Wickedness Unlimited

Because of the increase of wickedness, the love of most will grow cold, but he who stands firm to the end will be saved.
Matthew 24:12,13

Chances are you are privy to the events that have overtaken the city of Jos, Nigeria in the past week. We have witnessed firsthand man’s inhumanity to man and seen atrocities committed in the name of God. We watched in horror as an ostensible political squabble metamorphosed into a full-scale Holy War with both sides trying to outdo the other. So many have lost life, limb and loot in the carnage and there is little comfort to be seen.

The stories are as shocking as they are true as we see man’s creativity used in the most nefarious ways reminiscent of Paul’s horror at those who “invent ways of doing evil” in Romans 1:30. I’ve heard of people being thrown down bridges to be dashed on the rocks, others burned alive, pleas of mercy ignored as young men are macheted to death by youth inebriated by their own depravity.

I met a young man today, fourth year Architecture student, who was caught up in the crisis. His friend and roommate was killed and burned before his very eyes. He managed to escape but lost everything but the shirt on his back. He offered to offload an old camera to me in exchange for enough money to make the short trip to Abuja. Imagine my embarrassment when he burst into tears and prostrated on the ground in gratitude when I offered to pay his fare. One can only imagine the terror he and many others like him have witnessed.

So where does one find comfort in the midst of such suffering? Where do you find the courage to face your neighbor with a different faith and offer the love of Christ? How do you tell that mother that she will never see her young son again? “He was so young and full of potential!” she cries. “He just left me to serve his country. Why, oh why?” And what do you tell the businessman who watched his life’s work go up in flames? How can you offer comfort without sounding banal, condescending or just plain out of touch?

I have no answers today, but questions only. But I do realize that in the midst of such seemingly inhuman suffering I can look to those who have experienced such and say, along with them, “I know that my Redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God... How my heart yearns within me!” (Job 19:25-27)

Join me now to pray for those who suffer and trust God for his healing. Amen.
With love, Doosuur.

Fit To Die

Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to men by which we must be saved.
Acts 4:12

I remember growing up singing native Tiv songs during Sunday evening Family Time, around a bowl of hot kunun gyeda. One of my favorite songs went something like this:

The Jews put the Lord Jesus on the ballot
To run against Barabbas
Barabbas lost the vote -
Barabbas was not fit to die

You remember the story don’t you? Pilate, the Governor, in a desperate last-gasp attempt to rescue Jesus from an irate Jewish mob makes an offer he thinks they should not refuse. “Which prisoner do you want me to pardon?” he asks. “Jesus Barabbas, or Jesus the so-called Christ?” (Matthew 27:17). As far as he’s concerned, it’s a no-brainer. Barabbas, the infamous robber and murderer versus Jesus, healer of the sick and the most fascinating character to walk the roads of Judea for centuries.

At that moment, the Jews had a choice. They could get rid of one of these two men with their vote. And they chose Jesus. Barabbas lost the vote. Barabbas was not fit to die.

All of a sudden the heavens fell silent. There was an upset. The Author of Creation had just been chosen to die by the very people he had created. They considered the life of a hardened criminal worth more than His. What horror! What an outrage! What blessedness!

Because along with Barabbas we all lost the vote that day. None of us was fit to die and, indeed, none is. Not until we have died with Christ into his own death. For at the moment of his death, he stepped up and took the mantle of redemption. He gave himself up so that we could die freely. Without Jesus’ death, ours would be a sore shame. But since he has died and, thankfully, has been raised to life we are, at last, fit to die.

With love, Doosuur

Scarred For Life

But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.
Isaiah 53:5

Today, November 15, is my Thanksgiving Day or, like I like to call it, my Deathday. It was 15 years ago, to the day, that I was rushing to school, late as usual. I had just come out of the cab and was waiting for change when I heard the loud blare of a truck horn. Next thing I knew, I was airborne, looking down at Mother Earth and wondering what had happened to me. It was not till I hit the ground (seconds of course, but it felt like eons) that I realized I had just been rammed, by a truck no less.
Several months of hospitals, medication and physiotherapy did their thing and I was soon back to new - except for the scars. My body did not respond well to the bruises, lacerations and infection, and I was left with hypertrophic scars on my face, neck and legs.
Today, years later, these same scars are a potent reminder of God’s mercy in my life. As I recount my deliverance, it occurs to me that these scars, disfiguring as they are, are a medal of honor. I would not have scars except I have been healed. A scar means the healing is complete and all that remains is a memory.
As I pondered this I remembered Christ’s own scars, displayed proudly one Sunday so many years ago. It was a warm spring evening but there was a chill in the air. The disciples had heard that Jesus’ body had gone missing and they were filled with trepidation, expecting a Jewish mob to storm their hideout any moment, demanding answers. As they brooded and pondered in the dim lights Jesus suddenly stood among them. “Peace be with you!”, his first words. Words cannot describe the astonishment they felt as they stared at him, eyes full of wonder. “Could it really be...?”, they thought. But then he showed it to them. His scars. A few days earlier, the soldier’s gavel had muffled the anguished cries of their master, driving cruel nails into his hands. Those same wounds, which had meant sin and shame back then now meant redemption and healing. And Life.
Everyone of us has experienced hurt, pain and disappointment. An examination failed, a relationship broken, a loved one gone. But after the grieving comes the healing and at the end of it all we can look back and see that the scars serve to remind us how far we’ve come the grace of God at work in our lives.
Join me and thank God that I’m alive. I’ve got the scars to prove it!
With love, Doosuur

Enlarged In The Waiting

These sterile and barren bodies of ours are yearning for full deliverance. That is why waiting does not diminish us, any more than waiting diminishes a pregnant mother. We are enlarged in the waiting... The longer we wait, the larger we become, and the more joyful our expectancy.
Romans 8:23-25, The Message


As I read this breathtaking phrase from Romans I could not help repeating to myself over and over again, the words "Enlarged in the waiting... ENLARGED IN THE WAITING". What a beautiful word-picture Paul paints as he likens the hope and joy of an erstwhile barren woman expecting her firstborn child with our experience as we wait for our fulfillment in Christ. Just think of it, not a moment passes when the thought of the life growing within her is far from this woman's mind. All her actions, everything she does, is in one way or the other directed towards tending and caring for the unborn gift. The things she eats, the way she sleeps, everything in her life takes on a whole new direction for a definite period of nine months.
 
Does waiting for this child distress her? Not necessarily. Because she knows that time must run it's course if her joy is to be complete. A little too early and she knows the only result may be grief in the end. So everyday that passes, every hour that goes by, she is expectant, knowing that she is getting bigger and bigger, unto a perfect gift. She is enlarged in the waiting.
 
Same with us. Our painful experiences may be likened to early-morning sickness. Our desire for God would be just like the cravings of a primigravida. But waiting does not diminish us. Not at all. It HELPS us. Every experience of God brings us closer to the perfect person He wants us to be. He is coming for a Church without spot and blemish and time and circumstance must run their course so that we can be presented mature before Him in the end.
 
We are enlarged in the waiting. And while we wait, like a responsible mother, we must care for ourselves, watching what we ingest; careful, so to speak, with our bodies, as we nurture this eternal life growing, even enlarging, within us. We have no idea how it will look, anymore than a mother knows the likeness of the child within her, but that does not diminish us one bit. We know there will be joy in the end. It's the only possible outcome.
 
With love, Doosuur

How Are You? Really?

Encourage each other. Live in harmony and peace. Then the God of love and peace will be with you. Greet each other in Christian love.

1 Corinthians 13:11,12

At home, our early morning salutations are a pretty cursory affair as, after corporate morning prayers, everyone grunts a greeting and dashes off to whatever activity begins their day. But not when Grandma is visiting. Then greetings become a special event.

 

After prayers, we all sit down and wait in expectation because we know Mama is about to greet us. Slowly and deliberately, indeed she will not be rushed, she turns to Dad and looks him straight in the eye. "Orkurga," she says, using his birth name, "Good morning, did you sleep well?" This is no routine question, as you can feel from her tone and attitude that she means precisely what she says.  "Did you sleep well?" requires an honest answer.

 

One by one she greets us, going in a circle. I can't wait for my turn. "Doosuur." She addresses me.

 

"Eh, Mama", I answer, all the while knowing what will come next.

 

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?" What a wonderful question. And I know that she would really like to know.

 

What a contrast this draws with the perfunctory salutations we offer each other every day. Offerings like "Good day" and "How are you?" have become mundane and hardly ever mean more than the barest of acknowledgements. But then, if we would take a minute to slow down, look someone in the eye and ask him, honestly, "How are you? Really?", we might be surprised at what the answer might be. Because often we will discover that beneath the veneer of a smiling face and a ready answer, lies a human being, all too familiar with the hurts, worries and concerns that make everyday living what it is.

 

A question as simple and commonplace as "How are you?" can become a veritable tool for breaking down barriers and getting into someone's world to offer comfort, healing and wisdom. And, beyond this, in that singular moment where all your attention is fixed on that one person, he feels special, very special indeed.

 

Hello there. Yes, I'm talking to you. How are you? Really?

 

With love, Doosuur.

 

 

Martha, Dear Martha

It's the same with you. When you've done everything expected of you, be matter-of-fact and say, "The work is done. What we were told to do, we did."

Luke 17:10

Martha, oh dear Martha. I've always had some empathy for the elder of the Bethany sisters and I have never for the life of me understood why Jesus was so curt with her. He had been walking all day, under the hot Middle Eastern sun when he came to her doorstep, and like any good Hebrew lady, she immediately set to preparing him a hearty meal.

 

There she was, kneading the dough, stoking the hearth, stirring the stew, all by herself, while her wide-eyed, vivacious sibling sat at Jesus' feet, listening to stories rather than letting the good man have some rest. Wiping a bead of sweat from her brow, she tossed a towel over her shoulder and marched into the living room. Arms akimbo, she demanded, "Master, don't you care that my sister has abandoned the kitchen to me?"

 

Good question. But wait for it; Jesus is not impressed. "Martha, dear Martha, you're fussing far too much and getting yourself worked up over nothing. One thing only is essential, and Mary has chosen it - it's the main course, and won't be taken from her." (Luke 10)

 

A friend recently shared with me the words of Luke 17, and they struck a chord - I can do God no favors. Jesus, speaking here, says it quite succinctly:

 

Suppose one of you has a servant who comes in from plowing the field or tending the sheep. Would you take his coat, set the table, and say, "Sit down and eat"? Wouldn't you be more likely to say, "Prepare dinner; change your clothes and wait table for me until I've finished my coffee; then go to the kitchen and have your supper"? Does the servant get special thanks for doing what's expected of him? It's the same with you. When you've done everything expected of you, be matter-of-fact and say, "The work is done. What we were told to do, we did." (vv. 7-10, Message)

 

Martha was working hard, doing her best to serve God. But God was not impressed. He's already done so much more to serve me that my highest service pales in comparison. All he requires of me is to do exactly what he tells me to do. And if that means sitting still at his feet, well, that's were I ought to be.

 

So take pause, stop being oh-so-busy for a minute and consider: "No matter what I do, I can do God no favors. All that will ever impress Him is that I'm in that position of submission, attentive to His Word and His Will." Stop fussing and sit down for a minute and be blessed as you do.

 

With love, Doosuur.

The Darling of Heaven, Crucified

Worthy is the Lamb
Seated on Your throne
Crown You now with many crowns
You reign victorious
High and lifted up
Jesus Son of God
The Darling of heaven crucified
Worthy is the Lamb
Darlene Zschech, 2000

There are a few songs that are, truly, in a league of their own for the simple reason that they have moved me to tears. Songs like Lenny LeBlanc's Above All, Mark Schultz' Letters From War and, most recently, Darlene Zschech's Worthy is the Lamb.

I happened to be listening to music casually some weeks ago when a line jumped up at me out of the tunes: "the Darling of Heaven crucified." What horror! Jesus was crucified. He was actually, even brutally, nailed to a cross and left to hang for 3 hours while the whole world walked on by. And there, alone, far removed from the glory of heaven - where he had legions of magnificent angels at his beck and call, where he had his Father's ear, where he was undisputed prince - there, on the cross, he died in pain and despair. From glory to grave, from Heaven to Hades.

At the height of his suffering Jesus he called out, "My God, my God. Why have you forsaken me?" Dead silence. Not even his Father would answer him now. There, at that moment, he had become sin. He was sin embodied that sin might die. It was as though God had cut off his own right hand and thrown it in the fire. The Darling of Heaven was crucified. Heaven's best Son was abandoned to death.

And most fittingly, all earth fell silent and the sun refused to shine. Creation rebelled for her Master was defiled. And with a word and a cry he breathed his last.

And there, right there in the darkness, in the silence - with the women weeping in muffled tones while the soldiers mocked - there does history find its finest moment. Christ crucified so that I could escape death.

Do we so much mourn Christ's death as we celebrate it? Perhaps not quite so much, and with good reason too - for if the full weight of the injustice of that moment should descend on us, and if we realized that we too held the hammer that spring afternoon, we might be driven to depths of despair. But thanks be to God, all that is done and the bitterness of death is past. So go ahead, mourn and then celebrate Christ's death. The Darling of Heaven crucified, so that I could become Heaven's darling.

With love, Doosuur.

Banking in January

I remember it all … the feeling of hitting the bottom. But there's one other thing I remember … God's loyal love couldn't have run out, his merciful love couldn't have dried up. They're created new every morning. How great your faithfulness!

Lamentations 3:20-23

In truth, I did not expect much activity when I walked into the banking hall today, but I was quite startled by what I witnessed. The silence was absolutely deafening. The peace and quiet was a long way removed from the hustle and bustle of just a few weeks earlier when last-minute Christmas shoppers had crowded the tills, waiting to clear out their accounts in the spirit of the season. It was quite unusual to see jobless tellers, idly waiting for the odd customer and, I would imagine, playing an interminable game of solitaire on their tabletop monitors. So much for Monday morning banking.

I had come in to deposit a cheque and the irony of it was not lost on me. What a time to deposit money! Who doesn't feel the crunch of the last few days of January? Who doesn't reel from the shock of binge spending at the height of the holidays? Most of us just grind out these bare days, one hour at a time, making every red cent count while the elusive paycheck takes its jolly good time in coming.

I would proffer that the undulations of our salary accounts parallel the zeniths and nadirs of our spiritual lives. It would seem that as soon as we experience a season of refreshing, peace and genuine communion it is soon followed by the lows of guilt, disappointment and sin that leave us feeling depleted and overdrawn. And when we've made that last withdrawal, there is nowhere left to turn. We tell ourselves that our credit is finished. There is no more mercy, no more grace, no more love.

Enter Jesus. In one momentous act of redemption, he credited our accounts with love, mercy and grace … forever. We are never too far gone, never stuck too deep, never fallen too low. It is at the lowest moments that he is there, waiting, with open arms. If only we would write that cheque and present it, we would find that our account is never overdrawn. Not in January, not ever. There is enough mercy, enough grace, enough love to help us through the difficult times until we can again stand on our feet to receive the abundance that God has stored up for us. His mercies are new every morning; how great His faithfulness. (Lamentations 3:23)

With love, Doosuur