Lot’s Wife is a Little Salty

Well, I promised that every other Friday was going to be #TrueFictionFriday, so here is my better-late-than-Saturday post! Two weeks ago, we met the woman with the issue of blood.

Today I took on a less sympathetic character: Lot’s wife. At least, I chose to make her less than likable. I thought it would be an easy and quick post to put together this morning, before I went out of town for the day. I mean, we know very little about the woman, besides her infamous death, right?

But her little scene grew quite lengthy, causing me to come back to it when I got home tonight. It was a fun challenge to write about, and I hope you will stick with her, all the way to her rather abrupt end 😀

Let me know what Bible character you’d like to see in one of my future True Fiction Friday posts!

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These winter nights are interminably long. There was a time that I didn’t mind the darkness that gobbled up such a large portion of each day. We had provisions, we had a fire in the hearth, we had our little family gathered together chatting and laughing. Those memories feel as distant as a dream, completely unrelated to what is happening since we’ve settled in this God-forsaken place.

This town…these people…everything and everyone is foreign and difficult. The people are unwelcoming. They take every opportunity to remind us that we don’t belong; even the bride-price paid for our daughters was insulting and degrading—but to even have an offer for their hand was more than we hoped from this inhospitable place.

All of those things are enough to make me want to walk away. Take my daughters and return to my homeland, to my people. But I have no means to take such a journey on my own. So, all I can do is imagine what it would’ve been like to have never left in the first place.

What if Lot had not become my husband? What if he and his nephew Abram had never set about to wandering, dragging me and Sarai, Abram’s wife, with them across miles of pastureland, across borders and townships? 

Ever since we settled down in Sodom, I’ve thought I wanted to leave. That is until these two strangers showed up today and told us we had to leave.

Not just leave, but flee! There’s a huge difference between the two. Fleeing involves abandoning everything we’ve worked hard to own. Fleeing means we will once again be wandering the countryside, without roots, without a home.

But Lot says we must listen to these strangers. That they are going to destroy Sodom. If we stay, we will be destroyed with it. Though part of me rejoices to hear that these wicked people will get what they deserve—why even tonight they’ve practically broken down our door to lay hold of these strangers—the other part of me is old and tired and angry. Who do these men think they are, pronouncing such judgment, as if they are the mouthpiece of God Himself?

Oh, but Lot is quite impressed with these men. He’s always been like that. Easily awed by the influence of others. Imagining himself as special and deserving of the better things in life. He thinks I don’t know how he chose the more lush and fertile land for himself when he and Abram went their separate ways.

Abram told him, “Whichever way you choose to go, I’ll head in the opposite direction.” Well, Lot chose alright. He took our livestock and family toward the lush and fertile plains without sparing a thought for Abram’s welfare.

Despite Lot’s visions of grandeur, we still ended up here, in Sodom. I tried to tell that stubborn man that this was a no-good city, but he was too dazzled by its wealth and opulence to listen. And now if these two strangers have their way, it’s all going down in fire and brimstone—or something apocalyptic like that.

Lot insists we must do whatever these men say. It’s all so utterly bizarre, I’ve decided to go along with it, just to see what’ll happen. While I was forced to play the part of hostess and cook today, Lot played mediator with the locals and attempted to convince our future son-in-laws to runaway with us. Of course, those boys didn’t take Lot’s doomsday talk seriously—who can blame them? They refused to come.

I wish I could refuse as well, but if Lot leaves with the girls I’ll have nothing and no one left to live for. I certainly don’t want to be stuck in this town on my own. So, here I am, gathering what food I can, placing it in sacks which we can tie onto our backs. This will make it easier, you see, to tuck our tails between our legs and run off like frightened animals.

Of course, if nothing actually happens to Sodom, we won’t be returning anyway. They’ll be laughing at our backs as we go and will never allow us to come back. They didn’t want us here the first time around–there won’t be a second chance.

The men say it’s time to leave. We’re to escape through the back garden and across the pasture where our flocks once grazed. Lot is so eager to please these men that he’s already hefted his sack of food and clothes and is heading outside with the girls on his heels.

I turn at the kitchen door and look back at the home we’ve made for ourselves. Grudgingly, I admit that my husband has done well in this foreign land, despite the locals’ poor treatment. The furniture, the pottery, the hearth—they’ve been the tangible parts of our family life, in good times and bad. I’ll especially miss the flowering pots in the courtyard and my little herb garden off the kitchen.

I survey our home, wondering who will move in and enjoy the things we’ve worked so hard for. I won’t blame them for claiming what we foolishly abandon. But stepping out the door and leaving all of this behind is the most difficult thing I’ve submitted myself too. I taste bile, as Lot comes back to fetch me. I cling to the doorpost, swallowing back a sob.

“We must go. Now!” Lot peels my hand from the frame and pulls me into his arms. “I know you’re afraid. But you heard what’s going to happen. We cannot stay. We must follow these men out of the city, and we mustn’t even look back. God is judging Sodom, and He’s graciously sparing us. Let’s go!”

I wrestle myself free from his grasp and plod ahead with heavy, spiteful strides. Why did I marry this superstitious fool?

The men are waiting for me to catch up. My daughters try to comfort me, looping their arms on either side of mine, pulling me along. They think this is an exciting adventure. Silly girls! They don’t know how hard it is to settle somewhere and make a home. They were small children when we moved to Sodom. They don’t remember what it was like in the early days.

But when they find themselves old spinsters, without husbands—thanks to their father’s insistence on leaving the city of their betrothed—they won’t feel it’s all so amusing. Fortunately for them, they barely knew these boys. They’re not exactly heartbroken by the current state of their love life. I suppose that’s a blessing for now.

We’ve been clamoring across the grassy pastures, stepping in dung which we can’t see but can certainly smell as it clings to our sandals. We’ve taken turns tripping on rocks that are hidden in the dark terrain. The rumbling clouds above have made the night sky like a collective blindfold. Flashes of lightening give us glimpses of our progress as well as the men we are following.

Suddenly, the sky lights up with a bright expulsion of light. I’m struck sightless for a moment, my ears ringing. I feel a pull on my arms and realize my daughters are trying to propel me forward.

“We must keep moving!” my oldest calls out. “We must distance ourselves from that storm.”

Another flash of lightening, this one further away, floods our group with a gentle glow. Wait! Where are the men that were leading us? They’re no longer here.

“Lot!” I call above the rumbles in the sky. “What happened to the two men? They were just here, and now—”

Another crack of thunder cuts me off.

“They’ve returned to unleash God’s judgment,” he calls back. “Just as they said.”

“But, how?” I pull up short, shrugging off my daughters. “I saw them not a minute ago.”

Another shimmer of light gives me an opportunity to search the area around us.

“No!” Lot is suddenly beside me, his arm around my shoulder, forcing me forward. “Don’t turn around. We’re not to look back.”

I shake him off. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m only searching for the strangers. Besides, I think you’re taking their instructions too literally.”

“The day has unfolded exactly as they said it would.” In a flash of lightening, I see his eyes are pleading and full of fear. “We must set our focus ahead and forget we ever knew the city of Sodom.”

I press my lips together and resist the urge to roll my eyes. I see he’s sincere. Convinced. And I know what he wants from me. Compliance. Nodding, I squint against another white-hot flash. He kisses my temple, a tenderness he’s not shown me in years.

We continue to trudge while a low rumble behind us turns into a relentless pounding. The ground is reverberating with the torrent of rain and hail at our backs, and we all instinctively begin to run. The sky is lit with a ferocity of fissures in the clouds. What is happening back there? Obviously those strangers knew the mind and plans of God!

A battle is raging in the heavens, and I can’t imagine what has become of our home–let alone the city of Sodom. The clouds have let loose on us now, too, and I’m drenched and chilled within moments.

Stopping, hands on knees, I suck in a ragged breath as I watch the retreating backs of my family. I’ll catch up in a moment.

First, I’m going to just turn and take a quick peek back to see what—