You Were Not Saved By Your Good Deeds
October 26, 2023
Most people think that they were saved by their good deeds and their bad deeds are what cause stagnation and lack in their lives. Most think that God is standby
Have you ever felt like you’re interested in, well, everything? One moment you’re sketching out a business plan, the next you’re laughing at a witty observation, and later you find yourself reflecting on a deep spiritual truth. If so, you’ve found your corner of the internet.
Life isn’t lived in neat, separate boxes, and this blog is a reflection of that beautiful, messy reality. I believe that your work, your wit, your faith, and your desire to make a difference are all interconnected parts of a single, incredible story: yours.
Most people think that they were saved by their good deeds and their bad deeds are what cause stagnation and lack in their lives. Most think that God is standby
Most Christians think they are sowers simply because they give, serve in church nor do not condone sexual immorality. They think that automatically God will supply seed and bread for
As a child, I knew that the Church was to be given the pocket change remained evident in the 5, 10, and 20 shillings coins we were given as offering.
Do you realize that you just can’t give to any entity, person or even church? Did you know that you can give to places and your money fades in thin
Sermons in church are now trending news updates where what is taught is what is popular on social circles. Sadly, men of God have now been reduced to content creators
A young man, Robert Johnson sold his soul to the devil for fame, dominion and wealth. The child of God on the other hand has to be forced to sell
Religious institutions are no more or less teaching institutions with hired lecturers ready to receive students. The students they expect are broken and need power to rise but sadly religious
The Kenyan media is busy advertising and promoting the occult and exposing and massacring men of God. Sadly, the same men of God go the same media houses to ‘expose’
‘Ng’ombe’ and ‘Kwani wewe ni ng’ombe?’ Were the phrases that filled my ears In my rogue childhood I remember how you pinched my ears When it was reported that I
I was not cuddled as a toddler Never had the latest of brickgames and Rubik’s Cube I never knew what it is to own the latest Nintendo or Wii But
God, your ways I cannot fathom Your Power I cannot explain I mean, not so long I was eating from the remains of my enemies I was at the feet
I cannot be you Maybe because my nose is proportional and yours is not I cannot live like you, talk like you or walk your ways Maybe because am unique
I am born of Christ With myself I don’t consider more fond of light Nor my walks agile and gentle to conform But one thing for sure, I know my
I love the dust But hate the lust I love the green And loathe the sin I hate the river between The river that clash the tribes within I hate
God, forgive my adulterous self Always confused by the tips of tits And the bouncing of bums God, they say that the thunder about to strike me Is still doing
Amidst any self-proclaimed worldly seraph Amidst any masquerading gladiator Amidst the slander and the slate Amidst the dreary lifestyle Be that amaranth Garland your crown with good, positive thoughts and
I have longed to do this post. Maybe because it was the first shoot I ever did in life. I knew little about photography. All I knew was to slide
No matter much how we hide our past How we plow and bury it beneath the dust No matter how we show we have nothing left No ounce of love
When misfortunes knock When life presses its lock When enemies laugh and mock All you are reduced to is but a sock Dirty, smelly and torn When it rains it
Make me understand why life is bitter Why pain is a brother and trouble the sister Make me understand why I toil for wealth Only to see it devoured by
What is life If I cannot dance in the rain And cannot engage in my childhood plays What is life If I dread to pursue my dreams For the fear
There was a day I used to sing so well That scoundrels had their tears well There was a day I sounded the piccolo That my jeers hearkened to my
When pain parades its pus When trouble trails my tail When misfortunes muster like mice When despair disdains and destructs I pick myself up If sadness serrates my soul If
I used to pen down the unimaginable Pieces that left many perplexed In awe of where I subscribed to I used to ink down the immense Art that left them
My sun refuses to rise at times And my moon sinks deep into the oblivion The stars shy off from their glimmer Paving way to this devouring darkness That sucks
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