the musings of this nigerian gal

Have you noticed whenever we’re hurt, we tend to sleep in a fetal position?

We would curl into ourselves and try to hold on to the shattered pieces of our souls even as everything around us crashes down.

Our little attempt at gaining control of something. Anything

As someone who stress-eat, I can tell you that sudden craving for something to stuff into your mouth is an attempt at gaining control.

As everything is spinning out of control, you look for one thing to latch on to.

It could be a movie. It could be work. Or housecleaning. It could simply keeping the tears at bay.

Something. Anything.

Something that can ground you. Something that can make sense.

I watched a Christian podcast one day and something one of the women said stuck with me, or more aptly, upended my world and right it back in a better perspective.

She said control is not peace. It is just an illusion.

She said God told her there is no life in white-knuckling everything.

She said God told her this grappling for control, for everything to look just right was not the reason for which he set her free.

She said God told her His peace can go beyond her sense of control.

She said God told her the truth of his peace is in the fact that he has overcome it all.

God’s peace is in the messy.

In the wild. In the uncontrollable. In the crazy. In the wilderness.

But not in control.

Control is our attempt at peace.

Real peace, the one God gives come from relinquishing control to the one that can make sense of it all.

Sometimes his making sense is not ours, is not what we think we look like.

But we can find rest in the truth that he can and he does work all things for our good.

We can find rest in the truth that this war is one that he has already won.

This is where true peace comes from.

This is the peace that surpasses understanding.