In her dream, there was a picturesque village
And a big house with a garage
There was a wedding dress in the closet
And five exquisite pairs of shoes
There were also two little boys
Running helter skelter like they owned the place...
In her dream, there was the shadow of a woman
Cast on the bedroom wall
It seemed as though this woman's shape was hers
But she could not see her face clearly
Just as she could not remember who she was 10 years ago...
She was once somebody great
But she could not remember who she was
She was lost in a different body
Trapped in a different soul
Confined in a different jail
She heard footsteps behind her
She looked back suddenly
But there was no one chasing her
Maybe it was the ghost of her past
Or maybe just a figment of her imagination
Yet, she knew she was once someone great
Only, she could not remember exactly who she was
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *Most times, we don't remember. Most times, the glory comes into our lives, but then it fades away again. Because we fail to remember how it felt. Sometimes, I even fear to leave the physical gathering of believers because I don't want to forget what I heard in that place. I don't want to forget the message, or the powerful vibes that passed through me like fierce electric currents. I don't want to forget the anointing that flowed like a river overstepping its boundaries. But sometimes I forget...
They say people who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. They should already know that they live in glass houses, so they must try as much as they can not to carry stones in their jeans pockets. In the same fashion, if you have ever seen God do any great and phenomenal thing in your life, family's or friend's, then don't carry in your pocket stones that will serve as counterfeits to these testimonies...or stones that will make you forget what God has done, or who He really is...
You must always remember the child of whom you are, and must flee from the schemes of a demented mind. Keep remembering who you are, even until your very last breath. Let nothing steal your precious memory from you, not even famine, pestilence, or sword. Yes, YOU are the child of a king...no longer a slave. You have been freed from the chains of dementia, and now you have the liberty to remember His glory.
Photo by Photobucket
Photo by Photobucket