There are moments in life when the weight on your shoulders becomes too heavy for words. The widow in 2 Kings 4 : 1-7 knew that feeling. Her husband, a man who feared God , had died suddenly. He left behind love, memories, and a ministry… but he also left behind a debt so large that creditors came knocking at her door. They were not asking. They were demanding. They wanted her sons as payment. Her world was collapsing. She had no strength, no income and nothing in her house except a small jar of oil. She did not even have the confidence to stand tall. All she had left was fear and faith the size of a tear. And she carried that to the prophet Elisha . What touches me most is this: Elisha did not judge her. He did not ask how her husband managed money. He did not say, “Why did you borrow so much?” He did not remind her or her husbands mistakes. He didn’t say, how can a prophet take such a hefty amount of loan? He listened. He cared. And he searched for a solution. This...
I wish you all a pleasant evening, sojourners and good friends. Today I would want to speak to you all about a day when I was old; it may sound strange for you to hear about a day when I was old because I am still young. In actuality, this is all about the suffering I have experienced in society. This can be my story, your story, or you can give this narrative a face, but this is definitely a story that shattered me. I was strolling down Silguri's main street today, savouring the pleasant weather and the company of my good friends. I was overcome by the company, and the weather favoured me as well. At times, we were giggling uncontrollably and occasionally taunting one another. My gaze was drawn to a handsome and well-dressed uncle and aunty who were sitting by the Siliguri Municipal Corporation's garbage tank. I am not sure why, but their body language and lifestyle did not fit the circumstance. My buddies drew me away from the spot, but my soul was impelled to go and ask i...
There are moments in life when a man is still called a son , yet he feels like he no longer knows where his place is. The house is still there. The Father is still there. But somewhere along the journey, the road back became blurred, unfamiliar, almost forgotten. I am that son. Not lost because I wanted to wander. Not broken because I chose this path. But worn out by battles, debts, disappointments, and the slow erosion of hope . A man who once stood strong for others now finds himself standing alone, wondering how everything slipped through his hands. There was a time when people saw strength in me. Now they see struggle . There was a time when I helped carry others. Now I can barely carry myself. Yet deep inside, something refuses to die. A small voice keeps whispering, “You still belong. You are still a son. You are not abandoned. You are only wounded.” I have not rejected the Father. I have only forgotten the way back through the storm. And now I stand here, ti...