Paths to Parenthood - Surrogacy, Adoption, and the Question of Intention

 

There are longings that do not shout. They sit quietly in the heart, growing deeper with time. The desire to nurture a child is often one of them. It is not merely the wish to hold a baby or to answer to the name of parent; it is the yearning to guide a life, to pour care into another human being, and to watch a spirit unfold under one’s protection. When this longing meets delay, uncertainty, or impossibility, the questions that arise are rarely simple.

In such moments, parenthood ceases to be a biological matter alone. It enters a moral and almost spiritual terrain. Surrogacy and adoption come into view not merely as solutions, but as paths that invite careful examination of intention, patience, and responsibility.

A child, rightly understood, is not an entitlement. A child is a gift. Gifts arrive by grace, not by insistence. They are not owned, designed, or secured; they are entrusted. This understanding alters the inner posture from which parenthood is approached. It shifts the focus from possession to responsibility, from fulfilment to service.

Adoption speaks powerfully into this posture. It receives a life already present in the world and says yes without condition. It does not ask for resemblance or continuity. It asks only for readiness to love. In doing so, it quietly challenges the part of us that seeks ourselves in another. It raises an unspoken question: can love remain whole without likeness?

Surrogacy, especially as it is ethically and medically practised today, brings greater complexity. For clarity, this reflection refers only to ethically guided surrogacy arrangements involving assisted reproduction. This includes cases where the intended mother’s fertilised egg is carried by a surrogate (gestational surrogacy) or where an externally fertilised embryo created using eggs and sperm from the intended parents or donors is carried by a surrogate, always with full consent, medical oversight, and legal protection. It does not concern arrangements involving sexual relations outside the marital bond. When practised with care, dignity, informed consent, and legal protection for all involved, surrogacy can be ordered and humane. Yet even here, deeper questions remain. Is the desire shaped by reverence for life, or by the need to preserve identity and lineage? Is it an act of trust, or an attempt to control what life has withheld?

Objections are often raised that such processes are “unnatural.” This concern deserves to be acknowledged rather than dismissed. Many feel that assisted reproduction interferes with the natural order and risks reducing life to a product of technique. Yet history shows that several medical interventions once viewed with suspicion-blood transfusion being one example, are today widely accepted and have saved countless lives. Over time, careful practice, evidence, and ethical reflection have helped societies distinguish between misuse and responsible application.

Notably, decades of medical research and lived experience indicate that children born through IVF and ethically regulated surrogacy are, in overwhelming majority, physically, emotionally, and cognitively comparable to those conceived naturally. They grow, learn, love, struggle, and flourish like any other children. This does not settle the moral question entirely, but it does remind us that the worth and dignity of a child are never diminished by the circumstances of conception.

These questions are not new. Scripture records moments when human longing sought resolution, and the consequences that followed. One such account is that of Sarah and Hagar. Sarah, unable to conceive, offered her servant Hagar to Abraham so that a child might be born through her. The arrangement appeared practical and culturally acceptable at the time. Yet once Hagar conceived, the household was unsettled. Pride, resentment, displacement, and sorrow followed. The human arrangement left wounds that echoed across generations. The narrative does not condemn the desire for a child; it quietly reveals the cost of impatience and the strain that arises when human will moves ahead of inner clarity and spiritual guidance. 

Another account unfolds in the household of Jacob. Through a sequence of competing arrangements involving his wives and their maidservants, children were born in abundance. Yet the household became marked by rivalry, jealousy, and deep emotional fracture. The increase of offspring did not bring peace. The children themselves bore the imprint of a divided home. Again, the narrative offers no sermon; it offers consequence. Human solutions achieved results, but not harmony.

These accounts show us that the central question is not whether life can be brought forth, but whether the inner ground from which the desire arises is ordered, patient, and humble.

Modern conversations echo these ancient tensions. Some couples wrestle with whether love requires genetic connection. Others find themselves divided, one longing for continuity through DNA, the other drawn to the openness of adoption. In such struggles, surface disagreement often conceals something deeper: questions of identity, fear of loss, or hope for self-extension. None of these make a person unworthy. They simply ask to be faced honestly.

The financial aspect of surrogacy introduces further moral weight. Compensation may be lawful and freely agreed, yet the heart must remain attentive. Is another person’s body approached with reverence, or quietly reduced to utility? Is gratitude present, or only transaction? These are questions no contract can finally answer.

Legal realities also vary widely. Some countries prohibit surrogacy outright; others permit it under strict regulation; still others operate in legal silence. In Nigeria, the practice is not expressly prohibited, but there is no comprehensive legal framework governing it, leaving parties in a space of uncertainty. This legal ambiguity does not determine moral rightness or wrongness, but it underscores the need for caution, transparency, and conscience-driven decisions.

At this point, the deeper purpose of parenthood itself comes into view. Through the high spiritual enlightenment accessible to us in this age, we are reminded that bringing children into the world is never meant to serve personal ambition, lineage, or self-gratification. It is, rather, an invitation to nurture life with reverence, responsibility, and love that transcends the self. It exists to provide opportunity for human spirits to incarnate, mature, shed faults, and advance inwardly. Parenthood, then, is not about building an earthly extension of oneself, but about preparing a space where growth, responsibility, and spiritual development can unfold. When children are raised primarily to satisfy parental wishes, pride, or unexamined longing, the opportunity entrusted through them is diminished.

Seen this way, the moral worth of parenthood does not rest solely in the path chosen. It rests in intention, reverence, and responsibility. Where love seeks to give without clinging, to receive without entitlement, and to serve without self-promotion, blessing finds room to unfold. Where desire hardens into insistence, even noble longings can quietly lose their alignment.

This reflection is not offered to instruct or to correct. It is offered to invite stillness and inner reflection, allowing decisions to arise from clarity, attuned to higher guidance, rather than from haste. Parenthood, in any form, is not merely about welcoming a child; it is about recognising why that child is welcomed, and whether the heart is prepared to honour the purpose of that trust.

Before choosing a path, it may help to sit quietly with a different question: not what do I desire, but what is being asked of me? If a child were entrusted to my care not to fulfil my longing, but to foster character, responsibility, and inner spiritual growth, would my willingness remain unchanged? In all such matters, we are ultimately guided not by trends, pressure, or fear, but by inner conviction. In such stillness, and in listening to the inner voice, intention often reveals itself more truthfully than intellectual reasoning ever can.

EARNESTLY STRIVING FOR THE KINGDOM - A Reflection on “The Kingdom of God Suffers Violence”

The sentence, “Since the time of John the Baptist, the Kingdom of God suffereth violence, and the violent take it by force,” has long stirred debate among believers. Yet beneath the surface of the old language lies a message of profound spiritual urgency, one that speaks directly to our present human condition.

For me, and in harmony with the deeper insights of Creation, this passage is not a call to physical aggression. It is a wake-up call to inner intensity, a decisive resolve of the spirit.

From the moment John appeared, the Kingdom was no longer distant prophecy; it was near, pressing upon humanity. John announced Christ, who also declared that we must repent because the Kingdom is at hand. In other words, we must become accustomed to the Creation Laws of the Kingdom so that we may be worthy of it.

Anyone who resolves to be part of the Kingdom must immediately begin to practise obedience to these Laws continuously and relentlessly, with no retreat and no surrender, as one would in battle.

Whenever a human spirit embraces Truth, he often encounters a strong inner striving to remain on the right path along with equally strong resistance. Aspiration and opposition arise side by side. Thus the Kingdom and the longing for it “suffer violence,” not because God’s realm is weak, but because anything that stands for Light inevitably meets forces, both inner and outer, that resist ascent.

“The violent take it by force” refers not to cruelty but to those who rise with spiritual strength and break through the lethargy that has bound mankind since the Fall. It describes the pure, uplifting intensity of a determined will that refuses spiritual sleep.

Striving is woven into Creation itself. It is not strife born of hatred but a tension that keeps all things alert and alive. Nature bears witness. Mountains, forests, waters, every form of beauty emerges from forces that push, press, rise, and transform. Without this dynamic urge, the world would collapse into decay.

What many call cruelty in nature is often simply movement, preservation, and the pressure toward upward growth.

Human beings were meant to ennoble this instinct and spiritualise it through their higher will. Had mankind remained true, the inner “fighting instinct” would have become joyful striving, a mutual uplifting in which each soul’s movement strengthens another. Instead, humanity diverted the currents of spiritual power downward. The noble urgency that should have led to ascent has been misused for ambition, vanity, and empty pursuits. In place of spiritual strength, we cultivate weakness. In place of upward striving, we glorify comfort.

Today, when we hear that the Kingdom must be taken “by force,” it should awaken us not to earthly conflict but to the intense work of self-conquest that spiritual awakening requires.

It is a call to:

W. fight against our own complacency,

X. break through the fog of intellectual arrogance,

Y. reject the false softness that disguises weakness as love,

Z. and rouse the dormant spirit that was created to long for the Light.

Real spiritual life cannot be entered casually. The path demands alertness, resolve, and a willingness to struggle within oneself. Without this inner firmness, we sink. Creation does not reward passivity; it invigorates those who stand upright within it.

This is the “violence” that is spoken of: an inner resolve and clarity, an unyielding force of the spirit that holds fast to the Light in spite of all resistance.

The Kingdom is open, but it is entered by those who truly desire the Almighty, those who move forward with clarity, earnestness, and courage.

And in that sense, the words remain our guide:

Only the spiritually awake, the inwardly strong, and the joyfully striving take hold of the Kingdom.

Surrogacy: A Reflection on Life, Intention, and Blessing

Surrogate pregnancy is a place where the heart’s deepest yearning meets the miracle of life. It invites questions of ethics, law, and love. Beneath these, however, rests a simpler and more profound inquiry: what is the intention behind our actions? For in the eyes of the Creation Laws, it is intention rather than method alone that determines righteousness. Before the Creator’s laws of nature, the mechanism by which life arrives, whether through one’s own body, through the selfless gift of another, or through the aid of technology, is secondary to the sincerity, purity, and compassion that guide our choices.

Every birth, regardless of its circumstances, is a benevolently bestowed gift from above. It is immeasurably precious, never a commodity to be owned or measured, but a trust to be cherished. When childless hearts open themselves to receive life through surrogacy, can they be judged harshly? No. As with adoption, the blessing is magnified when a child is received not for personal gratification, but with love, hope, and the promise of nurturing that life into its fullest potential. In such cases, the act becomes a conduit of grace.

Surrogacy, like adoption or natural birth, carries its own complexities. Questions naturally arise. What rights belong to the child? How should the surrogate’s dignity and agency be upheld? Where do legal authority and moral responsibility meet? These concerns are significant and deserve thoughtful reflection, open dialogue, and carefully structured safeguards that honour each party involved. Yet even as we contend with laws, contracts, and societal expectations, the ultimate measure of right and wrong lies not in human codification but in the intention that animates the heart. Actions rooted in love, compassion, honesty, and reverence for life remain sacred, while actions driven by selfishness, coercion, or exploitation fall short of the divine purpose.

Seen in this light, every child born through surrogacy is a blessing and a living sign of love that extends beyond biological connection. When approached with integrity, humility, and reverence, the process teaches profound truths. It affirms that family is not confined to blood, that motherhood and fatherhood are defined as much by care and intention as by genetics, and that human life in all its forms possesses an intrinsic sanctity. To welcome a child through surrogacy, adoption, or natural birth is to accept a sacred responsibility. It is a call to protect, nurture, and honour the life entrusted to us, while remaining mindful of the heart from which our actions arise.

Even the concerns often raised about surrogacy, such as the risk of exploitation, the complexity of rights, or the possibility of misunderstanding, find their resolution in this central truth. It is the purity of intention that defines the moral worth of an action. When choices are guided by prayer, love, wisdom, and humility, the laws of the Lord view them as blessed. Where selfishness or cruelty intrude, those same laws discern error. Morality and ethics are not mere rules to follow, but reflections of the heart’s orientation, tested within the workings of creation itself.

In this sense, surrogacy is more than a medical or legal arrangement. It becomes a reflection on life, love, and human responsibility. Every birth is a gift, a renewed mercy, a visible expression of divine generosity. To participate in this gift consciously, with reverence and care, is to walk in harmony with the Creator’s will. It is to understand that while human laws offer guidance, it is our innermost intention that carries the greatest weight before the laws of creation.

Ultimately, surrogacy, like all birth, points us toward the sacredness of life. It calls us to act with love, to discern with wisdom, and to receive with gratitude. Every child, however conceived, arrives not merely as flesh and blood but as a living miracle, a blessing from above, placed into human hands capable of honour, responsibility, and selfless care.

IS FREE WILL A BURDEN OR A GIFT?

 

At first glance, the earthman’s path appears disproportionately difficult. Each day he awakens to the challenge of navigating his free will amid confusion, suffering, and the weight of earthly circumstances. Higher spiritual beings, by contrast, seem to have an easier journey: they exist in radiance, already attuned to the Will of the Light, free from the persistent inner struggle that characterises human experience. It is natural, then, to wonder: why should the developing human spirit bear a heavier burden than those who are already fully formed?

The answer lies in recognising the profound purpose of the earthman’s unique position within creation. What feels burdensome is, in truth, the very means by which the human spirit acquires full consciousness and maturity.

In the higher realms, Primordial beings do not wrestle with free will as earthmen do. Harmony with the Holy Will is inherent to their nature. Earthmen, however, stand at a decisive crossroads: not yet perfected, but endowed with the extraordinary privilege of becoming so through their own willing and striving.

Here, in these lower planes far  from the Direct Radiations of the Most High, free will becomes possible and with it the capacity to learn, to recognise truth, and to choose. Through this very struggle, the earthman gradually develops the inner strength required to become a consciously aware spirit fit for eternal life in the Light. What higher beings possess by nature, the earthman must acquire through experience and it is precisely this earned maturity that gives depth, firmness, and permanence to his being.

Yet the earthman is not left unaided in this demanding journey. Creation surrounds him with countless supports, gently guiding him toward ascent. Life’s experiences, joyful or painful, subtle or profound awaken recognition. The generative power animating creation stirs longing and fuels transformation. The ever-present power of love strengthens the earnest seeker and helps him shed entrenched weaknesses. The intuition offers quiet but unmistakable guidance, while the conscience warns him when he strays. These are not mere abstractions, but gifts deliberately placed along the path so that no earthman walks alone.

Ultimately, the earthman is not disadvantaged but divinely favoured. His freedom to choose grants him the rare opportunity to become a mature, self-conscious spirit through his own conviction and awakening. Within this freedom lies both the weight of responsibility and the splendour of grace; the chance to rise, through one’s own decisions, into eternal life in the Light.

WHY DO INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS ARISE, WHO DO THEY TROUBLE MOST, AND HOW CAN WE BREAK FREE?

 

Intrusive thoughts are among the most unsettling experiences a person can have. They are unpleasant, unwanted ideas or images that push into the mind even when the thinker desires the very opposite. The harder one tries to resist them, the more insistently they seem to return, sometimes to the point of “drumming in one’s ears” and disturbing one’s peace. For many, this can become a source of real suffering, raising troubling questions: Why is this happening to me? Does this mean something is wrong with me inwardly? Am I, perhaps, secretly evil?

Let us be clear and reassuring: intrusive thoughts do not reveal the true nature of a person. In fact, the very distress they cause is evidence that the inner being is better, far better than the momentary thoughts passing through. A person who is troubled by such thoughts is simply thinking contrary to what they inwardly will. One’s genuine volition, what the spirit truly desires, always expresses itself in conduct, not in the fleeting images that brush across the surface of the mind. Most people, if they are honest, experience similar disturbances. And if all this sounds familiar, then, dear reader, you are by no means alone, and you need not be alarmed.

Why, then, do some people suffer more deeply from intrusive thoughts than others? Often it is because sensitive or conscientious individuals take their thoughts too seriously. They examine and re-examine them, brooding over their meaning. In doing so, they unintentionally give these thoughts strength and durability. Yet thoughts of this kind have very little power. When not fed by fear, worry, or constant attention, the forms produced by them quickly dissolve and scatter without causing harm.

Freedom begins not with fighting these thoughts, but with redirecting the attention. Instead of wrestling with the unwanted, turn deliberately toward what is pure, noble, and uplifting. You may wish to focus your mind on virtues such as truthfulness, dignity, diligence, chastity, loyalty, productivity, modesty, and grace; or on the sublime concepts of love, purity, and the immutable laws of the Almighty. A mind consciously directed upward cannot simultaneously sink into the mire of intrusive imaginings.

Above all, do not brood. Do not circle endlessly around what troubles you. Intrusive thoughts thrive on attention but starve when ignored. As you consistently withdraw your energy and turn your inner gaze toward higher things, these disturbances naturally lose their grip and fade away.

And when the pressure feels heavy, or the mind refuses to quiet itself, a short, sincere, fervent prayer can bring immediate relief. It reconnects you with your true inner core, where peace and clarity quietly abide.

Intrusive thoughts are not a verdict on your character; they are merely shadows passing across the mind. And at any moment, you can lift yourself toward the Heights, renew your course, and open yourself to the pure Power of God streaming through you, an ever-present strength that dissolves all shadows and restores the radiance of your spirit.

Footnote:

For some individuals, especially those living with conditions such as Obsessive–Compulsive Disorder (OCD), intrusive thoughts may present with far greater intensity and persistence. These can include dark, disturbing, or even “command-like” thoughts that feel utterly foreign to one’s true nature. It is important to emphasise that such thoughts still do not reflect the person’s inner essence; rather, they stem from a heightened sensitivity of the mind and a tendency toward repetitive thought-loops.

Alongside the spiritual steps outlined in this essay, professional support can be immensely helpful, particularly therapies that teach how to disengage from these cycles and reduce their emotional force. Both paths, spiritual strengthening and appropriate therapeutic guidance can work together to restore clarity, peace, and the upward striving of the spirit.

WHERE IS THE MIND LOCATED?

One might ask: is the mind located in the brain, in the heart, scattered throughout the body, or somewhere beyond the physical altogether? Quiet reflection, however, reveals that the mind cannot be confined to any single organ or even solely to the visible body. Instead, it encompasses the totality of conscious experience: a dynamic synthesis of intuition, intellect, bodily instincts, feelings, and imagination, spanning both the material and the spiritual. The mind cannot be pinned to one place; it moves where intuition meets intellect, and spirit meets flesh.

On one side lies intuition, the pure spiritual core of the mind, the very essence of man. It transcends space and time, perceiving truth without measurement, understanding without reasoning, and knowing without argument. Intuition is inviolate and cannot err; it is the first impression, the inner voice that immediately recognises reality. Its reach extends beyond intellect, feeling, and bodily instincts, connecting us to a dimension of knowing that is eternal and unbound by the limits of matter.

On the other side lies the corporeal dimension: the body, its instincts, intellect, feelings, and imagination. Intellect, emerging from the brain, thinks, analyses, plans, and organises. It is bound to space and time, capable of remarkable feats, yet limited to what can be seen, measured, and remembered. Feeling does not arise from some mysterious spiritual source; it emanates from the physical body. The body generates instincts, which, when shaped and interpreted by the intellect, give rise to feeling. Only through the cooperation of feeling and intellect does imagination emerge, a picture-world created by these lower faculties, not from the heights of intuition. Imagination, though ethereal, lacks spiritual power. It influences only its creator and does not radiate outward. Intuition is different: it carries spiritual power within itself, creative, vital, and alive, sending forth energy that can inspire, influence, and move others.

From this perspective, the mind can be said to be woven throughout the body and reaching into the unseen realms, embedded in every organ, system, and sensory pathway. The body serves as a vessel through which spiritual intuition engages the material world. Perhaps the mind is not located at a single point at all, but exists as an integrated network, uniting the physical and the eternal.

Ultimately, the mind is found where spirit meets matter. It resides in the brain, the heart, the hands, and in the subtle currents of instinct and feeling. True clarity of mind emerges when intuition leads and intellect follows, when the spiritual spark within flows through the bodily vessel via the tools available to it. Perhaps, if we pause and reflect, we may begin to sense this interplay for ourselves. The mind can be seen as a bridge between mortal and eternal, the meeting place of knowing and doing, and the instrument through which life may be more fully understood. I invite each of us to explore its depths with patience and openness.

HOW DEEP IS THE MIND?

The mind is the most mysterious part of our existence; unseen, untouchable, yet  shaping every step we take. Though we often speak of the mind as one single entity, it expresses itself through two distinct channels: the intellect and the intuition. These two do not merely sit side by side; they represent the partnership between our earthly body and our eternal spirit. And until we understand the difference, we will continue to live far below our true potential.

Intellect is the voice of the frontal brain, the part of the body designed to think logically, analyse, plan, compare, and evaluate. It is deliberate, structured, and slow. It belongs to the physical body, the brain matter that functions like a powerful computer, able to process data and make sense of the material world. This intellect helps us build careers, solve problems, and organise life in a predictable way. But as powerful as it is, it is limited, because it can only work with what it can see, measure, and remember.

Intuition, however, comes from a deeper place. It is the whisper of the spirit within us, expressing itself through the small brain, the cerebellum which silently coordinates more than our movements. It processes impressions, patterns, signals, and guidance that do not come from the five senses. Intuition knows before intellect understands. It sees the whole picture at once rather than assembling the pieces. It is swifter, cleaner, and wiser. It is the voice that nudges, warns, inspires, or comforts, often without explanation.

Where intellect obeys logic, intuition obeys truth.

Where intellect argues, intuition unveils.

Where intellect looks outward, intuition looks inward.

Because our true core is spirit, intuition is the natural leader. When intuition leads and intellect follows, life flows with clarity and direction. But when intellect tries to take over, insisting on evidence for everything, drowning intuition with noise, our inner compass becomes confused. We overthink situations that intuition had already resolved. We analyse relationships intuition had already exposed. We cling to plans intuition had already warned us against. We become mentally busy but spiritually blind.

The two brains were never designed to compete. They were made to harmonise. Intuition gives the direction; intellect executes the plan. Intuition points to the path; intellect builds the steps. Intuition receives inspiration; intellect organises it into action. When this partnership is balanced, we do not merely think, we know. We do not merely work, we flow. We make decisions that feel right, not just appear right. We move through life with an inner confidence that does not come from facts but from alignment.

To access this harmony, we must learn to quiet the intellect long enough for intuition to speak. The spirit speaks softly; the brain speaks loudly. The spirit knows; the brain tries to figure out. When we slow down, breathe, listen, and honour the first gentle nudge that rises from within, we allow the deeper wisdom of our spirit to take its rightful place as guide. The intellect should serve intuition, not silence it.

In the end, the mind becomes whole only when the spiritual and the physical work as one. The intellect is the brilliant tool of the body, but intuition is the voice of the eternal. When we let the spiritual lead, our decisions carry a purity that intellect alone cannot produce. Our paths unfold with less struggle and more certainty. And life reveals itself not as a puzzle to be solved but as a journey to be understood.

The profound truth is this: the mind rises to its highest power when the spirit speaks first!