23:55.

Five minutes and I move into a new year. 22. 22. 22. 22. 22. 23.

Am sitting here doing something I've done regularly thus far this year, nursing a cuppa black tea at the kitchen table, laptop facing me, fingers moving to construct the sentences in my head.

I've absolutely no idea what I will be doing on my birthday and whatever it is - even if it's nothing - it's quite fine by me. But instead of getting ahead of time, let me chronicle instead the day that is even now, in the passing.

During July Camp, the Ocfers celebrated some of the July birthdays. Three to be precise, one being mine. Just now, it was July Camp testimonies and sharing session. When the time came for stuff to be wrapped up and the last testimony to be shared, some folks started chanting my name. After a period of looking half-mortified, I got up to share. At the end of what I had to say, as I got up to get back to my spot in the corner, one of the sisters rushed up to stop me. Lights went out, and a birthday cake with four candles appeared as people broke into a chorus of Happy Birthday.

These are sweet folks. And like I told them in my sharing, they are my family.

One of the greatest things about being a Christian is that Christians never say goodbye. Not literally, I mean of course we use the word goodbye like everyone else but we never really say goodbye. I may meet a fellow believer at the other end of the world for a day, and never see the person again but I know I will see him or her one day - when I stand in the presence of Almighty God, with the angels crying Holy Holy Holy, when every tear is wiped dry and every thing is finally perfect.

I never understood the depth of the words "Lord Jesus come" until I stood at a place where I felt God's heartbeat for the lost and glimpse the state of the world and how much we, how much I need God so.

It's 12.20am now. Happy birthday, S k y e T a n.

And that's the first time I type my name in this blog since I moved to this space.

What is this post about?

After the session just now, I was actually thinking I wanted to try to articulate somewhat the experience of July Camp. I did so for Easter Camp and somehow, every thing was really clear then. It's not so for July Camp. There was a night when I walked out to the edge of the forest, look into the trees and up at the sky and silently screamed "Why"; a time when I walked to the ladies after a sermon and in the enclosure of a cubicle, allowed tears to fall as I trembled from emotions welling up from inside of me; when I went to sleep tired physically by the emotions spent in the day.

Then there was the peace that came on me the last day. The indescribable peace of the Almighty, covering me. An assurance - maybe not an answer - was given in the ministry of the Holy Spirit.

The three guidelines I went into camp with were fulfilled in some capacity - I served, I learnt to love, I was humbled.

Every praise and worship session, God's presence was real. So extremely real. And I felt so very much that that was where I belong. This - in the presence of God - is where I belong. My knees bent, doing so as if before I even made a conscious decision to, tears flowed, I can't describe what my heart felt. How I felt. Except that I was surrendered, and that was where I belong. Where I always want to be. Whether praying for others, on the floor, knelt down tears wetting the floor which I was burying my face into, worshipping, listening to the sermon, or observing how God moved among my sisters and brothers.

It was good. Good stuff.

I, we met God.

Spiritually, I felt that I was set on fire in the heavenlies. Fire consecrates, cleanses, prepares the way for a new crop and harvest. Fire burns away the old and unlovely, the things that have cease to bear good fruit, the dead. In the single-digit temperature of Adekate Camp, I was warm. Physically.

And I was empowered and affirmed spiritually. Though I lack the words to tell you what happened or how I know these.

But here's something else I do have more words to employ with. I have never as clearly wrestled with my calling with myself and God. And in this new year, this is what I seek to know - my calling to ministry.

I won't blog now about how I had always felt a call to full-time ministry. But I would say for a while, specifically after I entered into the media industry, it had been hard for me to see it. For the period I was in the paper, I knew that God had called me there at that time. And I know still that the media needs Christians to shine their light in the industry and using the industry as a mean, shine out of the industry too.

To cut a long story short - and cut short the rambles which I am extremely capable of rendering - I have laid down the desire for full-time at the cross.

I do not mean I am giving up my desire to serve full-time. What I mean is that I'm surrendering this to God, to be sanctified and dealt with as He pleases and if He then wills, He will affirm it in me with a fire.

See, I want to be in God's perfect will.

I'm serious. So I will lay bare my heart and lay down my desires. And even in a good thing like wanting to be in full-time, I will say Lord, Your will and not mine be done because at this point, I cannot be sure how much of me and how much of God makes up my previous conviction and (still) current desire for full-time ministry.

Whether I venture back into the "secular" world or I do full-time, it will be hard and easy in almost the same measure. I have desire and love for both. But while I laid down journalism after a short struggle, I know laying down my desire for full-time ministry requires more. But I have made the choice to do so. And I have done so. And unless You convict me otherwise, I won't push for it. But whatever it is, I want to know my calling. And whatever it is, I will serve You.

I'm 23 years old.

I want to know my Maker as I'm known.