DO HARD TIMES BREAK US, OR SHAPE US?

 

As one year loosens its grip and another waits quietly at the door, many of us find ourselves asking a difficult question. Did this year happen to us, or for us? The answer matters, because it shapes how we step into what comes next.

Hard times often arrive wearing the face of injustice. They feel relentless, heavy, and undeserved. Yet with reflection, a deeper pattern begins to emerge. What we experience in any season is rarely isolated. It is the result of past deeds, personal choices, collective actions, and the wider rhythms of society and humanity itself. Like threads woven into a tapestry, our individual struggles are inseparable from the larger design. What appears harsh today may be a necessary shaping force within a story still unfolding.

Hard times work on many levels at once. Personally, they form character, deepen patience, and humble the ego. Within communities, they expose fault lines, test loyalty, and invite honest reckoning. At the national level, they reveal both the strength and fragility of institutions. And globally, they seem to signal that humanity itself is being slowed, corrected, and called toward greater awareness. Whether these seasons defeat or refine us depends largely on the posture we adopt toward them.

Gratitude, even in severe times, is a powerful discipline. It does not deny pain, nor does it romanticize struggle. Rather, it transforms hardship from a sense of punishment into an opportunity for reflection, adjustment, and growth. It allows us to ask not only what we have lost, but what we are being taught.

Spiritually, this understanding rests on the recognition that the love of the Almighty is inseparable from justice. When our hearts seek alignment with that divine order, difficulty becomes meaningful rather than random. Hard seasons then reveal themselves as invitations to cooperate with higher wisdom, to reshape our inner lives so that our outer circumstances may eventually follow.

Recent years have tested patience, resources, and faith in profound ways. Yet such periods are often preparatory. Life unfolds in stages, sometimes gently, sometimes with force. These trials are not merely disruptions. They are catalysts for spiritual awakening, for the purification of priorities, and for readiness for what lies ahead. Those who grasp this do not panic at turbulence. They meet it with steadiness, trusting that something finer is being formed.

The personal, communal, national, and global are woven together. Our private growth contributes to collective healing, just as societal change calls for individual wisdom. Every setback carries a quiet invitation to reflect, recalibrate, and choose more deliberately.

So as one year closes and another begins, the question remains. Do hard times break us, or do they become the very means by which we are shaped? If we choose reflection over despair, learning over complaint, and gratitude over resistance, the answer becomes clear. Hard times shape us. They refine us. They prepare us. And for those who receive them with patience and faith, the future holds not only hope, but a deeper, quieter joy than we have yet known.

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.