Letter from Antak’s Grave

Hey Moses,

It’s me. Antak.

You don’t remember me? Of course you don’t. We never got introduced.

But you know me.

You must.

After all, who forgets the man they murdered?

Remember now? Yes, my name is Antak.

 And I’m the man you killed. 

See, when I left my home that morning, I never thought it’d be my last. I didn’t think I’d never see my beautiful wife again. Who would have guessed I just rubbed my son’s head for the last time as he begged to tag along. The slaves, your people, intrigued him and he wanted to know what his daddy did with these people everyday. I shielded him from the ugly truth as much as I could, promising to let him go with me as soon as his unborn brother was old enough to walk.

My faint smile concealed the truth- if only he knew his daddy was a slave driver. It didn’t matter if daddy wanted to do it or not; if he felt so nauseated when he first started this dirty job but now he did what he had to do and only picked up his humanity again in the twilight of his wife’s embrace. It didn’t matter if daddy only rediscovered his soul in his son’s giggles at dawn.

If only I’d stayed at home that day.

If only that Hebrew had just done what I ordered without being so stubborn about it. Maybe I wouldn’t have hit him. Maybe you wouldn’t have walked past that instant.

Maybe I wouldn’t be dead.

So many ifs, too many maybes.

If only you had waited, Moses. If only you had waited. If only you understood that your burning desire to free your kinsmen wasn’t to be expressed in murderous rage. If only you’d been patient, to let the god of your fathers show you how he’d get it done.

Maybe I would still be alive today.

To watch my son grow into a fine young man. To share many more anniversaries with his mum. Maybe, just maybe I’d have still been strong enough to make the exodus with your people. I always knew there was something special about your nation. Even in slavery, it showed. Our cruelty couldn’t crush it. It always shone through.

If only you’d been just a bit more patient. Maybe I’d be alive.

But you weren’t.

And now I’m trapped in this, dark, hot place.

Forever.

The trophy of your haste.

What if you’d waited, Moses. Just what if.

Your victim,

Antak

**********

Dear reader,

This letter is a fictional take on the biblical events recorded in Exodus 2:11-12. It’s a reminder that our actions or inactions along the path of our life’s work can have drastic impact on the lives of others.

I hope it encourages you to be intentional about getting it right. Do what you’ve been called to do. Stop what you know needs to stop today. Start that dream that’s been on your heart forever. Make the adjustments. Ditch the habit. Change that attitude. This is no pressure tactic. It’s the simple truth- there are too many other lives connected to yours.

Develop. Grow. Mature.

There’s too much at stake.

Too many Antaks may be forced to pay the ultimate price.

Live by Design.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Letter from Antak’s Grave

  1. Soks says:

    Very true……we, I, always tend to forget the consequences of our actions. Thank God His grace is sufficient to help us in such times

    Like

Leave a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s