it again, Gege, I am so thankful for a sister like you, and I thank God from the depths of my heart for caring about me so much as to place this on your heart, thank you for bearing it, praying with me and showing me how to truly live this out. You are the most forgiving person I've ever met, and I am privileged to get to do life with you. Love you! Mwah!

A voice in different accents

When I newly moved to the United States from Nigeria in 10th grade, it didn't take me or anyone else long to recognize that I had a different accent. Sometimes, when I would speak in class, my fellow students would laugh at my accent. I would fight back by reading longer passages, talking more, or just being defensive... it started to wear me out and I got tired. The day my only friend was moving, I decided "I'm just going to stop talking". That evening I casually told my younger sister Chioma, and the words she spoke to me literally poured life back into me; that was God's answer to the prayer I didn't know how to pray. It changed my life. It gave me back my voice.

God's rescue to me that night: Chioma

I finished high school, and now in college, everyone (well, as far as I know) loves to hear me speak. That doesn't matter though, what matters is that I spoke regardless of people's "opinions" of my voice. Each and every one of us is God's voice in a different accent, we are a unique expression of God, we are God's handiwork, His masterpiece, created to do good works which He has prepared for us in Christ Jesus before time. The talents, the desires, passions and personality He has put in us are intentional, purposeful. However, people will "laugh" at your accent, (if you haven't experienced it, expect it). People will misunderstand, and maybe even mock you, who God has created you to be, but if God is for you, and the Bible says that no one can stand against you, then be rest-assured that no one will succeed against you. This is God we're talking about!

Maybe you decided to shut up, to stop being who God is calling you to be. Maybe you've suppressed the workings of the Holy Spirit through you. How will God reveal Himself and His love for the people around you, if you refuse to let Him use you? I mean, that's your purpose, that's why He made you in the first place. Let me play my sister's role to you today and encourage you, who you are is completely beautiful because of He who made you. You are a masterpiece; think of any world-known artist, although human and imperfect, all their artwork is usually excellent, intentional, beautiful, now think that you are God's artwork... Let the world around you hear that beautiful voice that has been placed in you. Please let us see that picture.

Work in me

God's been doing so much and teaching me so much, I can't wait to share in future blogs! He has been setting me free in so many ways, and showing how to fully enjoy life. My heart's cry to my lover and Maker at the moment:

Work in me, I want the beauty that comes from your art.

Move in me, let the winds of your love shape who I am. 

Please be patient as I learn to let go, give me your hand as I grapple around. 

Wrap me in your arms that I depend on your love more and more. 

Let your Presence wash through me until there’s nothing left that you did not give.

From the depths of my heart or the top of my head, with all my desire or in spite of it, I ask You to work in me.