Faith – Koiti Emmily

𝐀 𝐒𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐞: 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐦𝐚’𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐒𝐩𝐚

There are days when sisterhood shows up not in speeches or declarations, but in simple acts of care. Today, on a Sabbath, I found myself at a spa with women who have, over the years, become more than colleagues. They have become sisters. We had decided, almost on a whim earlier this week, that we had neglected ourselves for far too long. A WhatsApp group was created, and when I jokingly asked, “Who is the sponsor? I’m very, very broke,” one of them responded: “Don’t worry, we will take care of it.” Another sister volunteered to cover my bill entirely and she surely did.

It felt spontaneous, yet divine. Only a few weeks ago, in conversation with church elders, I had lamented how long it had been since my last proper spa visit. I spoke of the toll economic hardships had taken, how both time and money had conspired against me, making such care feel impossible. I never imagined that God, who hears even our quietest laments, would provide through a caring sisterhood. What felt like a whim was, in truth, an answered prayer.

𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙉𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙚𝙙 𝘾𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙁𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝘼𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙔𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨

The last time I had a proper spa visit was in Nepal three years ago, and before that in Nairobi, three months before Nepal’s. Since then, my life has been caught between village and town, between economic hardships and demanding schedules. A spa visit often felt like a luxury that belonged to another world. When I had time, I didn’t have money. When I had money, there was no time, or no spa in sight.

But today was different. I wasn’t just lying on a massage table for relaxation. Something unique happened. I reflected more deeply than I ever had during any past spa visit. I remembered my grandmother, my roots, and the generations of women who had always known the importance of such care.

𝙒𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣 𝙃𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝘼𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝘽𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙩 𝙎𝙥𝙖𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙊𝙬𝙣

As I lay there, my thoughts drifted to childhood memories of my late grandmother; Doruka in 2002. I once witnessed her receiving a massage not in a spa, but in the yard of our village home. Her co-wife (bother-in-law’s wife) had walked nearly 18 miles on foot carrying oil extracted from the African python. A mat was laid out behind the house, soap and oil were mixed, and the massage began. Grandma groaned as aching muscles found relief under careful hands. At the end, she thanked her co-wife profusely.

That was their spa with no scented candles, no background music, no white robes. Just sisterhood. Care rendered in the form and context they had.

It struck me today that spa culture is not foreign or wasteful, as some men (especially in my country) like to say. It has always been here, arranged differently, depending on resources and setting. Where money was scarce, women found other ways to minister to each other’s bodies. To dismiss it as indulgence is to erase a history of women’s care that is deeply embedded in our communities.

𝙎𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝘾𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙀𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙤𝙢𝙮

Women have always understood something fundamental: survival and thriving require tending not only to the soul, but to the body. A proper bath, a rub, oils pressed into aching muscles; these were not luxuries but healing rituals. They were also acts of solidarity, where one woman said to another: “I see your pain, and I will help carry it for a while.”

Today’s spa experience, paid for by my sisters, mirrored the same dynamic. It wasn’t about luxury, but about a care economy that women build when systems around them fail. In a world where economic hardships and cultural dismissals push women to the margins, such acts of collective care remind us that sisterhood is wealth.

𝙎𝙖𝙗𝙗𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙍𝙚𝙨𝙩, 𝙍𝙚𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙙

I had worried about missing church fellowship this Sabbath, so I attended mid-week prayers to remain spiritually grounded. Yet as the week wore on, I also felt an increasing need for deeper physical rest. I do daily exercise, at least 20 minutes without fail under normal circumstances but I knew deep down that a spa visit would be uniquely therapeutic, a way to truly fill my cup.

So instead of being in church today, I chose to tend to my body. I realized that healing my muscles and quieting my spirit was the rest I needed most at this time. This wasn’t about indulgence or income, it was about health, wholeness, and renewal. The Bible reminds us, “The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath” (Mark 2:27). What better way to honor the essence of Sabbath than to rest body and soul in the fellowship of sisters?

The quietness of the spa, the healing touch, the laughter we shared, it was fellowship in its own right. It was rest redefined, rooted not in ritual alone, but in the wholeness that God intended when He commanded His children to rest.

𝙍𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙘𝙪𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘾𝙖𝙧𝙚

Today’s experience also reminds me of another truth: my grandfather knew his brother’s wife was coming to massage his own wife, and he respected it. He understood its importance. That quiet acceptance stands in stark contrast to the dismissive attitudes I see among many men today, who scoff at spa experiences for women as wasteful. Perhaps they do not realize that their grandmothers and great-grandmothers had their own versions of spas, long before there was money in circulation. To belittle such practices is not wisdom; it is ignorance of one’s own cultural heritage.

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙏𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮: 𝙎𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙞𝙨 𝙎𝙪𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙫𝙖𝙡

Today, as I enjoyed the care of my sisters, I realized we were not just pampering ourselves. We were continuing a tradition of women holding each other up, of creating systems of care where none exist, of affirming that our bodies too are worthy of attention.

I walked out of the spa carrying not just relaxation, but resolve. I will work hard to afford regular spa visits without shame. I will seek a partner who does not see caring for the body as frivolous. And I will cherish the sisterhood that reminds me, sometimes through simple acts, that I am seen, carried, and loved.

Because in the end, a sisterhood of care is not just about massages or baths. It is about women saying to each other: “you deserve ease, you deserve relief, you deserve joy.”

And that is something worth passing from one generation to the next.

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐑𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐝

Kindness, generosity, and empathy are among the most beautiful virtues a human being can embody. For some of us, they flow as naturally as breathing. They are not calculated but instinctive, born of a deep conviction that to treat others well is not just moral but deeply human. Yet, life has a way of testing even the noblest instincts. With time and experience, I have learned, sometimes painfully, that kindness, when offered without caution, can be misread, mishandled, and even weaponized.

As a child, I was captivated by the golden rule: “𝘿𝙤 𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙙𝙤 𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪.” I took it literally, pouring myself wholeheartedly into every act of care or generosity. It felt simple, pure, and right. But adulthood revealed a more complicated reality. In the real world, kindness is not always mirrored. Sometimes, it is exploited. Worse still, it can be misunderstood as weakness, desperation, or a plea for validation. A gesture meant to uplift another can be twisted into a narrative of neediness, manipulation, or apology, even when the giver expects nothing in return.

This misinterpretation becomes most cruel when kindness follows conflict. Offer a helping hand to someone who has wronged you, and they may not see it as an act of grace but as a tactic to regain favor. They may not interpret it as strength but as dependence. And so, I find myself cautious, perhaps too cautious. I now hesitate to extend kindness to those who have dismissed or devalued me, unless conscience compels me because no one else is present and the matter is one of life and death.

The distortion grows sharper in unequal relationships. When kindness flows upward to a senior, an elder, or someone of higher social standing, it often goes unacknowledged. Should the bond sour, the dominant narrative will likely paint them as the benefactor and you as the dependent, no matter the truth. Status has a way of rewriting history in its favor, and kindness rendered downward is easily erased, unless honesty intervenes.

And so I wonder, must virtues like kindness, generosity, and empathy always be offered under the vigilant guard of wisdom? Must they be rationed and directed only where they will not be misunderstood? It feels almost sacrilegious to say so, but I find myself living with this caution. I withhold calls from friends who never return them lest I appear to be forcing myself into their lives. I refrain from offering help unasked, even when I know it is needed, lest thoughtfulness be mistaken for intrusion. I am deliberately learning the art of indifference, a survival skill I once despised.

Yet, in practicing this restraint, I sometimes fear I am betraying myself. Am I losing the essence of who I am, chiseling away at the generosity that once came so easily? Or am I simply maturing into a wisdom that knows kindness without discernment can be self-destructive? This is the paradox I live in: hurt has taught me caution, but caution threatens to harden me.

So I ask, quietly, humbly, perhaps vulnerably, do you wrestle with this too? Have you ever stood at the edge where kindness risks becoming a liability, where generosity feels like self-sabotage, and empathy feels like a burden? What do you turn to when the very virtues that once defined you now demand vigilance for your own survival?

Perhaps the deeper lesson is this: kindness must remain, but it must evolve. It must grow wiser, not weaker. It must be rooted not in the expectation of reciprocity but in the conviction of stewardship. And yet, it must also learn the boundaries that protect dignity. For even light must sometimes shield itself, lest it be mistaken for fire.

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐄𝐧𝐯𝐲: 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐀𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐩’𝐬 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

It is a peculiar truth of life that not everyone who smiles at your success genuinely celebrates with you. There are those who learn from you, even appear to admire your journey, yet beneath the surface, their hearts are clouded with a deep, corrosive envy. Your very life: the integrity, the choices, the path you choose to lead, silently rebukes theirs each day, highlighting the compromises they’ve made in their own lives or the wrong narrative they would want to spread about you.

This isn’t a new phenomenon. The Bible offers a powerful, timeless example in the story of King Saul and David. Initially, Saul recognized David’s anointing and potential. He brought David into his court, saw his successes, and even gave him his daughter Michal in marriage. On the surface, it seemed like support, even admiration.

However, as David’s fame grew after slaying Goliath and the people cheered, “Saul has slain his thousands, and David his tens of thousands!” (1 Samuel 18:7), a dark envy consumed Saul. David’s righteous walk, his consistent success, and the clear favor of God upon him became a constant, unbearable rebuke to Saul, who had lost God’s Spirit due to his own disobedience.

Saul’s “support” quickly turned insidious. He didn’t just wish David ill; he actively sought his downfall. He gave David dangerous military assignments, hoping the Philistines would kill him (1 Samuel 18:17). The offer of his daughter Michal was cleverly conditioned on David bringing back a hundred Philistine foreskins, another calculated “snare” or “bait” designed to lead David to his death.

Why this elaborate deception? Because in David’s fall, Saul hoped to find justification for his own spiritual failures and realisation of his preferred trajectory for David. In David’s failure, he could soothe his own troubled conscience and declare that the life of integrity and divine favor David aspired to was, in fact, impossible. His hidden motive was to diminish David so he wouldn’t feel so diminished himself.

So, how do we navigate such treacherous waters? The wisdom remains: Know such people. Discern their intent. As Jesus himself commanded, “Therefore be as shrewd as snakes and as innocent as doves” (Matthew 10:16). Be gentle, kind, and pure in your own heart, but also keenly aware and discerning of the hidden agendas that might lurk beneath outward appearances. Protect your path, trust your discernment, and continue to walk in integrity, for your light is often the very thing that exposes the darkness.

𝐀𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲: 𝐀 𝐑𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐫, 𝐍𝐞𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐥

Yesterday, I was privileged once again to take the pulpit during my local church’s Sabbath service. It was the global #EndItNow Emphasis Sabbath, an annual moment when Adventist congregations worldwide confront the scourge of abuse in its many forms. This year, the spotlight fell on a group often forgotten until their frailty becomes unavoidable; the elderly. Stewarded by women’s ministries across the globe, it was a call not just to awareness, but to repentance and action.

The memory text came from 𝐄𝐱𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐬 𝟐𝟎:𝟏𝟐 “Honor your father and your mother”, and the sermon was titled “𝐀𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲: 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.”Jesus Himself reinforced this command in 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝟕:𝟓–𝟏𝟑 , when He rebuked the Pharisees for upholding tradition as an excuse to abandon their parents. By extension, He rebuked every generation tempted to treat the old as burdens instead of blessings.

I must acknowledge that this sermon was not my own original creation. Like countless other Adventist preachers yesterday, I paraphrased the wisdom penned in 2007 by two remarkable women leaders: 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫-𝐃𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐒𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥, now departed, and 𝐑𝐚𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐀𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬, still faithfully serving. Their foresight then has become, in our time, an urgent intervention. For this I am profoundly grateful.

In preparing to preach, I could not escape a deep, uncomfortable reflection: how have I treated the elderly entrusted to my life? There are moments I am proud of, times I have protected, helped, or simply listened. But honesty compels me to admit there are also moments of neglect.

There have been days when I delayed returning calls from my mother, father, or uncle, even when I knew they reached out simply to connect. I have older friends who have accompanied me faithfully in my career and spiritual journey, yet more often than not it is they who initiate the call, not me. On the surface these lapses may seem small, but they are not. To ignore the communication of elders is to inflict emotional neglect. To immerse myself in a full day of church activity while failing to return an uncle’s repeated calls is, in its own way, a form of spiritual neglect. May God’s grace suffice where I have fallen short.

What Elder Abuse Really Looks Like? The 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡 𝐎𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 defines elder abuse as any act or failure to act appropriately within a relationship of trust that causes harm or distress to an older person. Too often, we imagine only physical violence, but abuse takes many subtler forms. It can be financial exploitation, when resources meant for care are siphoned away. It can be emotional neglect, when phone calls are ignored and their voices are silenced. It can be social abandonment, when we treat them as invisible once they no longer provide materially. It can even be spiritual abuse, when religion is used as an excuse to deny help, like a child who claims all their income was “given to God” and therefore their parents must go without food or medicine.

Abuse also shows up in cultural attitudes. Too often the elderly are treated as irrelevant, boring, or a nuisance. Yet they are bearers of memory, wisdom, and dignity. They deserve conversation, companionship, and the assurance that their lives still matter beyond what they once owned or provided.

I have seen grandchildren unmoved by the poverty of grandparents who once raised them when their own parents were busy. I have heard young people boast that ensuring their parents live decently is “not their responsibility.” This is more than ingratitude; it is disobedience to the command to honor one’s parents.

Yet preventing elder abuse does not require monumental gestures. It begins with simple, deliberate acts: returning a call, asking about their youth, listening without rushing, or visiting not to showcase achievements but simply to share presence. Even the act of checking in on a friend’s parents, especially when distance keeps their child who’s one’s friend away, can warm an elder’s heart and affirm that their child has built meaningful relationships. During festive seasons, rather than reducing visits to mere displays of success, we can choose instead to spend quality time, characterized by real conversation and genuine attention.

For communities, congregations, and workplaces, intentional recognition also makes a difference. Imagine dedicating a day each year to celebrate the elderly, inviting them to lead an activity with the support of younger members, and creating intergenerational spaces where they are not just present but central. Such practices are simple but deeply restorative.

For Christians, honoring the elderly is not a suggestion; it is a command. 𝐋𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝟏𝟗:𝟑𝟐 is unequivocal: “Stand up in the presence of the aged, show respect for the elderly and revere your God.”To dishonor the old is, ultimately, to dishonor God Himself. The chilling story of the prophet Elisha in 𝟐 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝟐:𝟐𝟑–𝟐𝟓 reminds us that when the young mock or mistreat the old, heaven itself may intervene. God defends the elderly even against the arrogance of youth.

And for those who do not share this faith, the truth remains: age beckons us all. If we do not die young, we too will grow old. The scripts we write today in how we treat the elderly will one day be replayed by our children when they watch us grow frail.

Let me end this reflection to do what I failed to do earlier last week which is returning the calls of my uncle who’s in his late seventies, had phoned me three times last week and once today already. I haven’t returned his calls. Often, he just wants to know how I am. That is his way of showing love. My silence denies him that joy. That is my neglect, and I must repent of it.

Friends, let us pause and ask ourselves: Whose call or presence have we ignored? Whose dignity have we overlooked? Whose wisdom have we silenced? Old age is not a burden to be managed, but a crown of experience to be honored.

May we not wait until it is too late to learn this truth.

When We Cross Over to 2025

Dear Christian, 2024 has been a year you can describe using any adjective as you see fit per your personal experiences. For me, it has been a year that has strengthened my resolve to embrace my limitations while doing everything I set out to do even when afraid. It has been the year that has reminded me that I am capable of leading myself through crisis and counting triumph even when someone else sees failure. It has been an affirming year.

2025 is beckoning us over. When we cross over, I pray you remember that beyond what you think of yourself, you are God’s masterpiece created in His image (Genesis 1:27) and that you are fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14).

When we cross over, I pray that throughout 2025, you remember that beyond the plans you make, God has intricate plans for you (Jeremiah 29:11). That the plans are not for destroying you but to prosper you to fulfil your mission on earth.

When we cross over, I pray that throughout 2025, you remember that because you are a sinful human, your emotions will fail you often and your heart will harbour deceitful and wicked desires (Jeremiah 17:9). Because of this, even when you pursue righteousness on your own accord, even what is deemed as your most righteous deeds will appear as filthy as a rug to the courts of heaven (Isaiah 64:6)

When we cross over, I pray that throughout 2025, because you will remain aware of your fallibility as a human, that you remember to embrace God’s perfect will and place your trust in Him for all your endeavours ( Proverbs 3:5-6). Remember that when your human will unites with the will of God, great things can happen because it is God who will inspire you to will to do good (Philippians 2:13)

When we cross over, I pray that you will not be surprised by obstacles, not being helped by those you had hoped to help, betrayals becoming imminent or looming around you, doubt about you succeeding in something intimate with your life’s purpose attempting to cloud your mind, misrepresentation of your truth, casting of aspersions on your character, your credit being given to another, your reward being delayed, and being rejected, among others.

When we cross over, I pray that because the hardships mentioned above are the realities of life’s path, that you remember the biblical parable about the wicked vinedressers that climaxed with Jesus saying, “the stone which the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone (Luke 20:17).

When we cross over, I pray that throughout 2025, when you become weary about your name not being mentioned in rooms, at tables and in halls of fame as you expect, that you remember the assurance in Luke 19:40 that God’s plans for you and all earth will be fulfilled even if many keep silent or fold hands because God can use stones to make it happen. I pray that with this you remember to not be threatened by bridges lost or burnt.

When we cross over, if you are a leader who is managing teams to build something, I pray that you remember to take to learning a lot from Nehemiah s story of rebuilding Jerusalem’s walls and what he had to deal with and how electing to be a good steward of his privilege and favour and wisdom of God led him through it all (Nehemiah 1-8)

When we cross over, I pray that throughout 2025, should you have a moment of triumph or loss, that your faith suffices to afford you living with gratitude. That you remember to be thankful always and look out for even the simplest things to be grateful for (Philippians 4:4) and do so before God (Psalm 100:1-2) and make Thanksgiving a habit (Deuteronomy 16:15.).

Ultimately, when we cross over, I pray that throughout 2025, you remember to take to tapping into the priceless counsel and wealth of scripture to understand circumstances around you and be guided in fulfilling your life’s purpose.

I pray for you a gratitude-filled and, faith-filled 2025 in which you will only be preoccupied with your contentment with God’s perfect unfailing will.