When I first met her,
I was greeted by innocence. They called it naivety but I thought otherwise; it
was just a flare of purity. She wore clothes, in the very sense of the word in
that her body was always completely covered, giving no room for a lustful look
at her posterior. Her conversations were always pure and true, rarely engaging
in quick chats (what they call gossip), but firm as a reed in defense of her
faith.
There were things that
you downright knew she wouldn’t do, like don’t even bother asking what she did
over the weekend because it was the same old routine: church, church and more
church. It was a church meeting, or a training … at church, or picking up books
from… yeah church.
She was passionate
about her Master’s work, seldomly giving excuses. She was willing to spend and
be spent.
That is the girl I
met, knew and grew to love.
But life came and
taught her otherwise. That ‘you need to work hard’ was welcome advice until
hard work became the order of the day… leaving little or no time for anything.
She was then taught
about the beauty of appearance; not that she wasn’t beautiful before, but
somehow she was now being taught that she needed to go an extra inch to look
the part; a few brows out, a little make-up on, and before anyone knew it, her face
completely changed, from once natural beauty to ‘I can’t live without my
make-up’ kind of girl.
Oh and her dresses
became shorter too, struggling to reach near the knee. Parts that for long had
been a mystery begun to show openly, like at a market square.
Busy about her
Master’s work still? Ah no, new excuses begun to be invented.
“Sphere of influence!”
She argued. It sounded pretty cool, everyone liked the idea but little did they
know that she was beginning to sound and look like everyone else.
Her conversations
changed, so did her way of spending her free time. There was no longer a stark
contrast between she and them. It was even the more difficult to tell apart what
she would or wouldn’t do.
I looked at the new
girl that stood in front of me, and I knew in my heart of hearts that this is
not the girl. She is not the one whose innocence made it like heaven to be
around, she is not the girl who left me mysteriously wondering how and why she
was this dedicated, she was definitely not the girl who slowly crept into my
heart and set my soul on fire.
And so with tears in
my eyes, I sat her down and said:
“I know you want the
good life, we all do. I know you want to be loved, we all do. I know you want
to be accepted, and as much as I sound like a broken record, we all do. But not
in this kind of way. What happened to my little girl, the one who took pride in
who and what she was? What happened to the girl who gracefully carried the
modesty tag? The success you are enjoying has become the sponge that is slowly
rubbing off your faith and grip on God.”
“You are now making
excuses and being apologetic about things you never compromised on. You are no
longer the girl! It’s a slow fade when black and white turns to gray!”
See, we have been led
to turn away the fountain of living water and then hewn for ourselves broken
cisterns that do not hold water. And so we thirst but only vinegar is available
to us. But unlike the Son on the cross, we don’t turn away but gulp the vinegar
down our throats and call it the best drink we’ve ever tasted.
But no, there is a
chord, a sound in my ear that is calling me deeper. This is not what He meant
by abundant living. The command was to seek ye first, then the rest will be
added, but only after you seek first. Now, it has become okay to run away with
the gifts and forsake the giver; it has become okay to lift up the busy flag
when asked about your devotional life, and no, that is not okay!
And so if you meet my
girl, please tell her this is not you; you are not the girl! You are no longer
living out your purpose or calling; you are not the girl!
To the little girl who
has gotten caught up in the cares of this world; little girl, please come back.
