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‘Hand of God, with us’

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‘Hand of God, with us’


every week, to tell you something rare. The temple is determined to deliver the tired souls!

Life can remain very hard, even when someone has tried very hard, for a very long period of time, to crawl from the narrow and dark pits, to where he or she can be seen by those who praise the abnormal beings of this world. I know.

“We are looking for hits, because we are upcoming musicians, but shall we, Mr. Bagenda, ever get there?” a desperate, and tired-looking musician, once asked me.

I do not decline to assure them that they can but, in me, also, I remain believing that heart-breaking struggles have to be overcome.

You sweat, and dry. You begin, to run, again, and the world, with its people, laughs. It accuses you of laziness. You call, using your cell phone, someone influential, seeking help or attention, now. He might pick and you might talk. Try it again! Less time! The poor are undermined indeed.

Someone looks at me, now, spending some of my time keeping quiet, and going without eating, for days. He looks at me and thinks whatever he chooses. He then concludes that perhaps something must have gone wrong with me.

So alright we are. This world has taught us, itself, how to be great. Someone’s life must change, you know. We are sacrificial lambs. You are resting, but, remember, the other boxer is in the gym practicing, and thinking of how his opponents, in Olympics, will be thrown down.

World beaters in athletics train, all the time, up in the rocky hills, and sweat water and blood.  The attention you are seeking will be given to you. Play your part. The praises will be poured upon you, when the right time comes.

I have seen big things in this world.  Those things were determined to swallow me, alive, if the hand of God, in heaven, was not with me.

Really, in seeking to leave indelible marks on this world, we face a lot. The world looks into your face and growls, to chase you from the appetite inducing cake. Your relatives, the people you grew up with, accuse you, so much. And nag you all the time.

Go ahead! The hand of God is with you. It will lead you into the places you only dream of, now. No hit maker has all the courage to openly say the years he spent underground, gathering power.

I am so open and I am known to let people know, whatever they would like, about me, but, this, I sometimes fear to openly tell.  I did a lot, to clear the road.

Now, regain hope. The hand of God is with us. And this hand is guiding you. Stop crying.  It   will finally lead to the Promised Land. This hand will help you.

Through fire you are, today, but, know: a price must be paid. There is nothing for nothing. God, Himself, is doing this, to you, so that you may know how to behave. You suffer, that you might know how to handle the luxuries of this earth when He surrenders them to you.

Who would have written about the poverty, torturing people in his motherland, if my father didn’t ignore me, to travel this earth, so that my lonely mum could suffer alone with me?

You know, last time, I went and walked along a certain road at Makerere University and saw students there who seemed to think the same thoughts that I used to think when I was still there.

My performance, at Makerere, was not good. I was there and could spend my time thinking my things and walking out of the lecture rooms whenever I wanted. Look, at things, in this world. What are you seeing? You might be walking someone’s journey. Watch out.

You will one day realise this. Sadly, you will come back to walk your own walk, to freedom. I warn you, especially you, Junior Pastors in Pentecost churches.

I always received little respect from you when I was still very poor and nothing. You were protecting your bosses. You denied me access to them.

The bigger men of God are sitting on you. Dream, and do what your God tells you.  He says, grow wings and fly away. Do it.

Pastor Bugingo pleases me. Now, this man reminds me that a man, or woman, who never gets afraid, to speak the truth, never loses.  Let’s march on. Let’s get more fired up, and believe and believe. Let’s work, and think. We shall achieve. The hand of God is around. March on!

Sekka is a writer. An inspirational public Speaker and a Sports Scientist

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