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__________ Chapter THREE __________
NO ONE HAS THE POWER TO DESTROY YOUR LIFE BUT YOU
“1Corinthians 3v16-17: Do you not know that you are God's temple and that God's Spirit dwells in you? If anyone destroys God's temple, God will destroy him. For God's temple is holy, and you are that temple ESV2011”

Zozo’s bedroom was as dark as peccadillo, save for a thin shaft of sunrays that was squeezing its way into the dingy piece of real estate through a narrow crack created by the slight parting of the frail curtains.
The silent stream of light penetrated the darkened place like a ray of hope in grim and dire circumstances. The room, redolent of stale body vapours, was a complete jumble that mirrored the mess that now characterized its owner’s life.

The bedcovers stirred as Zozo stretched a number of stiff muscles in preparation to face another day. He rolled over to one end of the bed, and – oops – landed on the floor with a dull thud. This was not going to be a good day for him. The expression on his face told it all.
Surprised that he was still clad in yesterday’s clothes, include shoes, he slowly picked his limp body from the worn-out carpet, staggered to the bathroom and parked himself by the tiny sink.

With trembling hands, he fumbled in the darkness for the light switch. A weak light came on to reveal another neglected habitat. Zozo extended his hand towards the tumbler full of old toothbrushes, frayed by overuse and fighting for limited space amongst a collection of empty tubes of toothpaste. These had been squeezed flat.
One by one, he tried to extract some precious milliliters of paste from each, but none rewarded him with the tooth cleaning chemical.

This was a perfect metaphor of his life. A life squeezed out of all joy, desire and hope. Devoid of purpose, passion, nor peers, he was surrounded by people yet felt so alone. Like the bristle-less tooth brushes in his closet, here was a man trying to chop a fruit-laden branch off the Tree of Life using a blunt axe. Each frustrating swing less effective than the previous attempt!
That morning as Zozo gazed at his face in the mirror, he became aware that something was missing. But what was it? As his eyes rested on the identical pair reflected by the glazed surface, he suddenly realized what was amiss. The spark! That’s right; his eyes had lost their sparkle. Alas! He his blunt axe was gone!

Yes, his precious axe was gone – his last weapon in his fight against an unfair world. This was one thing that had kept him going all these years. This morning it was gone, taking with it his will to live.
The previous day’s encounter with the neighborhood kids at his doorstep had been the proverbial last feather that broke the scales. The urban soldier had lost his trusted weapon right in the thick of battle. Now with arms raised up high in an unequivocal sign of total surrender, he was handing over his soul to the devil.

“What’s the use?” he muttered to himself, heavy sighs punctuating his every sentence. “Life isn’t fair… you just can’t win … you try to do good, and this is what you get … I’m King Midas’ antonym … everything I touch turns into bitter salt … My life has been a long string of broken dreams, letdowns and limitation in progress … one brick wall after another… a lengthy and winding path littered with potholes, thorns and thistles, but leading nowhere...”
Hot, salty liquids were streaming down his cheeks as they gave up a brave fight against the pull of gravity.

“Just when things start to look up,” Zozo pensively continued his soliloquy, “something happens to push me back into the pit – again and again… Nobody cares about me … they just use me to further their own agendas. I have made many people rich, but what did I get in return? Nothing! Only Lazarus’ crumbs…”
He shifted his hazy gaze to the heavens above as his murmuring took on a religious tone, typical of people when they are in deep trouble. “Why? Why me, Lord… why…I pray to you and read the Bible daily…I’ve never missed a church service… I love you with all my heart… I even pray for others…yet, I continue to experience pain… Why, Lord, don’t you care?” But the Heavens remained shut – no reply!

A series of muted groans and deep sighs later, Zozo had finally come to a decision. “Why should I continue suffering like this? I have no reason to live any more. I’ll just end it all – today.”
As these ominous words spewed from Zozo’s quivering lips, he drove an angry fist into the mirror with great violence, instantly generating a crude web of cracks all over it. This was clearly a portentous sign of the shattered dreams of his life. All hope was now irretrievably lost.


+++

The door-bells chanted a mellow melody as Zozo entered the hardware store. The old lady at the counter lifted her fossilizing head slightly. Peering over the large reading glasses, her owl-type eyes rested on the potential customer. After a brief and negative prognosis, the tired old eyes once again rested on the magazine pages as their owner completely ignored the new arrival.
Hesitantly, Zozo approached the counter and faked a cough to attract the old gizzard’s attention. She didn’t move a muscle. He tried again. But, again the shop assistant did not favour him with a response. So he made a third attempt, this time adding a generous dose of volume for added effect.

“This is a hardware shop, young man, not a medicine dispensary. If you want some cough syrup go to the pharmacy next door,” the woman quipped, her upper lip tight and eyes still fixed on the magazine as though her life depended on it.
“Oh, no ma’am, I don’t need medicine. I’m quite fine … well, sort of … you see, I have this problem …”

“Listen up young man; I have enough problems of my own to bother about yours. If you want counseling, go see a shrink, okay?”
“O-k-a-y… I’m sorry … I just thought you could …” Zozo squirmed apologetically before being cut short by the lady’s verbal uppercut.

“Could do what? Huh? Read my lips. I’m not interested; period.” The verbal daggers continued to jab Zozo’s bleeding spirit.
“Okay, okay, just give me some … eh … eh … rat poison.” His voice was barely a whisper now.

The shop assistant didn’t say a word nor raise her head. With a careless wave of her hand she indicated towards a nearby shelf. Zozo took almost forever to reach the ‘poison’ shelf, and even longer to pick up the rat poison sachet. He had hoped that the shop assistant would offer him hope; a straw to clutch on; a word to stop him from prematurely ending his life, but …
Poison in hand, Zozo started sobbing but the lady took no notice of him. As his crying grew louder, the woman reached out and increased the volume on the radio which was pumping the air full of rock music.

Picking up the few bits and pieces of courage that he still had left, Zozo approached the counter, paid for his deadly merchandise and exited the store in a huff.
Back at his house he quickly drank the poison, rested on his bed and waited for his impending demise. To contain the pain, he decided to utter a heart-felt prayer to GOD, seeking forgiveness for this act of self-murder.

After wrestling with his Creator in supplication prayer, he zipped his mouth and waited.
Five minutes later, nothing had happened. No pain, no death. Ten more minutes passed and – nothing. One hour – still not a thing; no itch, no gasping, no last kicks, nothing!
"What is going on?" he wondered. It seemed he had been sold some weak or fake poison after all. Angrily, he stormed out of the house, and headed back to the hardware store to register his complaint and demand a refund.

Having stared death in the face, he had now come to a realization that - like everyone who commits suicide - he really did not want to die. He simply didn’t have a reason to live for. Now, that was a problem that would not be fixed by taking one’s life, but rather by finding a purpose – a motivation – to live for, and even die for!
Half-way to the hardware store, Zozo’s stomach started complaining. It seemed the sleepy poison was now fully awake and reporting for duty. As the deadly chemicals adhered to their job-description, spasms of raw pain shot through Zozo’s nerve system staccato-style, as the rest of his body contorted in faithful reaction. His stomach was on fire, but his heart was freezing up. As life was slowly squeezed out of him, he was even more convinced of his desire to live. He tried calling out for help but his voice failed him.

Looking around in desperation, Zozo saw a petrol/gas service station across the road, and headed towards it. There was a lot of confused chaos going on there – people running around in all directions, and shouting in all languages.
In the distance, his ears caught the faint high-pitched wails of a fire-fighters’ engine truck. In his confusion and pain he didn’t notice that everyone else was running away from the fuel service station that he was heading for.

Zozo reached the auto gas service station’s forecourt, before succumbing to the poison’s deadly sting. As he fell down on to the hard pavement he started losing consciousness.
At exactly 6.30 pm, just as the sun was losing its battle with darkness, Zozo’s white blood cells lost the war unleashed by the invading rat poison toxins; and breathing his last, he bid the land of the living a reluctant ‘good-bye’!


+++


At precisely the same time, on the other side of town, an equally protracted struggle was raging on in the Bigshot household. Zozo’s wife and daughter were huddled in a corner in a plush bedroom, nestled on the top floor of the three-storey mansion.
Though they were surrounded by luxury and plenty, they felt like they were abandoned on a deserted barren island, somewhere far, far away. Pain and sorrow shared a cozy co-existence on their faces, as their blood-shot eyes betrayed days of protracted crying and sleep deprivation.

“I simply don’t understand what you see in that … that despicable young man.” Mr. Bigshot was fuming at his daughter. “He’s just a good-for-nothing, poor fellow who doesn’t deserve you at all… look, what can he offer you?” he asked her, but went on to reply himself, “Nothing, absolutely nothing at all. He’s an unashamed pathetic gold-digger …”
“But daddy, he’s my husband and I love him. I made a vow that I would stick with him for better or for worse, in richness and in poverty – and I meant every word! After all he’s not interested in your money.”

“Oh, come on now sweetness –” her father tried to protest.
“We are just going through a temporary phase of hardship, that’s all. It will soon pass. After all, we grow and become successful by facing challenges and overcoming difficulties. If success comes easy, it leaves just as easily too. The LORD is with us and will shepherd us through this valley of the shadow of death.

“In any case, I did not marry my husband for what he has, but for who he is. He’s got character - a real decent man who wants to succeed the right way. Daddy, please, I have to be with my husband now, so we can face these challenges together – as a family. He needs my support in this difficult hour.”
“Nonsense,” Bigshot hissed like a provoked viper, “nothing will ever change for him. He will always be a beggar. How long has it been now? Ten years of poverty; no car, no house, no …”

“What do you expect,” Zozo’s other-part countered, “you don’t want to lend him assistance to start his own business …”
Bigshot raised his hands in exasperation: “I’ve been giving you people money for years, but nothing changes.”

“Yah … right; you are holding back my car and house because you didn’t want me to marry someone with no money. You occasionally give us handouts, to buy food and pay bills here and there. We appreciate that, but that’s not sustainable developmental assistance, daddy.
"It is simply short-term relief – the ‘Lazarus Treatment’. You should have used your vast resources to empower us to fend for ourselves; instead you deliberately created a dependency-syndrome through your small gifts.

" You want us to keep coming back for more, so you can control us … run our lives – like you are doing now! All that we are asking for is a business loan that we will pay back. We don’t want freebies.”
For a while Bigshot remained silent, quietly crafting a strategy to escape the web his daughter was carefully spinning around him.

“Your pathetic husband, or rather soon-to-be former husband, is not capable of running a business venture. I can’t risk my money on him; besides …”
“How do you know he can’t run a business, father? You never gave us a chance to pursue our dreams. You only want to use him to further your own vision, to do what you want. With you it’s always a case of ‘my-way-or-nothing-at-all.’ Why can’t you believe in others … in him… in us…?

“There are no self-made men, daddy. You always told me that you are what you are today because long ago someone believed in your dream and provided you with capital and connections, at great risk, to start your own enterprise. The Bible teaches that God blesses us so that we can be a blessing to others. The LORD is the One who gives power to get wealth. Everything belongs to Him for us to share. Your hero, Jesus, once said that to whom much is given, from him much is required also.”
The web was tightening around Bigshot, big time! “Look, Zozo’s ideas are crazy. I don’t like them.”

“You don’t have to like them. They are his ideas, not yours, daddy. Everybody is different, that’s what makes this world so special and interesting - variety and diversity of ideas, and the sharing of common wealth for the enrichment of life for everyone. Paul hit the nail on the head when he said the rich must do good, be ready to give, and be willing to share.” Mrs. Zozo remained adamant.
The big man was now cornered and he knew it, so he decided to make a run for it.

“Hey, I don’t have to listen to this. You are just being stubborn, like that big-headed husband of yours. With time you will get over him and find someone within your social class.”
He consulted his gold-plated and diamond-encrusted wrist watch, and then slammed the door on the conversation by saying: “Anyway, I have to leave for the hospital now to see your young brother.

“I just don’t get it. It’s so frustrating that with all the hundreds of thousands of dollars that I have spent on his treatment all over the world, no one can tell what’s wrong with my son's little heart. I mean, if money can’t buy you health and happiness, then what can?”
With eyes misting up, he looked towards the ceiling and called on the God he had not seriously acknowledged up to now, and crooked, “Please don’t let my child die … please God help him … he’s so weak, so fragile and getting worse by the day. Please, if you help me, I will do anything … I mean anything at all.”

Finally Mr. Bigshot was feeling something of the heartache that his son-in-law, daughter, and grand-daughter were experiencing.
“Tell me something, papa; how come you hold Jesus Christ and His teachings in the Bible in such high regard, and yet you don’t want to worship Him?”

“I do worship –“
“But you rarely attend church, father,” the daughter queried.
“I love Jesus, and I love his teachings; they work for me in business. What I don’t like is institutionalized religion. People have turned church into big business and instruments of manipulation – peddling scripture around for personal gain. It’s so off-putting … a lot of deceit and hypocrisy, that’s what it is.
“Hey, I’m out of here.”

+++

When you make the Life of Jesus your life, it won’t be an easy road to walk. “But the gate is narrow and the way is difficult that leads to life, and there are few who find it,” Jesus warned (Matthew 7v14).
So, do not rely on your own strength. You need the Holy Spirit to live in you and walk alongside you, guiding, protecting, empowering, and praying for you. With His help you’ll do greater works than Jesus did. (Luke 11; John 14-17; Romans 8)

You’ll experience peace in the midst of the storms of life. When others are confused and full of fear, you’ll remain calm and courageous. When you are weak, you’ll say, ‘I am strong!’ When the devil defeats, you shout, ‘I am more than a conqueror,’ and rise up to fight again! Even in poverty, you’ll insist, ‘I am rich!’
Even if you are blinded by the frustrations of life, you’ll declare, ‘I can see!’ Because when you walk with Jesus, you walk by faith and not by sight!

Jesus Christ does not promise you a life without problems, but He comforts you with these immortal words:”I have told you these things so that in me you may have peace. In the world you have trouble and suffering, but take courage – I have conquered the world (John 16v33).”
Peace means going through trouble without allowing the trouble to go through you! In order to birth or deliver big dreams, you have to go through stressful labour pains. There is a lot of pushing, bruising, struggle, pain, and mess before a mother delivers a child.

It takes time and great effort before a seed becomes a harvest. Likewise, you must go through the process of growth. Stop avoiding struggles & challenges because they help build your spiritual muscle & mental stamina (character), preparing you for higher positions and greater responsibilities in life.
Trials and temptations are necessary – they test whether you are ready for your next breakthrough or not!

You can’t claim to be ‘more than a conqueror’ when you are busy running away from the battles of life! Every great person in the Bible and this life had to overcome enormous difficulties to prove their faith in GOD. Why not you?
Every painful experience has a purpose and is to your benefit; otherwise GOD would never allow it in your life (1 Corinthians 10)! If you run away from challenges, you remain ordinary.

If your life is smooth, be alarmed! It could be a sign that GOD doesn’t trust you anymore; or that the devil knows you are not a threat to his evil kingdom!
Go to GOD and beg Him: “Father, why aren’t you allowing problems in my life? Have you lost confidence in me? Please give me some challenge to solve.”

And when you have conquered a huge problem, go back and plead: “Thank you LORD; now please show me my next challenge to solve !” Jesus came to give you life, not to ask you what kind of life you want.
So, stop telling GOD what you like or don’t want in your life; and start asking Him what He wants done in your life, and how!
©Danisile Prinsloo Chivaura