ON HEAVENS PATH

I looked up.

Observing two pilgrims on their journey ato heaven.

The one.
Saddled with a heavy load of care.
Care for the pleasures of the world.

His eyes stopped looking unto his redeemer.
Rather, he cared more about other people's views on his faith.

There he moved,
Huffing and Puffing.

His heart heaved.
His legs wobbled.

Then, I saw him fall.
Alas!
He could no longer carry his Christianity.

Lying under the weight of the load,
Evil hands extended from the shadows,
Dragging him back to the depths of sin.

Oh how his cry broke my heart
For the chief adversary had added seven more demons to the first that beset him.

I saw the second pilgrim

He too had his load of care.

Upon the hill of calvary.
At the foot of the cross,
He dropped his load.

A wise man he was,
For He could now run without any encumbrance.

He sang as he kept walking.
Inspired hymnals of victory came from his lips.

His eyes never stopped beholding the book of law.

By day,
The sun provided light for his meditation

By night,
His lamp lacked no oil, for he was a man of prayers.

Yet,
He had a flaw.
Pride was his Achilles heel.

Having walked a huge distance in the journey.
Having experienced much of his lords goodness.
Having overcame and cast out much demons.

With each deed,
Seeds of pride grew.

Like Moses,
The seed of anger bore fruit.

Like Saul,
Sacrifices became a better option to total obedience.

Like Eli,
His eyes dimmed to observe the little foxes that came to spoil his vine.

With all these,
The gifts of the spirit never left him.

Oh those gifts given without repentance.

Poor pilgrim never knew,
That the gifts presence could not guarantee his state of salvation.

Having weakened his defenses,
A Little demon came the pilgrims way.

Like Goliath,
The pilgrim Chuckled.

'He would be quick in casting the runt back to the bottomless pit'.

Like Samson,
The pilgrim arose,
His head bald,
His strength gone.

Like the seven sons of Sceva,
The little demon beat the pilgrim senseless.

Grabbing the pilgrims leg,
The demon began to drag.

Dragging him back to the dungeons to be chained up once more.

Like the prodigal son,
The pilgrims senses came back.

Like the mourning David before the prophet Nathan,
He cried out for mercy.

Like the king of Nineveh,
He draped a sack cloth of humility over his head.

A warm glow began to permeate the pilgrims body.

His saviour had forgiven him.
His amazing grace would not let the pilgrim go.

Like the Samaritan pilgrim,
He was carried and made whole again.

Thrusting the staff back into the pilgrims hands,

With a meek voice,
The Saviour said
*DO BETTER NOW MY CHILD*
#BASHORUN

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