Author: Nana Kesewaa

Does God have favourites? Is the answer Yes? No? Maybe? Who cares? There have been times in my life when I felt God had “His people”. Especially when a testimony is shared of God answering for others the very prayer that has been left unanswered for a while. In those moments, it can feel like God favours some above others.

In the Bible, when we learn how God called some like Abraham, Abel, Moses, and David out of others, it’s easy to conclude that God has favorites. However, growing in my knowledge of God’s nature has taught me this: While God chooses certain people for specific purposes, His arms are open to all, and He is good to all. The good news is that His love is not limited to some of His creation. Nor are His blessings for a certain group of people. Everyone can be God’s favourite. God actually wants us all to be His favourites.

Let’s talk about Hagar, who was mistreated by Abraham and Sarah, “God’s people”. God saw her, heard her cry, and came to her rescue when she needed help. Think about the daughters of Zelophehad, who God made an exception for them and ensured they received their portion because they asked. Think of Nebuchadnezzar, a pagan king, who God humbled and restored before receiving his worship.

Throughout the Bible, we see outsiders, foreigners, and outcasts who sought God or cried out to Him and received mercy and blessing. Ruth, a Moabite, and Rahab, a Canaanite—both foreign women—became part of the lineage of Jesus Christ. The people of Nineveh, though not part of God’s own, had their repentance accepted by God. The Canaanite woman whose faith made Jesus heal her daughter, and Cornelius the Roman centurion, who God chose to host Peter and cause a major shift in Christianity.

God is good and His heart is beyond our understanding. He shines His goodness on the righteous and even on the wicked. So if the only reason to count yourself as not one of “His favorites” is because of unanswered prayers, remember God does not practice favouritism. God loves all His children and welcomes all who call on Him. And He responds to all prayers, though not always as we expect. Even if doubts whisper that we don’t belong or we aren’t favoured, we must remember — God loves everyone. He loves the world so deeply that He will not withhold any good thing, especially from those who have chosen Him through His Son.

Life gives us the opportunity to build elaborate facades of our lives, edit the narrative, and carefully curate the persona we want others to see. We can address bad PR or gossip and manage our reputation. We also line up many secrets with the hope to take them with us to the other side. However, the grave is not a vault. It’s a spotlight. Death dissolves every pretence. It lays bare the absolute truth of one’s deeds while alive.

In the silence, the whispers start. The hidden acts of kindness or cruelty, the true nature of character all get poured out into the light. Who one claimed to be is forgotten, who one was becomes public legacy. No chance to defend oneself. The only verdict that matters is the one written by the life actually lived.

We do ourselves a great disservice by placing our hope and trust in anything on this earth. No person, no human institution, nothing on earth is perfect. Only God is truly holy and perfect. It is time we stopped placing our ultimate faith in human titles and realize that only God deserves your absolute trust.

Life presents those moments where the easiest thing to do is to run and hide in a “mountain,” which could be a person, a new city, or a job, until it’s safe to emerge. David knew these moments too well. When his friends urged him in Psalm 11:1 to, “Flee like a bird to your mountain,” David’s response was: “In the Lord I take refuge.” David chose not to hide in a mountain for safety, but to find his help in the Lord. He knew that the greatest security will never come from the mountains, but from the God who made them.

Psalm 121:1-2 reminds us that while the hills may be the first thing we look to for help, our focus must be lifted beyond them to the Lord

“I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth.”

The hills represent the places we run to for comfort—people, possessions, or plans. But even the most stable mountain can crumble. Only God remains unshaken. Have you ever been in a place where you expected or trusted someone or something to save you from a crushing life moment, and they failed? The disappointment and heartache is evidence that our hope must be placed entirely in God, allowing Him to be our help

Isaiah 31:1 warns us not to place our trust in nations or horses or chariots or in the great strength of their horsemen, but to seek help from the Lord:

“Woe to those who go down to Egypt for help and rely on horses, who trust in chariots because they are many and in horsemen because they are very strong, but do not look to the Holy One of Israel or consult the Lord.”

Relying totally on God doesn’t mean pretending life is easy. It means acknowledging that without Him, we can do nothing and with Him, we lack nothing. It also means reminding ourselves that we are not entitled to help from any human being or institution; rather our eyes must be fixed on the Lord for help. God will come through for us, sometimes even through strangers, the atmosphere, animals, and in ways we could never imagine.

Initially, I was quick to judge the Israelites for sacrificing their children to the god Molech. It seemed an incomprehensible and despicable act. However, with humility, I’ve come to see myself in their story. We are all human, and it’s a position of pride to believe we are somehow better than the characters in the Bible. Modern-day idols may not be physical sculptures, but they are just as powerful. They are the mindsets, values, and desires we place above God.

I’ve been asking God to reveal my own idols—the things I’ve willingly, and sometimes unconsciously, put before Him. Just like the Israelites, we don’t just worship these idols; we also sacrifice our children to them. This isn’t a literal sacrifice but a symbolic one. It means we sacrifice those things that are meant to be blessings to our lives and our bloodlines on the altars of our own self-made gods.

For me, one of the most persistent idols is societal acceptance. I’ve often found myself performing acts that don’t reflect my faith, such as choosing not to pray before a meal in public, just to avoid social discomfort. In those moments, I’m sacrificing the valuable act of blessing my food for the approval of others.

The Israelites sacrificed their children to Molech because they had forsaken God and deemed Him unworthy of worship. Similarly, we sacrifice our children—our own blessings and the blessings of others—to gain what we truly value. This might look like:

• Pushing our children toward careers that have nothing to do with their God-given purpose, simply for the sake of social status or respect.
• Remaining in toxic relationships or environments that cripple our spiritual growth because we are afraid of losing the status they provide.
• Refusing to rescue others from destructive situations because doing so would mean abandoning our own idols, even if it leads to their ultimate harm.

Ultimately, idolatry is choosing to be true to our self-made gods rather than what God desires for us. It’s a sobering reminder that we are all capable of putting something—or someone—before Him.

One of my favourite animated films is the 2016 American movie Sing. I love Sing not only for its music but also for the deeper message it carries. The film’s main character, Buster Moon—a determined koala—wants to save his beloved theater from closing down. The theater holds sentimental value for him because it was a gift from his father.

To save it, Buster comes up with an idea: a singing contest. Many twists and turns follow, and in the end, the contest cannot go ahead because the theater literally falls apart. But here’s the catch: what begins as a koala’s desperate quest becomes, for each character chosen for the contest, their own personal journey. Every contestant faces unique challenges, yet Buster’s idea brings them together, inspiring each to confront their struggles and reach their potential.

I’ve watched this film several times, drawn to both its music and the meaningful values it shares. But what I love most is this: even if an idea begins with me, it can become a spark for others—a chance for them to step into who they were meant to be. Even though the contest never took place, Buster found a tribe that helped him save his theater, and all of it happened because he pursued his idea despite discouragement from his only friend.

Sing reminds me that even when my ideas don’t materialize as I envisioned, or don’t deliver the answers I hoped for, pursuing them can still set off a chain of events and connections that lead me—sometimes by another path—to the destination I was meant to reach.

God has a way of calling people with no experience to projects and missions of great generational impact and importance. While the world requires experience for jobs and tasks, God operates differently. He recruits inexperienced people to handle tasks for which they have no prior training.

Often, our response is no because we focus on ourselves, our circumstances, and our skills, when we should be focusing on Him. We allow fear to cripple us, and we count ourselves out, detailing our disqualifications.

One thing we forget is that when God calls us, He does so because of Himself and His plan; it’s not really about us. Also, He doesn’t do things half-heartedly, or have incomplete projects or purposeless things. Everything He starts, He completes successfully! Everything He does has generational implications for His plans for us.

Our calling requires us to place our focus on Him and be assured that He will equip us with the skills, wisdom, and knowledge we need to accomplish those tasks. It’s a matter of trusting the One who called us instead of trusting ourselves. We have to walk into those terrifying places and tasks with one assurance: that He who called us will accomplish the task through us as we place our total hope in Him.

Sunday is Mother’s Day, a remarkable day to ponder and be grateful for the wonderful sacrifices mothers make. 

This time, I have chosen to dwell on just one of the many skills my mother taught me years ago that is still relevant for my daily life: cooking ☺️.

I am grateful to my mother for deciding to teach me how to cook and for successfully passing this skill on to me.  

Growing up, I often took for granted the many things my mother taught me or tried to teach me. Perhaps I assumed it was simply a mother’s default mode to impart wisdom.

Adulting, parenthood and life, however, have taught me some profound lessons. It is one thing to wish the best for your child, another thing to set goals to do the best for them and a totally different thing to put in the consistent effort, sacrifices and finances required to support your child in becoming the best he or she can be. Furthermore, it is another challenge altogether to have a child who is receptive to being guided and molded by their parent in the way the parent believes is best. 

Cooking is a fundamental life skill. That is why I am so thankful that my mother shared the knowledge she gained from her mother and her education with me. I believe she passed it on with the best intentions, hopeful that someday I would be able to use it to take care of myself and my family. 

It would be a complete lie if I said I had been an easy student for my mother, always listening and obeying. Mind you, gentle parenting was not a thing during my childhood days. My mother is a Ghanaian mother, with zero tolerance for disrespect and ingratitude. Sometimes I thought my mother was only using me to make her life easier, like making me do kitchen chores and cook for the entire family. Later, however, I realized it was a simple art of nurturing taking place. 

Cooking is much more than just mixing ingredients together. It cultivates an abundance of skills: planning (meal planning, choosing ingredients, budgeting, shopping, etc.), creativity and experimentation, problem solving (like ingredient substitution and adapting recipes), self-sufficiency, patience, resilience — the list goes on.

My mother provided an environment where I learned to try, fail, and try again and again. The first time I cooked for my family, I attempted rice and beans, a total experiment and disaster! What I learned that day was simple: beans take a much longer time to cook than rice. It is best to soak and cook the beans separately first. Even after serving my family that memorable dish of hard beans and overly soft rice, I was still allowed back into the kitchen. There, I continued to learn, experiment, fail some more — burning dishes, setting napkins on fire, breaking plates, serving saltless food, and overcooking meals. Yet, through it all, she persisted with her patient guidance.

That is why, today, I choose to thank God for her and for teaching me how to cook. Though my mother never used a cookbook, her method was more heart and people centered, freely passing on to me many valuable skills, all packaged within the art of cooking.  As I reflect on the lessons my mother imparted, I realize that this gift of hers to me was far greater — a foundation of resilience, love, and independence that continues to help me every day.

This Mother’s Day, I celebrate not only the meals shared but the lifelong skills and values she lovingly passed on, shaping who I am and who I strive to be. For that, I am endlessly grateful.