2025 Resolution

Interconnectedness, Reconciliation, and Renewal

I thought we might approach the unfolding season of 2025 a little differently this year.

My philosophy centres on the interconnectedness of individuals and communities, where each is essential to the flourishing of the other. I believe individuals shape communities just as communities shape individuals, creating a dynamic, interdependent relationship. The past, I hold, is not something to be shed or forgotten but rather a foundation from which to build the future. As Ecclesiastes 3:15 reminds us: ‘Whatever is has already been, and what will be has been before; and God will call the past to account.’ The past informs our choices, offering lessons and insights, but it must not constrain us. Instead, it should serve as a guide as we move through the transitory nature of existence, always becoming who we are meant to be.

I see human growth as inherently communal. While individual effort and autonomy are valuable, they are incomplete without collaboration and connection. This resonates with Paul’s teaching in 1 Corinthians 12:12, where he describes believers as one body with many parts, each dependent on the other. It is through this collective work that we grow in love, creativity, and harmony.

Central to my understanding is the role of the Holy Spirit, who unites and guides us in our shared journey. The Spirit, as described in Acts 2, brings order to chaos and transforms divisions into understanding. This dynamic, unifying presence is vital for fostering the love and reconciliation necessary for human flourishing. Jürgen Moltmann captures this beautifully in The Spirit of Life, writing: ‘The Holy Spirit is the power of the resurrection for life, for life in fellowship, for life in fullness.’

I critique the rampant individualism of modern faith, which often separates belief from reason and community. Faith, for me, must be dynamic and relational, not static or confined to doctrinal rigidity. Jesus pointed to the ongoing nature of salvation when he said, "I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now" (John 16:12). This speaks not of works earning salvation but of salvation’s transformative outworking in our lives. It reminds me that the journey of faith is not just about coming to God but also about being reconciled to one another. Matthew 5:24 exhorts us: ‘First go and be reconciled to them; then come and offer your gift.’

Storytelling and ritual are integral to this reconciliation. They celebrate life, express gratitude, and embrace diversity. Stories shape identity and belonging, connecting us to our past and projecting us into a shared future. John Mbiti’s African perspective aligns with this: ‘I am because we are, and since we are, therefore I am.’ This communal view underscores the importance of collective narratives in shaping a hopeful and harmonious existence.

Faith, for me, is a living, evolving relationship with God, rooted in the mystery of our being and doing. Reconciliation—both with God and with one another—is at its heart. This requires breaking cycles of division and animosity. The story of Hagar and Sarah offers a poignant example, where unresolved tensions gave rise to enduring strife—strife mirrored today in the violence and trauma experienced in places like Palestine. Yet, the Spirit offers hope for unity. Acts 2 shows us how diverse tongues were brought into understanding, and Jesus stands as the catalyst for this reconciliation.

I long for a world where collaboration thrives—not assimilation, but true collaboration that honours individuality while allowing the Spirit to transform us. It is this transformation that transcends cultural imperatives and brings us to a place where faith and reason, mystery and understanding, exist together in harmony. As faith communities, we must turn outward, grounded in God’s dynamic being, to reconcile and create a future where the fullness of life, as promised in John 10:10, is realised.

Rise n Shine

A New Year’s Greeting: Rise and Shine

Yo, the clock’s ticking,
another season fading out like the last track on a mixtape.
Time and tide don’t wait for no one,
rolling steady, relentless, carrying us forward.

But look—on the horizon,
there it is: a new dawn.

Fresh hopes break through,
like sunlight slicing the skyline,
whispering,
'What’s next?'

Here we are,
standing in this liminal space—the in-between of
what was and what’s yet to come.

Pause for a moment.
Feel that?
That’s gratitude.
For this wild, wondrous world crafted by the Creator’s hand.

It’s all prep work, this beauty,
this grind—it’s set up for something bigger.

So let’s make it count.
Let’s resolve to level up,
to be the realest, rawest, best version of ourselves.

And then?

Let’s transcend even that.
Let’s step into what it means to be fully human,
to become the people we’re meant to be.

The street lights might flicker, but we’re here to shine.

Happy New Year.

Let’s rise.

Christmas 2024

Dum Diversas

 Dum Diversas Lives: USA and Russia - A Reflection and Warning

The papal bull Dum Diversas of 1452 marked a historical turning point in human relations. It offered the justification for the enslavement of non-Christians, particularly Muslims and non-European under the guise of divine mandate. King Alfonso of Portugal was granted authority by the Church - Roman Catholicism - to wage wars against the ‘Saracens’ and ‘pagans,’ to subjugate them, and to claim their lands and possessions. At the time, this declaration was framed as a defence of Christianity, a mission to spread and protect the faith. It was a pivotal moment that intertwined religious authority with political power, laying the groundwork for centuries of colonial exploitation and violence justified by divine will.

Today, in both the United States and Russia, we can see unsettling echoes of the same theological-political dynamic. The question arises: are we witnessing the same patterns of justification for violence and domination in modern geopolitics, this time framed within national and religious identity? The current conflicts, most notably in Ukraine and the rhetoric that supports them, reflect an uneasy continuity of these ideas, reinterpreted for contemporary politics.

In Russia, the Church's blessing of Vladimir Putin's war in Ukraine can be seen as a modern counterpart to Dum Diversas. The Russian Orthodox Church has endorsed the invasion, framing it as not merely a geopolitical struggle but a religious crusade—one that claims a divine mandate to defend Russian Orthodoxy and reclaim sacred lands. This mirrors the language used by the papacy in the 15th century, where divine authority was invoked to justify expansion, domination, and violence. The belief that God is on the side of the victors in war has persisted through the centuries, reshaping itself to suit the political realities of each era. But the psychological and theological underpinnings remain disturbingly consistent.

Across the Atlantic in the United States, the rise of Christian nationalism, particularly with movements like Project 2025, offers another example of how religion and politics can fuse to justify radical agendas. Evangelical Christian leaders are pushing for a return to what they see as America’s ‘Christian roots,’ with policies that align with conservative interpretations of Christian morality. The rhetoric is similar: a divine mandate to ‘restore’ the nation to its proper state, a moral vision that places religious beliefs at the centre of political life. Like the medieval papal bulls, this political movement suggests that certain actions—often aimed at exclusion or marginalisation—are not just politically motivated but divinely sanctioned.

Both Russia and the United States have seen the alignment of religious authority with political power to justify conflicts and policies that exclude, suppress, or harm certain groups. In the case of the Russian invasion of Ukraine, this is a matter of territorial and ideological control, disguised as a defence of faith. In the US it manifests in the moral justification for limiting rights, particularly for women, LGBTQ+ people, and racial minorities, all framed as part of a divine plan for the nation. The underlying idea is not unlike that expressed in Dum Diversas: the belief that the power of the state is divinely ordained, and that those who resist this order are in defiance of God’s will.

In both scenarios, there is a dangerous erasure of the Christian ethos of love, reconciliation, and peace. The teachings of Jesus, which warn against the consequences of violence and the dangers of idolatry—such as the worship of political power or national identity—are sidelined in favour of a more aggressive, territorial, and exclusionary version of Christianity. This reimagining of Christian doctrine to suit political ends reflects a troubling tendency throughout history, one that co-opts religious authority to justify harm and oppression.

The warning here is clear: we must remain vigilant in recognising when religious rhetoric is used to justify actions that contradict the core values of love, justice, and reconciliation at the heart of the Christian faith. In the same way that Dum Diversas led to centuries of exploitation and violence, the current alignment of religion with political power can quickly devolve into a justification for further harm. The human psyche, when confronted with the blending of religious belief and political might, can become easily swayed by the rhetoric of divine approval, losing sight of the deeper, transformative message of the Gospel.

As we reflect on these patterns, we are reminded of the teachings of Jesus, who warned of the dangers of violence and division, and who called for a radical love that transcends political, national, and religious boundaries. If we fail to heed this warning, we risk repeating the mistakes of the past, where the language of faith is used to mask the pursuit of power and domination. The echo of Dum Diversas still resonates today, but it is up to us to ensure that it does not shape the future in the same way it shaped the past.

Book Launch [About the Book]

Shame

 A Shame, A Cry, A Call

It’s a shame—  

That Christ walked the wilderness, hungry and weary,  

Fought the Tempter’s whispers with the Word He carried,  

Yet here they stand, stone in hand,  

Ready to turn it to bread at the serpent’s command.

It’s a shame—  

That Christ bore the cross, love nailed to the tree,  

Yet they wield that wood as a weapon, not a plea.  

The kingdom they seek is built on sand,  

Bow down to power, forget the plan.

It’s a shame—  

That Eve reached for the fruit, her heart misled,  

Believing the lie that God’s better off dead.  

And now they, too, take the serpent’s side,  

Blaming the 'Other' for their wounded pride.

But listen—  

The Word was never written for swords of hate,  

Nor for thrones built on the backs of the desolate.  

It was sung in the streets, lived among the least,  

A table for all, a world of peace.

So rise—  

Shake off the dust, let the foolery fall,  

This is the cry, the battle call.  

Not to conquer, but to heal the divide,  

To see Christ’s face where the weary reside.

It’s not too late—  

To trade stone for bread, hate for grace,  

To find in the stranger the Saviour’s face.  

The cross still stands, the Word still speaks,  

For the poor, the broken, the humble, the meek.

Will they see?  

Or will they wait for the Tempter’s snare,  

Trading the Kingdom for empty air?  

It’s a shame—but there’s hope, still near,  

If hearts will break, and ears will hear.

Prodigal Land

 The Prodigal Return

The story of Wawira’s family and the Kamaus is deeply rooted in Kenya’s troubled history of land ownership, colonial expropriation, and government negligence. The land in question bore the weight of colonial theft, where foreign powers displaced communities to consolidate control. After independence, hopes for restitution were dashed as successive governments allowed corruption and neglect to persist, turning a blind eye to injustices like the sale of Wawira's ancestral land.

Corro, the corrupt government official, sold the land to the Kamau family, who unknowingly built their lives on stolen ground. Wawira’s family, uprooted and disenfranchised, had waited decades for justice. When Lance, the current Land Commissioner, uncovered the tangled web of deceit, he faced a challenge that demanded wisdom beyond the letter of the law.

The land was more than soil; it was identity, memory, and heritage for Wawira’s family. For the Kamaus, it was security, a home built with honest sweat and toil. A decision favouring one would destroy the other, leaving Lance caught between historical injustice and the present-day consequences of past wrongs.

After lengthy deliberation, Lance convened a special tribunal involving historians, community elders, legal experts, and religious leaders. The tribunal acknowledged the unique gravity of the case: the Kamaus were innocent buyers who had invested in the land, yet the legacy of colonialism and government laxity could not be ignored. A Solomonic solution was proposed to honour both justice and compassion.

The tribunal declared that the land’s legal ownership would revert to Wawira’s family, affirming their ancestral claim. However, recognising the Kamaus’ innocence and investment, the government would offer them permanent residency on a portion of the land. This section would remain under Wawira’s ownership but be leased to the Kamaus at a nominal rate for ninety-nine years.

In addition, the government, recognising its failure to address historical injustices, would create a reparations fund. This fund would compensate the Kamaus for their financial investments and support Wawira’s family in restoring the ancestral homestead. Corro’s seized assets would form the foundation of this fund, ensuring the corrupt official paid for his misdeeds. Furthermore, the fund would extend to other families impacted by colonial land grabs and post-independence corruption, signalling a new commitment to equitable redress.

The Kamaus and Wawira’s family were brought together to witness the signing of this agreement. It was not an easy meeting. Emotions ran high as both families grappled with the solution. Wawira’s matriarch spoke of her ancestors’ graves and the generations lost to exile. Joseph Kamau responded with tales of his family’s struggles to cultivate the land, unaware of its tainted past.

But as they talked, something shifted. The elders from both families agreed to plant a tree—a mugumo tree, sacred in Kikuyu tradition—at the boundary between their portions of the land. This act symbolised a new beginning, one rooted in shared stewardship and mutual respect.

The solution was far from perfect, but it embodied a commitment to justice, humility, and unity. It acknowledged the deep wounds of colonialism, the failings of past governments, and the importance of finding ways to heal without creating new victims. The story of the land became not just a narrative of pain but also one of reconciliation, a testament to the possibility of peace amidst conflict.

As the mugumo tree grew, it stood as a living reminder that justice, though flawed, could be pursued with wisdom and grace. For the community, it became a symbol of what could be achieved when history is acknowledged, present realities are respected, and the future is built together.