Emmunah's Journey
Introduction……..
“But without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him” Hebrews 11 v 6
My face hits the ground; my hands covered the back of my head as I gasped for a breath of air to help me stop crying. I lay on the ground not knowing how to handle myself, do I run- do I hide? do I scream, “what am I doing all of this for?” I keep asking myself. “Jesus, I thought I was doing all of this with you and now you are killing my mother,” I sobbed. Then in the back of my head a gentle hand rubbed my back, and whispered “He will not give us more than we can handle,” I sucked in some more air, still unable to breath.
It was there on the floor in my friend, Katherine's apartment, God used her and an incident with my mother’s health to show Himself in my life. It was during that November, a year before I realized where my faith lied and from where it was given.
At the end of July 2000, my mother came to visit me, while I was studying at Francis Marion University in Florence, South Carolina. It was rather unusual because she came alone, and if you know anything about my mother, a 49 year old South African, Indian, woman travelling by herself. It is almost an oxymoron. My mother never travelled alone anywhere not even across the street, so you can understand my joy when she came to visit. For me it was an answer to prayer, because I had not spent time with my mother alone, without one of my bothers or sister around. She spent a month with me and during that time, I showed her my freedom that I had found in God and she thought me not to give up on talents that God has given me like writing, loving life for all it is not just what it gives.
The journey of this book began at the end of that summer after my mother returned to South Africa. Almost a week after she got home I got a call from her and my father telling me that she was sick and that she was sick when she came to visit me. She could not tell me that she was sick when she came to visit, so she waited until she got home, and got worse before telling me. It was after that phone call, I ran over to Katherine's apartment, as I stood on her balcony in front of her door I began to shake, my hands trembled as I rang the doorbell, but no one was there. So I just stood there in front of the door, I don't even know for how long, I just stood there until I heard a rustle in the leaves at the bottom of the stairs, it was Katherine.
As I reflect to that day, it is so beautiful to me how Jesus works. He leads us to the ones that will always help us on this journey. Katherine was the bridge that God used for me to walk on and learn His ways through this lost time in my life. I remember crying helplessly in her arms, but it was not her holding me but Jesus, because her touch calmed my raging ocean that crashed within me. I don't believe that is humanly possible, just God possible. Not much was said that afternoon, but God was able to open the door and step into my life that day more then He ever could before. A week after that day I promised God that if He kept my mother well I would write a book inspired by His ways in me. He took me by the hand that day and has walked me through the book, through the poetry, through the skits/drama, completely blowing me away by His pure, holy and sanctified characters. You could say that during that summer I had a very real encounter with God. He became more then the friend I had searched for, He became my every breath. As He led me through the mountains of my life, He revealed areas in my life where I did not let Him in. I held on to a lot of pain, a lot of shame, convictions, disgrace and talents that I believed I could handle and promote myself. To surrender the way I had been living was a sacrifice only God knew how to refine. The journey of this book has taken five years of waiting, listening and living out His desires for me.
After making me weak by revealing to me that my family was in His control. He held their destiny and mine. I found myself grabbing desperately for the Hand of Christ in my life, since He gave me a safety I could not find in anything or anyone, not even my mother. He gave me a desire to want to search for Him more, a passion that needed Him intimately and a craving for the love of His ways.
I remember coming home after a frustrating day of classes and sitting in my closet sized room starring at other students walking around campus. Life can be so unfair," father", I prayed, "What is the purpose of me here, what am I doing here 50 thousand miles away from my home?" Wondering where I belonged, why I felt so lonely, I could not understand why I felt so empty. The more I put my love into my friends around me the more empty I felt. Katherine was a close friend that I did everything with, from camping to sleep-overs, and yet her love like all things took its time to fade leaving me there in that place once more trying to conceal my loneliness. "What is your love now," I remember writing down on a piece of paper in my prayer journal. It was then that God's words that I belonged to Him became clear to me. It was me; not choosing Him that made me empty. My free will to love sin over the spotless lamb, my joy of kissing a stranger instead of holding onto what I can't see.
He guided me into writing this poem so that I could see the love of being sold out for Christ. So often we take what the world gives us and we sell ourselves into it with all that we are and forget it was by the cross we have being branded and bought by every drop of Jesus' blood. Every screaming drop, bought us in the most painful, disgraceful manner known to man. Why? For the sheer hope that we would love Him too and would love the sacrifice. For love, we were branded.
The Brand
My bitter heart cuts
The cord that joint us once
My angry words rips
Open chest plate
Seeping with envy
My life festering the wound until
No will to go on
The yellowish-green sap of them
I suck in
Thickening the walls
Of my veins contaminating
All the good red liquid
Fighting to live
A blockage in my heart
Valve , I feel the cord tear
Out of my flesh, falling into
My hand, holding on
It drags me along on my knees
A weeping wound
Remains
“Jesus, don’t let me go,” I think
Lord, my heart clogs
Up beating the rhythm
Of a funeral hymn
“Jesus, don’t let me go,” I utter,
Dirty red anger,
Slimy green pain,
Rotten yellow envy
Drip out, rolling off my brown skin
“Jesus don’t let me go, it is Yours, make it Yours”
Ruby blood flows out the wound
The flaming cord burns in hand, held in His
We stab it in the wound
Burning out the infection
Branding me SOLD PROPERTY.
The sweet mercies of God can be so breathtaking to me. So often in my life because of my busy schedule I forgot to go out and play in this magnificent playground that God in His glory has created for us. Like a child running excitedly to and from the ocean water I want to be with God. Learning to trust in His timing, His love and His ways.
I really wanted this book to be more than just a poetry book that gets read once and sits on the counter for the next ten years before getting sold at a garage sale for 50 cents. I wanted this book to be a tool that can be used in churches, youth groups, in different ministries that wanted to express the love of Christ in different ways. I believe that any form of art, literature or life that does not posses a purpose of use is not doing what it is intended to be. I love classics, because they live on, like our God, our Jesus, He is and will be here forever, His way and words will never die.
For me Jesus was not always my first love. It was at sixteen that I first learnt about a loving God that saves and believed that idea. It took a lot of wrong turns and twists for me to get here, to this point - life is so meaningless without the love of God guiding the way..I pray that my journey that unfolds through this book along with the poetry and drama’s will encourage your walk and maybe even give you the courage to live on life’s edge , day by day…..
