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THE CHAMPIONS SERIES, "THE MAN" TOPIC: DYING EMPTY

Everyone exists, but not everyone truly lives.   Myles  Munroe  was right when he said that “the grave is the richest place on earth.” _ Humanity has seen thousands and thousands of people since inception, but what preserves the memory of those we remember today is basically what they did while they were alive. “Everybody will die, but maybe not everybody would have truly lived before dying.”   Dying empty is not just an event. It is a culmination of a series of events hinged on intentional living. To die empty, we cannot neglect the question of purpose. Man is a being of purpose. He was created with an intention. In a bid to die empty, we must pay close attention to the "3Ds of purpose".   Discovering Purpose.   Developing Purpose.   Deploying Purpose.   PURPOSE DISCOVERY. Until we have discovered the purpose for living, dying empty will be mere and empty talk.   I submit to you, that God sent you her...
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THE CHAMPIONS SERIES (51) "THE MAN"

THE MAN “A great man isn’t afraid to do what is right, no matter what.” The male man is a being created in the image of God and after His likeness, he is well decorated by God to function like Him and act like Him. God had a perfect plan for the male man, because he is the crown of God’s creation. The fall of man in the garden of Eden changed the original plan of God, nevertheless He did not give up on man God created man to have dominion over all creation, and saddled him with enormous responsibility which includes creating value upon the earth, preserving and nurturing all of creation into God’s perfect will. The world is shaped by the decisions of men, from time immemorial the specie called man, has been associated with a lot of things that are not approved by God, things that have limited the original purpose of God for the male man. Such things go against the original order of God. Sin is transgression of God’s law, man in both present and past dispensations have bee...
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POEM TITLED: HOME

  This is what we get We know suffering like the back of our palms We know the smell of death better than our farms We know war in sick flesh We know it is in the agonizing screams of mothers and babes We know it is in the guns of soldiers that ever remain fresh Home is a divided populace of meaningless greed Home is pessimism Our fathers fill their bottomless cups with speed They keep pouring, cup after cup until their eyes form a prism This bizarre world do not motivate our mothers to chip in counsel Our families hang loose on the rope of half-light We are left to form roots lighter than parcel We remain buried in the dark, yet they call us children of light What are roots if they strangle you? Who are ancestors if all they do is worsen your narrative? Home at this point is a suspect Our beautiful eyes fear the world We shower them with tears to keep them from running away The fear in our hearts leave the future crooked And whenever we arrive we begin to mend it till we pass away...
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