Christian Writer
Some of my earliest childhood memories are that of my Dad preaching of the end times. Wide-eyed, I eagerly listened through the winter nights of the 1980s. I remember stories of Lot’s wife: the woman who looked back, and of fire and brimstone beating down on the city of Sodom and Gomorrah. With a raised…
You are just a wild weed, you little beauty Along the byways of this beaten-down trail You have caught my eye, you little blossom You remind me of the Proverbs 31 woman The wife of the nobleman Who was clothed in fine linen of purple Her children called her blessed and she laughed at the…
Every morning without fail she lugs her wooden chair Although far too big for her she hurls it across the lawn Squinting her eyes to the sky as if she is waiting for something to appear Mumbling to herself in babbles and burbles waving her little fat fingers As if to say I’ll be ready…
Letter 3: From His footstool to His throne My dearest friend, Last night was extremely difficult for you. I sensed your panic as the reality of you never seeing your loved one again sets in. Grief has bored its way so deep into the very core of your being. It has only been a few…
Part 2: Eureka “A diamond on the finger of a man of wit and a pebble in the hand of a fool.” – Joseph Roux I live in a country that is known for its diamonds. South Africa maintains its position as a major diamond producer in the world. Diamonds, natural creations made from carbon, are said…
Letter 2: Life Gear My dearest friend, You have been in my daily prayer, more so on the weekends. The heavy rain and storm over the last few days made me wonder how the disciples must have felt when they found Jesus sleeping on the boat in the middle of the storm (Mark 4:35-41). As…
Part 1: Segullah “You are worthless!” “You are good for nothing.” “Nothing good can come of you”. If these are the words that are shouted at you or if these are words that you say to yourself, then this abuse needs to stop now. The common idiom, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, is…
Letter 1: Keeping House My dearest friend… I have flashbacks of our childhood, the days where we played house with your tiny red metal toy pots, which I so loved to play with. Do you remember your toy stove and the little plastic silver teaspoons? It feels like yesterday, doesn’t it? While I harvested weeds…
Who is that? Twisted fingers, pointed, raised She comes out of that barren place Foul-mouthed, unscrupulous words Drops of silence and everyone stares Gaping-eyes feasting hungrily they scramble into herds whining in disarray How did she get out? Who is that? She cometh from that desert place She is unscathed yet she bears the scars…
I watch and I wait Rocking in the hum of His grace Cover me, cover me, Lord! I am weak, shaken by the words of raging wars I bow and I bend Creaking under the weight of fiery words Cover me, cover me, Lord! I can smell the smouldering of burning arrows I…