My Neighbour

A fictional story By Lilian

Two years ago, I was a newly converted Christian and was yet to fall in love with the Christian race. Christians did bad things then, some still do. I was even still wondering why I was becoming one of them. Starting with my aunts, if being Christ-like could be measured on a scale of 1-10, they would have negatives. They were the SI unit of badness. True story. Even those who didn’t know God, called them the terrorist twins. Terrorists in the order of Boko Haram and Al-Shabab. Funny thing is, they were in the forefront of all church activities, pretending to be holy and all. That I would have to share eternity with those two, hesitated my getting born again by two months.

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Faith of our fathers; PART 2

Over the past few days I have found myself confronted by another aspect of the “Faith of our Fathers” issue. A more positive one, but still spiritually deadly in its own right. If you have not read my first article on “Faith of our Fathers”, you can read it hereFaith of our fathers. However, a brief explanation of the phenomenon is this. Many of us who grew up in Christian homes find ourselves acquiring our parents’ patterns of faith without internalizing it for ourselves. Yes we are born again, but our maturity is based on learned behaviour rather than stemming from “working out our own salvation”. Sometimes it is in totality (the most dangerous)…

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Earth Day

I was probably a typical child in that I had a really messy bedroom. I had an extra bed in my room for guests. However it was hard to find the bed under a nice mangle of my clothes (clean and dirty), toys, rocks and twigs I had been playing with, half-finished art projects, etc. But I loved to look good when I went out. On Sunday my clothes were clean, ironed, and I was regal in my kitten heels. I remember my mum saying to me one Sunday, “Ya, you look nice… but if someone sees the room you have come from…”

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Single And Surrendered

With Garfield eyes the phone stared at me in silence. Numb I thought, no calls, no texts, nothing but the snoozed alarm. Accustomed to the attention and sweet nothings, the silence was a killer. Constant affirmations of my beauty, deep looks into my eyes,and expression of my worth in the measure of every ounce of love,came not.Security,covering and protection,a masculine figure for a bulb change, aerial fixing and furniture moving all gone.

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