The Long Road Home

The young prince sat in the darkness of the prison,
speaking to an old man beside him.

“What do you mean let it go?”
He said in anger.
“How can I ever let it go?

Look what they have done to us.
The neighbouring kings
My father’s own friends
Did not come to our aid.
Instead, they aligned themselves with the enemy
and brought our kingdom to ruin.

And now you say
Let God deal with it?

Do you know how many years it took
for my father to prepare me to rule.

Years he laboured,
teaching and shaping me to lead.

And just when I was ready
to take my rightful place
as the heir to the throne

Everything was destroyed.

Everything wiped away.
Nothing remained.

And still you tell me
to let it go.”

The old man answered quietly,

“Many times the people
who deceive us the most
are those closest to us.

But God is always faithful.

Look at Joseph.
He was sold by his own brothers,
yet God reversed the evil done to him.

From slavery he rose to power
and became the prime minister of Egypt.”

The young man replied bitterly,

“So what are you saying?
That I to will rule another's kingdom?”

The old man shook his head.

“No.

You must find your way
back to your own kingdom.

And remember this
you are not the only prisoner here.

There are others like you.

When the opportunity comes
we must act.”

And so they waited.

One night, when the guards were few
and the watch was careless,

They broke free.

They climbed the prison walls
and ran for miles and miles
until their strength was nearly gone.

At last they entered a thick forest
where the paths were hidden
and the trees swallowed the light.

There they wandered for months,
lost among the shadows,
searching for a way forward.

But in time
they found the road.

The long road
that led them home.

Yet when they reached their kingdom
their hearts were broken.

The land was desolate.

No trees.
No animals.
No buildings.

No people.

Everything was dead.

They stood there in silence
and then they wept.

“What do we do now?”
Someone asked.

Then the old man spoke.

“Let us go to the neighbouring lands.
Let us tell them about this place
about how rich this land once was,
how the city once prospered.

Let us invite them to come
and build again.”

So they went from land to land
telling the story of the kingdom.

And the people came.

Builders came.
Farmers came.
Families came.

And slowly the city rose again.

Soon it became even greater
than it had been before.

And the young man
was made the ruler over that land.

And the old prisoner
became his adviser.

To this day
he remains faithful
to his calling
and to his purpose.

And he became
a good king.

Beloved,

Your purpose still remains
no matter what happens in life.

God will lead you
to the place for which
He created you.

Even if the road is long.
Even if the journey seems endless.

God will bring you

Home.

Genesis 50:20 CJB

20 You meant to do me harm, but God meant it for good so that it would come about as it is today, with many people’s lives being saved.

Jeremiah 1:5 CJB

5 “Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you;

before you were born, I separated you for myself.

I have appointed you to be a prophet to the nations.”

You Raised Me Up

I had resigned myself
to the life of a shepherd.

Everyone else was in the king’s army,
fighting wars
and here I was,
left behind with the sheep.

“Why can’t I go and fight?”
I asked my father,
again and again.

“Your job is to take care of the sheep, son,”
he would answer.
“Someone has to do that.”

And so my fate seemed decided.

I did all I could
to protect what was given to me
lions and bears I fought and killed with my bare hands.

The rest of the time,
I wrote poetry.
I sang to Adonai with my lyre.

Resigned to my fate.
Resigned to my life.

Just when I thought
nothing better could come of it,
my father called me.

Samuel the prophet
wanted to anoint me.

Me.
A nobody.
Just a shepherd boy.

He anointed me
to be the next King of Israel.

How was that even possible?

I barely knew how to read.
I didn’t know how to lift a sword.

Yet the anointing was not a lie
it was truth.

God had a plan far greater than me.
I understood that much.

But was I ready
to let Him mould me
into what I needed to become?
Those questions
haunted me.

Then, out of the blue,
I was called to the palace
to play and sing for the king.

For the first time,
I saw what nobility looked like.

Later, while running an errand for my father,
I saw my brothers on the battlefield.

And I don’t know what came over me
as I watched a brute
mocking the God of Israel
and His people.

And before I knew it
I had slain the giant who mocked my God.

From that moment,
everything changed.

I was trained to be a warrior.
I was made commander of the king’s armies.
I was praised more than the king himself.
His daughter was given to me in marriage.

And then
I was hunted like a deer.

The king chased me,
driven by envy.

I cried out to God,
“Why did you choose me?
I never asked for any of this.”

And He answered
by giving me outlaws
men with nothing to lose.

Their numbers grew.
They became an army.
The finest men I could have hoped for.

Adonai made us unconquerable.

And at the appointed time,
I was crowned King of Israel,
to reign until my dying day.

God raised me up
from shepherd boy
to king.

If He had such a great plan for me,
won’t He have one for you too?

If He transformed me into what I was meant to be,
according to His purpose, won’t He do the same for you?

    Psalms 30:1 (CJB)

^2 (1) I will exalt you, Adonai, because you drew me up;
you didn’t let my enemies rejoice over me.

 

Jeremaih 29:11 (CJB)

¹¹ For I know what plans I have in mind for you,’ says Adonai,‘plans for well-being, not for bad things; so that you can have hope and a future. 

The Door of Hope

“Our misery will end with this job,”
Agnes said to herself.
Life with her mother on a shoestring budget
had gone on for far too long.

Her dream was university 
a white-collar job, a decent life.
But dreams cost money,
and money was nowhere to be found.

When the lady at the office said
she had spoken to the boss regarding the job,
hope flickered again 
A chance for a better life, she thought to herself.

Her mum, busy as usual in the kitchen, called out,
“Did you pray for His will to be done?”
“Not now, Mum,” Agnes sighed.
“Why bring God into everything?”

Still, that night she whispered,
“Lord, if this isn’t meant for me,
please let me not get the job.”

The next morning she reached the office,
her heart steady with excitement 
only to hear,
“The vacancy’s been filled.
A board member’s nephew was chosen.
We couldn’t refuse. We’re sorry.”

Shell-shocked, she walked home.
“The door was slammed in my face,” she cried.
“I was supposed to collect the offer letter 
all the formalities were done, all of them!”

Her mum spoke softly,
“Remember, you prayed for His will.”
Agnes turned away,
too hurt to answer,
and too tired to believe.

That night, her journal caught her tears 
anger, confusion, pain.
“Instead of a job,” she wrote,
“I got shooed off from that place.
But His promises never fail 
that means something better is waiting for me.
I just have to wait.”

Days passed, heavy and slow.
Each morning she woke with the same ache,
rejected for no rhyme or reason.
“This is what you call fate,” she sighed.

Then one morning, loud knocking.
Her mum stood smiling, eyes shining.
“Agnes, you got the scholarship!
Isn’t it a miracle?”

Agnes froze. “That can’t be true 
I wasn’t even close to their selection criteria.”
Her mum laughed through tears.
“It is true. The semester starts tomorrow.
Start packing, my child  you have to go.”

Agnes looked at her mum,
her heart full at last.
“So this was His will?” she asked softly.

Her mum smiled, her face warm with joy.
“A thousand times better than ours,” she said.
“His way is not our way,
His thoughts are not our thoughts.”

Isaiah 55:8 KJV

8 For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord.

Hosea 2:15 KJV

15 And I will give her her vineyards from thence, and the valley of Achor for a door of hope: and she shall sing there, as in the days of her youth, and as in the day when she came up out of the land of Egypt.

 

The Voice of Truth

Fear gripped the men.
A brother was slain.
Whispers spread
“We are next to be hunted down.”

They hid in the church,
shadows heavy,
hearts trembling.

Then Pastor Asher came.
He saw their fear
and roared like fire:

“The voice of truth must rise!
Rise in the streets,
Rise in the alleys,
Rise in the hearts of the rich and the poor.

The hour is urgent
more urgent than before!
Go tell everyone!
Tell them He lives!
He was dead, yet He lives forevermore!”

---

Tell one and all:
I am He that liveth, once dead,
but alive forevermore.
I hold the keys of hell and death.
 Revelation 1:18

Tell the dying:
I shall not die, but live,
and declare the works of the LORD.
 Psalm 118:17

Tell the poor:
My God shall supply all your need
according to His riches in glory.
Philippians 4:19

Tell the sick:
By His stripes
we are healed.
 Isaiah 53:5

Tell the grieving parents:
The prodigal returns.
The father runs, embraces,
and kisses him warmly.
 Luke 15:20

Tell the weary fighters:
ADONAI will fight for you.
Be still.
 Exodus 14:14

Tell the broken who lost it all:
I will restore the years
the locust has eaten.
Joel 2:25

Tell the anxious soul:
Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace,
whose mind is stayed on Thee.
 Isaiah 26:3

---

And the men
one by one
rose.

Chains of fear shattered.
Hearts caught fire.
Feet moved swift.
Voices rang bold.

Into the streets they went,
into every ear that would hear,
crying out

The Voice of Truth!
The Voice of Truth!
The Voice of Truth!

Castels in the Air

“What’s that you’re building, son?”
she asked, watching colorful blocks
scattered across the floor,
like dreams yet to be explored.

“My school,” he said, eyes gleaming.
“Really?” she smiled.
“It’s the school for kids no one wants,”
he replied, matter-of-fact.

“And what’s the criteria to get in?”
“They should’ve failed in at least five subjects,”
he said with the gravity of a priest.

She looked at him, brows arched,
completely at a loss
for what might come next.

“Interesting… and then?”
“Then their old school should’ve made them repeat the year.”
“You know they’re already under bad influence”
She paused.
“Unless they’re dyslexic, of course.”

She studied him quietly.
“What are you going to do with these kids?”
He looked up, heart pure.
“Make them champions.”

“Brilliant,” she whispered, clapping
tears peeking from the corners of her eyes.
“That’s the challenge!
Jesus will help us make them champions!”

---

Years later…

Grace sat motionless on the prison bench.
Her face  calm as stone,
but her fingers tightly clasped,
knuckles white with silent prayers.
Her eyes, deep wells of sorrow,
asked the questions that gnawed at her soul.

“Where did I go wrong, Lord?
I brought him up fearing Your name.
Now that he’s grown up,
he’s drifted away  from me, and from You.”

The buzz of the door jolted her.
Her name echoed through the chamber,
and she rose, wiping away the tears
she hadn't known had fallen.

Then he stood before her.
A shadow of the boy she once held,
his face worn, his eyes repentant,
a soul broken open by grace.

She rushed forward, arms wrapping years of pain and prayer into a single embrace.

“Mum,” he whispered,
“I was lost… but He found me.
I’m no longer the same.”
“I know,” she breathed, voice trembling.
“So many prayers have climbed to heaven for you.”

---

As they neared their old neighborhood,
he was fascinated by the new buildings
that had come up.
Until the name on one caught his eye:

“The School for the Comeback?”

He turned to his mother in disbelief.
She smiled.

“You gave the vision.
He gave the means.
Today, our school has given this town
champions in every field.”

Luke 15:24 (NIV)

"For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found."
So they began to celebrate.

Praise You When It's Dark

In a town torn by war and fear,
Families hid as danger drew near.
Huddled in caves, afraid to roam,
Longing for light, for peace, for home.

Children sighed and missed the day
when joy and laughter led their way.
Natania clung to Grandfather’s side,
"How long must we in darkness hide?"

"You said three days... it's been much more."
She stared in silence at the shelter door.
“Shall we make a wish list?” he softly said.
She nodded, leaning near his bed.

“I want to run beneath the sun,
to laugh, to play, to simply have fun.
I want my bed, a pillow, light
a glass of milk to warm the night.”

He smiled, though weak, and gently spoke,
“When things are dark, we sing we hope.
As it is written,” he softly said,
His voice like comfort beside her bed:

“In the Scriptures Acts 16:22–26
Paul and Silas were beaten and bound
In chains, in prison, behind cold stone
Yet still they praised the Lord alone.

‘And at midnight Paul and Silas prayed,
and sang praises unto God,’ unafraid.
The prisoners listened in the gloom,
as praises filled the prison room.

Then came a quake the prison shook,
the doors flew wide, the chains unhooked!
‘Every one’s bands were loosed,’ it’s said
and all walked free, no fear, no dread.”

“Will God send angels if I sing?”
She asked, her voice a trembling thing.
“He might,” said Grandfather. “If  He saved them,
He'll hear you too just sing again.”

So day by day, though hunger grew,
the little girl sang soft and true.
“Wake up, Grandfather,” she would say,
“Let’s sing so angels find our way.”

“Don’t stop,” he whispered, voice like dust,
“Just sing, and in the Lord we trust.”

Meanwhile, a rescue team pressed on,
through broken ground from dusk till dawn.
A soldier paused, his heart turned still
“I hear a song... so faint, so real.”

They followed hope through dirt and stone,
a child’s voice so soft, alone.
And when they found her, weak but bright,
still singing gently through the night

She smiled and whispered, “Look, they came
the angels knew my voice by name.”

They lifted her and Grandpa slow,
with tears of thanks that soon did flow.
“Give praise to God,” the old man said.
She bowed her heart, then raised her head

And sang once more with all her love,
to her faithful God above.

The Stranger from the Past

Years had passed and then they met again.
He saw a face once dear, now strange and so did she, in equal range.
Their faces blank, no hint of feeling there,
their voices curt, stripped of warmth or care.

Martha turned, she walked away,
her head reeling from that strain that day.
She traced the path she came along,
Her mind  wandered back to youthful days.

She saw again his bright, bright smile,
His teasing eyes that stayed awhile.
We’d chosen paths, had gone our ways,
but still, unease within remains.

"Some friendships fade like morning dew,"
The emptiness in that relationship simply cannot be renewed.

Thank you, God, my friend so true,
who stays when all have walked from view.
Who'll never leave, nor turn away,
but holds me close, both night and day.
You lift me up, you help me stand 
you uphold me with your righteous right hand.    (Isaiah 41:10)