“Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children. And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.” – Ephesians 5:1-2 The call to imitate God sounds impossible. Yet, just as a small child imperfectly mimics a parent’s actions, disciples of Jesus copy him. […]
That’s a lot of kidneys, eyes, livers, stomachs, thigh bones, where did they put it all, and what religion did they follow anyway!. Well, we are all influenced as they say. The pastor leading the group of children through the tour of the Death Camp, hesitated, he didn’t have an answer to the young girls question. Could he say for sure, they were ours, or was it their’s. Solomon was reflecting on the power of forgiveness, and wondered if any lessons had been learned. There were still those within the church, trying to stifle argument and learning, their ways embedded in the past. He imagined the thoughts in all the young heads, wondering if they joined the dots; What they were looking at was, the remains of extremism mixed with religious fundamentalism gone awry, aided by the growth of new technology.
Maybe if there had been more women in the upper hierarchy of the church, more compassion would exist, something the victims would never be able to find out. Solomon saw efforts to direct his thoughts, that were man made. Regardless, what had to be said, would be said, amen. In the papers, the media was hawking stories of those with influence, who had gone astray. If you were poor they didn’t intervene, unless you did something so gross, that it would be of interest to a large audience. Six million in the furnaces, 50 million overall, trying to hang individuals, seemed out of sync, amen.
When you encounter the Holy Spirit, there is no hiding place. Solomon sighed, time to admit the mistakes and hopefully learn.
How can they cope she said, it’s all credit, the two friends were sitting in a cafe, retirees, their usual afternoon chat, one of the grand children was immersed in debt, so the friend shared. He sighed, the older of the two, I don’t know what has them this way. He recalls the odd jobs he did in college to survive, he goes on, he is a retired doctor. She nods, instant everything these days, she nods, a woman crosses the street, the boob job, they can’t be real, he smiles, I noticed a few all right, the older generation.
Example, was the same as it ever was, followed. Solomon wondered did they notice the signals they were giving out. It wasn’t anything personal, it never is, till it reaches your door, then the great wish I thought differently moment. He was recalling the chat with the old friend, they talked a few yards as they strolled, about the energy of certain places, why there was a depth of sadness in certain towns and places, depression sighed Solomon, not like the old days, when they used to talk. Listening to the older generation was wisdom in action.
if only they listened to Mosses and hadn’t worshiped the golden calf, maybe that was a future lesson, and a warning to all of us, from the older generation, amen.
Impact, the influence we have on the lives of others, the red carpet is prepared so are the plaudits, the camera’s flash, smile, we are great, wow factor, then to be adored once inside the door, bling pretty clean new, the Kings and Queens of the earth, one day Solomon imagined, they would all have to account for their work.
Anger, a close up, the look in the eyes, the language, so grown up, even if meant for very young ears, well we, in a world that was over booked in terms of violence, those reading the script had a role in the matter too. Solomon watched a documentary, and it wasn’t pretty, gruesome, dark, very human and frightening.
The plans to murder, the old resentment never far from the top, Solomon listened, as locals and militia, joined in the murder of so many Jewish People, neighbors and work colleagues, quickly joining in the slaughter of millions, using the old hatred, and the false propaganda to justify their actions, it wasn’t us.
The child is five, maybe six, has to live in a difficult environment, has no place to turn, is emotionally committed, love is what we are born to, it’s the reason for being for all of us, getting along. Exposed to violence and those gadgets, he finds solace in the game that stops him thinking about, it’s how so many addictions are born.
It wasn’t us, what excuse was that, if you are aware of what is happening before your very eyes. Don’t mention hunger, amen. Imagine, God Most High is real.
Are they serious, he reminded himself of the cries twenty years before, the tyrant Mugabe, and the way the country was thrashed, even his Mother was afraid of him, thirty seven years later, a long time to wait for redemption, in the meantime, given credit by the religious authorities, what would Jesus say about Mr Mugabe, well, he was not going to go into that. The individuals who kept him in power object to the wife taking over the estate, meanwhile off shore, the wealth stolen from those who had to endure famine conditions almost, remains his. If anything, it pointed out the real reason for the existence of the off shore fiefdoms. Yeah, they were coming out with Spin, we have standards about where the money is coming from, and we are under the tutelage of the recognized banking establishments, the very same ones who set up the off shore fiefdoms in the first place, rather cute, Robert Mugabe, the Great Greek theft before the fall, the arms traders, and whoever else, all doing their business in the same off shore toilet, rather shitty.
Solomon encountered the Real Spirit, and ever since that day, he had a rule, write it. Yes, we can re write the entire mess, it is up to us all to put our minds to it. amen.
She pushes the buggy, she’s a young mother, it has not been easy, the windows she passes, she can see but can’t afford. The boy she pushes is her two year old son, his father is a delinquent, he has left them both. The money in her pocket will feed them for a few days, cheap pizza from the discount store, sugary biscuits and a little extra, not much more. Across the street, a stranger watches, he has been sent to help, they know she is in trouble. A vulnerable young woman and child is seen as easy prey to the evil mind, easy to coerce and control. She moves on, her smile is pursed, the child giggles, they pass the sweet shop, the boy cries out, she reverses, she can’t afford it but she tries. God Most High watches, 25 trillion off shore and the same again in other places. She feels the coins in her jacket, it was the money for the milk. They enter the shop, she stands before the display, the stranger enters, bumps into her, has gentle eyes. Nice boy he says, looking at the child, the eyes light up, the boy begins to laugh, the mother is surprised, she does not often see him like that, all lit up. You dropped this he says, with a knowing smile. She can read his thoughts, really she asks, he nods again, he never forgets he says. That smile is worth billions to the boss, every time he see’s one, something good happens.
We are going to have a treat today she says out on the street, while junior plasters his face with some sticky sweets, yeah says the kid, now we are really living mom
The manicurist is extra careful, the last time she missed a nail, Miss Celeb let out a scream that could be heard on the east coast, well, imagine it, okay, it could have been the east coast of Russia, Japan, whatever, the naff terms we dish out. There is a photographer waiting for her outside, well, it’s her daughters first official snap shot. She doesn’t
wants the child to be overwhelmed, imagine, a hundred photographers rushing to take your image, what, that stuff in the past was reserved for war criminals usually, things have changed, and fear of people has fallen among the celebrity set since they can afford security, there is always the paycheck. Why would she want it any other way, it’s cash, plain and simple.
Solomon wondered, was it the role of children to protect their parents or was it the other way around. He thought about it, when they are strong and firm of mind, they tell you what to do, when your weak, they tell you what to do. It almost sounded like the law of the jungle. It still was hard to get a grip on; putting your children into the limelight with so many unsound people around. Blame the agent i suppose.