Dear God,
I heard your voice in the storm calming the tempest. Your still voice telling me to rest and know that your presence is here, always. With me. Through the hurdles and trials. Through the days and nights. Through the famine and drought. To know that there is a song of peace for your child in the noise of the chaos. To know that you are the assurance and I can bank on you for premium insurance.
But sometimes, I still tend to forget. Mortal and feeble. I forget that you are here with me, always, and to the very end of time. I tend to forget that even when the quicksand tries to drown me, you will be there to hold me up. I tend to forget the fortress of your presence. I forget that you are the architect of possibilities out of the impossibilities. I forget. God. I forget. I look for you even when you are not lost.
You are not lost. No, you are not. You are not lost in the external orchestra of things, in fact, you are here, within me. My body, the temple of your habitation. Call me what I carry: the atmosphere of the Most High. Everywhere I set my feet, the regalia of your glory floods. My body, the temple of the Lord.
Also read: COME HOME!
Thus, if my body is the Lord’s temple, then, it must be kept holy and pristine, blemish-free and spotless. Father, I am weak in flesh but in you, I find strength to overcome the principalities and powers of the flesh. Teach me daily to cleanse my mind of every iniquity that your dwelling in me may not be a purgatory of sin but a Heaven housing the opulence of your presence.
Teach me to be more conscious of who I am: the person I carry and embody. Let me not stray from your path. Keep me in the company of your words and doctrines. Keep the light in me. Let me not blight like a pomegranate in dry season. This spirit must not eclipse into darkness.
Lord, keep the sanctuary in my heart bustling with light. Dwell with me and in me. Always. This is my first wish.
Your son,
Pelumi.
