Lot

Good Prayer vs. Bad Prayer

Hesitant when needing to decide; Impulsive when needing to plan.

Lot appears sporadically during God’s first interactions with Abraham.
Summary below.
I read Lot’s story as a contrast of Abraham’s character and covenant with God. Abraham prays, contemplates, and executes his resolution (God’s plan). Lot, on the other hand, embodies both extremes of bad decision making: he either acts before thinking or paralyzes himself with overthinking.

Summary of Lot in Genesis Chapters 13, 14, & 19:
Lot’s story is troubling. He is the nephew of the first patriarch Abraham. His own father dies young. Abraham brings Lot when he leaves their ancient Mesopotamian hometown Ur (modern day southern Iraq) to the Promised Land: Canaan. Both household’s prosperities grow, and they must split to avoid conflict (Their ranch hands fight too much). Lot chooses the more prosperous Jordan Valley which has the fatal cities of Sodom and Gomorrah. Lot is captured by warring kings and Abraham rescues. Lot hosts God’s angels in Sodom. Sodom’s citizens hear about the angels, force themselves into Lot’s home, and abuse (hence, “sodomize”) the angels. The angels warn Lot of the cities’ imminent destruction so he can flee, but he hesitates. When fleeing (eventually), they warn him and his clan not to look back at the destruction. Lot’s wife looks and turns into a “pillar of salt.” Lot and his two daughters lost everything and must live in a cave. He impregnates both daughters (when black out drunk by the daughters’ scheming). These offsprings start two future enemy tribes of the Israelites.

I write the angels as scouts from a more advanced civilization. They have iron technology while the locals still use bronze.

- - -

“Wine,” responded Lot to his aunt Sarah.

“I asked how you are, my little Lottie,” said Sarah nursing Lot’s black eye. “Not if you’re thirsty.” Sarah motioned for a servant to bring wine though.

“I’m fine. I just need to clear my head. Those usurpers, those pretenders, those greedy sons-a—”

“Language, Lottie.”

“Sorry, Auntie. They thought they could threaten me! Thought we Hebrews get scared and give them bullies our lunch. Not today. Uncle Abe showed em’, didn’t he! Where is he by the way?

“He’s talking with the kings of Sodom and Salem. After battle logistics or whatever.” Abraham joined with these kings’ campaign against the rival claimants once he heard the rivals had captured his nephew Lot.

Lot roused from his recline. “I should be there—ahh!” He winced and grabbed his leg. “I should be there, right?”

“How should I know? ‘It’s not a woman’s place to say what men should and shouldn’t do’, right?”

“I can go. With a limp, yes, but still. I think—I dunno. Do rescued hostages usually go? Does Uncle Abe want me there?. . . Should I?” I don’t know if these half sentences were Lot thinking out loud or if Lot wanted his dilemma to be heard. “Uncle Abe would’ve told me to come, right? Also, I don’t want to insult you, Auntie, by rejecting your fine cup of fine wine!” Lot resumed resting.

Abraham returned to the tent an hour later. Lot cheered his entry. Sarah whispered something in to her husband’s ear. He nodded, then greeted his nephew with two kisses to both cheeks while dodging beads of wine hanging like berries on Lot’s branchy beard.

“Sorry I can’t get up, uncle Abe, but the leg’s bothering me.” From his floor sofa, Lot lifted his ankle into the air.

“Don’t even think about it, Lot,” said Abraham. “I’m just happy your safe. God is good! He is our protector and savior. Blessed be God.”

“Blessed be Abraham,” said Lot. “I’ll pray to whatever you tell me to, Unc. You’re my savior.”

“I get it. You’re excited. Speaking out of passion and all, but no. I am just His instrument.”

“Yes, of course!” Lot sprang to sit upright. He crisscrossed his legs without a grimace of pain. Uncle and nephew sang praises to God, caught up after their long separation, and laughed from inside jokes they thought lost to the past. After the pleasantries, Lot said, “So, what’s next? What’d you get for the victory. Anything good?”

Abraham chucked with contempt, but not a strong nor dismissive contempt. It was the unavoidable, loving, worry-turned-comedy frustration of an elder destined to forever see the relatively youthful immaturity of a nephew. “Nothing but you and your clan’s freedom. . . And the provisions my men consumed during the campaign. Food and stuff.”

Lot laughed heartily. “Abe, you’re funny. Seriously, though. What’d you get?”

“I’m serious.”

“No—What? Why?! You could’ve tripled your property.”

“In name only. It would’ve made me, and you, indebted to the city kings. The people are more import—”

“Wait, stop,” interrupted Lot. “Me and you? Please tell me you got my stuff back.”

“I got the people, your clan, us, back.”

“So, nothing.”

“Lottie, you have your wife, your daughters, and your clan.”

Lot’s side-eye communicated “Really. . .” His mouth said, “And what can I do with that?”

“Come live with me and your Aunt Sarah until you get back on your feet.”

Lot started giggling with contempt now. But his was nasty. “There it is. That’s your spoils of war. Leverage over me. You don’t think I’m man enough to take care of my family. You want me and my men working under you my whole life. You want the control. It’s like you’re taking it out on me that you can’t conceive a son.”

Abraham showed why he was the patriarch. “Watch your mouth. I am not your enemy; I am not an overlord. I am your family! You speak too quickly. Think carefully before you speak another word, and pray they’re the right ones.”

The authority stunned Lot. His heart palpitated. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry Abe. It’s just not fair—”

“Wrong words. Life isn’t fair. Why didn’t you choose a side?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why. Didn’t. You. Choose. A. Side? The kings told me you stayed neutral.”

“I was gonna’. I— I didn’t know, ok? Sodom had a big army but bad weapons. I didn’t know if the hill leader’s high ground was gonna’ be important. Or Salem’s food supplies. Or the bows and arrows of the river tribe. Rumors of horses and stuff. I didn’t know.”

“Any side! Choose any. With none is against all. Elementary! It’s why you were targeted. Nobody to protect you. You’re lucky I heard about your capture.”

“I prayed you’d hear and come for me, though.”

“A prayer too late. The time to pray was before. You should’ve chosen a side.”

“I’m sorry, ok?”

“That’s your problem. Quick when you need be slow. Slow when you need to be quick. How many times have I told you this?”

“Oh, c’mon,” objected Lot. “This was one war. How is this relevant to anything else?”

Abraham shuffled his hair and scratched his beard. “You’ve been this way ever since you were a kid. We wondered if you’d outgrow it—we hoped. We prayed actually. You’re shaking your head ‘no’, but it’s true. Let’s take Ur.  All the way back in Ur. My father—your grandfather; your father, me, and your other uncle, your mother, Aunt Sarah here. . . We all broached the subject of you getting marriage. You weren’t up for it, so you moved slowly. You were conveniently out of town when you should’ve met a bride’s father. Or those stupid stunts you pulled to disqualify yourself as a reliable son-in-law. You hesitated. Got cold feet. Waited too long and all the good options dried up. Then, you got spooked and married the next woman you saw without even doing due diligence. Double whammy there.”

“I’m happy with my wife.”

“Are you?” interjected Abraham not to double check but to silence his nephew. “How about when we were leaving Ur. I explained my plan, my idea, my vision, our possibilities so many times. You kept hesitating and resisting at every moment. ‘It’s too risky. It doesn’t make sense.’ But you never had a real counterargument.”

“That’s different,” protested Lot. “You said a couple guys with that. . . black bronze, or whatever. . .”

“It’s called iron,” added Abraham seamlessly.

I don’t think Lot heard his uncle. Lot’s cadence was unchanged. “. . .that a couple beardless guys told you some stories or secrets because you beat them at chess. How could you expect us to believe that?”

“They weren’t just ‘guys.’ They weren’t even. . . humans how we know it.” Abraham searched for words, but couldn’t find the perfect ones. “The way they organized. Their ideas to lift all people up, spiritually and materially, without dominating the weak. True holiness. . . All I know is they revealed how godforsaken Ur was. And probably still is.”

“Still sounds crazy if we’re being honest. Aliens with super metal. And, honestly, we got lucky that Canaan existed even.”

“Your mouth has an impulse of its own, I swear!” Abraham accidently spit when he spoke. He sucked his lips dry. “I not we. My plan—and it’s not luck. It’s God’s providence!” Abraham shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “I prayed, took stock of our family’s estate, made a plan, and executed. You simply played devil’s advocate with your feelings. No work at all. Didn’t even talk to another person. Just spat out whatever fancy came to your mind!”

His uncle’s hands were flying as he spoke. Abraham was rocking back and forth rapidly in his seat. Lot felt uncomfortable so his mouth produced, “Ok, uncle, I believe you.”

Abraham’s head shot intensely at Lot. Then it dropped in sadness. He wasn’t getting through to his nephew. “And then, when we were living together and our guys started fighting over whose sheep was whose, grazing rights, lumber, and all that. I took you up on that hill.” Sadness expressed itself in a chuckle. “I didn’t think you’d choose. Really. I didn’t. I bet on your indecisiveness. I thought the idea of splitting up would stoke some sentiments or something. But, no, you immediately chose to split our clans. With zero thought. I thought you’d say, ‘Uncle, can I have some time to think?’ and realize that we just needed to get our houses in order. Well, yours. You didn’t even ask what I wanted. . . I didn’t want to split!”

Lot looked at his feet because his uncle’s eyes were too sad. He could’ve had a heart to heart with his uncle—he should’ve—but he just looked at his own feet.

Abraham continued, “And why were you so quick? Because you thought it’d be a quick fix. You saw some prosperity in the Jordan Valley and Sodom and thought, ‘I’ll jump into that easy.’ You never thought of how it got prosperous. Or who’s there and jealous of such riches; and the violence and evil they’ll use to dominate it. Or how many landlords that’ll charge you how much for the simple privilege to sleep unmolested. We had a blank slate! It wasn’t as easy or as prosperous, but we could’ve made it so! It was ours. All you needed was to lay down the law to your men, but nope. You didn’t want to implement rules, regulations, customs, hierarchy, or anything because of what again? You said, ‘I don’t know how big it’ll be yet. What if I make a bad law.’ Lousy excuse! We pray, plan, implement, enforce, and amend if needed! You were too late to get your home in order and too quick to leave for a quick dollar.”

Silence lingered uncomfortably. Sarah, who had been in the room the whole time, tried to lighten the mood with love. She said, “We love you, Lottie. You know we do—"

His aunt stole his chance to be lovey-dovey, so Lot had to latch onto a new angle of originality. He interrupted his aunt with, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Huh?” grunted Abraham rhetorically.

“Why didn’t you tell me you wanted me to stay. You bring me up to the mountaintop with all this ceremony and pomp and sacrifice and prayer, and expect me to read your mind? You didn’t think of the pressure it put on me? Think about it. Big Smart Uncle Abraham has the foresight to leave the safety of Ur to an unknown land. And he’s right! Our herds and clans increased 1,000%. Then, your next grand gesture is me and you on top of that hill. What do you think’s going through my mind? ‘Abe has another plan. A vision.’ And you’re determined in it. You really expected me not to choose something? You wanted me to be what exactly? I can never win! You tell me: ‘choose—no, don’t choose—no, wait! Now choose; actually, don’t choose.’ Which is it!?”

Abraham pinched his forehead. “You’re not my son. I can’t force you to stay with me. It isn’t my right. You are your own man. The mountain wasn’t a trick. I wasn’t testing you on purpose. And, I didn’t give the kings your property to deliberately force you back into my house. You are my family. I love you. I’m trying to help. You need to set your head straight. Pray, plan, execute. And, after, sacrifice and give thanks to reward your successes to God and yourself. This is how to be a man, a father. How to be a woman, a mother. Please, just stay with us. We can work together to plan your next move. We’re family. Think about your father. I know my brother—”

Evoking Lot’s late father shook up the emotions that outsiders can never know of family dynamics. Lot bottled these bad feelings, but every once in a while, a bubble burst to punctuate a random word or two with intense energy. “You’re right, Unc. You’re right. I’ll do better. I promise. Dad would want me to be my own man. Thank you for the offer, really. But I have a plan. I do. I will stay with you for three nights. But! I have connections back at Sodom. I do! Some favors banked that I can cash in on. I do! There’s still good money and opportunity there. Seriously.”

Abraham said, “Lot, come home. You put too much faith in the people of Sodom instead of God and yourself.”

Lot said, “That’s why I’m staying for the three nights. To cement the plan. Pray first, of course, then do what I must.”

“Well, yes, that’s good. But they didn’t come to your rescue. I did.”

“Everything I had is lost. What they owe me is my only chance of restarting anything that’s my own.”

“Please Lot. Don’t let our history cloud your judgement.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re banking on godless men to act honorably and holy.”

“I’m doing the best I can, uncle! I’m sorry I can’t hear God like you do. I’m sorry I don’t have your vision. I’m sorry I’ve been so unlucky, ok? But if there’s the slightest chance, I have to take it. Everything I have left, if anything, is in Sodom. I can only work with what I’ve got.”

- - -

Lot rented a small shack outside Sodom’s city walls with his family. Because he had not explicitly sided with the King of Sodom, the city considered him fair game for exploitation. The friendly connections who owed Lot, they forced hidden war fees and late-to-alliance penalties upon him. They knew Lot was a herdsman by trade. When Lot inquired about purchasing some young adult male and females to restart his flock, they set ridiculously high prices and laughed at his fury. All his clan, but his immediate family, trickled away slowly. He had neither the land nor resources to employ more than himself. Lot prayed and amended his plan.

Every day men passed through the city walls for work in the fields. Lot took up blacksmithing. He repaired citizens’ farm tools, bought old ones, refurbished, and resold. Margins were low, but he eventually built up enough inventory for a stable life with his wife and daughters.

However, he relied on others’ patronage instead of something he truly owned. Lot could not bear admitting that his uncle was right. He angrily shut down his wife or daughters’ pleas to return to Abraham. They were alive, here, in Sodom. Relegated to a laborer instead of ranch owner, but setup in a good spot in a growing city. He forbade his family from mentioning his uncle’s name.

There was one thing of Abraham’s that Lot continued speaking about though. Lot would question citizens and travelers if they had seen “the black bronze.” Lot said it had a name that he had forgotten. Lot claimed it to be stronger than normal bronze even though lighter in weight. He said it was sharper even though harder to shape. He even spoke of impenetrable super humans who wore the mythical metal as easily as their own skin.

No one believed him. How could someone with such a miserable record have any credibility? Lot was a wacky smith who had inhaled too many fumes of the forge. They had initially relegated Lot to outside the walls in order to exploit him for his opportunism, his failure to ally with the king. (Well, all of Sodom was opportunistic, but Lot was unsuccessful at it). Now, they kept him there because he was too insane to let in.

No one believed until the night two iron men arrived.

Lot sat on an upside-down bucket looking at the northern star, trying not to think of his uncle living in that direction. He was strategizing about marrying off his two daughters. None of the Sodom families were making inquiries. Maybe I should check out Gomorrah. I wonder if Uncle Abe has a—nope, don’t.

The moonlight sparkled on two things in the distance. Lot grabbed four torches, lit them from his small campfire, and staked the torches to advertise his business. He couldn’t afford to close shop no matter the hour. All business was always welcome.

As the sparkling figures approached, the clinks and clanks sounded different. When they entered the torchlight, their armor didn’t reflect the golden color of fire with white highlights, but rather a charcoal gray with reddish highlights.

Lot yelped. His heartbeat thumped in his ears. He sprinted towards the two men who instantly drew their swords. The unique scrape of swords unsheathed was new music to Lot’s ears. He froze at the tips of their swords with his hands up, eyes closed, and blissful smile. “You’re real. It’s true.” He fell to his knees thanking God.

The two iron armored men leered at Lot. One asked, “Who are you to accost us?”

Lot looked at the men closely. They were men but had no beards. They cut their hair short. Their eyes and noses were shaped differently. Even in the dark, their skin was a different shade than any other local tribe. “I am Lot, nephew of Abraham. You know him! You met him in Ur. He beat you in chess. Remember? You have to remember.”

The strangers looked at each other confusedly. “Quiet your tongue. Move out of our way. Leave us in peace.”

“I—I am a blacksmith! I can repair your armor or weapons or helmet. Anything you need. For free! I just want a chance to work with your wares, with your permission, of course. What is its name?”

“You mean ‘iron’?”

“Yes. Iron! That’s it!”

“Keep your voice down, Lot. We do not need repairs. We will be on our way.”

“How—How about some food and water? A feast! Surely you can use some rest. Iron is lighter, but still heavy, amiright haha?” Lot’s crooked smile reeked of desperation.

“We have a job to do. Tonight, we tour this city.”

Lot couldn’t let his one chance go to waste. A shot at redemption. He fantasized about mastering the new metal, mass producing, and rising to a titan of blacksmithing. No, a king! “You won’t find anything interesting this late. Everyone’s asleep. In the morning though, that’s when everyone’s busy bustling and coming in and out through the gate here. Trust me. Stay with me this night and rest for a productive day tomorrow.”

The soldiers scanned the perimeter. The city wall above Lot’s home was dark without sentries. Other shacks had no torches lit. They could hear a slight breeze through a distant tree. “It isn’t the most secure location.”

Lot retorted immediately. “No one will bother you. There is a custom here of respecting guests. Good hospitality and all that.” Lot must’ve conveniently forgotten how they treated him as a guest.

One shrugged his shoulders. The other said, “A custom like most places. It is dead out now. And, we shouldn’t insult the first man to greet us. Yeah, let’s stay.”

Lot, his wife, and two daughters took in the iron armored strangers. They washed their feet, prepared a feast, and discussed the world. Lot recited some of his uncle Abraham’s favorite aphorisms, wisdoms, philosophies of life, and theologies. Lot impressed the strangers. They said his (uncle’s) ideas reminded them of home. They removed their armor to get comfortable. They allowed Lot to inspect it.

Then, a sound of shouting was heard outside about ten homes away. Then it sounded seven homes away. It was quickly five homes down. Something was coming. The strangers rushed to armor up, but this took time.

Lot opened his front door to a view of 150 heads crowned by torches and pitchforks. He stepped out and closed the door behind him.

“Lottie!” said one of the thugs. “A little birdie said your alien friends are here.”

“What is this!” demanded Lot attempting to intimidate. “Why are you all up in arms. They are my guests.”

“So, someone is here then, huh? And by your confidence, it must be your special aliens.”

“They are my guests! Have you lost all your honor? You dare break custom and insult the gods—” [Early monotheists, including Abraham, were actually Henotheists. Prophet Isaiah is the first to say there is only one God (Isaiah 45:5). . . I think.]

Five agitators bum rushed Lot against his front door. “Listen here, dirty Hebrew. You are a guest here. A guest cannot have a guest. That doesn’t make sense.” They seemed seriously insulted. “Besides, you aren’t even in the city. You’re outside the city. Fair game, don’tcha’ think?” Their sardonic smiles and eerie laughter would haunt Lot for the rest of his life.

A different mobber said, “We just want to see for ourselves. Is their skin as hard as you say? Are they impenetrable as you say? Will they bend or break?” Wolfish grins drooled.

“No, please!” begged Lot. Panic took Lot’s attention instead of prayer. His mind found recent thoughts to use as reason. “I—I have two daughters. Never been married. You can—”

But mob logic isn’t rational. “Oh, Lottie. This isn’t about pleasure.” Another said, “No one wants your ugly daughters anyway.” A third said, “You’re our bitch and everyone with you is our bitch too!”

The mob rushed in and dragged out the strangers before they could fully equip themselves. They sodomized both simultaneously, multiple times. The mob’s cheers were louder than the victims’ screams. They spit on the iron guests as the sun rose. They spared the guests’ lives because “They aren’t man enough for a real fight.”

Sunlight might’ve brought shame to the mob. Maybe they were tired. Maybe they feared being seen by the wrong person. Maybe they got bored. Maybe none of the above. Regardless, they departed.

Lot’s wife and daughters aided the men as much as they could. Eventually, they rose, dressed slowly, and knelt to pray. After, they stood face to face and headbutted each other with their iron helmets. Helmet to helmet. This riled them up. One turned to Lot, “You are not a bad man. Leave this city now. It’s doomed.”

Lot nodded rapidly. He didn’t speak. The men left.

Lot and his family were about to leave with a few days’ food and water, but Lot hesitated. He had already lost everything once, and feared starting fresh once again. He didn’t think it possible. He didn’t believe in himself. He needed money. Just enough for a few months.

The little wealth Lot had was invested in cumbersome blacksmith items. His heavy anvil, metal hoes, rakes, ploughs, hammers, nails, and weapons. Lot raced through the city offering a fire sale on his inventory. Some agreed to purchase, but they wouldn’t give money unless Lot delivered them the product. Lot demanded payment up front. No one agreed.

After two hours of failure, the battle horns sounded. Lot was shocked. He hadn’t expected the iron men to return this quickly. Lot raced to the city wall above his shack home. One thousand horses on the horizon were kicking up dust to darken the day. Citizens were helplessly sprinting from the countryside towards the walled city of Sodom.

Lot rushed his way to the gate, but a new mob stampeded through its entrance. Lot pushed, shoved, punched, and squeezed his way through the clog, but it took time.

When he reached his wife and daughters, eight horsemen rode circles around them. Lot jumped through a gap in the gallops, determined to die with his family. He hugged them tight as the clanks of iron enveloped. Then, all became silent as if half-asleep. Lot turned his head to a voice he recognized.

An iron gauntlet reached out. It was one of his guests. “Come, now!” The family hurried along with the friendly soldier until away from the front lines. The soldier said, “I told you to leave! Why did you stay!?” Lot had no answer. The soldier was too busy for more emotions. He frankly said, “Run now. Do not turn back. This city’s punishment will please no one.”

Lot, his wife, and his daughters fled with nothing in hand. They could hear screams. They could smell burnt flesh. They tasted ash. Inhaled debris burned their lungs like acid. They couldn’t see the sun even though it was high noon.

Lot’s wife turned and witnessed true horror. Infants impaled on pikes, still squirming. Soldiers ripping men and women’s teeth out with iron pliers to sodomize a new way. A man with each limb tied to a different horse sprinting in different directions. Brothers forced to lay with sisters. A pregnant woman thrown into a burning house. Women dragged by the hair. Boys tied to stakes for target practice.

They couldn’t stop moving. The fire of iron vengeance raged like a locust swarm, chasing the fleeing, straggling citizens for it had consumed the main harvest of the city proper. It would consume them too if they stopped.

But terror, horror, and aghast froze Lot’s wife. None of her daughters’ shouts of “Mommy!” would stir her. Her husband’s pushing and pulling would not move her. She simply stood, unblinking, as stiff and brittle as a pillar of salt.

Lot and his daughters had to leave his wife. There was no iron guardian angel here to answer the prayers that Lot forgot to make.

We must pray before things big and small. We must think. We must anticipate. We must plan. But allow not “analysis paralysis.” God is ever present. He knows our prayers before we make them. We must act when God answers. But, believe not that God gifts us the object of our desire. Almost always, He grants us opportunities. A homeless man panhandling. A crying child. A woman beaten into silence. An aggressive driver to test our patience. A stranger’s car broken down to test our generosity. Prayer is only motion. Holiness demands action. For just as Messiah is the Word made Flesh, we must evolve prayer from only words in our mind into actual, physical action.