Askajian.
We’ve all heard of the demagogue. The village Chief of some far- far away land who robs his people of eating the crops the blue-eyed missions devils planted, in the hopes of fulfilling their commission to live not by faith alone. Trashy kings.
He looks a little different in the U.S. He could be white, black or Asian and be of any ‘gender’ persuasion he/she/it chooses. Holding the keys to the feelings of the restroom police while pandering to the guilt god demanding to repair what which was stolen in the fields of long ago.
The former have dropped us, naked, at the door of the latter, our galactagogue. The milk bearer. The one who tips our heads back to insert a dry, cracked nipple chewed by the countless others left starving on the ‘tit’ of a father never equipped to nurture. The milk soured, we lap up each drop as if it were our last and call him holy. Our savior. Selah. Worshipping at the breast of man. It should not be so.
A nation of people equipped to eat meat, we have exchanged the substantive for liquid and call it satisfying. As a body of believers we were called from the proverbial breast, moons ago. Yet, as awkwardly faithless and fearful adult men and women, we return. Arms outstretched in adult diapers, waiting for him to pick us up and tell us it will all be okay. But we are not okay. We are sick.
Fragmented, we no longer represent the whole. A people whose image waits to be revealed, we look through each other with the screams of anger only hell could offer. The treachery of fear birthed in the loins of abandonment and rejection.
Ah, but it began with us. The turning of our face from the Father of freedom, birthed in order.
Our fathers are not our own. No. we have left our one true love and now seek the face of the one who will pour the milk down our wanting throats in the hopes of saturating one ounce of the hell our national soul perceives. We Burn.
Our walls are down. The gates are crushed and every manner of beast goes in and out. We have become what we were delivered from.
A nation at war. With ourselves. Each other. And the only one who can save us.
Selah.
Monica
2 Comments
Interesting post. Well needed for some of those that are far out there. May it bring some of them home to our Lord.
Seriously though. Thank you. Imagery is a powerful tool. It’s also disturbing at times, to see what our idolatry really looks like in the spirit.