Nigerian Slangs || The Art of Giving Yourself Brain

One day, in the not too distant future, you will have to sit across the table from yourself—your fine, fine self—*catcall* and decisively correct your wrongs; making a conscious decision to improve your lifestyle practices and motivating yourself to be a better person. This action, is what is referred to in Nigerian lingo as “giving yourself brain”. It is a mental jerk that improves the quality of our lives, after a stark realization of the gloominess of a situation we've come to find ourselves in. Like the Prodigal son, this is the part we call it quits on being mediocre and exit the pigsty. 

The first time I heard the expression, 'give yourself brain', my brother used it in describing his decision to move on from a futile situation (which might have involved a girl) and subsequently he would say it to me and to his friends on matters that required our proactive attention. He’d say it in English “Give yourself brain”, Pidgin English “Omo, make you give yourself brain o” and Yoruba, “Omo, fun ara ni brain. Lol! There he was, telling everyone to practice this skill he had so mastered- the skill of self-correction. The skill of "giving one’s self brain".

While I was still on Dating Boulevard, I failed to give myself brain sometimes. The great thing though, was that I would eventually do it. I’d make a good decision; do the right thing and choose to fall in or out of love. Recently, I had to give myself brain again. As of last month, I was a very devout procrastinator, the world was mine and the world could wait. Well, update on that, I gave myself brain and...brain has been received. I spent sometime “reprimanding” myself in the proper way we discussed in this post and I’m much better for it. 

Before that though, I went through the process of realizing a change was needed, just like the prodigal son did (he, by the way, is the star-boy of brain-giving).

He started off with a blunder which landed him in a not-too-ideal situation. There were pigs involved *blink* Usually, self-correction is initiated by a trigger (in his case, the icky pigs and the awareness that he had hit rock-bottom); then came the giving-himself-brain bit; then the active part of getting up and doing something about his situation; followed by his journey home— to the place he wanted to be and then the party! Recap: There’s the trigger, the realization, the brain-giving, the action, the journey and arrival. The Partay! The obvious benefit of actively choosing to change your situation, of course, is getting yourself from a place of discontentment to place where you enjoy the benefits of this wonderful readjustments you’ve made.

Another benefit though, is attaining that sexy sweet spot of humility, sitting across yourself from a table and correcting your own faults to your face is pretty life-changing. You just made yourself a confidant and you are listening to the inner voice, which hopefully is the Holy Spirit.

Correction is something wise people enjoy, so says the bible. Fools, not so much.  I love the opportunity to completely goof off, fall off the wagon, pout and then “arise, and give myself brain.”

The place of external motivation such as mentors, books, podcasts, articles, “instamotivation” images can not be emphasized enough. They serve as great triggers but when it comes down it, the final decision to act, lies with us.

We all know the right thing to do in most situations, or at least, we kind-of know; the honorable, albeit, difficult thing —whether it’s choosing to ask for forgiveness like the prodigal son, or choosing to take the higher road, leaving a dysfunctional relationship, falling in love or out of it or choosing not to procrastinate. Whatever it is, every breath is an opportunity to right our wrongs, do the right thing and give ourselves brains. I just did. Let’s have a party!

Action: Decide where you want to be, write out actionable steps to get there. Act out these steps now. No excuses. Now! 

Have you ever heard/used this slang?  Are you having a "party" soon? Speaking of parties, we hosted thanksgiving for the first time. Read here! My friend, Tope wrote a piece on Nigerian slangs here.

Illustration by Dare Somade.

​"The 7-Step Plan to Get a Good Man" by Naomi Elimelech

No offense to Ruth's Ex, but Boaz might be the dreamiest, most distinguished guy in the entire Bible. Read the 4 chapters of the book of Ruth, you will have a crush on him for days! I have only good words for Boaz. He was a real stand-up guy. A good guy. Of course, we found scientific proof in this post that women tend to walk all over good guys and love bad guys instead. Unfortunately but fortunately, bad boys go out of style. As women get older, they forget that bad-boys-are-so-steamy nonesense and want the real deal. Boaz was the realest deal.

What made Boaz so dreamy? He was mature, you could tell from his character; the way he conducted himself and treated others. He saw her heart and the good in it and he commended her for it; he had excellent work ethics and prayed for his workers, which is starkly different from Nabal's work ethics; Boaz noticed Ruth; he blessed her; he cared about her reputation, even when she did something a little "brazen"*insert whistle*, he honored her; he physically served her some food (he won me here); he was a provider,  finally, (and this was what killed it), he waited for her. We all know that delayed gratification is the sexiest symbol of strength. He waited until all the legal, cultural, familial, social, societal protocols were complete before all the furniture-shifting making-out started.

Delayed gratification is the sexiest show of strength! 

Anyway, Naomi's jaw dropped when she heard Ruth had kinda landed Boaz. The dream-boat of the town! Quickly, she came up with this crazy idea to make sure Ruth had him good, which you probably should not try in these modern times. Lol. Mark my words, if you do, he will get creeped out and he will call the police. So let's figure out together, what would Naomi's "gettagoodman" plan look like in this modern day? You can find it in Ruth 3:3-4. Here goes:

Step 1: "Wash"

Present day interpretation: Umm...wash. Wash is still the same today, as it was in 1365 BC. Hygiene has to be tip-top. No negotiation.

Step 2: "...Put on perfume..."

Present day interpretation: Don't smell good. Smell really good! Let him know you don't smell like farm and barley, or like coffee and printer ink all day long. Engage his sense of smell. By the way, I have a theory** about the role of perfume in this "gettagoodman" scheme, so keep reading. 

Step 3: "...Get dressed in your best clothes..."

Present day interpretation:  Always look your best (not someone else's best but look your own best). 10/10 all day, everyday. Engage his sense of vision. Make the effort, use the amount of makeup you are comfortable with. After getting ready, ask yourself, "Is this the best I can do for me?"

Step 4: "...Then go down to the threshing floor..."

Present day interpretation: Go out to the places you expect your dream man to be. 

Step 5: "...But donʼt let him know you are there, until he has finished eating and drinking."

Present day interpretation: Don't be too available. Don't like all his photos and reply all his snaps. Don't go to his apartment every weekend! Also apparently, wining and dining seems to precede romance. *shrug* Somethings never change.

Step 6: "When he lies down, note the place where he is lying..."

Present day interpretation: Be observant, watch him. Cyber-stalk him. Muhaha. Stalk with stealth though. See past the glitz and have a good perception of who he really is.

Step 7: "...Then go and uncover his feet and lie down. He will tell you what to do."

Present-day interpretation: Whao. This is my favorite part of it, and also is the bit that could get you arrested, if try out this stunt today. Sneaking into a guy's bedroom unannounced and bothering his toes. Federal offense. I'm guessing it was a thing in their culture. Uncover his feet in this day would mean make him uncomfortable, not in a bad way. Sometimes, men need to be nudged to see Ruth. Does anyone one know any practical ways to nudge? Lol! 

Once you've done all 6 steps, the 7th step is entirely up to him. If he doesn't get what's going on after all 6 steps, then he is probably married or really, really, really isn't into you. And that is the part where you move on. 

In Sunday school, Mary was the saint, Esther was the Queen and Ruth was the desperado. Now, I see she really wasn't. She was just following the careful, wise instruction of an older woman, who knew the culture and knew the kind of man Boaz was; a man who wouldn't take advantage of a vulnerable person. Naomi's advice in a nut shell is this: once you've done your homework and you realize he's a great guy, engage him with the right amount of proactivity, not too much. Don't be in his face all the time. Look and smell very good always, make sure he can't put you in his friends' zone and remember to remain enshrouded in mystery, it'll drive him crazy. 

*shrugs*

*drops mic*

*walks out of tent*

                                                                       The End

My "gettagoodman" perfume theory

**The sense of smell is controlled by the frontal lobe, the same portion of the brain that controls speech, concentration, movement/motor function and emotional reactions. When he gets a good whiff of you, chances are that you are about to turn him into a blubbering, distracted, paralyzed, emotional wreck, which is great! Lol. It's only temporary anyway. The sense of smell directly influences emotional responses and, concentration which is a major "gettagoodman" hack. Esther, during her year-long beauty program, spent 6 months in a special perfume application program! Perfume is important. Nothing more to say.

Here is another post that describes techniques to catch fish...and by fish we mean good guys! What are your thoughts on Naomi's "Gettagoodman" plan?! Do you know any practical ways to make him uncomfortable enough to make the move?

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Something You Don't see Everyday: Girl, X-box & Serial-killers

While I was away on my blog break, I played a good dose of Halo* on X-box. I came to realize that in this game, there’s no such thing as beginner's luck- at least not for those seemingly algorithmically challenged. That just isn't how the game is programmed. At all! Lol!

First, my player was lost half of the time. I had too many "wait-where-did-everyone-go?" moments. I kept running to all the wrong places and arrived at the right places when the battles were completely over. I spent most of the time restoring Ed’s player whenever he was wounded. I was basically like the Red-Cross soldier-gamer. I also spent some time shooting at my men, because I wasn't sure who the enemy was. Laugh if you will.  Lol! This was my first time. 

The most intriguing thing about this game, other than the fact that I became a serial-killer of my teammates was the uniform of my soldier. It really caught my attention. The armour covers the entire body surface of the player. You can't actually see him, he is completely encased in this bulky, imposing gear of protection. 

Somewhere between my player's serial-killer attempts, I realized that this must be how the devil and his goons see us! When they look at us, they do not see me, Ike, or you, *insert name*. They see the whole armour of God (provided we have it on). They see God. They see strength, right-living, truth, faith, resilience! They don't see the flawed people we see in the mirror. Think about it, all those insecurities, failures and imperfections, all transformed into all that formidability. They are terrified of looking at us! God makes sure that there are no vulnerable points...unless we take them off - even then he covers us with his wings and his grace.

Baddest! I don't even know why Satan bothers.

So strap on the armour, the whole gear! 

Guard your mind and reasoning with the helmet of salvation (know and acknowledge that you have been saved and are chosen);

Protect your heart and passions with the breastplate of righteousness (do what is right guided by the sweet principles of God);

Keep your pants up with the belt of truth (lies have a way of causing us shame by baring our behinds, don't ask);

Run around and tell people about Jesus, with your shoes of the gospel;

Protect yourself with the shield of faith by believing all of God's promises and confessing them (there are  ~3,573 promises in the Bible. I probably have read only 60. Read one below); 

You'd notice that the other items in the gear are protective, if you don't have a sword, you might as well be a punching bag that can't fight back. Attack with the sword of the spirit, which is the word of God. It is active and sharper than any two-edged sword and literally can slice whatever! Satan and his goons get an allergic reaction when you speak out loud God's words to his suggestions. Seriously, he can’t deal. CAN NOT. 

Eventually a certain someone got tired of killing her mates, so a certain someone bought the LEGO game, but who is she kidding? She is learning to play Call of Duty this week (hello, guns). Wish me all the best any gamer could bear!

If you don't have a helmet of salvation and are not yet God's soldier, you can, right here! Don't forget to get your gear! Do you play video games? What do you enjoy about them? When last did you personalize a promise of God? Here's a promise of God, regardless of how sad this week has been! 

“You are my servant, I have chosen you and have not rejected you. So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous hand...Though you search for your enemies, you will not find them. Those who wage war against you will be as nothing at all. For I am the Lord who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, “Do not fear; I WILL help you.””

— Isaiah 41:9b-10;12-13

Halo* Military Sci-fi video game.

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How To Deal With Worry Once and For All (Tested)

I'm about to read your mind.
Pick a bird. Your favorite bird.
Have we played this game before? I think we have. *Note to self: Expand game selection*
Right, so pick your favorite bird.
I, really am about to read your mind.
*insert smug look*
It's one of these 3: The Eagle, The Canary or The Parrot. Wait, wait The Crow?!
Should I take a much deserved bow or should I dodge rotten tomatoes?
If you are holding tomatoes, make sure you call me out below and let me know what your fave bird is.
Before you do though, I want to place one last safe bet: I'm very sure your answer wasn't 'The sparrow'. No one ever chooses sparrows.
Sparrows are one of the most despised birds in history, literally. It really startled me how much people have tried consistently to get rid of this particular bird.

In Ancient Greece, sparrows were disregarded because they were common, readily available, not rare enough, not exotic enough and you know how we humans are great at taking available things for granted, right? The Greeks chose to use sparrows as symbols depicting vulgarity, lust and any other basal desire they could think of in between steamy sauna sessions.

In the 50's, watch this, this one really perplexed me, China launched a campaign known as the Kill-a-sparrow campaign. During this time, China was trying to contain 4 main pests that had been bothering their communities and hampering their access to good hygiene: mosquitoes, rats, flies and sparrows.
I don't know what's worse, being classified with rats or with flies. Ick!

In the famous nursery rhyme, “Who killed Cock Robin”, guess who was conveniently accused of killing Cock Robin, the sparrow, yup, with his bow and arrow, he killed Cock Robin.
If there's anything you are certain of at the minute, it's that you don't want to be a sparrow, it has always been a hard-knock life for them. They would love to be given a break!

I recently took on a new set of responsibilities and projects in my life and for some reason-for some absolute random reason- I have found myself panicking. Out of control panicking. It's completely out of character. In fact, my father who is like the chill master of all chill-zen masters once commended my consistently unperturbed demeanor. Why am I freaking out?

Fact: God watches over sparrows.

No one else does; maybe Animal Rights, but not like God does.
Sparrows seem worthless but God watches over them because he made them. If God watches over the despised sparrow, he, sure is staring at you, watching your every move, guiding, keeping, protecting, not sleeping and working over time.

“What is the price of five sparrows—two copper coins? Yet God does not forget a single one of them.
Why, even all the hairs on your head have been counted! Stop being afraid. You are worth more than a bunch of sparrows.
”

— Luke 12:6 NIV/ISV

How to deal with worry

• Don’t freak out
• Take a deep breath
• Say to yourself “If he cares about the sparrow, he’s definitely sooooo into me right now!” and say it like you mean it!
• Talk to God first! Not to a human. God.
• Dump it on his lap. Mentally paint a picture of your issues falling into God's lap. Step back. Thank him, forget about it and eat a snack.
• Wait for God
• If worry creeps in during the wait, do not freak out, start all over again from (2)
• Eat another snack

I would love to hear your thoughts on this! Also if I didn't get your bird right...you owe me a comment!

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CSI Eden: Cain&Abel

Crime Scene Investigation Notes

Deceased: Abel Adam
? Wounds consistent with signs of struggle
Blood spatter apparent
Weapon: Rock
No human witnesses—sheep(maybe); God
Suspects: Eve, Adam, Cain (wow, 3 suspects on the entire planet, this should be easy)

Right in the middle of writing this CSI note, I got up from my desk, stood in the middle of my living room and acted out the entire story of Cain and Abel. Crime scene investigators do this sometimes, just so they have a deeper understanding of the crime scene. If my webcam was on, my career might very well be over.

This is how my one-woman play went; I started out acting as Cain (ploughing the ground with an imaginary hoe), then I switched to Abel, who is holding a staff and smiling sheepishly, and befittingly at his sheep.
Next thing, it’s offering time—Cain is running home to watch the next episode of Blacklist and remembers the offering-thing, so he runs past his corn field, grabs three ears of corn without stopping, dumps them outside the tent and does a blacklist marathon.  
Abel, has been planning his offering for a while now, he has been feeding a few sheep a little extra to get them fat. He grabs the sheep, leads them home, ties them up to the tent peg and feeds them again.
The bible records that Cain offered his sacrifice first; I offer his first.
One of the most apparent things about this whole affair was how different their sacrifices were. Cain brought crops and Abel brought “fat portions of the first born of his flock”.
During the act of offering, as Cain, I knelt down, bowed my head and offered to God my scrawny corn ears but my offering act was interrupted by thoughts of Blacklist, those screenwriters are crazy, the last episode though — then I spent the remainder of the time staring at Abel’s magnificently dressed offering and comparing it with mine. As long as I stared at this imaginary offering of Abel’s, I got increasingly angered and envious, I may have gone over to it and kicked it over…just a little (I really get into character with these things). Later on, I hit him on the head and hide his body. Then I have nightmares. Loads of them.

Fact: The first murder ever recorded, was caused by comparison.

Compare
\kəm-ˈper\
verb
to look at (two or more things) closely in order to see what is similar or different about them or in order to decide which one is better**

Comparison is never without the elements of superiority and inferiority. The whole point of comparing is to see which is better or to see that they are at least the same and worthy of the same attention.
Comparison works in two ways, we compare, find out that we are doing better than the other person and we get complacent with a smirk on your face, which is a fool’s signature (not my words, Proverbs 1:32).
The other way comparison could work would be by discovering that we aren’t measuring up to this other person and then jealousy steps in, he/she becomes a reference for everything we do. You struggle and imitate so desperately until you lose focus and discover one day that you have lost yourself; your mission, your goals are all muddled up because you left your lane and are now on the sidewalk.
We choose how this ends. Cain didn’t have to kill Abel but he chose to anyway.
Jealousy is a crazy thing. It makes you lose the essence of who you are.
If you have been comparing yourself to someone or comparing your work to someone else’s, let it go. Your offerings are very different, no matter how seemingly similar.

I, later acted out Cain and Abel a different way. This time, Abel didn’t die. Cain faced his sacrifice, apologized to God for the shabby presentation. He appreciated the uniqueness of his offering and asked Abel for tips on better presentation. Abel got to have a wife and family and we kinda had another race of humans from him.

The End

Oh yeah, case closed! Cain did it. Note to self, do not compare all this awesomeness with another person's unique awesomeness. That just isn’t a fair scale.

*wink*

What are your thoughts on CSI: Eden? What do you think is the best way to deal with comparison in our crazy world? Has this helped in any way? Have you read this post yet?

{Author's note: Humans had been kicked out of Eden at this time; it was used in this post because it was the most relevant geographical reference at the time of this event. **Definition from Merriam Webster Dictionary.}

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The Best Thing About Stepping into Poop

Without fail, in the last year, I've landed myself in at least 2 full, loads of glorious metaphorical shit. Pardon my French but if you knew what they were you'd say, "Oh Whao, Ike, crap!"

There I was, waist-deep, determined not to wade in this life-altering problems, because you know how these things work- wade, wade, trip, fall face-in, gurgle. In other words, moving and struggling would have landed me in deeper trouble. It could have gotten much, much worse. Right, where were we? I was in a huge poop pickle. Naturally, I panicked and then I told God, who calmed me down as always; then I told Ed, who is always very calm during the worst situations. We talked about these problems and then proceeded to find a solution-all three of us.

If you've even been in trouble before, you know how much you want to get out, right, and once you do, it's Sayōnara to that rubbish! That was exactly what I did; the moment I got out, I cleaned up quickly and I basked in the relief of the resolution of the problems and just kept going. Sigh, the delight of being free! And then one day, a metaphorical anvil fell on my head, in form of a bible verse. Here it is;

“And the Lord said, “Simon, Simon! Indeed, Satan has asked for you, that he may sift you as wheat. But I have prayed for you, that your faith should not fail...””

— Luke 22:31 (NKJV)

I don't know about you but whenever I see that scripture, I imagine Satan sitting on an apoti* sifting garri**. Lol!

That verse caused crazy questions to float through my mind, and if you have answers don't hesitate to comment: Why has Satan asked for Simon? He prayed specifically for one person? Why? Wait, Satan can make requests?! Satan prays?

In spite of all my query, one thing was clear; Peter was in deep shit.  There's just no cute way of saying it. Satan had asked specifically for him. Thank God, for Jesus who prays for us all the time and rescues us from poopy-situations.  Peter still had to go through the trial though, note.

The anvil bit of the verse comes at the end...

“...When you have come through the time of testing, when you have turned around, turn to your companions and strengthen them...”

— Luke 22:32 (MSG/NLT medly)

The best thing about being in deep shit is getting people out of it once we are on safe ground. We win battles everyday. Every single day and one person is still caught in the struggle. After you catch your breath (which probably don't smell like roses), reach back and help some more people out.

If you've ever been rescued from the reluctance to forgive, from malice, envy, addiction, depression, poverty, abuse, please remember that people struggle with these trials everyday. Reach out, pray for them and draw them on to clean grounds! I'm certain someone was praying for me, somewhere, somehow.

Illustration by Mari Andrew

Every triumph is awarded with a trophy but instead of placing that on a mantle and beaming at it, like I did, please take it back to your site of victory, stretch it out until someone grabs hold of the other handle and help the person out of you-know-what.

Don't you just love the girl in this photo? I almost hugged her through the screen when I saw how her expression translates directly to the post title! Do you remember a time you were sure someone was praying for you? Do you have any answers to my questions about Peter? I'd love to read your thoughts and learn!

Page by Ike will be on a blogger's vacay in the month of September, we will be back on the 1st of October by God's grace! Great chance to catch up, right? I know, that's what I said too! See you soon!

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Experience: Pigtails and Dandies

Primary 6. My birthday. I believe I was dressed in something festive and frilly, probably pink and with a lot of tulle. I had my hair in neatly oiled nappy pigtails with twin, pink hair bobbles.

It was customary, at the school I attended, to celebrate your birthday, out of your uniform, in party clothes - all dolled-up and of course, as the center of attention for the day. No one could get enough of you. Suddenly, you had quite a few more friends than you did last week, mostly because at break time, your mum was going to arrive at school with a very colorful cake, several packs of sweets, packets of Dandy and Robot chewing gums, and glorious crates of Coca cola and Fanta. Sugar-high for days, baby!

On this particular birthday, I was indeed dolled up. I was ready. I was the realest MVP. Mum was coming and we, all, would soon be swimming and splashing in candy. Break-time came and I smugly looked outside the window (I had a good view of the school gate) and was certain I'd see mum coming in with the school janitor helping her with the "stuff".

Hmmnn. No mum. No sweets. No dandy. No candy.

Quickly, my MVP status vanished and I was left by myself. All those friends and dandy-lovers ditched me the moment break-time was over. One of my friends stayed though. Her name was Bimbo. She hung with me and we both waited for my mum. I can't explain how devastated I was. A no-show on your birthday was like dressing up, leaving your house and going to your fave restaurant and realizing the restaurant had been burnt down the night before! OK, it wasn't that bad, but you get me, though?

I remained in my class, on my seat; I wouldn't step a foot out. Err... because what's the point if you have no dandy to show! Dandy was the life. Bimbo stayed and cheered me up. She might have offered me some of her stuff to celebrate, she was known to do stuff like that and she always had sweets in her lunch box. The last period of school came and as I now had been secluded to the "meh"-section of class, (it's very possible my partner moved to another seat: No Dandy, No love), I mopped; my puffy pigtails made me look like a sad Minnie Mouse.

Just as last period starts, from the corner of my eye, I see a little commotion outside the window; the school janitor is carrying a brown carton of something, someone else, behind him is carrying crates of Fanta and Coke! My eyes light up as I see mum in tow, walking swiftly in her clogs, a brightly colored satin dress draped delicately over her slender frame, two huge black and white shopping bags on both arms! I remember being full of so much joy and delight but I couldn't speak because class was on.

Mum came into class, all glorious and colorful, with sweets and goodies for days. In an instant, the dandy-lovers were all over me again, even more intensely than before! Bimbo, of course, became my right-hand girl, the vice president in charge of the dandies and Fantas. I don't think I ate anything, I was just delighted to see mum!

One day, when many people have given up hope, "moved on" and have secluded Him into the "meh" corner, God will come, glorious and brightly colored with angels singing and goodies for eternity. Don't ditch God because you think he won't come. I know, I know He has been arriving for a while now but He's only taking this long because he wants everyone to be saved or at least get a chance at it. He will come. Don't desert your faith. Stick to it.

Stick to the unseen dandy!

Do you ever wonder if God will arrive when you least expect? What was your favorite birthday memory as a child? God bless the Bimbo's in our lives! Who remembers dandy and robot? Lol! If you'd like to meet Jesus, you can, here!

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Hey, Boo, Whatchu Got there in Your Hands?

​I have been thinking about this blog post for a week now. I can't sleep until it's ready! Ok, here goes:

Every single one of us has something we must achieve on earth, something we are predestined to accomplish in life. Some of us know what it is, some of us don't. For those who do, please consider this: If there is something you are called to do, please do it. Forget the limitations. Forget the supposed inadequacies. Forget that you aren't as educated or trained as everyone else. Forget all the reasons you shouldn't try. 

Last week Thursday, at about 11.45am, I'm flipping through my bible and for some reason I flip to the book of Judges. The only people I know from this book are Judge Deborah, Gideon and Samson. Anyway, in my flipping, I find this guy known as Shamgar. I know, never heard of him myself, until Thursday.

In my mind's eye, Shamgar has a stern, weathered face with a curly, shiny beard; happy, beady eyes which grow cold and gaga when he gets cranky. He got cranky, really cranky, a number of times. It's recorded that he killed 600 Philistines with an oxgoad.

If you just brushed over that like meh...you need to read it again.

Shamgar killed 600 men with an oxgoad.

An oxgoad is a farm instrument with a pointy end used to prod ox on their tushes to get them moving along. I want to imagine that this poky end is not particularly sharp enough to pierce through skin, because no one wants to hurt their livestock.

Mr. Shamgar-Gaga-eyes killed with it. 600 times. I'm not sure how. 

A little background, during his time, Israel was hustle town. They were broke and constantly bullied at that time by whoever cared to be bothered by their existence. They were so broke and helpless, that they didn't even have ammunition to fight against their oppressors.

Judge Debbie mentions in Judges 5, that spears were rare during this time. Gear and kevlars were a little unavailable; there were no night-goggles, swords, arrows, nothing.

Meanwhile, this guy, Shamgar, without ammo, steps in on the scene and performs some world-class guerilla attack on the Philistines.

600 men with an oxgoad.

Moses crossed the Red Sea -not a river, a sea, using a raggedy, wooden shepherd's staff! *hello, goosebumps*

David killed a 9-foot terrorist with a sling and stones! 

Here's the cute part. These tools are items they've always had with them, stuff they used everyday to do menial jobs! Shamgar poked tushes with his oxgoad; Moses grabbed stray, confused sheep with his staff, David caught pheasants for dinner with his sling and probably strolled down the road, flashing it, all wooden and rugged, to the uncontrollable swoon of several girls. (David was the Beiber of his time. Just in case you didn't know. That sling was arguably the best part of his game. Wink.)

They are right there, our game changers- instruments we use everyday, that lay carelessly on our desks, that sit idly on our dressers, that sit in the car boot; instruments we take for granted, stuff that we've had in our hands all along!

Don't despise your instruments and don't look down on your abilities. When God's power courses through those things we hold in our hands, we will achieve much more than we could even ever imagine or devise!

So hey boo, whatchu got there in your hand? 

Written after a complete panic attack about my writing skills being completely inadequate. And then Shamgar happened! *grin* Do you ever feel this way? Do you ever get those panic attacks? What gets you through? Have you discovered your calling? How did it happen? I would love to hear your thoughts!

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