THE AFRICAN SAGE

Today, let us wrestle with a profound question: What does it mean to be made in the image of God in an age of artificial intelligence and technology? As we explore this, I invite you to draw from the rich wells of African religious wisdom, where the divine pulses through all creation, from the baobab tree to the human heart. Let’s journey together, blending theology, technology, and the vibrant spirituality of our African heritage. The Imago Dei : Are Humans Uniquely Divine? In the book of Genesis, we read that God created humanity in God’s own image;  imago Dei . For centuries, theologians, from Augustine to Aquinas, have said this means humans reflect God through our minds, our ability to reason, love, and create. As Africans, we might see this echoed in the Yoruba belief that humans carry ase , the divine life-force, enabling us to shape the world with purpose, much like Olodumare, the Supreme Being.    Our capacity to dream, to build communities, to dance and sing...

From where do you rise, O fire in my chest, Unbidden storm that shatters my rest? What fuels your flame, what draws you near? Whisper to me, why you appear? I come from wounds too long ignored, From justice starved and spirits floored. I rise when truth is caged in lies, When silence chokes the rightful cries. But why so fierce, so quick to flare? You scorch the tongue, you burn the air. Is your rage always fit to wield? Why not wait , why not yield? Because I am the cry unheard, The clenched fist behind the word. I am the heat when patience ends, The broken trust that will not mend. I do not choose to be refined I’m born when peace is undermined. Yet look at the ruins your tempest brings Friendships frayed and reckless things. Of what use, then, are you, if pain Is all you leave in your red-hot reign? I am a force, not fate nor law, A mirror held to every flaw. When wielded blind, I fracture ties But channelled clearly, I sharpen eyes. I move the masses,...

I saw you today, strong hands on steel, Pushing weight down a dusty street, Sweat like medals on your brow A silent soldier with tired feet. But brother, do you ever pause to dream? Beyond the load, beyond the day? Do you know there's a wheel behind a screen? That turn fortunes another way? Not all men dodge the dust and sun, Some must toil just to survive. But oh! If you could grasp this truth , That knowledge wakes the soul alive. The line is thin, not etched in stone, Between squalor’s grip and a rising tone. It’s not in muscle, not in might, But how you think, and where you fight. Money's not made by magic hands, It grows where daring men will stand , To package thought, to see a need, To build a system from a seed. Take your handcart, look again: Could it be more than just a pain? Could it deliver more than goods? Could it build empires in your ‘hood? Uber was once just idle cars, Facebook started behind dorm bars. They scaled ideas, they t...