I used to think that dead things indeed die! And that anything that dies could never have desires or cravings. To me, I imagined depositing everything about my old life, and the ‘Old Me’ in a ‘tomb’ since I know that’s where dead things belong: The Tomb. 

A tomb is hardly visited! A tomb mostly gets forgotten. A tomb meant restrictions. And that was how best I thought I had to deal with my sinful past:  don’t visit the old life! Forget it! Restrain yourself from indulging in sinful acts of your past!

But my past, the ‘Old me’ seemed not to want to die. From the ‘tomb’ I could hear its cries and echoes! Its cries to be fed, its cries of lust, and its longing for its desires and cravings to be satisfied. And it had become an internal battle for me: a battle no one knew about. 

The more I longed to go on in my new life as a Christian, the more some force of gravity from this ‘tomb’ seemed to draw me back and pull me down. 

I had become like Lot’s wife as recorded in the Bible. I was on a no-turning-back journey. But the loud cries of the pleasures of ‘Sodom’ seemed to be getting to me again! 

How can that which is dead have such strong desires and cravings? The scriptures have said that we should count ourselves dead to sin, and that since we are in Christ Jesus, we have crucified the flesh or the old man, with all of its passions and lusts. But here I was, giving attention to it, and nobody knew about it.
To everyone around me, I was that perfect Christian and the anointed music minister. 

To everyone I was Minister Ralph, the one who could sing for God’s presence to come down.  

But I was keeping a ‘secret tomb’, and I kept visiting it in my heart as I yielded to the cries and cravings of the flesh. 

The ‘Old Me’ seemed to want to live again! It wanted to resurrect its desires and lusts within me! It earnestly cried to be fed and to be satisfied! And the more I gave it energy by feeding it with its sensual cravings, the more the ‘New Me’ got weaker and weaker!

O wretched man I am! To everyone else I was such a great believer, but to myself I was slowly ‘dying’. For I was satisfying the desires of my Secret Tomb, where the ‘Dead Me’ yearned to live on!


“Ralph… Ralph!”


©Dorothy Budu-Arthur, 2016

WordPress:   https://dorothybuduarthur.wordpress.com/

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