remember who you are

4 winters ago in the warehouse...

In 1 Corinthians 2:9, it reads, "But, as it is written, ‘What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him.’"

After a series of questionable decisions, I found myself stretching the last of my savings without a sense of direction. I was lost. I felt low & anxious. Something needed to change, but what? My prayers sounded like pleas. Then something in my spirit said, reach out to my aunt. I thought maybe she would help me out with some money or a job. But no. What she did instead set me on course for something even greater. A new season.

She bluntly uttered, “I’m not going to help you.” The words coursed through my veins and sent a shiver down my spine.

Then she declared, “Remember who you are, Rasharn.”

In a blip, a kaleidoscope of memories scurried from my hippocampus into my neocortex. I had to shift my focus. This felt familiar.

4 winters ago in the warehouse…

I was deep in debt. Seemingly a normal state of affairs for those of us in our 20s, traversing the capitalist system in the Western world. I had moved in with my aunt in the countryside. Greeted with a compact spare room, accompanied by a single bed, chest of drawers, mirror and a framed Psalms 23 hanging above my head. I felt as though I could hear God clearly there. I dressed it with my books, post-it notes and clothing. This was now home.

My aunt was adamant I wouldn’t live with her scot-free and rightfully so. Upon my arrival, she asked me, “What’s the plan?” I had none. The next morning, I made it my mission to find something. I applied for everything (or seemingly so). Then I had a dream; my cousin greeted me and asked me how it was to work in the warehouse. I responded, “cold yet subdued”. So as I awoke, I thought, let me apply for a warehouse job. Within a week, I got it. I guess they needed people, and I needed them. I started working from 6am to 6pm or 10am to 10pm, taking on all the overtime I could each week to climb out of financial problems. Yet, I found myself climbing out of my old self. Instead of being embarrassed about my time there, I embraced it. I opened up and recognised it was a gift. I started singing down the aisles on my forklift, speaking with people about faith, my life as an artist and listening to their stories too. I was inspired again. I mean, after packing over 400 cartons, 3 times per day, inspiration finds you.

My schedule? Acute. I’d write at every moment I could. I even tore cardboard from the boxes so I could get songs or poems down. If I had my mornings, I’d go running and do callisthenics in the park, and if I had my evenings, I’d be at Muay Thai and reading. Weekends were reserved for trips to London for church, the studio and then back again. No social media. To the outside world, I had disappeared. I lost quite a few close friends in this period, which was difficult, but the isolation was necessary. I had been set apart, and God was clearing the way. He was outlining my destiny.

A guardian angel?

I made friends with the most unlikely of characters, and some are still in my life today. Especially a jolly, white-haired, 60-year-old South African man called Robert. We met in the park on a fresh morning. The air was crisp. He was training with his wife, Julie, in the outdoor gym. I was on the bars. He complimented my strength, and this ushered in further conversation. He expressed that he’d just moved to the countryside from SA to be closer to his family, as his grandson had just been born. He went on to tell me he needed a job and that he couldn’t seem to find anything. I suggested the warehouse as they were still looking for people to pick up shifts. It was getting closer to the festive season, so a busy time for any warehouse. He said he would apply, and then we parted ways. Our interaction felt specific.

A few days later, I was starting my shift, picking up my headset and about to capture a working forklift (as most needed an MOT). Upon my entrance, I heard a familiar voice, then I turned around and it was him! There was a 12.5% chance of him being placed on my shift pattern as they alternated constantly, and he was there. We instantly embraced, and he started cracking jokes. From that day forth, we looked out for one another.

During this time, I was learning how to drive. I would go for my weekly lessons, stretching the neuroplasticity of my brain with a mixture of clutch control and gear shifting. Being in London meant TfL was my driver, but this had to change. I needed more practice. There was one problem, though: I didn’t have a car to practice in. Anyway, I kept this to myself and prayed about it. One day at work, Rob and I are eating lunch. He asked me whether I have my provisional license.

I chuckled and said, “Yeah, of course, this is how I’m doing my lessons.”

He then suggested, “Well, why don’t I pick you up at yours before work and you drive us to work, then drive us back home when I have the car so you get more practice?”

I sat there agasp. Who was this man? He was so pure, maybe too pure. A guardian angel? We would drive to work daily, and I quickly advanced. My instructor even noticed within the first week of us driving to and from work. We used our drives to talk about everything outside of work. His family, my heartbreak and most importantly, our relationship with God. I tried to pay him for his time, but he would never take it. So I ended up hiding envelopes of money in his car.

He taught me a valuable lesson; all we need is already in us, and to give is better than to receive. He reaffirmed that where I was is not would not be where I will be forevermore.

Seasons under heaven

“To everything, there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to pluck what is planted” – Ecclesiastes 3:1-2

Many seasons will occur in our lives, and sometimes, our mistakes will repeat themselves. I mean, we’re the ones repeating them. Whenever this happens, I like to ask myself what I did not learn and how I can ensure I remember it this time. There’s a beautiful poem by Portia Nelson called “An Autobiography in Five Short Chapters” from her book entitled There’s a Hole In My Sidewalk: Romance of Self Discovery. This poem depicts what it can take for us to learn our lesson.

I believe life is made up of these trials, and God is testing us to see whether He can trust us with what He has for us, as Luke 16:10 states, “Whoever is faithful with little, will be faithful with much.”

So that season of my life was a necessary reminder for this season. It helped me get back on my feet quicker than before, and usher in systems that provided me with focus and stability. It prepared me for my current season. Spiritually, mentally, physically and financially.

As we journey forward together, I’ll unpack what they are.

“I’m not going to help you”

Well, it did.

God bless. Rasharn.

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