Dust Drawings

I struggled to free myself of the tight grip on both my arms, pulling me through Jerusalem’s narrow streets. My thoughts whirled wildly, trying to make sense of what had just happened. One moment I had been warm and safe in Eli’s arms, and the next I was being dragged from the bed by men with leering eyes. I turned to look for Eli; surely he would come to my rescue? But there was no sight of him; all I saw were the disdainful glances of people pressing forward to catch a look at me. And I heard a single word rippling through the crowd: adulteress. Continue reading

South Africa’s Big Five

In March I went on a Christian Writer’s Conference hosted by A Rocha and MAI. It was a turning point for me as a writer as I came to realize that, in God’s hands, my writing can be a tool to reach others with His message of love and salvation. This was where I heard about MAI’s writing contest with the theme “Blogging for Global Impact.” There were several question prompts to kick off your 300 word entry, one of which was “Why is it important that more Christian authors in your country write and get published?”

This is my entry called “South Africa’s Big Five.” Continue reading

Follow Me

I bend down and feel for the money bag at my feet. It’s heavier than normal for this time of the day. I’ve had the usual quota of ‘poor harvest’ stories, of course, but generally people know I mean business. Pay your taxes or suffer the consequence, that’s my motto. There’s the odd person who comes in and tries to play the ‘we grew up together’ card. Yet, I always remind myself of how they treat me once I leave this booth. To them I am the scum of the earth. Continue reading

Interruptions

Recently I met a truly wise woman of God. We were at a Writer’s Conference and she was facilitating the Poetry track. As this was not my group I had little reason to interact with her. Every morning, however, Heather would read a reflection, her soft Irish accent breathing life into the beautiful slow words, lifting them up to dance, and touch my soul. Continue reading

Water-Walking

In all my years fishing on the Sea of Galilee, I had never seen a storm like this. Throughout the night the wind’s strength grew. It belligerently resisted us, flinging angry waves across our bow. As we fought to stay upright on the crests and troughs, despondency set in. We were tired, soaked to the bone and starting to fear for our lives. Then we saw a shadow moving across the water. Terror clenched at my heart and someone screamed. Could this be a spirit—a sure sign that we were doomed to die in this accursed storm? Continue reading

The Masterpiece

The sunset sky, shining with an array of hues

Silently declares your creativity

And I wonder if you crafted me

From such a vast palette of colours.

Right now I feel only grey and drab.

Then I remember I am your “poiema”, your masterpiece

Of which you are the most proud.

Forgive me for not reflecting your glory, like that still sky

For repressing my creative radiance

For feeling unworthy

When I am shaped in your very own image. Continue reading

The Empty Cushion

Today our journey finds us winding down a dusty path between simple mud-brick homes. As we duck into the narrow entrance of one of these, we hear the clatter of a falling jug followed by a soft curse. After the bright sunlight, it takes our eyes a while to adjust to the dark interior, and so we hear the talking and laughter before we actually see the group of people reclining at a low table. From behind a wall a woman appears, the shards of a broken jug in her hands. As she leans down to speak to the rabbi, her eyes narrow accusingly on the single woman in the group. Continue reading