If you have ever spent time relating with God and studying His words, then you are undoubtedly familiar with the Psalmist's words, "Teach us to number our days that we may put our hearts to wisdom." After all, you are here to do same.  Following the mind of Solomon in proverbs, it is safe to say that wisdom is like a liberal homeowner who builds her house and prepares her table, inviting all and sundry for generous bites of her meal. It is like a flowing water that never runs dry. If wisdom is like a house, however, I believe it is held up by certain pillars. One is the fear of God. Others are prudence, knowledge, discretion, eternal value, understanding and righteousness. Wisdom is what makes the numbers count. It is ironic but it is true that when you take out wisdom from the number of days you live, or the measure of all you possess, it becomes quantity without quality. When the numbers don't count is when we don't find the necessary satisfaction out of our end...

Christ in me is the hope of glory. And hope, it is said, makes a man not ashamed. One morning, Taiwo thought to herself as she got dressed for work that this life was not worth it. "How can it be worth it when everything I've been doing is live from hand to mouth? What's the point really?" She thought out loud. Her room mate of twenty-five years and twin, Kehinde, heard her and asked, "Taiwo, what's the issue?" Taiwo turned around and threw her arms in the air. "This life does not make any sense!" "That's because you are trying to use your brain, babe. In this realm, we use our faith." Kehinde answered, as she also tried to put on her dress. "That's what you always say! Are you not bothered?" Taiwo asked incredulously. Taken aback, Kehinde asked, "Bother about what?" "Bothered that this life is not worth the stress. And that we should have been long past this stage of life. We're just trying to mak...

Sitting alone in my room one time, hands between my laps, phone tucked away, the world was far from reach, I slipped into depression. And again and again, I wept.  The pain I felt was deep and sharp. I didn't want to give up yet but there I was, shivering under the weight of heavy sobs. I was seeing my old self resurfacing. I was a mess. I panicked.  The tears ran their course unhindered. I didn't know what to do with myself because I feared I would once again become that person who hated to be here. I feared the past would win me over and repeat itself. Although, someone has gone through this for my sake, and was bruised. It shouldn't be a repeat for me. "...he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed."   - Isaiah 53:5 What was shocking was the still small voice that eventually managed to find its way into the raucous, pushed aside every hurtful detail, an...