Ode of my Failure; Song of God’s Victory

When God was about to send from Heaven, a fire that would be remembered for all time, He demanded that water be poured on the altar that honored Him. And His servant obeyed, and water was poured until, it overran. If that altar were human, it would be me.

This is my ode, my teary tribute to that altar, and to God Who honors it with His passion. It is also directed at the ones that believe they have control over the outcome of my life. It’s the only way I am allowed to mourn, as I still reiterate the Goodness of The God of my life, God Who remains here all the time.Image

When God called me to serve Him; you looked at me, and in your eyes, I was unfit to serve Him. You were right. There was nothing good about me of myself, but His Eternal Wisdom saw in me someone somewhat like a mirror, with no honor or beauty in itself, except for that of The One that stood before it. You went further to slander my timid assent to follow God – not giving me an alternative route, but simply saying I was not good enough, to anyone willing to hear you out.

I decided you were right – after all I knew myself better than anyone. How could God choose me? I went the way perhaps that would impress you. I went to look for an alternative life…if I could not fulfill the call of heaven, perhaps doing what was natural and in a special way would meet your approval. Besides,  I did not want to soil your fellowship for you. Back then your opinion mattered to me. I had no esteem for me either. So I looked for work outside my ministry call, and God in His Mercy showed me that there was no door on earth, no office He would not open up for me. When I look back to my work at that time, I see an excellence that can only be God’s. Yet…you began to slander me again. Truth was twisted and lies shouted from rooftops; and then it got rougher, meetings were held to make sure that I did not succeed in any assignment, but God kept my eyes on Him, as He won even those battles for me. One time a former colleague who had silently watched commented “Those who fight you in this system are powerful and have powerful god-fathers, but it is evident Vip, that your Father is God.” That shook me…could God still love me? Want me?

So I began to listen to Him again. So much time, so much pain, so much battle both spiritual and natural, so many ‘lost opportunities’, so many shouting that I could not do what I could, and that I should do what I could not if I deemed to be wise. In my endeavors to build a family, I heard the wail of your slander, in my attempts to build a career or to obey God in His call, the siren of slander scared away many who would have stood by me. You made it so, even if I abandoned God and tried to find work, no one in their right minds would take me in. Your influence was tenacious. I often wondered at the deliberate, vehement, emphatic attempts to bury any good that was in me, or that I had done, even in the excellence of God’s work through my life. It was like your very survival depended on my not having existed. And if anyone dared to speak well of me, they risked being bundled into the oblivion you worked towards for me. And yet, God refused to be muted in my life – He continued, in somewhat discreet ways, to send raven with meat for me when me and mine looked longingly at the sand and few shrubs in the wilderness you sent us to, for food.

Then God opened some doors to me, and the ones He led my way to bless me, became an army against His purposes for me. They seemed to say to me, that in order for me to get to God’s intended portion for me, I needed to throw God down from His Throne in my life, and recognise you, my slanderer yet again, as God. They stood before me, barely covering their intent while pretending to help, but like the psalmist I saw in them, those that came to gather slander only to spread about. My life, without God, is nothing. My life in Him is an open book. I saw it for myself. So even as I played your game, a game I had no idea of the rules and moves, and did your work the best way I knew, you stuck knives whenever you saw room in me. I smiled, sometimes cried quietly, sometimes echoed the roar of the Lion of Judah who had found in me, a temple. So the again began the effort of muting God in me. The scorn, the vehemence – the willingness in you to go even to hell itself literally to gather ammunition against me. One day my eyes opened and I looked out for a way, a way to feed my children, a way to educate them, a way to cloth them, a way to house them, a way to raise them higher than me, a way to leave a legacy for them for when you succeeded in burying me – for it seems to me every day, that with all you have been able to achieve in your own life, you eventually would succeed in this. I saw you in every roadway. You stood proudly blocking, proudly spreading your lies, using the little you knew about my life, to create stories that were award winning in their horror, filth, incredibility… And again, anyone who would stand by me, was threatened with oblivion. I smiled, because I was unable to cry anymore. I loved you, thought highly of you, and would never do what you did to me, back to you. I had learnt along the way, that doing so, grafted me among the enemies of God. And I am nothing without Him.

So this week, bowed down, I am again about to give up. The battle has been severe, and I have heard your hatred, the echo of the devil’s heart for me, in your voice, in your counsel, in your attempts to draw me into trusting you again, so that you find out from close up, where to stick your next sword. Many times, I have asked God to take me home so that at least, I am with Him for sure eternally. He asked me “Why won’t you trust Me with this?” I asked Him “What more can I do? Where do I stand? How do I get out of this? Can’t you see the giants that stand in my way? Don’t you know, that whoever stands with me, risks putting themselves and their loved ones in the pit I find myself in? Who will give me a chance?” He said to me “I will. Why won’t you trust Me with this?”

And though it’s the hardest thing to do, especially because I am so worn out with discouragement, feel beaten already, and am almost convinced of what you tried to do with all the great things that God has done through my life, regardless: that I am nothing and have done nothing good; I will trust in God, for those who hope in Him, will never be put to shame. Fire will come from Heaven…and then there WILL BE RAIN once more.

ShalomImage

vipslit@yahoo.ca

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