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Who is your father?

Who is your father?

I remember the first time I travelled to my village without my parents
I must have been in primary school and my dearest grandmother of blessed memory insisted my parents brought me over for the weekend.

Village life really and truly intrigued me, I loved the simplicity of communal living and how content everyone seemed, food was eaten fresh from the farms, with the large itigidi river providing fresh fish and water, and in the evenings, a dozen children would gather in my granny’s living room to watch a DVD, what was there not to like, for a child living in the city and raised overseas, village life was exciting, refreshing and alluring.

That was the first of many visits, the older i got,  my grandmother became the most influential woman in my life, especially as I had lost my mother at age 14.

She was wise, inspiring and I picked up my literary prowess from her as she and my mum piqued my interest in books. She would make me write letters to her and correct my English and send the letters back to me with the highlighted corrections. Lol, bless her soul.

I made so many trips back and forth to visit her especially when I was in the university, so many of them where unannounced.  I would make the 2 hour bus travel to the neighbouring village, then catch a speedboat or canoe ride and I would show up on her doorsteps to her amazement.

I loved our bond, I would lie on her bed and we would talk, gossip, sing and pray well into the night.
We would wake up early in the morning sit outside and watch the whole village come alive.

 The best times of my young adult life were spent with my granny, but today, I pondered about one thing that remained unchanged as the years went by with each visit that I made.

Every time I went to the village my granny would send me to greet my relatives, she would ask a cousin to come get me to make the rounds, and as I walked past, greeting elders with the only native dialect I knew they would speak back asking “Ale` wa` nen o?   which simply meant; Who is your father or whose child are you?

Every compound we passed by, the same question would be asked and then I would reply saying my father’s name, and many times I would be given monetary gifts, food stuff, or pronouncements of blessings just by the mere mention of whose child I was. They welcomed me, embraced me because of who my father was, a man the villagers knew and respected.

As I reflect on this simple yet powerful message, I could hear God asking very quietly, as the events of the past weeks have dared to question my identity.

Ale` wa` nen o? who is your father o?
Stella Whose Child are you?  What do you possess by being my child? And what responses do you get? do you know you were created in my image and likeness?  what access can my name give you? What doors can my name open for you?

To know the magnitude and import of a person is to know his nature, attributes and the influence that his name commands. As God began to remind me that he is not just the great and mighty one, he is also my dear father, my Abba, my papa and just like the mention of my earthly father’s name brought me favour, his name commanded blessings and everything I need to live victoriously.

Everything pales in the light of this truth; I am a child of the most high God.
His nature is good, and I can trust him with every minute detail of my life.

Everything that I would ever need or desire stems from him and he is well able to take care of me.
For he is not an unjust daddy who when his children ask for fish, he would give them a serpent.He is a good father, far from the picture our frail earthly fathers have painted of what fatherhood is.

And as I write this, every fear I have of my future melts away, because, I know I would be right where my Papa intends for me to be, in the end. No matter how overwhelmingly difficult things seem now, or how senseless the events occurring in my life are, may I never forget whose Child I am.

I pray for you today that when challenging situations and the difficulties of life question your identity that you would be bold enough to retort and shout back till the enemy is silenced for you know who you are.

I pray that the eyes of your understanding would be enlightened today, you are not a beggar, a failure, worthless or disadvantaged.
You are your father’s child, but if you never truly know your father, you would never know who you are and what you are worth.
So tell me, WHO IS YOUR FATHER?

©️Thiswomanoffaith

Matt 7:9-11NIV
Or which one of you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a serpent? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!

1John 3:3 GW
 Consider this: The Father has given us his love. He loves us so much that we are actually called God’s dear children. And that’s what we are. For this reason, the world doesn’t recognize us, and it didn’t recognize him either. Dear friends, now we are God’s children. What we will be isn’t completely clear yet. We do know that when Christ appears, we will be like him because we will see him as he is.  So all people who have this confidence in Christ keep themselves pure, as Christ is pure.

Comments

Unknown said…
We have a good father and we only just need to sit still and acknowledge our heritage . Lovely blog sis
Efua said…
You make me wish I was there with you and grandma in the village, it's a great recount of an experience I'd call "altogether lovely". God rest Grandma's soul!

A lot of us find it easy acknowledging God as the Creator, the great and almighty one and so one but resting in the knowledge that He's our Father can sometimes be a challenge yet it's so critical to what we believe about ourselves and our purpose. May this truth be known and accepted by all the sons of God.

God bless you my darling sister. So good seeing you this morning❤
Stella Agwor said…
Thank you for your comment sis, God help us to sit still o
Stella Agwor said…
Efua darln, thank you so much, i miss grandma so much and this post jolted back so many memories. yes God wants to be fully known to us as our papa, our Abba, may we catch on to this revelation and see ourselves just the way He sees us, as His very own child.
love you my darl.
Lolls said…
Hmnnn. Thanks for this
Stella Agwor said…
Thank you Lolls for reading.
Unknown said…
This comment has been removed by the author.
Rachael said…
Love this! What a great reminder! Your grandmother sounds like a brilliant and wise woman. Thanks for this Sis xxx
Stella Agwor said…
This comment has been removed by the author.
Stella Agwor said…
Thank you dear Rachael, she was simply amazing. Thank you for reading.

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