There is no day that I do not have this realization in my heart that I am responsible for the death of some people I do not precisely know. I strongly believe that somewhere, some people have died and even as I write, they are dying and please look no further for the man behind all this evil. I think I may just be responsible.
Are you puzzled and thinking of inviting the police? Well, if it is going to help the matter on ground, I suggest you go ahead, but unfortunately, I doubt if the police will have anything to prove their case against me. Should I, therefore, rejoice that I am responsible for the death of many and without any evidence to incarcerate me? Will I rejoice knowing that my hands are stained with blood, yet these are stains no man on earth will ever be able to detect?
I am writing for all to know of the guilt locked up deep in my heart and I won’t celebrate the fact that there is no physical evidence against me. I want the world to know who I am and although many of you may not be different from me, yet I have this feeling my confession might just help to get some of you stop this evil we commit against humanity.
Are you eager to know what this is all about? I will now reveal my evil deed, but please note that as a Christian, I cannot say much without referring to the Scripture. Although I hate to link my evil life with the Bible, the Holy Book of God, yet in this instance, I cannot help but dig out my life from it.
This is my story:
I once read from Exodus 3, verses 7-11 and there in my heart, God tried and found me guilty of killing a number of helpless people He created. We can do the reading together if you don’t mind:
And the LORD said: “I have surely seen the oppression of My people, who are in Egypt and have heard their cry because of their taskmasters, for I know their sorrows. So I have come down to deliver them out of the hand of the Egyptians and to bring them up from that land to a good and large land, to a land flowing with milk and honey, to the place of the Canaanites and the Hittittes…Come now, therefore, and I will send you to Pharaoh that you may bring my people, the children of Israel out of Egypt. But Moses said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and that I should bring the children of Israel out of Egypt.”
It would be a long story trying to explain how the Israelites ended up in Egypt, but you will recall that the search for food (survival) led them to Egypt. They initially enjoyed the land, but when they did not think of going back to their own land before the Pharaoh who received them died, trouble started.
The newly installed Pharaoh tormented them and for 430 years, they served as slaves to the Egyptians. Eventually God showed up, but not to those in trouble in the land of Egypt, but to Moses, their proposed deliverer, somewhere in a faraway land of the Midianites.
When God got Moses’ attention, after many attempts, I suppose, He told him He had come for the deliverance of His people having seen their afflictions and heard their cry for help. Interestingly, these people, who might have gotten themselves into trouble, were still called God’s people. No matter what name you gave to them, God was not ashamed to identify with them.
It is beautiful to see that God is still seeing His people (wanderers) in whatever terrible situation of life you may imagine them to be. Are you surprised that God is already aware of the unspeakable oppression of that sister? You may choose to call her a prostitute and do away with encountering her with the saving grace of the gospel, but God says, “She is my child.” While she may have knowingly gotten herself into prostitution, because of bread (money), yet she is God’s child. Aba God!
You may keep arguing, but God says, “I saw them being oppressed by sin, poverty, diseases and many other afflictions of life by the devil’s slave masters.” He sees them even as you read and you keep wondering if this has anything to do with you.
In addition to seeing them, He also heard them crying. Can you imagine these people actually crying out to God for help? While I thought they loved their sinful lives, God came out clearly to say: “They have been crying to me all night to be delivered.”
I sincerely thought they loved their chosen circumstances and that they should not be disturbed, but it’s amazing that God is now saying they have been crying; longing for a way out of their predicaments. God added, “They may pretend to be outwardly strong, but they are inwardly empty and indeed very helpless. Please ignore a sinner’s bold face. All na sakara!”
They are still crying, “Lord, please send someone to deliver us. Please let these Christians visit and set us free.” They are still crying even as you read. Will God hear the cry of the helpless and not respond? He told Moses, “I have come to deliver them.”
This is the good news. God intends to stand and deliver His children. The Pharaohs of this age should know that you don’t toy with God’s children and get away scot-free. I was, however, taken aback when I noticed that instead of God personally confronting Pharaoh, He said, “Come now, therefore, and I will send you to Pharaoh…” Send who? Me?
He left His throne, so to say, to deliver His children, but instead of carrying out the deliverance Himself, He wanted to push up Moses as the deliverer. God wanted to confront Pharaoh through a man. If the people would live or die, let us ask Moses. If they would live, he would have to respond and take a quick step, but if they would die, let him simply look the other way. However, while it is easier to look the other way, it’s costlier in terms of the number of lives that would perish.
At this point, kindly permit me to excuse Moses. He is not the one being tried out here. He is long dead and buried, but I am still alive and this is my trial; my story and my burden.
There is no gainsaying that thousands of people are dying around me or within my reach. As a born again child of God (Am I?) and a disciple (Really?) in some proud and lofty settings, I walk around with my head lifted. I am proud of my salvation and too eager to serve the Lord in my restricted place of worship – MY CHURCH! I do all I can to please my Pastor and to make MY CHURCH well-known in town. I am so eager to be known as a child of God in some privileged places.
I observe my quiet time every morning although before God, it is not more than a lousy and noisy time. Not with the manner at which I bother God with my requests will you say it is a quiet time. Instead of standing in the gap for the lost, I’ll rather press God for my undeserved rights. This cannot be anything else to God, but a lousy prayer session.
Yet in all, He kept telling me of the need to arise for the sake of His people in Pharaoh’s bondage. I honestly saw them in their situation, but I didn’t know God had so much interest in them as to hear them crying. They may have been crying for someone to deliver them, but should their survival depend on me? Why should their freedom be my responsibility? I have mine, don’t I?
The other day, someone paid an amount of money into my bank account, but how would I have known the money was an answer to the cry of the poor somewhere out there? I spent the money the way I wanted to and I gave thanks to God for providing it. I even asked Him for more. Hmm!
How was I to know that I got saved because of them? I thought I was righteous; a product of grace and mercy and in this, I rejoiced. I kept away from sin, the obvious ones at least, yet I didn’t realise how sinful it is to live without any consideration for others to enjoy what it is to be in Christ. Is this not a sin of omission? Is my life not a bundle of omissions?
They cried and when God heard them, He handed over to me what they needed to get them freed. There were times He attempted to bring me into the picture, but I faded away too soon. Yet they kept crying. Many cried until they died crying. They died, not because they did not cry for help, but because I did not rise to perform my duty as the help raised up for them. Oh the number of people I have killed with my nonchalant and selfish faith!
“My money is mine. I work so hard to earn a living and I cannot afford to have it spent on a bunch of lazy and unfortunate poor fellows. I cannot speak; I am still a youth; I am not yet standing in faith; I need more time; I want this and that first, etc.” You can add to the list of excuses.
I have unnecessarily postponed their deliverance with my flimsy excuses. However, while we pile up our excuses, let us not forget that they must not cry in vain. While we linger contemplating, they are getting leaner and dying.
Lord, please bring about an end to my excuses. I am sorry for the lives that cried and waited in vain for my arrival. I am sorry that I was too busy to hear them crying. I am also sorry for disappointing you. I felt you urging me to go on, but I didn’t realise you were so much interested in them.
Many are lying critically ill at the hospitals because of my self-centred prayer life. How many more will cry out in vain for help? How long will I continue to have my hands stained with the blood of the helpless and hopeless?
Take a closer look at your own hands; I guess they are also stained with blood. I wish to tell you that someone is somewhere waiting for your arrival. He needs you to survive and please, go and keep him alive. Stand up and step out right away!
Burning Bush Boy