The Rhythm of Babylon . . .

We are told through the records of history, under the reign of King Nebuchadnezzar, that Babylon was the most spectacular in all the earth.  It’s known for its luxurious palace, political power and affluence,
elaborate hanging gardens (one of the Seven Wonders of the World), along with its double walls – wide enough for four horse chariots to pass each other – which still sparkled at its zenith decades later.

The “It’s All About Me” philosophy begs the question today – do we have power over this present day philosophy or does it have power over us?  We live here.  We are relevant here.  We must resist being corrupted by it versus being identified by it.  To not implode in self-absorption, we must first recognize it and then be intentional to combat it.  What kind of identity, or image, are we fostering for ourselves and our children — the next generation?   We are made in God’s image, we are wrapped in His Grace, and our total identity is in Him. 

Perhaps the appropriate poem below resonates.

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Babble on in Babylon
Ann Donovon – Author

Brimming closets, shoe racks bulge, one in every color, I’ll just indulge.
My wildest whim will oft be met . . . bigger . . . faster . . . give me . . . get.
Travel on in Babylon.

 May I go first? Knew you’d not care, for my time’s precious. You’ve lots to spare.
I’ll slip in front and off I’ll go. See, I’m quite fast and, well, you’re quite slow.
I and me…fast friends, life-long.
Prattle on in Babylon.
 
Nip it here, just there a lift. I just turned forty, it was a gift.
The eyes, the lips, the bosoms do, sculptured, lasered, injected, too.
No wrinkles left, the tummy’s gone.
Journey on in Babylon.

  Enough of me, how do you view me?
You get one, but give me three.
 I couldn’t bear to just say “No”, it’s my desire and rightly so.
Add another and on and on.
Shuffle on in Babylon.

No end in sight that I can see, today is blocked by the mirror in front of me.
A wreck, a death, tsunami tide, it mildly stirs me, I must confide.
TV claims tens of thousands gone.
Oh well, let’s see what else is on.
Numb to the stunning sight of each new dawn,
Sinking fast in Babylon.

Like a lobster in a pot who begins to like the water hot,
I’ve been duped, been tricked, been had, convinced that truth was somehow bad.
Evil, coddled and cooed and purred, and beckoned me and called and lured.
Now in a place with the lights turned on, I’m racing home from Babylon.
I’m racing home from Babylon.