The year is 2014, I have just relocated to Cape Town and I discover “For Your Glory” by Tasha Cobbs-Leonard.
I was 18 years old then. At some point I had this song on repeat for weeks on end. At first, I really just liked the progression of the lyrics and the arrangement but I guess over the years I’ve come to learn that these are not the kinds of songs you sing willy nilly without them bearing some sort of fruit.
For context, in case you don’t know the song, the lyrics are pretty simple, “For Your glory, I will do anything. Just to see You. To behold You as my King. I wanna be where You are. I gotta be where you are.” That’s it. That’s the entire song. The song became my prayer that year because it was yet another season of transition that I didn’t fully understand. However, I was resolute in my heart that that was a risk I was willing to take.
Joke’s on me ke because one thing God will do is bank on the things you say to Him during those intimate moments of conversation with Him.
Fast forward to December 2018…the song makes a comeback on my playlist after a very long time and having moved on with my life thinking that the results of that prayer had been lived out completely by the end of 2014. At this point, the chat between God and I was, “How much of the words of that song did you really mean?” The obvious response from me was naturally, “All of them,” without flinching even. Then the conversation was shelved right there I guess because it never came up again until 2019 when Maverick City released “Refiner”.
If there is anything you should know about me it’s the fact that I will play one song every single day for weeks on end. This was the case with Refiner as well. Then the question of how much of those lyrics I meant came up again, with an undertone of seriousness that I hadn’t discerned prior. This time, although reluctant lest I placed myself in a pickle, I still replied with, “All of them.”
Some of these backstories might not make much sense because there are numerous missing pieces to this puzzle and I don’t have the luxury of filling in every gap on a single post. However, please stay with me for a moment.
The year is now 2023 and God has decided to cash in on my vows. What a time! I remember driving from Mthatha to Cape Town in February that year. It was a solo trip because I can do daring things sometimes. Besides, I had already done the drive from Acornhoek to Mthatha alone so the long-distance solo driving training wheels had come off already and it wasn’t that big of a deal.
Another interesting fact that I recently zoomed in on is that each season in my life, whether short or long, is always underpinned by a Scripture/Word and song. This was no different. The drive to Cape Town was long – I had decided to take the Garden Route because if I’m going to spend that much time in the car alone, I might as well make it worthwhile and take the scenic route.
As I was heading towards Makhanda (formerly Grahamstown), I was taken down memory lane. I might share my 2013 detour at Rhodes University at some point, we’ll see. I vividly remember the song that was playing in the background at that very moment as I drove past The Monument. “Khululeka” by Ntokozo Mbambo-Mbatha. I had the song on repeat until I crossed the border into the Western Cape. By now, if you know all three of the songs, you would have kind of figured where all of this is going…
I still lack the words to describe the experience I had as I was driving towards the unknown, literally. Was I bawling my eyes out the entire time? Maybe. Although there was great uncertainty with this transition just like the previous ones, this time was different. My ‘yes’ to do anything, be an altar, a living sacrifice and let God do as He pleased with my life was supported by a different kind of peace and a quiet confidence. I had decided in my heart that I would follow through on the promises that at first, I had unknowingly and rather naïvely made.
This time around, I was very much sober in my thinking and decision-making. Regardless of all that was happening deep within, over the years I have also come to learn and accept the coexistence of two realities, feelings, and experiences. I was uncertain yet confident about the future purely because He who has promised is faithful.
This blog post was supposed to have been written and uploaded in September 2023. I’ve been sitting with the topic on my planned posts since. Perhaps I should’ve went ahead and shared it in that moment, in real time so you can live it out with me. Perhaps I should be doing that with most of my posts. Nonetheless, with growth comes knowing when to speak and when to be quiet. Had I spoken then, it would’ve been a little premature. The experience itself hasn’t fully matured because I’m still in the thick of whatever season this is but I can safely say that I’ve lived through the bulk of it so I can start divulging some parts.
During the time when I uttered the words, “My heart feels like it’s on a dissection table,” we were on a 40 day fast as RUCC Ministries and man oh man! What an experience! So as I was checking in with myself towards the end of the fast, that’s precisely how I felt… Before we continue, let’s have a quick biology lesson on dissections, shall we?
Dissect – to methodically cut up (a body or a plant) to study its internal parts; to separate into pieces; to expose the several parts of something for scientific examination; to break something down to look at its parts closely and understand it better
This is a scientific term and process. Dissection in the human context can be done under several conditions – in the anatomy lab (think science/medical students) with cadavers, in the forensics lab (think autopsies) or in theatre (think surgical procedures). The two former procedures are done on non-living bodies and the latter, on the living. Dissection, although done under various circumstances and conditions, the point is to expose, study, understand and sometimes repair.
Different types of techniques and instruments are used during dissection. Some sharp and some blunt, yet all fine and require handling with precision. The sharp instruments include knives/scalpels/scissors and needles – these are used to cut into and stitch together. Sometimes cautery (a burning instrument) is used. Forceps are used to finely handle tissue – basically grasping, retracting or stabilizing. There are several other instruments and pieces of equipment used during this process and this includes medical grade alcohol to clean prior the procedure, swabs to mop up the bloody mess and plasters/bandages to ward off infections from exposure to a non-sterile environment and prevent dehiscence before the wound heals.
Since it is my heart that is being dissected, here we will talk about the process being done on a living subject, as a life-sparing surgical procedure. I’m pretty sure by now you have an idea that this isn’t a cute thing to have happen to you. It can be clean and quick or it can take a while, get messy rather quickly and without warning.
Note: this is a life-saving procedure. A dysfunctional heart = death.
Let me bring it closer to home. Don’t worry, I will not talk you through cardiothoracic surgery now. I am by no means a surgeon and will not even attempt going in that route to aid my writing lest I butcher the work that they do (pun very much intended)!
My heart was and still is on a dissection table and is subject to the Word of God. The thing about dissection is that the object on the table is subject to the person handling the instruments. I couldn’t get up then and still cannot now, until the process is done and this won’t happen until my departure on earth or the return of our Lord Jesus Christ – whichever happens first. It is an ongoing process.
Alas! Here I am, a few years later and my heart is still naked and exposed because it has to be examined and repaired where necessary in order for it to function optimally.
Back to my relocation stories… I have shared a bit about my journey on both my YouTube channel and previous blog posts. As you would know it, my two year stint of being without formal employment (I call it that because work and employment are different concepts and I was never without work during this time) came to an end in December 2024. The 23 months to be precise, were really a time where God sat me down in the literal sense to expose, examine, remove and repair parts of my heart.
I am not suggesting that I did not have a job because God wanted to dissect my heart. Perhaps He did but does it matter? We all know that this could’ve been done while I was working full time if He so wanted. He is in heaven, doing as He pleases and nothing is beyond Him. What I am standing on though is the fact that this time did not go to waste. It was necessary and I am almost glad that the process occurred at a time when I was not caught up in what sometimes feels like a hamster wheel race.
I remember having a chat with someone dear to me during a moment of reflection at one of what we dubbed #kitchenconversations which would often translate into #couchconversations, about the lessons I am learning during this particular season.
P.S. If you haven’t read my three-part series titled “A Repertoire of Lessons” please click on the links below 🙂
As we were chatting, I had to pause for a minute because I automatically wanted to revert to the lessons I spoke about on my previous posts. I didn’t. Instead, I added to the list. Remember my earlier comment about the purpose and process of dissection involving exposure?
Exposure is a state of extreme vulnerability. During a surgical procedure, in order to expose whatever lies beneath the surface, cuts and sometimes burns are made. This is done carefully and patiently because remember, the point is not to destroy or injure, but to expose in order to examine and repair.
During this time, I’ve had to be very honest with God, myself and those around me and allow my heart to be on the line of exposure. My point of departure during that particular conversation was, “I really thought that I had the fruits of the Spirit as mentioned in Galatians 5 on lock. I have come to realise that I actually don’t…”
I used patience as an example because I was living in a state of expectation which required me to exercise patience. You see, I had always thought I was a patient person. Waiting for me was never really an issue. Neither was my attitude in the waiting. Then I was unemployed…
The first three months were relatively ok. I wasn’t experiencing much distress. On the contrary, I was extremely optimistic and even regarded it as a time of rest and recalibration. Then six months went by and I was feeling unsettled. Then a year passed and I was disgruntled. There were glimmers of hope in between yet I remained on edge.
Then a year and a few months passed and my patience was being thoroughly tested. I felt it. I really felt it.
So what changed? Did I suddenly lose the fruit of patience that I thought I had? Not really. I think. Hear me out please.
All along, I was of the opinion that I was an extremely patient person because the tests on patience were always the same – they had a timeline. For example, medical school had a timeline, a goal that I could envision and work towards. When you wait for a loved one they give you an ETA so the expectation is tied to a specific time. Your Uber eats order? It has a time estimate. Flights? Even when they get delayed, they often give you a timeframe so you know how much waiting you can expect to do.
My patience was always tested in similar ways so that gave me enough time to master that type of waiting. The assured-with-a-timestamp type of waiting. I was basically exercising the same muscle group each time I went to the gym and I got used to the weights. Trouble struck when the test looked different. I had an instruction and a promise from God, but no timeline. So my impatience got exposed because the muscle of waiting expectantly when you have no idea of what is to come or when, was underdeveloped.
Exposure.
I didn’t know that I could be impatient and my attitude in the waiting could be any different than my baseline until I was put in a position that left me exposed. Would I have discovered this about myself had I been employed full time right from the end of my community service year? I don’t know.
Dissection is for exposure.
This applied to every other fruit of the Spirit, I must add. I might’ve gotten the hang of each one in specific situations and the fruit is ripe in that regard but in some, probably many other situations I am yet to encounter, the fruit is either still embedded in a seed waiting to germinate or is still raw and cannot be harvested for food. I was faced with this new realisation and I had decisions to make and actions to take.
I can choose to not act upon this newly found information about the state of my heart but I’ve resolved to allow myself to be refined, purified, tried by fire, you name it. As it stands, I am working diligently at guarding my heart while it lies bare for it is the source of life afterall.
How am I doing this you might be wondering?
For the Word that God speaks is alive and full of power [making it active, operating, energizing, and effective]; it is sharper than any two-edged sword, penetrating to the dividing line of the breath of life (soul) and [the immortal] spirit, and of joints and marrow [of the deepest parts of our nature], exposing and sifting and analyzing and judging the very thoughts and purposes of the heart.
And not a creature exists that is concealed from His sight, but all things are open and exposed, naked and defenseless to the eyes of Him with Whom we have to do
– Hebrews 4:12-13 (NKJV)
That is how. God’s Word is the scalpel at this point. Dissecting away, as it should.
My heart is on the dissection table and I will let it sit here for as long as is necessary. It’s in the hands of the Greatest Physician, very safe. He intends to do me no harm. He cares so much that He will not let me walk around with a diseased heart, lest I die from conditions that could’ve been prevented.
I’ve wept. I’ve bled. I’ve moaned. I’ve felt like dying. I’ve been in pain. I’ve experienced relief. I’ve laughed. I am learning. I am feeling all the feelings. All on the same table and the same Hands.
Dear Leader!
Are you willing to let your heart be dissected?
Zibuyile iinkokheli 
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