Never Away from the Throne

By Debbie Sampson

I stood in an open field, with my baby on my arm. Both the baby and
I were wrapped in white cloth. It was night time. The field we stood on was
alight and the fire was moving toward us. I couldnt run too far as I reached a
fenced part of the field. The fire was moving rapidly to encircle us. I heard a
choir beginning to sing and just as the fire was closest a man in a white robe
climbed over the wall. There was so much peace on him. The fire stopped
moving toward us. The man placed a mark on my back beyond the right
shoulder and put his hand on the baby and marked the baby in the same
place. Then the man went back over the wall and I woke up.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Jan 31, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456840365

Book preview

One

I felt so excited as I boarded the bus! I’ve never done anything this outrageous before. For the first time I’m making my own decision for the next step in my life. Deciding to go and live in another town was big for me. Even when I turned 21 years old, the ceremony was held but the shift never took place in my mind, that from then on I will have to make wise decisions for myself and that I would have to built on the foundations I was taught. At that moment I thought I knew what maturity would be, but as time will tell, the further I stepped into adulthood the worst my ability to grip reality from fantasy became.

From the moment that I became legally matured I should have looked at the world from an adult perspective, but what would an adult perspective be. Growing up in a family with five other siblings and both mom and dad working to keep the roof over our heads and food on the table. The most adult conversation we got during those years (and I have a sense that this happened in most homes from my generation), was from the older siblings who were pretty much kids themselves and who were put in charge over us in the afternoon until mom and dad would arrive home from work. There was hardly time to have a conversation with your mom and dad, because there were too many of us and the housework always got in the way.

Placed against today’s standards and the emphasis on spending time with your children, listen to their needs, know their fears and let them have the opportunity to let you know what they really feel, so that you as the parent can make decisions to meet them half way, would be absolutely ridiculous. We appreciated our parents so much, many times I believe we even felt sorry for them and thought it best to rather stay clear of them so as to give them the much needed space they needed to run around the house and get things done. We admire them because we knew what they gave was their best, whether it was plaiting your hair so tight that you could hardly blink, or giving you a well deserved hiding. The lines were very clear as to who the parents were and who the children were. This made life a lot easier and I sometimes wonder if those same principles may just bring some sanity back into today’s society.

I think because of this I generally adopted the thinking that tired parents don’t want to listen to a moaning child and so it became better for me to appreciate the fact that they were at least around. Dealing with my issues was my business or better still, just ignoring them would sometimes be a better option. Habit became a lifestyle and by the time I had my first boyfriend at university, I tested the waters and said to my mom that I met someone. I mentioned his name, but my mom felt it was best that I should rather just refer to him as my friend. I decided not to put up a fight, but I knew that I was offended. In fact I never mentioned him again and the rest of the family never really knew of his existence. Most of my friends at that stage had had boyfriends in high school already. But by that time I have already mastered the act of pretending that things were the same for me as it was for other kids my age.

Inside the house there was a freedom that I was so oblivious about. I didn’t know that it could be different in other people’s homes. My parents were always in agreement about everything. I never heard them disagree or argue in front of us. As a child I never regarded our family as poor, because we always had three meals a day, lunch to school, new clothes (and toys) on Christmas and sometimes during the year. There wouldn’t always be cake for our birthdays, but my mother made sure to cook a special supper that night and everyone made a big fuss about the person whose birthday it was.

My parents were not very educated people, but they imparted godly wisdom in us from an early age. For any serious talks we were called into their bedroom and a character changing discussion would take place beyond that bedroom door. My dad, strict as he was though, always showed us that we were an important part of our family. He made time to tell us stories and jokes. Particularly after a succulent Sunday lunch of colourful vegetables and memorable roast chicken, we enjoyed to hear him tell fascinating stories from his childhood and other experiences.

However as a teenager I felt how anger took control over my life. I didn’t know where it came from; I can’t say what triggered it. They call it a hormonal phase that every teenager goes through and I really tried to keep it well under control. Though I seemed like a happy teenager I became angrier on the inside. By the time I went to varsity anger clearly took a great hold on me, to the point that I could feel the rebellion growing strong inside of me.

I didn’t want to slam the doors of the house. I didn’t want to have the silence inside of me cut me off from the conversations at home. I didn’t always want conflict with everyone around me. I didn’t want to be so annoyed with my dad who at that stage was medically boarded from work. But even back then the grace of God reached past the darkness I allowed around myself and by an act of God I called my dad into their bedroom one day. I closed the door behind us and asked him to forgive me for my actions. In one single act of mercy and grace God gave me strength and wisdom to admit to my dad that I can’t control the anger any more. As my eyes filled with tears I confessed to him that it may happen many more times, so I asked him to help me by never giving up on me. I asked him to never stop his prayers for me and that God must help me to move past that stage. He said he understood and agreed to do just that. Thinking back to that day, I sense that my father had so much more to say to me, but we both understood that enough was said, the rest was in the Father’s hands.

The angry stage was a very difficult time for me. I loved my family. I was proud of who we were. To me we were a family pretty much the way it had to be. Between us as children the usual fights took place but outside among our friends we would always stand together. We also hardly had major upsets in our community or with the children in our area. In fact the working class community we lived in were made up of people who respected one another. Moral values were high and we as children respected everyone. Most times all the children in the area would come together and play games that would leave us all exhausted but glowing with happiness. In summer our parents would enjoy the cool of the evenings chatting to neighbours and watching us play our games until we could no longer see the ball or each other. It was great to be a kid back then.

Today I believe that the calling of a person to the purposes of God is so inherent and clear, but the veil which can only come down with the reaching out to Jesus, as Lord and Saviour hides that purposes. However when the veil comes down and you reflect on your life you will find that the amazing Artist, Potter, Creator was so busy shaping our lives that the same things that was painful back then, was in fact the working hand of God in our lives.

Why am I convinced of this? There were times as a teenager when I felt so distant to many kids my age. I had friends yes, but most times I felt I’m far away from them. Most times I felt I wanted to be on my own and I just wanted to think on many things. When I was in the company of my peers I had fun and really enjoyed the friendships, but I even asked God why I couldn’t really fit in with anyone. Many years later as I finally submitted my life to God I found the answer that the calling which is upon any Christian’s life requires us to be set apart. Most times we have to walk alone, loose the friends and the acquaintances we meet along our way to our destiny and if we can acknowledge the teaching of God in our life experiences. It will be a blessing and make life as a Christian a lot easier when you were never used to having a lot of people to depend on, although when we connect with brothers and sisters in the household of God, we are undoubtedly part of His big family.

It’s a lonely walk, but the training I went through during the early part of my life has now made me skilled in following my Lord. I strongly believe in the saying that we cannot despise humble beginnings. The little things often shape us for mighty deeds.

So at a turning point in my life, I pretended that going away was an easy task for me, but I was so afraid. Determined not to give away my immaturity I suppressed the fear of stepping out. It was a radical decision for me, but I had to get away. Nothing was working out for me where I was. I couldn’t see eye to eye with my mother and besides that, my world of escape was just snatched away from me in an instant.

I broke up with someone who was really close to me—so close that I gave him my heart and with that everything else. The relationship was short-lived, but very intense. He was a good friend and things just seemed so right. He was there after my father passed away. Besides my varsity buddies he was the greatest comfort ever and through that relationship the focus was off my heartache and he would listen long as I told him stories of my dad. He often used to joke about married life with me and together we built ‘dream castles’.

One day I went to his house. I went through to his bedroom as I usually did. As I opened the bedroom door every dream we ever built together, the thoughts we shared was shattered in an instant.

It couldn’t be! No, this was not supposed to happen to us. Who is this person and where did she come from—why is she here and why is she where I was supposed to be?

My only reaction was to turn and leave—for good. He never came after me. I never went back.

My mother didn’t know—no one knew. The unresolved hurt caused so much anger to develop in my life again. Growing up in a Christian home I thought it’s pointless to share what I’m going through with anyone. To a certain extent I thought that I deserved this pain because I gave myself to this man who was not my husband. Sin was not allowed and I just couldn’t find anyone close by to open up my heart to. Talking about it could get me into the worst condemnation ever so I didn’t bother. I had varsity buddies, but they were there for good times, not for heavy things like when you have a broken heart. I needed to keep the picture they had about me in check. However this didn’t stop the condemnation that I placed upon myself. It was so heavy despite the broken heart that I really became an unpleasant person. I didn’t like me. I knew the ‘place’ I was in was caused by me.

Living at home with my mother kept me sheltered within the Christian environment I grew up in. I found that being in the church youth leadership could however not save me. Christianity and the stronghold in my mind didn’t go well together. I chose to believe everything negative about myself. The master of the two confronting spirits within me was negativity (and negative self talk). There was no room for the voice of the Spirit of God to keep me from slipping. As the days went on, the space between me and everyone else around me grew wider and quieter. After all I had my thoughts filled with words, phrases, feelings of doubt and fear. I didn’t need more conversation than that.

Two

One day I contacted a varsity friend, who was more mature than the usual crowd I hung out with, and just let loose on all my frustrations. I could always be completely open with her. Almost immediately I took a liking to her suggestion that perhaps I needed to get away. Part of her suggestion was that if I want I could come to her for a few days. After a short weekend visit, we spoke about the possibility of me coming to stay with her and see if I could do a couple of my modules at a local university. I arrived almost two weeks after I poured my heart out to my friend. I decided to take her offer and live with her for a while to build up my strength and confidence to face life again.

I couldn’t believe I made such a life-changing decision to live in another city. I was excited and ready to see how different my life could be from all the heartache and pain that I had been exposed to for months. From the moment I arrived it was the most therapeutic time to be with someone who was completely ready to give so much of herself. It felt like the old days again, when we were at campus and not having enough money to do much, but we had friendship, love and dreams of an incredible future. We continued to talk and laugh and cry together for hours and days. My world was perfect again. We stayed in the city and I got a job while studying at a local university.

On the first Friday night my friend had some acquaintances over and I joined them for a game of pool. They were a couple of guys and they said to me that the place around the corner was great for its beers, pool AND ladies-of-the-night. So they suggested I get out of my skimpy top and to rather wear a crew neck T-shirt (like theirs) with jeans or a long skirt.

I did exactly as they said, and just grabbed the first crew neck t-shirt I found in my suitcase and threw it over what I already had on. In short, I looked completely wrong, but I went there for a game of pool, after-all.

Despite the outfit it wasn’t long before I made my presence known