I have a dream.
What does it really mean to have faith?
I opened a draft page for this post on having faith a few days ago. The legendary line right at the beginning of this post came about as a result of an immediate occupation of my present state of mind. If you have similar thoughts or feelings, you may relate to these words and the words that will follow in this post. I think it is related to the issue of faith. And it is very much connected or wired to the world we are living in today.
I’d also like to insert another famous saying in this post to place in context with what I’m thinking and how I’m expressing myself with you today. But before I go on, let’s take a quick breather, just to lighten the mood a little. But that’s not to say that I’m feeling sad or downhearted. Much to worry about and much on my mind, in spite of all that, I have much to be cheerful about and I live in optimism about our immediate future.
But first this bit of naughtiness. You could even say it sums up the evils of social media these days where folks are far too busy criticizing and judging those in the news for all the wrong reasons. The story I picked up goes like this.
There was this very old man, ninety-two years of age, one President Robert Mugabe, president of burning Zimbabwe, who just recently presided over a gathering of elites, while Zimbabweans took to the streets in violent ways only seen across the Limpopo border to voice their extreme anger at this old man’s misrule and corrupt habits of finger pointing and blaming other (Western) nations for his country’s problems.
A man of his age, no matter how much expert medical care he can get from countries such as China and Switzerland, quickly gets tired. So as the meeting proceeded, with one boring speaker after another singing the old man’s praises, the old man proceeded to have a daydream. In fact, rumor has it that he had a wet dream. I’m not sure whether his Amazing Grace, young enough to be his daughter was nearby.
Those of you who are a little slow like me, let me put it a little more bluntly, while Zimbabwe’s Bulawayo (place of killing, I think it was the great African conqueror Cecil John