Found and Free!

Dear Jesus,

through my shallow tears and cries to the other side

where I attempt to take back what I have lost, I am reminded of You Lord,

and how you feel when we stray away… I just want my dogs…. but no matter how much I call out, only You can hear me. I’ve allowed what I could buy to capture my heart. I’m hurting now because I was always captive to what I thought was stolen from me. Security. I’m lost waiting for the world to explain to me that it is my right to feel entitled. To feel my pain. What you chose to give you choose when to take away. The dog that brought me joy, The money that brought the dogs. The father who gave me the money. The God I chose to ignore.

Help me to break away, so they can never hurt me. I’ve heard the whispers from the dark. They could be sold. They could be lunch, They could be dead. I’ve listened to everyone, but I never heard what you said. I’m looking for solutions, and I don’t even live there. I put so much value in them. But they left…. like me, the enemy has waited tirelessly for the day I wonder out into the dark, so I can be lost again… I’ve been a dog…but I’m already bought by the blood that many atheists and unbelievers have tried for centuries to disproof of existence.

My pain exists. And it’s heard to sleep when your babies are missing. But You put me back together, and You waited for me in my sleep.

Even though some seasons bruise me, I will trust in You. Even when the house is decorated with dogs, You watch over the master. I will keep asking you in faith, and my love for You won’t wither. I know if I was lost you would leave the 99 sheep to find that one stubborn one. I know You will give me peace, I know I will overcome. I know nothing happens under Your watch without a reason. Sometimes there’s pain, through it, there’s growth. In the end, and even now, may You always be glorified… and now that I know your pain, I pray that the lost children You cry for, will also come home.  And even if Christian and Oreo don’t come home, may Your will be done, and may I be found dwelling deeper, lifting praise at Your heavenly gates. Because I’m found, and I will search till I find my joy and peace in You alone. My heart is no more a slave to things that can die or be stolen. I’m free from this burdensome world. You found me.


” To the ones that want to stay lost. Stop searching. He will still love you when you come home. His doors are open wide… Just come home to where true love is.”

Psalm 51.

My Faith?

Behaviors are coping mechanisms… what is underneath all that pain?

The water pipe broke, what is it?
The microwave broke?
My dog died
My lover lied...
Are You taking me through the book of Job?

The pipes froze
The lights broke
The drive to work is doubled,
My food is out in the cold.

I keep seeing my "friends"
the ones that got things tied
in the end.
I see us living in the same house,
but I moved out weeks ago...

I don't know what You want me to do.
Is this the fire that makes
the gold?

Am I being disowned Lord?
Or is this just another book of Job?

Something is broken in my Spirit.
What needs to be done before you fix me?

I'm tired of going to men 
to fix me,
when we are all broken pieces...

waiting for You to speak to me.

What else is broken besides my heart?
If it's us, then I plead, fix me!

Only You can rid me of this sin;
the only disease 
that exists in me.

Psalm 51.


Bondage Broken

Dear Friends,

How long are grudges supposed to last for anyway?

Is it till we are tired of the extra pain in our hearts whenever the person walks into the room? Or is it till we are desperate to sleep well and finally get that unnecessary discomfort out of our heads?

Or seriously, are we waiting to realize what we already know that we are defying the number 1 commandment? That we are hurting God? That we have no right?

Either way, this casual form of hatred is fueled by darkness, inspired by an eternity of madness, that slowly waits to kill us in mere seconds…..

So how long is it necessary to prove a point , that “YES!  I will continue to live like my sister does not exist, as though she wasn’t made from the image of God, like my total disgust towards her isn’t an approved form of worship to the devil; the prince of hate, destruction and grudges.”  There is a difference between wisdom and living in death.

How long do I have to lie to myself that I am not at peace with myself, because I have an invisible black book of enemies knitted in my soul, and it keeps growing and growing until my undefined end, when I stand before the throne of God on judgement day, and give Him a 1000 reasons why I just could not repent:


But hell isn’t made for those who have always been wrong, or those who never truly loved God. The truth is, if we are true holders of the cross, we would know how to treat our brothers or sisters first as Christ did when He gave up His all for us;
His money, His Home, His freedom, His privacy, His family, His dignity, His marriage,His food, His clothes, His life, His blood, His sweat, Himself.

So, how much is a grudge really worth? ……………………………

The next time I see those who betray, gossip, lie and persecute me, I will greet them with a warm smile. I will mean all of it, because, like my labeled “enemy”, Christ died shamelessly on the cross for our sins.

Forgiveness is bondage broken.

Psalm 49:13-15     Leviticus 19:17-18    Matthew 25:35    Colossians 3:13   Ephesians 4:31-32

Huh…. when you now know but didn’t know You enough to have known. You know?

The Inevitable Itch.

Hello God,

I know I could be doing so many other “productive” things (according to worldly standards) with my time, but this is like fruitful fuel for my soul. It is at that point of realization when you really want to blow up someone’s phone to tell them a super long story of how you came to a certain feeling, but alas, “aint no body got time for that”.
But that’s why I love You; You are always available for any convention. And You move mountains.

So… I remember that one time, my family was on a vacation in Kumasi, and we spent the time visiting relative after relative. It was so much fun! No it wasn’t. My brother and I had practically gotten to that point of gnashing our teeth, wishing we had stayed at home in Accra. Oh how social, respectful children we were back then. I remember him say, “if one more person asks me what I am going to do when I grow up, I will just say beggar. Ah! we’re tired!” We were laughing hard in the back seat. I didn’t know he was serious ooh….. hmmm.

Then we went to the next house! *rolling on the floor in laughter* … It was like a movie. The old men asked us both what we wanted to do when we grow up – our little sister was too young to talk – I went along with my medical doctor swag. But then when it got to Naynz , he straight up said “I want to be a ….”. And everyone there including my parents were super confused. They were meant to be showcasing us, but it seemed the tables had turned .
“You want to be what?”
The old men asked again, “you mean like the burger we eat?”.

“No, no,” my brother replied blankly, ” like beggar on the streets.” My parents were both in shock. At the point I started hearing sirens in my head.. like the world had completely slowed down. And laughter came out of my mouth like vomit I couldn’t hold down. Then my mother gave me the dirtiest look; the infamous mum stare that, like fiery rays, can cut through your heart and remind you what time it is and who gave birth to you? At that moment I knew that somewhere in the universe, like a basketball, a spanking was slowly spinning toward one of us. Either that or we were both going to be gingered…HARD. So like clockwork, I choked into silence.

I thought of this just now because I know that sometimes in life, there are some forces in our own minds, that causes us to act very irrationally, especially when we are convinced that we are right… Like when I stupidly threw a stick at the chief and my father had to slaughter a sheep. But that’s another story, same vacation though.
Don’t judge me, I was trying to save my father from potential bankruptcy.

Fast forward to 2017, I wasted an entire semester on procrastination and depression. I chose to sleep through the midnight deadline of a paper which took me only 45 minutes to write. Then my reliable computer decided to freeze  on me.
This lateness, caused by performance anxiety, came at a cost of a letter grade; an A-.
I was furious. Angry…. with the devil? The devil has suffered from the blame and excuses that we as believers tend to assign for our lack of faith. Not really! Every act of fear comes from a belief that was sown and watered from somewhere.
The itch.

Just the other day, at a family lunch, my little cousin took a kebab stick and asked passionately if he could burst the giant pimple on the side of my face. Everyone was appalled, but I know he really wanted to set me free from a lifetime of awkward stares, and luckily children barely have  social filters. So unlike my brother and I, he got away with it.

What all these scenarios make me think of is the fact that there is always something unseen, unheard or unwritten that gives us an itch and make us act inappropriately in terms of social norms. I could never blame my brother for that cheeky answer back then, because we were both bored and tired of the same question over and over again. A question that can cause some form of anxiety or stress on a nice holiday, can easily provoke a harsh or rude answer. This becomes an itch. We all have that one thing that makes us itch. Like a psychological or spiritual button that brings up a different side of us.

I believe that before anyone decides to label or diagnose any acts of passion or fear as a behavioral disorder or form of deviance, it is important that we address these things to you, Lord, because you are the divine manufacturer, and only You can truly prescribe a cure for our weaknesses and malfunctions.

Growing up, I found myself always tilting to the left, because that tittle mountain of flesh – insecurity – always sat heavily on my shoulder.  It was more than just a mountain, a foe or abnormal growth, or a keloid. Insecurity, was the spirit that clouded my thoughts and made me believe that this little growth was bigger than life and must impact all my thoughts, moments, and memories. It affected me. It dictated what I did, the clothes I wore and how I acted at all times. It was like the imaginary cockroach underneath my armpits … it weighed me down and cost me most of the freedom of my youth. I was disgusted by myself, angry with You. At that moment the dark spirit that accompanied that mass of growth, became my god.

“Vanity of vanities,” says the Preacher, “All is vanity.” – Ecclesiastes 12:8

Years later, countless failed or pending relationships later, surgeries later, I have now been able to identify that this one little itch that always made me feel ugly and weird about myself was never the extra growth of skin or blood clots on my shoulder, or face. No.  Today, I now label that thing as the spirit of insecurity, among other things that I am and will continue to bind and overcome by the grace of God that helps me see that I was made in Your own image as Your daughter, and I have a divine purpose to fulfill regardless of what or who defines me or regards me as more of less of a person.

Remember your Creator before the silver cord is loosed, or the bowl is broken, or the pitcher shattered at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the well.
Then dust will return to the earth as it was, and the spirit will return to the God who gave it.
– Ecclesiastes 12:6-7

We are not just people, we are spirits, and whatever we give power to dominate over our thoughts and actions, can become a god and a stronghold. That’s what demons are known best for. There’s no reason to be angry, when you finally realize what the itch was put there for. It’s their job. To torment and harass. Ours is to trust in God and overcome. That moment I realized it was never me, but the sin that covers this world and the eyes of many, I finally decided it was time to be free.  Thank you God for creating me, and permitting these hardships to occur so that I could be stronger enough to be what You created me to be: Redeemed.

“Assuredly , I say to you, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.”
-Mathew 18:18




Overcoming Fear and Accepting God’s hand.

Overcoming fear and accepting God’s hand through the trials.

I’m not new to this suffering. Neither is Jesus. Lately so much has been happening … riots, floods, missile launches, dirty politics…. my own weaknesses and imperfection. It’s so easy to give up and question God, like He doesn’t know what He is doing, like He is not the author and vindicator of everything that is good, like he didn’t make me fearful and wonderful to fulfill His true divine purposes for my life.

The world might raise me to hate who I am because the canal mind cannot begin to understand or discern who I  was made to be. I am better than what anyone can guess or calculate about me, because the manufacturer of my soul, God, is the only one who can rate my beauty, my worth and my potential. I am made to work for His divine purpose and His heavenly Kingdom. Forget this fallen world. Remembering God in these last days will make a difference.


Psalm 11

For the director of music. Of David.

In the Lord I take refuge.
    How then can you say to me:
    “Flee like a bird to your mountain.
For look, the wicked bend their bows;
    they set their arrows against the strings
to shoot from the shadows
    at the upright in heart.
When the foundations are being destroyed,
    what can the righteous do?”

The Lord is in his holy temple;
    the Lord is on his heavenly throne.
He observes everyone on earth;
    his eyes examine them.
The Lord examines the righteous,
    but the wicked, those who love violence,
    he hates with a passion.
On the wicked he will rain
    fiery coals and burning sulfur;
    a scorching wind will be their lot.

For the Lord is righteous,
    he loves justice;
    the upright will see his face.



The Honeymoon phase


A man’s kiss, a man’s clutch

A man can drive you crazy

with a single touch.

When he laughs, when he yawns,

You fight for his affection,

silly little pawns.

He makes you think he is there whenever

Truth is you rush to his feet

good or bad weather.

When he is done with you, your soul burns like hell.

Foolishly crying, you fell for his little spell.

Always there to run to his every call.

but never there to catch you when you fall.

Always the one to give

but you never receive.

How long before you realize

you’ve all been deceived.

Woman wake up! When will you see?

A few sweet words from his mouth

has set your heart free.

Time and time again, your mind will linger.

Thinking of the passion,

still wrapped around his finger.

He does not feel the same way, his heart is cold.

You will be wise if you heed these words you’ve been told.

But don’t be fooled, that is not all there is to a man.

When he loves you, he will do all that he can.

When he thinks of you, nothing else can be true

But this kind of love springs

But once in a blue moon.

Holding on to him is like grasping on to sand. 

It might take us forever before we understand

Some of you might wonder how

this heartless man came to be.

Ladies, look around you,

for the monsters creator

is a she.


Whoredom, wine, and new wine, which take away the understanding. – Hosea 4:11

Flee from sexual immorality. Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body. – 1 Corinthians 6:18

But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart. – Matthew 5:28

“I asked for it”

Flashes of the scarring untold used to cripple me…. that was only the beginning that triggered a young Christian on a search for the authentic joy of life.

” I asked for it”

So if you are wondering how that ‘used to be’ gorgeously exotic girl drenched lavishly in blood, dangling lifelessly from a 30 feet telephone wire got there, then you are slightly ignorant. No better yet, you are offensively naive. For every one has heard what no one could have read. Is it true? Or did we all
really care? Regardless we all choose to intrude into people’s privacy when we stare and assume what we heard _ the news is vaguely fair. This is why I prefer to air this when I’m dead.
The real question you should be asking is ‘why?’ Well, don’t worry; I saved you the pain and energy of even the thought of thinking. Assumption. This letter which you will find plastered on my desk was torn reluctantly from the center of my ‘not so secret anymore’ diary. Don’t worry about the rest of the book, I burnt it right before I did this. As much as I would have loved to leave you all with the misery of contemplating for years the causes, no, the art of my death, here, I did you guys a favor. Here’s something to tell the news men. My last thoughts, my only words:

Dear Silent yet Strained Listener:

This is obviously before I found God. It was getting really late this Thursday night.. psssst lol ok, no I’m just kidding. No one died writing this. I had to get away from it all. I had to race against time just to get to my room; I just hate being around these people for too long. Today had been just another day in kindergarten. And as usual I was very tired. Mostly disgusted by their pettiness, I had no choice but to listen to the bullshit all day. No really, I have no choice. I try so hard not to count chickens while I walk. I feel like they are stalking me; their words only grow louder. I even went to the extent of walking around with the pressure of my purple head phones squashing my poor burdened head: my failed efforts to block the chatter out. But apparently that only made me look like a deluded lunatic. To them. Oh yeah, I heard that about myself too. This is a day in the life of a mad black woman who has nothing better to do than to just sit there and be talked about. If this were a movie, I would be the star. How could my life get any easier? Wish they’d shut up! I don’t blame them though. I’m quite the fascinating fish. When you live in a small space like this, you have nothing else to talk about. Nothing better than yourselves. So I will help you.

Today I had decided to take a walk a little, without my headphones (because apparently my life dearly depends on what everyone has to say). Okay, not really, my hearing was getting faulty from all the exerted noise. But like you guessed my defense against going deaf ended up going against my sanity. I heard everything, and I mean everything. It only made me even more depressed. The only thing I could possibly do was to move as quickly as I could. You see, I too have had to play the role of the strained listener, the audience member who never volunteered but yet was ridiculed by the power crazed comedian. Yes, I knew that until I took my last bow, I would forever be a slave to a flock of nonpaying spectators. But one day all was going to be different because one day, everyone would be choking from the guilt and lack of space, congested by that many pretenders stuck on a stage. Hope you enjoy the performance! Psstt. . I refuse to live yet alone die to conform to any of their wishes.

Ok Listener, enough of daydreaming about dessert, back to the main course of my miserable day! So I had to dive and dodge skillfully through cock pits (I mean that figuratively), battlefields, bullspit and then finally the cherry on top of it all! I had to play the invisible witness in the pretend game of war; my enemies versus my enemies… but I’m the target. Don’t you just treasure Thursday afternoons? I know I do! I’m quite the happy camper! And that’s just without the drugs.

First of all, I had to endure the excruciating pleasure of ears bleeding from hearing one of my ‘comrades’ speak of how oh woe is he, the poor gay black socially oppressed guy who has to undergo the discrimination and pain of society’s demands and pressures. I’m telling you I hear this song every day on my college record. He just needs his dick removed. And yet such oppressed individuals get off from telling everyone at lunch the newly released story of my life: how I magically woke up and became a ‘whore’. Oh woe is me now. The things I never knew about myself. Maybe we can call my final act a fight for my rights. At least now I can go to my grave knowing that I did something about it and now the world will be a much better place: free of mouth trafficking prostitution. Hey, I had no choice ok, I’m just another slave of society like the person reading this: the investigators, the news crew, my ‘friends’, the police, my loving roommate, my professors after they check me as absently dead, the real trafficked prostitutes, socially abused gay men everywhere, my unfortunate parents and oh before I forget, my dear silent witness, you, my dear reader. But not to worry, one day we will paint again.

So my day got juicier. Some random Jamaican girl approached me in the library telling me how she was thoroughly interrogated by her other Jamaican friends about my presence in her life. She spent hours telling me seductive stories about the campus population’s growing concerns and how I stole boyfriends, did endless drugs , destroyed families, burnt papers as my contribution to global warming, cut through roses instead of myself and maybe killed people. Apparently there was a recorded case of me majestically somersaulting over a highly raised bar with a broom stick as my highpole just to knock, no brutally attack someone on the head. I curiously asked her if I had any dangerous weapons on me that day because at this point I could have murdered an ant. I did not find any of these fun facts funny at all. Who knows how many other helpless victims I might have assaulted? And if so why is there still a crazy colored murderer on the loose? No one knows. All I could do was to suggest that the school buy more security cameras because I might have assaulted all the eye witnesses too. They, who are they? No one knows. This talk concerning the campus ‘protection against me’ program took too long. I had to finish my paper which was due that night. I nonchalantly agreed and bid her a safe walk away from me in case I decided to do what I do best as soon as she turned around. And off course this all happened within the silence of the library. Just when I thought I had discovered my final destination of solitude. At this point, I just could not wait for the day to be finally over and done with just so that I could go and have one of my priceless talks with my roommate, the only person who really understood me. I love and trust that girl with all my heart despite the social characteristics that tell us apart. Apparently she had just arrived on campus with a terrible cold from spending the weekend at the beach with her boyfriend . Somehow I found it hard to sympathize with her text because it was mid-February after all and the land had just seen snow- and less skin. I still felt kind of bad; she is a singer with a beautiful voice.

On my way to my dorm, I stopped by my Geography professor’s office to hand in my paper. I was however paralyzed by the sound of weeping, moaning and groaning as I walked towards the office door. It sounded like he was really given the class ‘valedictorian’ a lesson about the friction and sliding between the earth’s plates. I shook my head. So this is how you get extra credit, huh? I wanted to play ‘knock and run’ but I smiled and then carefully slid my paper underneath the red door. My paper was greeted politely by the mysterious silencing of the sex sounds behind the red door of the secret sex chamber. It was like a muzzled police siren. This is how I also “deservingly” got my extra credit. I didn’t even have to say a word.

Finally! I had arrived at my dorm. Just when I was climbing up the staircase, I overheard the voices of two people complaining to each other about something. And as usual one of them sounded nosy and oppressed and the other just sounded like a man with a very scratchy voice and a bad cough. I did not care initially because both voices sounded like mumbling to me. As I got closer up the stairs, the words became clearer. The girl said desperately, “ you guys can’t split up! You are wonderful together! A match made in heaven.” I giggled to myself, it was my RA speaking. But who could she be pleading with or talking about? My curiosity forced the microphone of my ears to extend for the first time. I had never in my life been the eavesdropper. Now I know the kind of satisfaction that the rest of my campus felt. It was like going to a live drama or opera…. For free!! Then the man, shaky toned spoke in frustration “Well , the truth is I only put up with her because I didn’t think she would be back again this semester. I don’t like her. She’s not a nice person and she’s nasty. She says the nastiest pessimistic things. I want her out for good. I can’t deal with her she’s so nasty!!!”

It finally dawned on me. The painful truth had revealed itself. I knew exactly who they were talking about. It was like a bullet being blown through your teeth and then heavily sinking down your gut. I now knew who the voice belonged to. The shock of it all! They were right; the knife only stabs more when you can’t see it coming especially when the agonizing jab is struck from within than over your flesh. Some things are harder to believe especially when you are the one with the front row seats.

“And Candi- Oh shit!” my roommate choked on her own words. Her manly voice was not man enough to carry that last note. The shock of seeing me obliviously walk by was startling for them both. All I heard was a gasp of horror and shame. That’s the last I heard of her, my only true friend. I shouldn’t have even bothered. The truth only corroded my heart yet alone my ears? I didn’t even need the ice at the end of my name to soothe the ache I could never tame. The pain always burns deeper within than when it’s on the surface. I should have known. I had to narrate
the story of my day through the tears that bled on this diary page. The truth can kill, even more than words, what more the memories? It’s like a volunteered, permitted death. But I asked for it. And this is only the beginning.

‘They’ can read this at my funeral when God is done with me:

“And you will be hated by all for my name’s sake. But the one who endures to the end will be saved.” – Mathew 10:22.

Born Again

the reality of actually surrendering it all. When I finally trust and obey.

This is where life begins when one chooses to break out of a cell, but life has been painted with walls… so you try to break out of this hell… you throw yourself at the doors that won’t open, then you fall on your knees asking for help. You might never feel like you are a perfect pearl, or that you were made to do something worth keeping, something that would bless nations. You finally break out of that shell that was suffocating your dreams and run off with it, till you reach the brink of the ship. Do you jump? Or walk the plank. There are more sharks on the other side and the pirates, your persecutors are coming so you have to think fast. That’s when a bloody nailed hand comes in, Jesus reaches out. Will you believe in your life of obstacles or would you believe in Him?  To live, we must die, to die to this world, we must be born again.  Believe in Him. Jeremiah 31:3. Believe in Him and you will walk on stormy seas.