Page 21 - Surrender - Don't Just Live

faith

I grew up in Uhuru Estate in the Eastlands area of Nairobi, Kenya,
which is referred to by many as a ghetto. This was in the early ’90s, and
Papa’s family was one of the richest in our neighbourhood. They had
two cars, they owned a restaurant in the city centre a.k.a. Town (as is
fondly called by Kenyans) and their house always smelled good; rich
kind of good. Every other weekend you would spot them coming home
with Wimpy’s™ balloons and lunch boxes of whatever remained from
their enviable family day out. Even the clothes they played in outside
were expensive. For the rest of us, these kinds of clothes were only
reserved for going to church or weddings a.k.a. ‘Sunday Best’. Whatever
Papa and his sister, Kui, wanted, they always got (at least it seemed that
way from where I stood).

See why I needed my mum to clarify whether this Father, God, who is
in heaven, could be even half the dad Papa has? And without flinching,
she said, “Yes, He is your Father.” I had nothing further! I was sold!

See, by the time I was six years old I had already confessed with my
mouth and believed in my heart that I was saved according to what my
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mum told me. Therefore, God was not a foreign concept to me. At the
time we were having this conversation; my mother was not a believer yet
(in as much as we went to church religiously) so, I strongly believe that
response was the work of the Holy Spirit.

This was the foundation of my relationship with God as my Daddy and
boy did I start putting Him to the task to prove Himself as my Daddy—
like the one Papa had. That week I asked Him to buy me a Cinderella
dress. I did not mention this to my mother, so imagine my surprise
when on Friday night that week mum said, “I would like to take you
with me to Garissa Lodge. I would like to buy you a Cinderella dress!”

12 Romans 10:9

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