THE MORDERN-DAY VASHTI~ a ghanaian preaching poet

This man, you promised an unfailing love,
This man, you held a finger and said till we depart,
This was the man you were willing to share the intimacy of love with,
This man, you promised submission with Respect
Love and Service,
A home with Peace,
A quiet and gentle Spirit following his lead,
With a passionate kiss before the altar,
In the presence of thousands,
God and His enumerable angles,
But what happened, Vashti?
That among the countless glance you stole from your mirror about yourself,
You paid an indepth attention to one,
Took a huge bite of deception,
Into thinking that your beauty was forever,
And a glue to the mercy seat that none can take your seat,
Who told you?
That your way into that man's heart was through your indian remy, lippos and huge layers of buttocks,
And not the Grace of this merciful God!
There were thousands with character,
Several with desparate hearts of humility with noble royalty,
Who would have fit perfectly, this royal opportunity,
But even in your pride, you were the golden choice,
Because partiality is not with this God who would favour the humble and leave the proud
He loves all, tolerates all but gives time unto repentance,
But you never changed, Vashti
You looked high above your head and noticed the hallo of the nations Glory glowing around you,
You suddenly noticed your intelligence,
And your beauty-influenced confidence,
And suddenly bred yourself from the Beijin Equality perspective.
Instead of adding words of kindness to the kings greatest decision,
You divided and threw your own bounquet with a separate vision,
Your body and beauty he called to behold in helpless moments,
To defend himself as not worthless,
But that you denied him with offense.
You left him to the mocks of his own people and equals,
And rubbed him off his very armour God enthruste to you;
The helmet of salvation;
To influence his thoughts unto salvation,
The breastplate of Righteousness;
To confront, cut, rebuke anything in him that does not comfort to the image of Christ till he turns the new man,
The belt of Truth;
To keep him intact and upright with love,
The shield of faith,
To help him quench the argument of the evil one in his mind,
But above all,
Leading him with the Laws of Wisdom,
Which to you, is the sword of the Spirit.
Did you know all these, Vashti?
No, I guess not!
The proverbs 31 lady with all her meticulous foolish works,
Was a workload of boredom to you.
But atleast, it earned her praise and a remain,
And what did you earn?
Nothing, but shame and a dethrone.

I wish the thread was not totally cut,
I wish I had a moment with you,
I wish I could advice you,
All I would have told you, is
To go back to the King of Kings, to be restored back to you seat,
When He is convinced with your humility,
That Esther may not take your seat,
But now, I guess its too late!



#a ghanaian preaching poet!