Skip to main content

Bridges

I've been reading Leviticus using the app called Read The Word which is associated with The Bible Project. The animations are great, they help create a picture of what things looked like in Biblical times.

I don't have much to write at this moment, but I know that it must have been hard to keep the statutes laid out for the Israelites- truth be told, I have a problem understanding them, let alone following them.

God shows the Israelites how Holy He is. He tells them that He wants them holy too. Sin must be purged out from their midst. As I read those weighty chapters, I pictured myself amongst the Israelites listening to the words of Moses reading God's commandments.

Maybe I would have been attentive, taking detailed notes, or maybe I would be gazing into the wilderness wondering where this much talked about land of promise is. But I know for sure that I my heart would be heavy, weary and tired from wandering, wondering how I could possibly be holy as God had commanded.

You see, if I were there, it may have felt like this: the wilderness starts to look more vast, and the promised land seems more distant and I begin to get a sinking feeling. The burden of keeping these commands is heavy on me, and the ground beneath my feet struggles to hold me up. Now, there is water gushing through the cracks in the ground, collecting and morphing into stormy seas. The skies are grey and the waves are crashing hard. This promise land seems so unattainable and there is no way I can get there. It's all too much for me to bear.

"Come unto me all you labour and are heavy laden, Come find rest for your souls"

That's the first call I need. It's Jesus, God's Son, calling me to Himself to walk over the raging sea. He is here just at the right time to save me.

Jesus builds a bridge over the stormy waters to the promised land.


Psalm 32:6 Therefore, let all the godly pray to You while there is still time, that they may not drown in the floodwaters of judgement.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Prologue- Memoirs of A Skilled Hunter

Dawn was drawing close. The gentle breeze came as a consolation, symphatising with the wild for bearing with the downpour that befell the night. This time, the predator walked along an unusual path, the rays of sun bouncing off the shy green of wet leaves providing a source of illumination to its glowing eyes. It had spotted prey and now it was calculating the next move... I hadn't seen her in ages. I watched intently as she made her way towards me, her hips swinging graciously from side-to-side, her movement emphasized by the frills on her flowery gown, accentuating her hourglass figure. It's been 10 years since I last saw her and it seemed every part of her body, visible to my eyes, had been renovated in heaven time and time again. She had become much more attractive, she was beautiful. The predator studied its prey. Well-hidden by the shadows cast by the tall fruitless trees, it was being careful. Avoiding every broken b...

Uni: Me, Mini-me.

Today is Thursday. I'm dreading the night mainly because of the aftermath- a very messy kitchen, quite smelly corridors and grumpy cleaners. My first semester of Uni, I must say, wasn't at all what I had anticipated. I remember coaching myself mentally, preparing for the hard times to come, having an escape plan in case of a metaphoric fire and a Plan B if that didn’t work. Anyway, as it happened, my plan B wasn't well premeditated, lacking enough detail to guide me through smoky situations. All it had inscribed on it was “RUN”. Thursday nights are Mercy Nights- when students get free entry into an over-hyped nightclub. As that isn’t my cup of tea, I tend to stay indoors, watching a movie or trying to catch up with work- the latter being more frequent. The reason I dread these nights is because my flatmates have a pre-party, a chaotic one, where over 10 people squeeze into our kitchen, blast the music through the roof and scream at the top of their lungs in chants for ...

SimPerfection

Simulated Perfection. A little boy kicked his red mud-stained ball towards me. A little too high the kick was, as the ball bounced off my right knee, leaving a stain that was conspicuous. He ran up to me giggling, a very boisterous one, like he had no clue what he had done. He pointed to the ball, still inattentive to the frown that had formed on my face, which had on it clear signs of tiredness. Before he could say anything, I picked him up and spun him around, his little feet hanging high, drawing wide circles in space. "Mummy, Mummy!" The little boy's older sister ran out of the house to give me a big hug. I dropped him on the ground and squeezed them both tight in a warm embrace. I had missed them and it was obvious that they had eagerly awaited my arrival. Joseph, my 4 year old boy, gave me a slightly wet kiss on my cheek and Deborah, a very smart 7 year old, wasn't slow in noticing the stain on my knee. I exp...