marble nkomo
Salima Mangani, Correspondent
THERE was a time in my life when I believed that closure was something I had to go back and retrieve. I thought that if I could just return to that place, that person, that moment, and if I could explain myself better, act differently, respond the “right” way, then my life would finally make sense. Then I could move forward.
It was a lie. A beautifully crafted trap. And I stayed in it for years. The enemy whispered it so gently that I mistook it for wisdom: “If only you could go back, everything would be different.”
But the Apostle Paul knew better.
He wrote in Philippians 3 verse 13-14, “Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.”
Paul understood that looking back with the hope of rewriting the past is not reflection; it is stagnation.
And God Himself says through Isaiah: “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland” (Isaiah 43 verse 18-20).
Garment that became an altar
I made a decision once that seemed right to me. I wanted to be a model, so I took that path. It felt like the right step at the time. But the world interpreted it differently. And because of that, a name was put on me. A garment. I wore it with bitterness, reproach, and regret.
That garment became an altar. An altar that spoke negativity over my life for years. Whenever people spoke about my time in the entertainment industry, I would panic. I hated what they saw when they looked at me. I hated how they defined me by something I had since left behind.
But I eventually came to a hard truth: the past cannot be changed.
Lazarus and the grave clothes
I was reading the book of John when something jumped out at me. Jesus stood before the tomb of Lazarus, a man who had been dead for four days. He called out, “Lazarus, come forth!” And Lazarus came out, still wrapped in grave clothes, his face covered with a cloth.
Then Jesus said something curious. He did not say, “You are alive now, walk away”. He said to those standing there, “Take off the grave clothes and let him go”.
Lazarus was alive, yes. But he was not yet free.
That is us. We can be alive in Christ, serving, worshiping, interceding, preaching — and still be bound by the garments of our past. The names spoken over us. The regrets we rehearse. The altar we built without realising it.
Jesus does not just call us out of the grave. He commands that the grave clothes be removed. And sometimes, He asks us to do the removing.
Take off the garment and go
What you did in 2020 will not change six years later just because you have changed your lifestyle. It is still there. You have to look at it. Address it. And then let it go. It happened, but it does not define you.
The world may still remember. But you need to take off the grave clothes and live.
Is it the job you did not take, and it is eating you up? You made some good decisions in your life; you know which ones they are. Pat yourself on the back and say, “Well done.” Is it the person you let go, and you still carry the regret? If they are still alive, reach out and apologise. But if they do not respond, release it. You made the right decision. Take off the regret and live.
It could be anything, really. The conversation you wish you had but did not. The child you wish you could have had later in life. The things you lost because you were not ready.
Take off the grave clothes and live.
Difference between bondage and freedom
Let me clarify something. When I say, “Go back”, I am not telling you to do what the enemy wanted: to yearn for a different past, seek closure from people who hurt you, and remain stuck in the hope that yesterday could have been different.
I am telling you to go back differently. Not to change what was, but to release what has held you.
One is bondage, the other is freedom
I am telling you to go back to that little girl, that little guy, who was never told, “Well done”, who was never told, “You did well”, and say it now. Let them hear it. Let them live. Let the fact that others were not proud of your achievements die. Learn that God loves you. He chose you. He wants you.
What the enemy meant for evil
Joseph said it best to his brothers: “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good…” (Genesis 50 verse 20).
Tell the devil that he meant to drag you into the mess, but God used it to prepare you, to position you, and to give you a testimony that would save many souls.
Look at you now. Working for the Lord. Interceding. Worshiping. Preaching. Doing all of this because the Lord let you discover yourself in His presence. And because of that, you brought closure to yourself — not because you went back to that person, not because you spent a day at that place, not because you finally had that conversation.
Hugging the girl who held on
I took two pictures of myself and asked AI to create an image of my older self, hugging my younger self. When I saw it, I wept. Because in that image, I saw the unlearning. The uncomfortable growth. The moment I finally said no to the enemy.
I saw myself going back to that little girl and saying: You once got a trophy for being number one in the drum majorettes: I am proud of you. Congratulations!
You beat all the odds and were the highest in Literature in the whole stream at some point in high school: Congratulations!
You wrote your Advanced-Level examinations in June and passed: Congratulations!
You failed in law school, not once but twice, but you held on and you graduated: Well done!
I hugged her tight, because despite the mistakes she made, if that little girl had given up, I would not be where I am today. That little girl believed there is a God in heaven. She never looked to other gods. She did not give up. She was faithful. She was kind. She was straightforward.
And for that alone? Well done!
These are the writings of Ezer Kenegdo (a woman warrior).
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