A SALT PILLAR OF LOT’S WIFE

lots_wife_pillar_of_salt

I’m reading a book by Liz Curtis Higgs (if you see her, tell her I love her) titled Bad Girls of The Bible…and what we can learn from them.

She tries to put herself in Lot’s wife’s shoes and gives reasons why she might have looked back…after all, don’t we all have “reasons” for our disobedience?

1) She missed the warning, don’t look back (Genesis 19:17) over the wailing of her daughters.

2) In her grief, she simply forgot the angel’s dire prediction.

3) She was curious (many an act of disobedience have been a result of curiosity).

4) She dropped something and turned to pick it up (what’s that one thing you have that’s soooo valuable, that you’d turn to pick–if you didn’t know you ran the risk of being turned to a pillar of salt?)

5) she tripped over her tunic in her haste.

6) She heard a cry for help and was moved by compassion to look. (Us women and our compassion)

7) She mourned her family and friends, lost to her forever.

8) She longed for all the material things she had left behind. (Maybe a pair of louboutins, or her school leaving certificate… certainly she needed to work in this new city)

9) She clung to memories of the past and dreaded the future (nostalgia maybe… many a time, we’ve felt the need to return to the past, to a place of certainty. I get afraid of the future sometimes)

10) She and Lot had an argument and out of habit, she whipped her head in the other direction… she didn’t mean to look back… it was the devil. (that excuse must have still been in vogue by then).

Lot’s wife (let’s call her Lottie) wasn’t singled out for punishment–“one wrong move and the woman gets it”–but rather, she chose her fate by choosing to disobey the CLEAR command of the Lord. She merely turned to look back but what she saw, the rest of them never knew.

…and she became a pillar of salt. Genesis 19:26

In conclusion, this is not an attempt to make light the consequences of disobedience, or try to play judge in any way. I just want to call out to our conscience. Lottie is a perfect example of how a “little disobedience” can alter the course of our lives forever.

Being removed from her circumstances, it’s easy to accuse her and blame her for disobeying simple and clear instructions. It’s easy to forget our disobedience day in and day out.

God’s actions are a function of His omniscience, omnipotence and all other omnis. We cannot question His judgement because we do not know the half of it. But then, here we are, alive and standing–not as pillars of salt though–because of God’s grace. Let us thank Him every day!

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I am not enough

So I thought we should do some poetry tonight… here goes!

I have so much to say

But my words

They won’t be enough

To say my sweet nothings

To keep you from walking

When you get up to leave

These arms are not long enough

To reach you

Not strong enough

To hold you, to keep you

Smother you…

My eyes do not cry enough

To tell the truth

My tears not wet enough

To drown me, drown us

Keep us in loving memory

When you get up to leave

This heart cannot break enough

To kill me

To pour me out

Bleed me empty

Say the words I never could

I love you, I need you

Please stay,

I’m shit without you

I…

Will not be enough

To keep you

Change your mind…

When you get up to leave


“Only Will” by Richard Ali

Jalada


There’s only will, and this old man
Sitting by a drain, saying he’s sorry
Passport beside him, dressed in rags
Dregs of stories come to haunt finally

There are no time towers in cities anymore.
There’s a clock still beneath the streets.
What does a road want? A Nairobi vagrant
Scarcely ten, had once spoken to him of love

There’s only will, this old man knows
All the road wants are walkers. Stamps
Stories and emphasis are coincidental. Men are
Sorry, always, when they write the story.

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OF LIVING AND DYING

sad-Angel

It is Sunday night, I have had one of those deep thought filled days when you just get back from church and reflect deeply. And I’m reflecting on life… and the end wherein we must die.

Life is not so bad actually, it’s a bit better now with the improved power supply. But as all good things must come to an end, so must life, so must we. The righteous ones are even gutsy enough to say they cannot wait to die and go to Heaven. I try to believe them, so I’ll just speak for myself and speak my truths.

I am worried about death, not in itself but in it’s outcome. I believe in Heaven, I really do. But I also believe in being human, in not being privy to God’s plans. What if after everything, I didn’t do something right? What if I did it all, yet was just not “Heaven material?” These things one can only realize when it’s too late. Indeed, I am afraid of death because there really is no coming back. I am not ready for that kind of finality.

I am worried about grief, about the way people handle death. I’m worried about the people I would leave behind. I want to be mourned thoroughly. I want to be cried for, but I don’t want to be mourned with regret, no, not at all.

I am afraid of the way in which death happens. 1001 ways to die,and death in one’s sleep is just one way… i don’t want to die in one of those ways where people would feel sorry for me even though i have become no more. I don’t want to be shot or have some unfortunate bungee jumping accident where the rope is too long and it just crash to pieces into some rock or something.

I am NOT afraid of death (true, true, true). I am more concerned about the details in the living. A friend of mine (smart young man) once said “All men must die to prove that they have lived”. But what if death just means and end of an existence? What if I never get to live and death comes a few days too early, a few dreams yet realised? What if I never get to live? What if I never get to fall in love, that forceful love that breaks you to pieces yet makes you whole? What if I never get to have good sex? What if I never get to speak in tongues? What if  never have that opportunity to tell my story? What if I end up alone with no one I’m sure will miss me?

What if I die and simply pass away? with no one to tell my story, no one to remember me fondly? no one to leave flowers by my grave every year? What if we all die the way we are born? Not by our choice or information?

All men must die… we all must, we must all. To prove we lived or existed or to prove nothing at all.