In every season of abundance—when music pours through nightclubs, when diamonds clink in champagne flutes, when the glitter of modern life dazzles like divine light—there exists a parallel world. A world not less real, but far less seen.
As capitalist empires grow ever more intoxicating, the dispossessed groan beneath their glitter. We live in a time of spiritual amnesia, forgetting that we were made not for profit—but for purpose, for people, for planet.
This is not a call to guilt. It is a summons to conscience. To awaken to the sacred truth: There are now more than eight billion human souls on Earth. And every one—yes, every one—is a reflection of Creation.
My own journey has carried me through the slums of the rejected—“over there,” as I call it. From the alleyways of Accra to the forgotten corners of Europe, Asia, and Australia, I have witnessed poverty not as a statistic, but as a sacred wound. I have seen disease eat through dignity, and exclusion masquerade as order. Yet even in these places, I have seen the divine flicker—in the eyes of a child who shares their last meal, in the hands of a mother who prays over dust.
As we gift gold, diamonds, homes, candy, cards, and drinks to our loved ones, As we delight our children with Coca-Cola and comforts, Let our hearts stretch wide enough To hear the cries whispered in the wind—from far and near:
- Souls with no place to call home
- Souls crying for clean water
- Souls begging for shelter and dignity
These are not statistics. They are sacred stories. The poor. The oppressed. The peasant who tends the soil with tenderness, ensuring the survival of the human race.
Even in their poverty, they steward Creation with reverence. Even in their exclusion, they sustain the abundance we mistake for entitlement.
And here lies the inner parallel: Just as we decorate our homes with care—choosing colors, arranging furniture, lighting candles—we must also decorate our inner lives. This “inner decorating” is not vanity, but sacred necessity. It is the intentional cultivation of compassion, humility, and justice. It is the rearrangement of our spiritual furniture to make room for the stranger, the wounded, the divine.
When the music fades and the gifts are unwrapped—will we hear the wind’s cry? Eight billion souls. One sacred image. One call for justice.
Before you drink. Before you dance. Pause. Some have no home, no water, no shelter. Created equal. Treated unequal.
A gospel for the forgotten: Creation is for all. Listen. Heal. Act.
And what shall we say of Creation’s image on Earth? Not confined to palaces or pulpits, it beats in the broken and blooms in the bruised. To desecrate a soul with exclusion, exploitation, or neglect is to deface the sacred itself.
We must remember: Creation is not reserved for the powerful. It is a sacred body of Creation—an abundant table set for all humanity. A place where justice is not charity, but covenant.
Let peace fall like rain upon all creatures. Let the wounds of the broken, the discarded, the hated be healed— Fully, tenderly, and eternally.
For One and All. In one Creation.
Inner Decorating: A Blueprint for Sacred Activism
We live in a world obsessed with exteriors. We polish our floors, paint our walls, curate our wardrobes. But what of the soul’s interior? What of the sacred rooms within?
In my travels “over there”—through the slums of Accra, the alleyways of Delhi, the forgotten quarters of Sydney—I have seen homes made of tin and prayer. I have seen beauty born not of wealth, but of resilience. And I have come to believe: the most urgent renovation is not architectural, but spiritual.
Inner decorating is the sacred act of preparing the soul for justice. It is the rearrangement of our moral furniture—the clearing of ego from the hallway, the dusting of compassion on the mantle, the hanging of humility where pride once stood.
This is not metaphor alone. It is method. A blueprint for sacred activism:
The Living Room of Listening
- Where we welcome stories not our own
- Where we sit with discomfort and let it teach us
- Where silence becomes sanctuary, not avoidance
The Bedroom of Restorative Truth
- Where we lay down inherited prejudice
- Where we dream of equity, not dominance
- Where we rise each morning committed to repair
The Kitchen of Courage
- Where we stir the pot of protest
- Where we break bread with the marginalized
- Where nourishment is shared, not hoarded
To decorate the inner life is to make it hospitable to dignity. The sacred pulse that beats in every refugee, every prisoner, every peasant farmer who sings to the soil.
Let us not confuse spiritual growth with spiritual escape. Creation does not dwell in gated gardens, but in the compost of our contradictions. In the cracked walls of our conscience. In the sacred mess of becoming.
Ancestral Echoes
“The ancestors do not sleep. They walk with us, whispering truth into our silence.” — Akan proverb
“When the Orisha walk among us, they do not ask for temples—they ask for justice.” — Yoruba wisdom
“Anyone who has ever struggled with poverty knows how extremely expensive it is to be poor.” — James Baldwin
Let us renovate with reverence. Let us decorate with justice. Let us make our inner lives beautiful enough to house the whole world.
The post Reclaiming the Sacred in a World of Disparity first appeared on Dissident Voice.
This content originally appeared on Dissident Voice and was authored by Sammy Attoh.