Hello mama

It's pain and blood pressure on rise

Yet I say hello mama

A mundane activity yet with so much activities 

A stamina to be envied gained with the heavy lifting at home.

A tear wiped, a smile created

That's been her portion 

When God blesses his generation be in the front of the queue 

You deserve it. 

Hello mama how are you?

Receive your honour on this day

Happy mothers day 

Story of ma life

Life can't be defined by the words in a dictionary. Words can be flattering, but they barely scratch the surface of what life truly is. According to official records, my life began around July 10, twenty-something years ago. That’s what the papers say. But the real beginning? That’s something I had to figure out as I went along.

At five, like many kids, I was taken to kindergarten. I remember the loneliness creeping in, followed by tears. Then came pre-school, primary school, high school, college after college—three grad schools, two high schools, and two colleges later, and I’m still chasing higher learning with a master's in sight. But the real education? That began outside the classroom—in the school of life.

When I was ten, my life shifted dramatically. My family fell apart. My parents separated, and from then on, unity was a memory. I went to live with a strict aunt who ruled with an iron hand. I felt like my world was collapsing. But life doesn't pause for anyone. Mistakes became lessons. My emotions grew wild, but friends insisted, "You're a man now. Learn to survive." That was lesson one.

I wasn’t told when to eat, when to sleep, or even what name to use. My name—Brian Bandi Muduwa Odhiambo—has layers. "Bandi" was given to me by my maternal uncle. It’s not on my birth certificate, but it’s part of me. Life, after all, is more than documents.

Somewhere along the way, my parents introduced me to someone powerful—unseen but ever-present. His name is God. He became my anchor. In every storm, He was my calm. Though I never got all the answers, maybe I asked the wrong questions. Or maybe He answered, and I wasn’t listening. Either way, He added a new dimension to life.

Family taught me that people come in layers—some close, others closer, and some who stand as enemies. Society taught me about tribes—divisions both sacred and harmful. I’m Luo—loud, proud, and bold. I was warned never to marry a Kikuyu—clever and entrepreneurial—because life, I was told, is a competition. But must it be?

Power, privilege, and inequality—these too are parts of life. We’re not equal in the eyes of men because some see clearly, and others squint. If our worth depends on someone else’s sight, then it’s bound to be distorted.

At some point, I asked, “Who am I?” No one could answer, because identity is personal. At 23, I got my first job. I thought it would fix everything. But debts piled up, and reality bit back. I tried to define myself through work, friends, and success—but still felt lost.

Life, they say, is hard. But compared to what? I don’t know—I haven’t died to find out. What I do know is, the struggles make the story worth telling.

Between 23 and 26, I dabbled in relationships—some sweet, others bitter. I learned to love myself. Then, I met Brenda. She was everything I dreamed of—graceful, kind, and real. I asked her, “Are you single?” She said yes. I said, “I love you,” and she replied, “Thanks for your concern.” My heart shattered. I thought it ended before it began. But she was interested—my overthinking nearly ruined it.

Eventually, poor communication drove us apart. At 28, I met someone new. We dated for a year, and I introduced her to my family and friends. I thought she was the one. But she left me—chose someone else and walked away like I was nothing. I hit a low point, nearly sinking into depression. I lost appetite, avoided people, and cried alone on soaked couches.

But I prayed. And God, my eternal Counselor, listened again. He surrounded me with support, restored my strength—and even brought Brenda back into my life. Maybe we’ll write another chapter together. I live in hope, because certainty doesn’t belong to this life. That’s for the next.

TERROR AND TYRANNY

I was forged not by sharing the same scorching sun, but by a calamity cloaked in pomp and the pride of a peacock. They won, and they jubilated—cheers from their supporters drowned the jeers of the defeated, who sank into despair. Things took an unexpected turn, as if the victors had their fingers on a trigger, ready to fire at any moment. Oppression took its toll, and intimidation followed, designed to provoke a violent reaction. But the citizens chose restraint, hoping that justice would find its place in democracy. Alas, this was not to be. Despite all judicial precedents, this case was no exception. On the brighter side, a different ruling might have unleashed even worse consequences, given the chaos of previous elections.

On April 9th, the ceremonial inauguration took place. Dignitaries and incumbent heads of state were in attendance, signifying one thing—the change we longed for was not coming anytime soon.

What followed was a betrayal. The very cohorts who once stood by the leaders turned against them. Inflation hit hard, and suddenly, a liter of milk was more expensive than a liter of diesel. Could men drink diesel? The storm began tearing through all in its path. Greed crept in, and the few pennies left in beggars' pockets were snatched away. Activists, twigs, placards, and megaphones—the usual democratic tools—became futile in the face of calculated repression. The government’s math was simple: bullets plus tear gas equaled a divided people. They won that battle, and aluta continua—the struggle continued. But as the saying goes, you may have won the battle, but not the war. This was merely a forecast of worse things to come.

Soon, the once-loyal citizens began to question their jubilant leaders, those who had once been full of promises but now spoke only empty words. The coffee was no longer brewing; instead, a storm swirled in the teacup. King Solomon once warned, "Do not be in a rush to make promises." If the wisest man to have ever lived offered this advice, what had these leaders misunderstood? They flaunted their wealth in churches, blind to the suffering outside. The people demanded action, but negotiations never came. Instead, name-calling set the tone, drowning out the cries of a weary nation.

For four days and three nights, the nation stood still. Gory images flooded newspapers, global news agencies, and social media. We grieved. We donated the little we had. We consoled the bereaved. Yet, once again, empty words were fed to the people. And, as forgetful as ever, they moved on. But the attacks didn’t stop. They grew bolder. Foreigners were issued advisories, and locals were told to conduct their lives within the confines of a twelve-hour window. The economy plummeted at an alarming rate. The attacks followed a meticulous procedure, as though referenced from an instruction manual, stopping at nothing. The tyrannical government muscled through hasty security bills as if settling a hotel tab. Yet, to their surprise, these laws never materialized—ambiguous wording prevented their passage.

Frustrated legislators turned the August House into a wrestling arena, battling with words and fists. Meanwhile, whispers of scandal filled the air—men unable to keep their desires in check, corruption seeping into every committee. Amid the chaos, terror struck, loud and clear. This time, four attackers and one hundred and forty-seven innocent lives lost. Once again, we were on global headlines for two weeks. Would we ever learn?

The government responded with rhetoric, jokes, and defamation. Activists were threatened, accused of financing terrorism, instead of being heard. Tyranny and terrorism thrived hand in hand, both instilling fear in their subjects. But fear was soon overcome by revolt. Even the pro-government supporters began to see the cracks. Change became inevitable. The government, once defiant, now claimed they welcomed criticism—so long as it wasn’t "politicized."

A digital government, they called it. No submission of physical Income Tax Returns, only iTax. Immigration required e-citizenship. The National Transport Safety Authority mandated online license renewals. Digital, indeed. Yet corruption adapted, evolving into a high-resolution monster bleeding the nation’s resources dry. Billions—if not millions—vanished into ghost workers, stolen land, and unaccounted-for projects. The economy crumbled, earning us the nickname "Greece," as our currency lost its value. Soldiers were sent to war, never to return. The government, ever so kind, bought coffins for their burial, as if that was enough to erase the cost of their sacrifice.

Fire on the mountain. Fire on the mountain. The opposition cried out against corruption, only to be ridiculed and labeled. Apathy grew among once-enthusiastic voters. Expensive, controversial train projects symbolized the long, tiresome journey ahead. For once, the clueless president seemed to understand democracy—by dictating how free yet unfair the elections would be. Cheap tricks of libel followed. Controversial election laws were rushed through, with the excuse of urgency, forgetting that "hurry, hurry has no blessing." Instead, it bore curses, written in the blood of innocent citizens.

Was the re-emergence of a long-gone sect a mere coincidence? Or was it meant for more bloodshed? Time would tell. Sanctioned killings became routine. The Criminal Investigations Department repeated its favorite phrase: "We are investigating." Time passed. No arrests. No convictions. Life moved on, as if nothing had happened. Families buried their dead without explanation, forced to accept mere knowledge of the cause of death as a substitute for justice.

And then came Canaan. Led by "Joshua," the people turned out in record numbers—95.8% voter turnout, including the dead and buried. What a stain on democracy. Once again, election rigging and tribal fights ensued. Yet, some saw the folly and opted out of the rotten game. For the first time, fatigue set in. A stand had to be taken.

The judiciary led the charge, ruling the elections fraudulent, a landmark precedent. The tyrants raged. How dare they? What are our secondary rigging plans? they echoed. "We are wasting money!" they cried, yet they knew the rightful winner but refused to accept him as president. And so, the bitter exchange of slurs and abuses continued. Tribes rallied behind their own. Battle lines were drawn. And in the dead of night, dissonant sounds filled the air—gunshots, screams. Lives lost, too many to count. Children, the greatest victims.

Will we ever learn? 

They indeed went for a rerun, and this time, they won—not just because the dead cast their votes again, but because goats, sheep, and even dogs joined the tally at the polling stations. The numbers soared, an ironic twist in an election that had been boycotted by the electorate.

The threats of secession became imminent, and the rift was easy to widen. The 'enigma' knew precisely how to manipulate these emotional dwarfs, pulling a move straight from the forty-eight laws of power. The government was dumbstruck, realizing that such an action could render them powerless. What was their next move?

I wasn’t convinced of the best course for our country. My mind could only anticipate four moves ahead, but they had the experience to play eight or ten, their influence spreading like tentacles. Some were bribed with positions of power, others with the assurance of medical treatment for their spouses in the most expensive hospitals abroad—hospitals not even found in our own homeland.

Joshua swore himself in as the people's president, aided by an unlikely ally. The people rejoiced, yet despite this treasonous act, no one was arrested or convicted. Instead, the enemy was the one forcefully bundled in and out of several police stations. The last time, they tranquilized him and deported him to a far, cold country.

It was poetic justice—a chilling echo of the adage, "revenge is a dish best served cold." The leader bided his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike back. When he did, he sent his foe to a land infamous for its snowy winters. Time passed, and just when we thought it was all forgotten, he did what he does best—negotiated, under the guise of serving the ‘country’s’ interests. But we knew better. They were political cousins, as one of their parent’s aides once put it.

The so-called ‘negotiations’ were branded as a handshake, but in reality, it was sleight of hand. The most experienced politicians—master salesmen who could sell water to fish—spun their web of deception. The lies, disgusting and unpalatable, continued.

The deputy president wavered in his stance, sometimes claiming he was part of the handshake, other times denying it. This double-speak stirred debates for a while before fading into silence. Yet the seed of doubt and distrust had already been sown, particularly among his own tribe. A strategy to undermine the government’s projects took root, and once-marginalized regions suddenly became safe havens. A few projects were established, just enough to stir an uproar, for citizens—easily swayed by emotions—could not stomach the shift in favor.

The once-beloved son of a tribe was now seen as a shameless traitor. The celebration drums fell silent, replaced by the solemn echoes of a dirge.

Corruption ran rampant, loans were borrowed, and yet, the people saw no benefit. The pressing question remained: who did the money work for?

For the first time, the citizenry—united in thought—began analyzing the numbers. But no matter how they crunched them, the sums didn’t add up. They voiced their distrust, declaring that Mr. President was not acting on their behalf. They refused to be held accountable for his transactions. Yet instead of their pleas reaching the international community, they fell on deaf ears. More loans were granted, sinking the country further.

Doomed from the start, where were we to turn when even our elected leaders refused to listen? Many said, "Turn to God." But our priests, pastors, and elders had become more untrustworthy than the politicians themselves. For a dime, they would sell us to the highest bidder.

Then, like an omen, a pandemic unlike any other struck the world—a plague reminiscent of the Spanish flu from the previous century. It infected the high and mighty, leveling the playing field. No country, no state could contain it. For the first time, I understood the simple basics: wash your hands, cover your face like a ninja in a dojo. Yet, theories abounded, myths of its origins and cures spread like wildfire.

Fear took hold. Even soldiers—symbols of bravery—stood back. The true warriors now wore scrubs, personal protective equipment, and face masks. Armed with knowledge, they charged against this unseen enemy. Their eyes remained unblinking as the battle raged on, only to realize how ill-prepared they were. We were left to fate and faith as information trickled in—mighty nations had fallen, and people perished rapidly.

Dusk-to-dawn curfews were enforced, and our local police became so aggressive that they claimed more lives than the rapidly mutating disease itself. When the first casualty was announced, life as we knew it changed. For a year, normal travel was impossible, and in supermarkets or public spaces, a strict two-metre distance was mandated. This separation extended beyond physical space—it reached our pockets as well. The elite siphoned funds meant for our welfare, misusing donations from the World Health Organization and the Centers for Disease Control, leaving us vulnerable to economic hardship.

They remained unfazed, as it was just another part of our monthly routine—where a dwindling corruption index was the norm, and a dysfunctional commission drained the last of the ill-gotten gains. A baffling moment unfolded, yet, like a familiar tune, we embraced it and sang along.

However, despite the deep-seated tribal divisions, a bridge emerged between the two main factions of hatred, guiding us toward what seemed like the right path—one where ideology, not identity, defined us. But then, a new demographic began to rise, one where actions spoke louder than words—but whose actions truly mattered?

Our tribes were no longer defined by ethnicity but by wealth status. It seemed so ideal that everyone embraced this utopia, with forgetfulness as their ally. Yet, who would willingly fall under such a spell?

The wealthy left behind spoils for the poor, and many rejoiced, unaware of the looming future. From the sunroofs of their luxury vehicles, they displayed a hypocritical empathy, reminding me of a story once told to me. A donkey, tired of his life as a mere beast of burden, befriended a lion, who protected him from all other predators. One day, a hungry fox spotted the donkey grazing majestically. It crept up and pounced, but its claws failed to sink in, allowing the donkey to escape by a whisker. The terrified donkey rushed to the lion and reported the attack. Enraged, the lion punished the fox with exile. The fox, though accepting the punishment, questioned the lion’s reasoning. The lion simply replied, “You are a fox, and he is my meal. That was my fury.”

In the end, a lion can never be a just judge for a donkey—they each have their own motives. Likewise, how can someone living in a lavish villa, driving a fuel-guzzling luxury car, and owning multimillion-dollar assets claim to understand hunger and malnutrition? How can the educated truly grasp the struggles of the uneducated? What cure exists for foolishness? Can someone with personal doctors, a chef, and an aide for three decades truly comprehend insecurity, disease, and lack of access to treatment?

What a veil of ignorance. But who was there to choose? They were all sheep—just for different shearers. The narrative had always been the same: the rich were vilified, and the poor were victimized.

THANK GOD THAT I MET YOU

I have never found reason to boast of my successes. They felt less like triumphs and more like fate’s quiet whispers—luck, perhaps, or relentless persistence. The nights were long and lonely, yet the moon never withheld its light. By day, a restless ache stirred within me, an unshakable melancholy. Was I at odds with nature itself?

And yet, my time had not come. I breathed—deep, measured sighs—not in meditation, nor in pursuit of some ethereal existence, but simply to steady myself. It calmed me, if only briefly, like the soft lull of wine before the haze lifts and reality presses in once more. Tears welled within, unseen, while smiles stretched across my face for the world’s approval. They believed I was whole. How could they not? They had never lingered long enough to know otherwise. And so, I played my part, a master of disguise, feigning confidence I did not possess.

To many, I was a friend. To myself, a stranger. Loneliness had claimed me without my knowing. I discovered that solitude thrives even within the warmth of family. Relationships were an enigma I could not define, so I crafted my own means of survival, a quiet coping mechanism that only I understood. But my beloved mother saw through the facade. She could not bear my methods and gently urged me toward another path. "Insanity," she reminded me, "is doing the same thing and expecting a different result."

And so, I chose clarity. I chose sanity. And in doing so, I found that my time had indeed arrived—not too soon, not too late, but precisely when my heart was ready. Love’s echoes had always surrounded me, waiting for an attuned ear to listen. So I listened. And as I turned my gaze outward, I wondered—was she the one?

I surrendered to the rhythm of the mundane, letting life unfold. "Yes" became my answer more often than before. Who could have guessed that in embracing the ordinary, I would stumble upon the extraordinary? Certainly not me. But life, I realized, is not just what is seen or unseen—it is revealed in motion, in the choices we make, in the steps we dare to take.

One day, I paid the zookeeper and stood before nature’s untamed majesty. The sight of the wild stirred something within me, something ancient and true. And in that moment, nature had never felt so magnificent as it did with her by my side. Perhaps it was not just the beauty of the world that captivated me but the presence of one who made it feel like home.

That day was our best yet, and I knew many more would follow if we chose to walk together. The greatest stories are not always written in ink—some are etched into the soul, whispered between moments too sacred for words. And so, my search ended. Or perhaps, it simply transformed into something new.

Was this a mere story? A journey?

I hoped it was both.

Pray pray

Chapter 10—Reasons to Pray Enlightens the mind regarding what is truth—Why is it that we do not receive more from Him who is the source of light and power? We expect too little. Has God lost His love for man? Is not this love still flowing earthward? Has He lost His desire to show Himself strong in behalf of His people? Christ will give us victory in the conflict. Who can doubt this when we know that He laid aside His royal robe and kingly crown, and came to this world in the garb of humanity, that He might stand as man’s substitute and surety? Pr 90.1 We do not value as we should the power and efficacy of prayer. “The Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which can not be uttered.” God desires us to come to Him in prayer, that He may enlighten our minds. He alone can give clear conceptions of truth. He alone can soften and subdue the heart. He can quicken the understanding to discern truth from error. He can establish the wavering mind, and give it a knowledge and a faith that will endure the test. Pray then; pray without ceasing. The Lord who heard Daniel’s prayer, will hear yours if you will approach Him as Daniel did.—(The Review and Herald, March 24, 1904.) Pr 90.2 Acquaints us with the father—Oh, do we know God as we should? What comfort, what joy, we should have if we were to learn daily the lessons He desires us to learn! We must know Him by an experimental knowledge. It will be profitable for us to spend more time in secret prayer, in becoming personally acquainted with our heavenly Father.—(Medical Ministry, 102.) Pr 91.1 Unites us with each other and with God—Prayer unites us with one another and with God. Prayer brings Jesus to our side, and gives to the fainting, perplexed soul new strength to overcome the world, the flesh, and the devil. Prayer turns aside the attacks of Satan.—(Christ’s Object Lessons, 250.) Pr 91.2 Enables us to resist temptation—Why should the sons and daughters of God be reluctant to pray, when prayer is the key in the hand of faith to unlock heaven’s storehouse, where are treasured the boundless resources of Omnipotence? Without unceasing prayer and diligent watching we are in danger of growing careless and of deviating from the right path. The adversary seeks continually to obstruct the way to the mercy seat, that we may not by earnest supplication and faith obtain grace and power to resist temptation.—(Steps to Christ, 94, 95.) Pr 91.3 Christ is our only hope. Come to God in the name of Him who gave His life for the life of the world. Rely upon the efficacy of His sacrifice. Show that His love, His joy, is in your soul, and that because of this, your joy is full. In God is our strength. Pray much. Prayer is the life of the soul. The prayer of faith is the weapon by which we may successfully resist every assault of the enemy.—(Selected Messages 1:88.) Pr 91.4 Prepares us for membership in the church above—To the humble, believing soul, the house of God on earth is the gate of heaven. The song of praise, the prayer, the words spoken by Christ’s representatives, are God’s appointed agencies to prepare a people for the church above, for that loftier worship into which there can enter nothing that defileth.—(Testimonies for the Church 5:491.) Pr 91.5 Reinforces our convictions—Our convictions need daily to be reinforced by humble, sincere prayer and reading of the word. While we each have an individuality, while we each should hold our convictions firmly, we must hold them as God’s truth and in the strength which God imparts. If we do not, they will be wrung from our grasp.—(Testimonies for the Church 6:401.) Pr 92.1 Supplies temporal necessities—Every promise in the word of God furnishes us with subject matter for prayer, presenting the pledged word of Jehovah as our assurance. Whatever spiritual blessing we need, it is our privilege to claim through Jesus. We may tell the Lord, with the simplicity of a child, exactly what we need. We may state to Him our temporal matters, asking Him for bread and raiment as well as for the bread of life and the robe of Christ’s righteousness. Your heavenly Father knows that you have need of all these things, and you are invited to ask Him concerning them. It is through the name of Jesus that every favor is received. God will honor that name, and will supply your necessities from the riches of His liberality.—(Thoughts from the Mount of Blessing, 133.) Pr 92.2 Every soul has the privilege of stating to the Lord his own special necessities and to offer his individual thanksgiving for the blessings that he daily receives.—(Testimonies for the Church 9:278, 279.) Pr 92.3 Does not provide new information to God—Prayer is not understood as it should be. Our prayers are not to inform God of something He does not know. The Lord is acquainted with the secrets of every soul. Our prayers need not be long and loud. God reads the hidden thoughts. We may pray in secret, and He who sees in secret will hear, and will reward us openly.—(Messages to Young People, 247.) Pr 92.4 Daily supplies of grace given—Those who at Pentecost were endued with power from on high, were not thereby freed from further temptation and trial. As they witnessed for truth and righteousness they were repeatedly assailed by the enemy of all truth, who sought to rob them of their Christian experience. They were compelled to strive with all their God-given powers to reach the measure of the stature of men and women in Christ Jesus. Daily they prayed for fresh supplies of grace, that they might reach higher and still higher toward perfection. Under the Holy Spirit’s working even the weakest, by exercising faith in God, learned to improve their entrusted powers and to become sanctified, refined, and ennobled. As in humility they submitted to the molding influence of the Holy Spirit, they received of the fullness of the Godhead and were fashioned in the likeness of the divine.—(The Acts of the Apostles, 49, 50.) Pr 92.5 Wisdom supplied—We must seek wisdom from on high that we may stand in this day of error and delusion.—(Early Writings, 87, 88.) Pr 93.1 Pray most earnestly for an understanding of the times in which we live, for a fuller conception of His purpose, and for increased efficiency in soulsaving.—(Selected Messages 2:399.) Pr 93.2 The baptism of the holy spirit given—God’s faithful messengers are to seek to carry forward the Lord’s work in His appointed way. They are to place themselves in close connection with the Great Teacher, that they may be daily taught of God. They are to wrestle with God in earnest prayer for a baptism of the Holy Spirit that they may meet the needs of a world perishing in sin. All power is promised those who go forth in faith to proclaim the everlasting gospel. As the servants of God bear to the world a living message fresh from the throne of glory, the light of truth will shine forth as a lamp that burneth, reaching to all parts of the world. Thus the darkness of error and unbelief will be dispelled from the minds of the honest in heart in all lands, who are now seeking after God, “If haply they might feel after Him, and find Him.”—(Testimonies to Ministers and Gospel Workers, 459, 460.) Pr 93.3 Today’s needs provided for—The truth of God received into the heart is able to make you wise unto salvation. In believing and obeying it you will receive grace sufficient for the duties and trials of today. Grace for tomorrow you do not need. You should feel that you have only to do with today. Overcome for today; deny self for today; watch and pray for today; obtain victories in God for today.—(Testimonies for the Church 3:333.) Pr 93.4 The needs of God’s work cared for—The varied interests of the cause furnish us with food for reflection and inspiration for our prayers.—(Testimonies for the Church 4:459.) Pr 94.1 Answered prayers are cause for praise and thanksgiving—In the second chapter of 1 Samuel is recorded the prayer of a consecrated woman who served and glorified God. She prayed: “My heart rejoiceth in the Lord, mine horn is exalted in the Lord: my mouth is enlarged over mine enemies; because I rejoice in thy salvation. There is none holy as the Lord: for there is none beside thee: neither is there any rock like our God.” Hannah’s offering of thanksgiving for the answer to her prayer is a lesson to those who today receive answers to their requests. Do we not neglect to return praise and thanksgiving to God for His lovingkindness? Pr 94.2 David declares, “I love the Lord, because he hath heard my voice and my supplications. Because he hath inclined his ear unto me, therefore will I call upon him as long as I live.” God’s goodness in hearing and answering prayer places us under heavy obligation to express our thanksgiving for the favors bestowed upon us. We should praise God much more than we do. The blessings received in answer to prayer should be promptly acknowledged. The record of them should be placed in our diary, that when we take the book in hand, we may remember the goodness of the Lord, and praise His holy name.—(The Review and Herald, May 7, 1908.) Pr 94.3 Our characters may be transformed—The change we need is a change of heart, and can only be obtained by seeking God individually for His blessing, by pleading with Him for His power, by fervently praying that His grace may come upon us, and that our characters may be transformed. This is the change we need today, and for the attainment of this experience we should exercise persevering energy and manifest heartfelt earnestness. We should ask with true sincerity, “What shall I do to be saved?” We should know just what steps we are taking heavenward.—(Selected Messages 1:187.) Pr 94.4 Our understanding of God’s word expanded—No man is safe for a day or an hour without prayer. Especially should we entreat the Lord for wisdom to understand His word. Here are revealed the wiles of the tempter and the means by which he may be successfully resisted. Satan is an expert in quoting Scripture, placing his own interpretation upon passages, by which he hopes to cause us to stumble. We should study the Bible with humility of heart, never losing sight of our dependence upon God. While we must constantly guard against the devices of Satan, we should pray in faith continually: “Lead us not into temptation.”(The Great Controversy, 530.) Pr 95.1 The Bible should never be studied without prayer. The Holy Spirit alone can cause us to feel the importance of those things easy to be understood, or prevent us from wresting truths difficult of comprehension. It is the office of heavenly angels to prepare the heart so to comprehend God’s word that we shall be charmed with its beauty, admonished by its warnings, or animated and strengthened by its promises. We should make the psalmist’s petition our own: “Open Thou mine eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of Thy law.” Psalm 119:18. Temptations often appear irresistible because, through neglect of prayer and the study of the Bible, the tempted one cannot readily remember God’s promises and meet Satan with the Scripture weapons. But angels are round about those who are willing to be taught in divine things; and in the time of great necessity they will bring to their remembrance the very truths which are needed. Thus “when the enemy shall come in like a flood, the Spirit of the Lord shall lift up a standard against him.” Isaiah 59:19—(The Great Controversy, 599, 600.) Pr 95.2