Rehearsed Mantra.

God is testing your faith is the rehearsed mantra of every person in my formal church.

Their heads are screwed tight on their thoughts convincing them that male dominance is nacessary in relationships,

And they foolishly sing praises to God and foolishly think how insecure God must truly be and how God used Job to teach Satan a lesson on how faithful human beings be could be.

How much he wanted to prove that any being would gasp his name even in times of life and death. 

Take your last breath.

Sing your last praises.

How Nobel is that.

Black churches would rather blame depression and hardship on the devil and act like they don’t teach the story of Job.

God makes no mistakes is the string that keeps us tied to him.

What if faith in hard times is our only assurance?

What if I feel like Job all the time.

My soul, blood and sweat running through God’s fingertips trying to find solidity in his palm pressed against the devil already.

And what marvellous being you are that you can raffle another man’s soul on a dice.

After God reduced Job to dust he rebuilt him again and he thanked him. 

God is testing your faith is the rehearsed mantra of every  person in my formal church. 

My faith is small enough to fit into the cracks of my palms, oh God. 

And at night the city of my mind is attacked by its neighbouring cities and my thoughts are cannonballed and thrown to destroy my sanity. 

This year,

My uncle became a victim to cancer and his life it took.

He laid in his hospital bed like a bus stop waiting for God to come by and pick him up. 

I had never seen both pain and confidence both present at once.

And something inside of me, something inside of me wished that before he would pass away like a old family heritage. 

Sitting at the back of a cold sanctuary, crying my eyes out because I so desperately wanted what the preacher was preaching to be true but my doubts were preaching a sermon of their own.

Frustration. 

A day time war, I remember, I’m frustrated,

At this world, at God, at you and I. 

I have questions. 

And God said have your questions.

i am not telling you to have blind faith but I am telling you to consider all those blind men who had faith in me before they could even see,

Consider the birds that eat from my palms and do not fall from the sky without my consent, so how much more will I love the one that I died for?

Before you doubt me, doubt your doubts and you will see that they’re just as empty as the tomb that I walked from. 

Union. 

You see the ring on my finger,

For better or for worse,

Through sickness and in health,

Through faith and through questions,

Till death brings us closer, 

You are mine and I am yours.

God makes no mistakes is the rehearsed mantra of every person in my formal church and now I understood why.