The auspicious environment was unmistakable. The voluptuousness and the luxury were striking. This is not an ordinary abode Servants could be seen with their wheels on. It was the king’s palace. All manner of ancient pulchritude and grandeur were visible. Gold was a common sight. Suddenly, the servants stood straight. The royal surveillance took positions as the king emanated from his inner chambers. Everywhere was hushed. With articulate strides and royal majesty, the king ascended his magnificent throne and sat down with all royal decorum. The king was a peculiar man. Behind the visible luxury and comfort was a man looking somewhat a warrior. He was all smiles, but behind those smiles was a man who had known wars and battles. He had a presence and he looked unusually strong and benevolent. What was the king going to do today? He beckoned to one of his emissaries. The servant responded with alacrity and reverently bowed before him. The king’s voice rang out as he broke the silence. ‘Go call me Ziba!’ He had a musical voice. You could dance to his words. The servant scuttled away and in a moment, he was back with Ziba. Ziba was a prominent servant of the former king of the land. Ziba had fear written all over him. He was having a war of nerves. The former king of the land had been unfriendly with the new king in time past. Time for revenge? Ziba approached the king in trepidation and made obeisance. ‘At your service!’ He voiced out. The king fastened his eyes on him. Ziba did not know what make of it, for the king’s face was full of life. Then, the king asked a ridiculous question. ‘Is there anybody left of the kindred of the former King that I may show him kindness? Ziba was incredulous. This must be a trap. He hesitated. What is the king up to? The king reiterated the question with his mien. Ziba finally summoned courage and replied, ‘There is the king’s grandson named Mephibosheth… ‘Where is he?’ ‘In Lo-debar, the land of no communication. ‘Go get him.’ Ziba left, with the king’s intention still shrouded in mystery. ‘Why does the king want him? Time for revenge?’ ………………………………………….. The milieu smelt of crushed hope and unfulfilled aspirations. The very atmosphere was dotted by melancholy. The delitescence coupled with the enigmatic silence suggested only one thing: suicide! Visible in the midst of this deathly quietude and solitariness was the man called Mephibosheth. He was crawling. The action contradicted his manliness. Yet, he crawled, dragging his limbs after him. It was obvious that he had replaced his faith with forlorn hope, fueled by nugatory feelings and redundancy. He was a pitiable sight. He was in his thirties, yet he crawled like a two-year old. A look at him revealed that he had been a man of influence and affluence. He had been married and had a young son before he exiled himself to the land of no communication. He looked a tragedy. His mien was like a hand-made mask woven with the threads acute bitterness and exacerbation. He sat up for what looked like an eternity and looked at his dry shrunken, lame legs. As was his daily habit, he lapsed gradually into suicidal reminiscences. He was only five years old when the news of the death of his father and grandfather came to the palace. In a wild frenzy of escape, his nurse dropped him and that was the beginning of his predicaments. He hadn’t even reached the age of accountability. The plague of his past haunted him. He had allowed his present condition to eclipse and obfuscate his position and status. The preterition is always is always a stopper and encumbrance. It is an obturation. It will shackle, clog and stall. Yesterday is a thwarter and a lion in the path… Ziba arrived. As he looked at Mephibosheth where he was, tears came down from his eyes. He could feel the pains of Mephibosheth. He became identified with his infirmities. The sight of Mephibosheth drew tears from his eyes. He should have been a king! When he looked at the presence of Mephibosheth, he felt like saying. “Come let’s go, the king wants you!” But when he looked at his condition, he knew he had to carry him. Always allow the Holy Spirit to carry you in his arms and to comfort you Ziba moved nearer. Cautiously, he delivered the message of the king. Mephibosheth did not respond. He patted him on the back. He comforted and consoled him. He spoke tenderly to him. “The King loves you! “He sent me here to bring you!” Mephibosheth responded with a nod. Ziba was a hefty man, a gentle giant, a type of the comforter. Ziba hauled him up and carried him with amazing ease. He will lift you up from the miry clay and thee dunghill and set you on the mountain. You may be in the pit right now, or worse still in prison, but you’ll get to the palace when you allow Him to carry you. Ziba got to the palace, with Mephibosheth in his hands. The commiserable sight evoked sympathetic responses as the king’s servants shook their heads. Ziba came and dropped Mephibosheth at the king’s feet. Mephibosheth’s leathery face was wet with silent painful tears. He went on his face. The king was moved. Compassion gripped him. Could this be a prince? Mephibosheth looked so impoverished and pitiable that David had to ask him, “Mephibosheth?” He was too far gone. He doesn’t look a prince a bit again! Every royal splendor has disappeared from his life! Because he stayed in Lo-debar. When you stay out of communication with God for any reason, your spirit man loses its shape and dominion! As Mephibosheth laid there by the feet of the king, the king was engulfed with pity. Mephibosheth was full of fear as he shook uncontrollably. He wondered what the king would tell him. Maybe he would kill him! Time and time again, he shuddered at the perceived inevitable. But the king shocked him. He said, “Fear not!” Profound words! Those words were like a river of water poured into a throat beleaguered with the most discriminating thirst! What a soothing effect those words had on Mephibosheth. For the first time in years, Mephibosheth relaxed. With that relaxation came the beginning of a constructive thought pattern. The journey for progress was initiated. Doors that had slammed shut began to creak in readiness to open. Initiatives that had come to a screeching halt began to warm up. Dreams that had been discarded had opportunity to be pursued again. The brightest and the best of creative brain cells that had nose-dived and calmed up in some dark subterranean corner of the mind suddenly received boldness as they came back to limelight! All because of two words. “Fear not!” Mephibosheth had been bound for years. Those words suddenly set him free. The Word of God will set you free! The king went on. “All your properties are restored back to you and you will continually be at my table.” There is always a place for restoration. No matter what the devil has stolen, he would be made to retrocede. For Mephibosheth, it was a revivification and a reactivation. He could not believe his ears Maybe it was a dream. He opened his mouth to say something but his mouth betrayed his heart. His words were punctuated with worthlessness. His words revealed a man whose morale is gone. “Why do you want to favour a dead dog!” The king ignored his assertions. “Ziba, you and your sons will serve Mephibosheth and he will continually eat at my table.” Finally, Mephibosheth made it to the table. He had only one pre-occupation. Eat continually… Lame, but seated and eating continually! Now looking back, he knew without doubt that his life had been a whole mess, like an untreated open wound, attracting calamitous vectors with their infections, but now he is restored. He made it to the table. All he had to do was sit and eat. The lameness was never healed, but it didn’t limit him either. Ziba and his huge family of sons and servants worked for him. He just must keep from looking under the table. The table covered the lameness, and his royalty was restored. If Mephibosheth made it, you can make it too! Lame, exiled, disenfranchised but never forgotten! King David is a type of God. God will restore all the lost years! He will relocate you to the palace. Allow Ziba, who is a type of the Holy Spirit to carry you! It is your season, it is your moment!
Posted on: Wed, 31 Jul 2013 22:32:23 +0000
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