Imagine the Fire.

About a little over a month ago, during a night vigil service, our pastor had a near death experience halfway through his sermon. It happened seconds after he had said the words, "I want to see you, Jesus." The words carried the weight of his faith and in no time, he floated away. That very second, prayers were lifted up by the congregation. He was in a comatose state for a month until his eyelids parted to welcome him back to the land of the living.

There is a line in the neurosurgeon Eben Alexander's book that reads, "You are loved and cherished, dearly, forever. You have nothing to fear. There is nothing you can do wrong." This statement has stayed with me since I read that book, and I am- beyond all reasonable doubt- certain that there is life after this one.

Death is a medium- a door- through which we all walk to experience the aftermath of our lives. Some already have, others will in no time. The fact that you do not believe it doesn't make it surreal. On the contrary, it existed before you entered this life, and it will be after you exit. Simple truths are hard to believe but they are our salvation. Personally, I think it's only fair that in a world run by the devil, people believe his existence more than they do God. The mistake is that you fail to understand that the devil is not the opposite of God. God is above all else. He stands alone in his excellence and goodness. He has no equal, and there isn't a complete badness contesting the complete goodness of God. When I watched the recent version of Left Behind, I understood the young lady's unbelief. It easy to see darkness when you are surrounded by light. You can instantly tell when something doesn't fit. The same cannot be said when you have lived your entire life in the reigns of darkness. At first you have hope and somewhat belief, and then slowly that hope flickers into oblivion. The weight of that darkness can crush your dreams and hopes because it is designed to.

When I watched the film heaven is for real, it amazed me  how some of us Christians sit in church with something camouflaged as faith. The Christians could not get past the fact that heaven was real. Being a Christian is hard, I know. But our assurance is that God is with us even through our bouts of unbelief, and shortcomings. God has always been painting the bigger picture. One which may be beyond but we are called to, regardless. It is easy to believe in the depravity of the human existence: the hatred, greed, and the sheer evil that lingers in the hearts of many. It is always easy to believe that there is no God. True or not, death awaits your arrival. I used to think that death visited each one of us when our timer clocked in. What I failed to realize was that we were marching towards death. Our steps maybe like that of the tortoise but we are on our way to a door that leads to the next. Whether or not you believed in God and his gift of eternal peace in the afterlife, don't wait to find out. It will be too late for you. What do you have to lose? Your so called perfect life? 

The love between Life and Death

I am reminded of how fast and easy people slip into oblivion; their presence gone from within our grasps and our hearts ever empty and sore. Sometimes, in the awe of October, as fall unleashes her warmth and beauty, I am reminded that death falls down taking the best of us with her. It shows no mercy or restraints, with the passion of a lover claims the gifts life sends her way and never returns them for contentment abides in her heart.

The pains of yesterday have left my heart, and even as I sit behind my old computer to forcefully push the keys of these letters, I am grimly reminded that no man lives forever in the confines of humanity. Death is like rain... it falls on everyone. Death is like the other child that almost ripped your family apart. You know the one. The one the your parents argue over at 2 am in the dead hours of twilight, the one that never makes it to the living room but when she does all hell breaks loose. That one.  She reminds us of how time is unpredictable, and how sweet things can turn sour in a split second. It doesn't take minutes to die, or hours, it takes a second.

Truth is you don't get stronger as you age. With each year's passing, you draw nearer to your crowning moment- to your reception party in the afterlife. My grandmother's passing after 86 years of life did not hurt or provoke any emotional turbulence. To be honest, I have never always been able to source out that emotional side of me. She was old and her timer was long overdue, so when it clocked her ticket to the afterlife in, I sang with joy that she had been freed from the suffering of this world- received by her maker. And then two friends who were no older than me slipped away in the cold hours of winter. Gruesome, horrifying and utterly heartbreaking. It sank deep into my heart, lived there for months and my subconscious feasted on it- provoking thoughts that were beyond me. I understand now why people take life for granted. If you have woken up every morning for the past 20 years or whatever years you have lived on earth, it is hard to think for a second that tonight's full moon could be the last you see, or that you may be enjoying your last sun bathing experience. The reason why we should be joyful is that one day- like everything on this this earth- it will all be over. But cautious because you don't know when it will be.

You could be in the middle of cheating on your wife when your timer stops. No matter how worth having you think the things on this earth are, none of them can save you from dying. After all, to be alive means death is evident and to be dead is to be alive forever wherever your final destination is.

As you go about your daily activities, I want you to think about these words:

Death is a beautiful lover who cherishes the gifts life sends her. The minute you were born, life sent you on a journey as a gift to death. Your journey may be long or short, but whatever the case, you are on your way.....

ETA: N/A

Open Mic.

In these pitch black corners, I've sat quietly; calm like a stalker with unlimited patience, waiting for the seasons of poison to swallow my love in one gulp, with an earnest hope that they do not disappoint. When I was 7, I thought love was being abused by a 19 year old girl who was a freshman in college. When I was 8, I thought love was asking her to marry me. She said yes, and I painted a portrait of love for her. I left with the promise of forever with her, but before the night unfolded, she set it on fire. She robbed me and left me stranded at the altar with my wooden ring which I carved out of a withered tree branch. The years have slipped into oblivion. My skin has matured but my mind on the other hand, has yet feel maturity. I have often loved the darkness and wondered when the light would challenge me to be better. I’m a broken soul, maybe hell-bound with no remorse or regret. The life I live, I live in the shadows of my own eerie reflection. For what it’s worth, you can’t hate me more than I hate myself. I could fade away on a cloudless summer day, or on a beautiful spring day and no one would remember my existence, however brief it was. The days slip into oblivion and I have yet to grasp the full extent of my own nature and why I do what I do. I have seen how the storms come and go, how people always leave, and lived on broken promises.

We turned the pages as the fold of time slipped by, and we watched like strangers who had known each other forever. What to pen these days is almost lost within me as I wrestle with the notion that distance has been cruel to us...it is almost like passing a camel through the eye of a needle. I have for many days pondered in the depths of heart profound thoughts that could better explain a perfect frame of us. A frame  where  we both exist in time present. For what it's worth, every smile that creases your lips is a ballad to my heart and  it lingers like beautiful mist in the corridors.  To leave the borders of your love would bruise my heart and burn my soul. So I hold on to the heart that holds mine, to the hands that comforts me, and the embrace that brings me warmth. You. Maybe distance will part and separates us. Maybe our  hearts will let go and fall into oblivion about how we feel about each other.