Innerdialects

My land is a billion+ full of opposed cultures, we are old and young, sweet sour bitter. This morning we are 79 years into a Democracy that’s well- set to a sizzle. We are a collection of differences.

Me, I collect verses from Calenders, in awe of how a verse speaks right off the wall into every day.

Scripture always spoke loud and clear. It spoke from the pages of my Bible, once even off the newspaper headlines! (Yea they all quote the Bible). Today this one spoke to me.👇🏼

Whichever way we are this hour, there’s a Verse that can counter any ! Today I have to visit Gihu who’s been asking to meet since she got her baby. The kid won’t sleep. Just won’t sleep. 9 months old, he won’t sleep. His young Ma Gihu is soft spoken, petite, calm still water. Sometimes we pray together. We talk about how our hearts are temples. She prefers to discuss real estate. So I’m to visit and also check out her new apartment sq.ft sale rates, for reference, “…just in case we have a friend willing to buy a flat in her bldg.” She says. (Phew) Who knows. If I do, she says she’ll get 1.50k, and I can keep some!

Dont want that. I tell her that. And too, I don’t know anyone in need of a flat next to a loud market place, complete with its own temple and auto rickshaw park. She won’t listen. Her eyes fill with Hope (that I’ll get her a buyer). Gihu works as a maid/ cook from7 am to 7 pm. She’s from Tibet, eight rings in both ears, tired eyes but they dance when she talks of how she and her husband just bought a tiny field back home. Here in our city, they live in a sample flat till her husband the watchman gets their living quarters organized by Builder. Complicated.

I tell her Yeshu asks no ritual or fare when we pray. Her eyes glow. A “free” God. What can I say. What would God say? Nothing is free except His Son who died our deaths on a Cross in a physical sacrifice we human pay over and over at bloodied altars. Nah we can’t believe how free- ing the blood of Jesus is. Not till you get it. We and God are opposites, till we know its His pulse in our vein. His breath. How’do I tell Gihu all that in simple words: our accents, language, thought patterns differ. Our needs are the same. We both have children and families we cherish. We both live in harsh times. We are women born off different decades but we know bloodied altars…either in sacrifice of animals, or humans. Our news buzzes with new violence against minorities. Words are not enough, and yet The Word met me this morning, with the Touch of the Fingers of God. I need tell Gihu all this, and that she, too, is the Apple of His eyes, if she will get that

I need to tell That to me too. May what we truly believe, shine out of our own eyes, yea like a light house, swinging in the dark storm or clear sky, till Dawn. The Light pursues, longs, waits for us. Every dawn is another opportunity, Another Call from the Father Who waits, never gives up – waits, waits, sleepless, just for you and me. That Kind of Light never goes out, is never obsolete. It ignores all disbelief. Light plants itself in the darkest corner, It ploughs thru dust and shut door chink, cracks, with zero regard for the opposite culture of darkness. Cuz we’re each created to glow, no matter our disbelief.