THE AWAKENING - Steven Fagbenro

I slept! Right before the foundation of the world was laid. Before its pillars were stationed. Before its beams were established in the midst of the ocean. Before it had form. And before its shapes were put together.

I awoke from my sleep. It was a deep sleep of death, and a difficult one indeed. It had been since I had form. I was down there in the bottom of the sea. Sleeping and snoring, oblivion of whatever was around. Sometimes I was awake, gasping for breath, trying to find a way out of the horrible place. But help was not coming. Other times I felt at home there. It was a stinking place, but it looked like home. So I flowed with events as they unraveled. At those times, I couldn’t have wanted more. But then there was a void inside of me that needed to be filled. And at times when I came to the realities of that, tears flowed down my cheeks. But it’s the depth of the sea, so the tears were always washed away by the waters. I felt lonely.

Then I saw a hand. With a strong mighty arm. It appeared from the capture of the air. The arm was made of gold. It shined as bright as crystal. It caused an awakening that brought me to live. It drew me out of the sea. It gave me strength and stability. It put bones to my legs, and sinews to my feet. My feet became upright. They received strength to move.

I rose to my feet. I walked. I took to running. I flew. I traveled through places. I touched the sky, but couldn’t go beyond it. I felt the sun by the day. I touched the moon in the night. I saw the ocean, wide and broad. I got back to the sea. It was beautiful from the outside. As blue as the sky. Its strength pulled me to itself. Its power was great. I saw a vast land with men and beasts. I saw forests, filled with trees. I saw grasslands, as fresh as green. I saw mountains, they rose above the earth. I saw hills and valleys, crevices and caves. I saw rocks, strong and unrelenting in the face of the wind. In the beauty of the earth, they all looked brilliant and privileged. I kept flying on the wing of dove.

I traveled through countries. I saw races of people in different colors. There were those in black skin, and others wearing skin of white. Some were red in appearances. I climbed up higher. Sometimes, I came down to earth. Then I got to a vast mass of water. It was mighty and powerful. It was the water of the ocean. But this time, I could not help it. The ocean pulled me down to itself, bringing me to a close range with cessation. Face to face with death, I was overwhelmed by its sight. I reneged on my focus, and found me in the oceans’ deep. Everything became blank and despondent. I lost hope immediately, believing I was done for. I longed for breath, but there were only waters gushing inside my lungs. The mighty hand of the ocean overshadowed me. I saw men and women. Some looked as good as dead. Others living freely and carelessly. Some made merriment and ravished themselves with pleasures. And others rejoiced in their imaginations. But I looked different. While they were partying and full of life. I was not convenient. It was not my territory. I saw others too, who felt the same way I felt. The place was stinking. I wish I did not fall.

Then it came again from as if nowhere, like the first time. The strong hand with its mighty arm. It carried me with tenderness and love. And brought me out again. I drew living breath into my lungs. It went through the whole part of my dying system. My body received life again. And my soul was refreshed. His energy came over me. It was that which my frail nature couldn’t resist. I became as mighty as Himself. I flew across the ocean. Now from a clear, aerial sight, it was very wide and full of people. Dead in spirit and soul.

I fly across the waters. It is my present state. But I am not alone. I see mighty men and women flying around too. Some even mightier. We plunge into the waters intermittently and draw many out. Some are dead, others oblivion of the happenings around them. But as many as are willing, and as many as could be carried, we pull out of the deadness system, filling their lungs with breath of life.

The stinking ocean is not my habitat. And it is not theirs either. Our habitat is above the waters. To fly and soar beyond the might of its wave. It is not our strength though, we fly on the wing of the wind, and we soar on the wing of eagle. The Mighty One is the wind thereof. And it wouldn’t have been possible without His awakening that brought us to life. We won’t be content with seeing the dead forever in their state. And now that we have known the truth, helping the dead and the dying out of the ocean is our commission. Awakening them out of their sleep of death, bringing them to hope, and giving them a future; showing them the way of strength and of life is our call. So that they too can fly and soar high. Seeing the beautiful works of the creation. And fulfilling the long sure prophecy, that

The earth shall be filled with the knowledge of the glory of GOD, as waters cover the sea.