The Atheists in Kenya are having a party dubbed without God. It’s a celebration; a celebration of acknowledgment. You have probably seen the flyer making rounds on social media. It’s usually followed by gasps of disbelief and despair. It’s almost as if the world is coming to an end. Which is true if you think about it; first it was Project X and now this, not to mention all the other stories that we are fed everyday in the media...it can definitely leave you with a sense of hopelessness; wondering what has become of our beloved country. The founding fathers who penned the national anthem must be squirming in their graves. I mean, who are we asking to bless our nation if He does not exist?

The evening light came from the overbearing moon and illuminated his way; he walked hurriedly as he held up his robe around his waist. His sandals made a tapping sound on the ground completely refusing to cooperate with his plans to be incognito. He didn't want any one to know where he was going, and he was rather pleased with how he’d managed to sneak out without his wife's notice.

There is something gallant about giving a testimony. Something almost chivalrous about it. Possibly, it’s because when we share a testimony we lay open bits of us so that other people can walk into them, look and hopefully learn. Scripture records in Revelation 11: 12 that ‘they overcame by the blood of the lamb and the word of their testimony’, still, the vulnerability that comes with giving a testimony cannot be ignored.

The very first time I came to the Satpm service, my sister and I sat a few rows from the lectern. I had come at her invitation thus I automatically sat where she sat. I do not recall exactly how many rows to the front we were, maybe three or two. All that mattered then was that I had successfully steered clear of the role of ‘the insubordinate invitee’ by explicitly agreeing to her seat choice, Hehe.

I started the year by watching the movie ‘War room’ with some good friends from my bible study [Shout out #TeamWarRoom!] I know it was a couple of months later than most Nairobians, but it happened to be God’s perfect timing as it intuitively set the pace for what was to be the focal point for 2016-my prayer life.

As the ‘’season of love’’ approaches, I was musing over what prayer and Valentine’s Day have in common and I was inspired by this old post that I had read a couple of years back to jot this down: