France

Do you flirt on the Champs Elysees? Do you mince at the patisserie? Are crumbs awaiting a polite removal in close company? Is a triste on the horizon during the next cotillion? How does your garment drape, and your sleeves hang? Is your garb well tailored for your physique?
You turn slowly on a spit. An apple is in your mouth, and you are dinner. It is written, “a man who does not control his spirit is like a city without walls.” Put a knife to your throat if you desire dainties from power. Yet a little sleep, yet a little slumber, a little folding of the hands… so shall your lack come upon you like an armed man. Buy of me precious oil. Receive from me fine flour. Bring your rags for fresh raiment, washed in blood. Weep and turn, or burn as you turn, and weep. Terribly disciplined ones, hard and fierce ones who know want and lack, are loitering at your door. Your gendarmes are asleep, having curried favor with nepotistic uncles, they are soft and have ankles upon which you can put no weight. Even your hardened soldiers have no true fire left in their bellies… smoking embers of camaraderie at best. You are left only with words to speak out of whichever side of the mouth may suit the moment. Esau sold his birthright for a mess of pottage… you are selling yours for butter crust. Turn now while there is time.

About Kent DaVault

Believer, husband, father, grandfather, professor, voice to the nations. This blog is for comfort, exhortation, and edification. These are the attributes of general prophecy in I Corinthians 14 from The Bible. The entries are first person point of view from God as He prompts me what He would like to say. These entries are not scripture, I am not God, and all entries must be held to the light of scripture. I am human and therefore fallible. If any entries are not biblically sound, I welcome feedback... May you be richly blessed of God.
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