Through My Lens

  What comes to mind when we hear the word money? To some, it might evoke thoughts of riches, wealth, or even poverty. For others, money means happiness, access to medical care, education, accommodation, or luxury. It’s amazing how one word can carry so many different meanings, depending on our circumstances and values. What I only recently discovered, and what many may not realize, is that money has a spirit tied to it. That spirit is called Mammon! This spirit subtly suggests that with enough money, we can be self-sufficient. That we can have whatever we want and, therefore, no longer need God. How deceptive this is! Mammon seeks to replace God, urging us to trust in wealth rather than in the One who provides it. We see this dangerous mindset reflected in Scripture. Judas Iscariot betrayed Jesus for thirty pieces of silver. That act of betrayal wasn't just about the coins, it was about valuing money over the Son of God. Today, we still see this same worship of money deeply rooted...

Some stories sit quietly in our hearts, and then some leap out, demanding to be told. My Limuru Mission was the latter, etched in awe, painted in miracles, and wrapped in unexpected glory. It all began with a miracle, quite literally. I had no dime to my name, just two days before the mission. None. But as always, God showed up. He provided. Just in time. That alone was my first divine sign that this journey was more than a trip; it was a calling. We arrived at Kabuku Mission Church and Prayer Center, our home for the next four days. Nestled in the lush beauty of Limuru, the grounds were like something out of a storybook, green grass perfectly manicured, flowers blooming with quiet joy, and the crisp, cold air wrapping around us like a persistent hug. Yet, it wasn’t all romantic. Each morning at 4 a.m., the biting cold forced us out of bed to answer nature’s call. I’d nudge Vivian and Mumbi awake, and they, full of grace, would accompany me to the restrooms under the cover of nig...

Today, I’ll begin with a question. How do you show compassion to others? Whether in your workplace or at home with your family, what does it look like for you? Now more than ever, with the weight of high utility bills, rising taxes, and economic hardship pressing in, how do you remain open-hearted, and willing to lend a hand to those in need?   Let me tell you about someone I’ll call Tom, (for privacy’s sake). Tom's life is a true testimony to compassion, empathy, and generosity. He came from humble beginnings and worked his way up with unwavering determination. Together with his brother, they borrowed a small sum from their father to start a business in downtown Nairobi. The early days were tough, but they faced every challenge with grit and resilience.   Their parents stood by them, offering constant support and encouragement. With time and relentless hard work, their business began to flourish. Every bit of profit they earned was reinvested into the business, fueli...

  A new month means a new blog. Yay! This time, I’m taking you back to a pivotal moment in my career when a production house in Nairobi hired me, but before that, I started as an intern. At the time, I lived along Mombasa Road and had to commute to Westlands daily. The journey was tedious, yet strangely satisfying. I loved my job and looked forward to it every single day. But wait, I’m getting ahead of myself so let’s rewind. Before landing this job, I had an acting job which kept me afloat. Even though I would be on set for two or three days depending on the schedule, I still wanted to do more. To avoid the monotony of being stuck at home, I often spent time at a friend’s business, assisting her just to stay busy. The alternative was endlessly watching my bulky Cathode Ray Tube television (a TV ya mgongo , as we called them) felt unbearable. I had memorized every commercial and program lineup from morning to night, and that was anything but fun. She introduced me to her cousin, ...

  I'm back again with another story I just remembered. Let me take you back to how I met Jesus. I was in my second year at a very prestigious government institution. This school had produced crème de la crème of the media world and was the pride and the envy of many at the time, and still is. Here I was properly in the world and for the world. I was enjoying the freedom that came with living away from home, earning my own little money, and could navigate this city with ease by this point. Having lived with a friend and her family for a few months, I knew all the cool joints, I had an affinity for the nightlife this big city could offer me. It was a time for me to explore and experience all I had been kept away from but with caution. At this point, I never had a relationship with God, not that I did not know Him. But I was a free bird and wanted to see what this life of freedom and no coercion felt like unlike home where going to church was mandatory and I hated it. I hated the ...

Walking in with that maroon tunic sky blue shirt a striped tie, clean polished shinny black shoes was little me in what I never knew would be the beginning of my 8 year journey in a world of books concrete and play. Little did I know this would be an opening to a whole new world of possibilities, a world which meant I had to fight tooth and nail to be the best of the best and cut my own seat on the table. Well, these concrete classrooms stood between me and my future. A reality which slowly dawned on me that I was to familiarize myself with these surroundings and make friends as quickly as possible to ease this journey. The dusty playing fields, black chalk boards, compound with acacia and tamarind trees, red colored soil which was evidently patched on our collars mixed with sweat an evidence of how much we played not forgetting our shoes, hair and lashes weren’t spared by the dust either. A film of dust coating was present anytime. In no time I would be done with my lower classes and ...