Oz writes! IT IS A CHOICE THAT HE GIVES

Every so often, you fall asleep questioning your Spirit- man, “when shall this burden pass?” Craving answers, you awake only with more questions your limited knowledge cannot resolve. I crave your indulgence as I share with you.
One day, you find yourself seated in an aircraft, directly behind a Bomber jacket wearing Commander and strangely you are in total awareness of your whole environment both within and outside the aircraft in-flight.
You are very bothered by the flight as the Commander (Captain), for reasons unknown to you, toys with the aircraft without regards to his or your safety. He deliberately seems to fly His aircraft directly at thick walls of impenetrable clouds, only to bank off at the last second, and this petrifies you. You are overcome with fear for your life. As he continues to do this, you shut your eyes in uncontrollable panic thinking it is all over for you, yet when you open your eyes you realize the end has not come and that the Commander in amusement takes a back glance at you with a most mischievous smile on his face. The more He does this, the more your confidence grows in his ability as The Pilot, until you reach a point where you have been shocked into absolute confidence.
In the euphoria of this new found confidence you feel unexplainable warmth about you and the realization that He is the sole ace Commander, and from the warmth of his smiles, your friend. As the warmth of confidence and its peace overwhelm you, you begin to play like a child, running back and forth the aircraft, apparently, no longer aware of any danger in this same aircraft that once, so petrified you.
Only now do you realize that you have been flying in an open back aircraft with the sky, yours to grab. You confidently look overboard as you would out the window of a two storey house, the view is absolutely bewildering. The earth, land and sea, are bellow you as the Commander shows all, in its physical form, and as you fly over the different oceans you see peoples of differing tones, tribes and language in little fishing boats, who look up at you and wave to you with a one on one familiarity you cannot understand.
Suddenly up ahead in the distance, to your left, you see what seems to be a lone house in the clouds, a magnificent simple little house, in your heart you know is built for a family of no more than three persons. The Commander seems to make an approach to the right of the house, as he passes the front, he banks the aircraft left towards the back of the house and left again, coming to a stop on the left side of the house.
Suddenly you hear the splash of someone jumping into water, looking around you realize that your brother has jumped out and is swimming in the clouds, you wonder when and how he got on board the aircraft. The Commander smiles at you reassuringly and offers you a helping hand, off the aircraft. Accepting His kindness you follow Him through a small picket fence gate into a most peaceful garden. In the garden is a man in overalls with a rake in his hand tending to the garden, and as you enter he looks up at you knowingly, smiles, and seems to wave, “welcome”. You know his face so well, but cannot immediately place it, yet it is a face you had obviously seen on a regular basis.
The Commander leads you towards the front door of the house and on reaching, stands aside for you to enter. Willingly you enter into a most comfortable cozy living room, warmed by a lit fireplace and furnished with only two Queen Anne high back chairs facing each other with a stool in between, its walls were covered with photos that seem to demand your attention.
As you approach the photos, you realise they are pictures of the Commander and various other faces you seem to recognize and identify. Moving around the room from photo to photo you begin to call out their names, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, Joshua, Isaiah, Elijah, Elisha, Samuel, and more and more that you recognize.
The photos seem to come to an end and you find yourself standing in front of a sidewall with only one large photo of the Commander and a man whose face you cannot make out, and under the photo is a huge book, a register of sorts. As you bend over to peruse the scribbling in the book, you see the names of all the prophets, their addresses and signature, the same ones whose photos hang on the walls, and suddenly you hear a tremor that is yet so calming and soothing you know it comes from behind you, and you know the speaker as He asks, “AND WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE ONE OF THEM?”
It is a choice that He gives us.
By His Grace,
OZOLUA. GIWA-AMU.


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