When I look at my life, I see a full testament of how God orchestrates every single thing I’ve gone through for a grander purpose.
I grew up in the small city of Mzuzu, Malawi. I was raised by very religious grandparents who were very active members of the church. I recall never missing Sunday school, so from a young age I had an awareness of who God is, as well as an understanding of right from wrong. But I wouldn’t say I was saved.
read moreGrowing up in the 90’s, I thought Christian art was flaky. Unoriginal. Uninspired. Bland… yet godly. The mini art critic in me could spot from a mile away that the perm fixed in the depiction of Jesus that we see in Catholic art was far from me – and almost everyone else too. But it was art. Christian art. So, when I started considering the claims of Christianity, the art work I was exposed to made the culture seem narrow and detached.
read moreI used to be in the charismatic movement. I was a fully-fledged member. I had gone through the rites of passage; I attended the conferences, the leadership seminars, ‘prophesied’, ‘spoke in tongues’, lead worship, played in the church band, wrote a few worship songs, started a Christian band, lead a small group and even had Jeremiah 29: 11 bookmarked. Basically, I was in there!
read moreLike all fairytales start; one day, on a beautiful summer’s day in the beautiful town of Johannesburg, there was a princess named Tsholo. She was soft spoken and laughed so gently and eloquently. Then one day, someone lovingly asked her, “what are you doing!?”
Okay, that’s where the fairytale ends. I don’t even think it was a summers day, probably winter. Either way, it was pretty awkward, because there I was, trying to be like some of the ladies I look up to in the church. You know them right? Those ladies that speak softly and rub your arm ever so gently when talking to you.
read more
