This Is Your Time, My Clime, My Tribe.



You're most hated, most marginalised, most vilified & in your agitation for freedom you're labeled "terrorists", branded as "rogues" & you cry "Why me? why my clime? why my tribe?  
Yes you! Because it's your time and you were chosen for this moment.
Remember Joseph...most hated of his brethren yet chosen of God.
Have you ever wondered why you've been the one going after your brethren in Shechem and in Dothan, investing your time, your wealth, buying and building in their fields, plying your trade in their regions with joy while they often conspire to slay you or send you away? 
(Genesis 37:13-18).

Oh you're the most killed among the tribes. You're not in the pack of your brethren in the juicy positions & green areas on the field. You've never been allowed to sit in the Villa. 
The coat of many colours bestowed on you from the beginning as beloved of the Father, they tore & turned crimson with the blood of the millions of your slain ones. 
Yet still you rise in millions, still you go forth to foreign lands 
As enslaved yet undettered, in rags yet full of brains, constrained but not restrained, defamed but not derailed.
In chains but still with your dreams. 
Troubled on every side yet not distressed
Perplexed but not in despair, persecuted but not forsaken, cast down but not destroyed.
Always bearing about in your body the wounds of the past suffered from a war you once fought valiantly. You lost but destiny won, you were betrayed but posterity prevailed. You have borne your burden in your youth and never again will you take up arms to fight for the future.

If you would sit & listen deeply, you would hear beyond the voice of the reason in your head, beyond the voice of the agitation of your heart, you would hear the voice of the King calling & destiny beckoning on you beyond the marching sound of the belligerent feet of armed men sent to your borders...The armies of Egypt in the prison yard & before the gates you are confined to, dispatched to bring you before the king & the destiny you are called to. 
Fret not, this is your hour, this is your moment. Though your feet hurt with fetters, though you be laid in iron, though you seem to be besieged by the armies of Egypt, your time has come to rise from the prison floor where you've lain. 
The word of the Lord has come having tried you these 50 years and the year of your release from the chains of the past has come. From the prison of history to the palace of destiny you will go forth laced in grace, standing before kings to speak deep counsels & to teach senators wisdom.
The blessings you're destined to walk in shall prevail unto the utmost bound of the everlasting hills: they shall be on your head, and on the crown of the head of him that was separate from his brethren.
This is your time, my clime, my tribe. 

~ Paulchrisen Okey Okereke 
(Ibo is my tribe, South East is my clime, Nigeria is my country & a New Nigeria is my dream).

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