Sin.
Engraved by diamond point.
Written with iron stylus.
On the tablets of their hearts
and ours.
Jeremiah 17:1
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Sin.
Engraved by diamond point.
Written with iron stylus.
On the tablets of their hearts
and ours.
Jeremiah 17:1
Simple earthen vessels. There they are.
Wading through laws in Leviticus, I see them. In the details. Amid ritual regulations for priests, Levites, and the people of God.
In these particular earthen pots, they boil the sin offering. That only priests may eat.
Their use is short-lived in the days of the Old Covenant. Bronze bowls can be scrubbed clean. Earthenware can’t.
This past week, I sit numb. Shaken. Shocked by sheer brutality.
And cry out for the ones who can’t breathe.
Weep for those with necks slammed against asphalt under the knee of racism. Relentless, insidious racism. Again and again.
The snake slithers. Just beneath the surface of society. Often hidden in the dark. Feeding pride and arrogance. Fear. Prejudice.
Injustice.