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Gold Dust


They are good people who have good things happen to them, they are bad people who have bad things happen to them. They are some good people who have bad things happen to them - for which we have no answer.

But not for Abdul.

If anything could go wrong it did. Born a stutterer to a well-respected community leader and a strong-willed mother, with eleven siblings in a large family compound, they had been a thick invisible glue that held everyone captive in that place. Those who dared move were hauled right back landing on their bottoms, hands tied for another decade. At night they were dark spells cast, feeble secret prayers made, words exchanged between wives and sisters, husbands and elders that stirred up sure strife every season.

Then one of Abdul's sisters caught ‘faith’, she had attended a miracle crusade in the next town and couldn’t shake the charismatic Man of God preaching -freedom. Surely he was a man under siege by the Spirit of the true Almighty God- it was more than a feverish deity. Sister Sara chose to return the next day and out of the dozens of children in the compound she chose Abdul. He was the youngest boy, well-loved by their father and every other person because he was polite and obeyed every order dispersed without question or hesitation. One day a spiritualist from another country visited the compound. He prophecied that there was something curious about Abdul he saw in the stars but he couldn't say more. It was not something the spiritualist wanted to unravel, the fire in the dreams he had experienced preceding navigating Abdul star was unbearable.

Abdul was never one to say no, so he followed his older sister Sara to the crusade. Upon arrival, a whirlwind fell-Abdul saw the crusade grounds tremble as a strong wind blew he could have sworn the earth moved, and gold-like dust or oil seemed to pour down riding the wind- falling on everyone. Yet Sara his sister just stood still. Didn't they see what Abdul saw? It caught his tongue and suddenly drove him forward. If you asked Abdul the next day how he got to the front, to the platform where this preacher man was evoking wonder amidst an enormous crowd, he could have sworn a strange magnetic force had pulled him forward and unraveled his tongue.

Abdul found the call irresistible he had said yes to Christ, or at least to the great preacher's message- not knowing anything about faith except a mix of middle eastern faiths and other coastal spiritual practices he had been exposed to. This time though- whatever had come over him was irresistible it had grabbed his heart, captured his soul. It was as if this preacher had known Abdul before he was born. The preacher had commanded his mouth to be loose, said many marvelous things about Abdul's future, too marvelous to dream of- so Abdul imagined it was indeed- a dream.

At the end of the crusade Sister Sara and Abdul left hurriedly.Nobody said anything on the way home they were still in a trance like state, and Sister Sara wasn’t sure how to explain that her brother did not stutter anymore.

The Tarabi music laced with Swahili overtones and Lingala from the various homes in the neighborhood floated in the air- along with the cumin, burned onion, and cloves frying up to make pilao rice a favorite, and everyday staple. The siblings walked in silence until they reached their compound and stopped abruptly- the elders were waiting. Some busybody had run home and told everyone that they saw Abdul at the crusade and that he stuttered no more. The questions were pungent, overwhelming but then a rain storm came and shut down the inquisition. That night Abdul did not sleep, he was trembling, he dared not tell the family that there was a God like man that began to appear to him and smile that day.

Abdul was sure it wasn’t the demons that the neighborhood spell makers fought- he seemed fiery, yet warm, out of his mouth came gold molten lava flowing with healing, with hope. He said he would never leave him, that he- Abdul too was God's son. He fell in and out of deep sleep when he woke the God introduced himself- and continued pouring the gold liquid into Abdul's heart healing every crack and filling him up to overflow. He made out the name Jesus. Abdul begged him to take him. He fell asleep again.

And then suddenly,

"Run run like the wind my boy they will kill you!, his Mama rushed him out with a big bag of provisions, she didn't even know to where she sent her son- but she knew the elders would never agree to this foreign faith. Mother and son torn they run untill she stopped, to go back lest they follow and harm both. I love you my boy, what have I done what has befallen us she mattered. But she knew it was beyond them .He had been a special boy all these years- she couldn't stop him- she had dreamt this day would come but it was too soon"

Abdul woke up on a church bench breaking out in a sweat but he wasn’t 8 years old, he wasn't running from the clan anymore. This gift, this gold dust oil on his head hang thick, this gift that threatened priests and prophets had become the very source of his life's rejection. It was as if goodness never followed the day he left and yet when he walked among men the Spirit fell and chains broke, joy filled their lives, emptying his own, wealth filled their bags, never his own. When he woke up that day on the bench he expected trouble but the war had ended and he didn't know that the beautiful things the GOD man had said those many years ago were about to happen, explode like popcorn, and suddenly the Christ who appeared to him at 8years old walked in.

Gold Dust, to be continued next week, read how

For my Prophet, your story will change the world.



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