The Parable of Lamentations


Now there was a certain king of great authority who commanded the worlds. In one of his domains, an insurgent group arose. Their mission was to destroy the works of the king through every means possible. The ultimate target was the crown prince. The prime strategy was to the prince about his true paternity. If the prince doubted his paternity, he would desert the path of kingship. Then, there would be no heir to the kingdom, the kingdom would be without leadership – ultimately, the worlds would be destroyed and the insurgent would reign in wickedness.

As part of the training in preparation for assuming kingship, the time came for the prince to proceed to a distant land. Direct tutelage by the king would continue via a special radio chip embedded within him. Now, the insurgent executed rapid attacks on the prince’s spirit, soul and body.   Wielding subtle instruments of deceit and cunny suggestions, they attacked the prince’s vision, hearing and speech so that his frequency gradually shifted further and further away from the wavelength of the radio. So, messages from the control tower were sometimes unheard, not clear, mis-stated, wrongly envisioned . . . As time passed, the enemy attacks were more abrasive, the prince more confused, the aged king deeply pained (but maintaining very strong radio signals all through).

Alas, the prince had been brainwashed about his true identity; amnesia had somewhat set in; vision was impaired; memory faded, hearing injured and speech discordant. A strange phenomena was happening. As the Prince’s amnesia deteriorated, shackles and prison bars sprung up to incarcerate the prince; further constrain him, to explore only the limitations of the small space. The king’s efforts to awaken the prince were mis-interpreted by the Prince.

The time to return was near, the king must hand over authority – the kingdom cannot be left without a king.

Nature lifted up a dirge. Climates embraced a virulent dance of the end. Earth rebounded with an agonizing cry. Heavens shed scalding tears of sorrow. Universe rose and fell on oars of harrowing misery. Wilds wept; oh how scourging were their tears, how they wept. Oceans wailed in tempestuous surges of waves. Boulders quivered in frightful distress. The enemies derided so that the worlds and all that dwelt therein were like puppets on the strings of their wickedness. Dusk set while it was yet day. Scales of calamity brewed on the horizon of cosmic catastrophe.

Wars and rumours of war! Senselessness! Waste! Carnage! Kings without kingdoms; comrades without companionship; swords without edges; salt without saltiness; light without illumination; gold without lustre.

Hhheeeellllppppppppp! Arise and defend! Oh, weep for the state of the Estate. Hhheeeellllppppppppp!

The estate; Angels would have given anything to be in on this! The beauty fades (?!) when the glory should be greater each day!? Alas, who will redeem the Estate?

Is all lost? Is the end here? Has the Giver of the Estate hidden behind thick clouds of heavenly praise so that He cannot hear us? Have our sins layered an atmosphere that freezes our shouts of pain and the cries of our hearts so that He cannot hear us? Did Elohim not create us to rule like Him? Did He not give us all things that pertain to life and Godliness? Did He not design us all with His very frame and infuse us with His very breathe so that; as He is, so are we in this world? What is the genesis of this anathema? What breeds this endemic paradox?

How have we come to accept the lethargy and lack lustre disposition that saunters aimlessly from “whatever will be” to “will be”? How did we end our journey to the promised land of Canaan in the deceptive valley of mediocrity where faith, patience and deferred gratification have been stowed in life imprisonment? Who will deliver us from the warlords that ravage our minds with enticements of quick wins in place of lasting destiny wins? Who will free our souls from task masters that bully us to despitefully muddy highly priced talents rather than embrace our true God-selves?   

Perhaps now, the sobriety of mind will permit light to admit truth. The answer to the question posed in Romans 8:31 is YOU!

Are we not like that crown prince who lived less than his innate capacity because he was confused about his identity? The identity of our God is forever settled. Our identity and capacity is established in who He is.

But, do you know your God? Do you know who you are? If only you stay resonant to the Holy Spirit bequeathed to you; then in the future to come, you can become! Daniel 11:32b


About Author

Iyedele Oyedepo-Bolaji is passionate about imparting lives postively through the written word of God. She blogs at She is a happy wife and a joyful mother.

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