September 1, 2006
*Part two of a tale that illustrates spiritual bondage as well as the freedom and healing that can be found in Jesus Christ.
One gray and gloomy morning, when the somber clouds hung especially heavy in the sky, Abigail and Anne were roughly roused and dispatched to a craggy knoll to search for berries for Mohjac’s brew. Before finally departing, their terrible slave masters savagely shook them, holding them aloft by the chains clamped about their necks. With dry and raspy voices they cursed them and warned them that they each had to fill their baskets that day lest they be especially punished with beatings and other cruel torments.
They were dropped to the ground where they lay quietly, their blue tinted fingers clutching at their throats as they gasped for breath. Their tormentors left them and they lay for a long while staring up at the uncaring clouds passing overhead. After a while, Anne stirred, reached out and touched Abigail reassuringly, and then began the climb up the jagged rocks to a clump of scraggly bushes. Abigail took a moment longer to rise, struggling with the icy fingers of despair that seemed to grip her heart. Utterly beyond even feeling bitter, her hopelessness shrouded her mind and heart. Slowly, her faltering feet automatically began the ascent up the hill towards another bush that her now tearless eyes had spied.
As they worked, picking the foul-smelling, blood-colored berries from thorny branches, they began to talk about kindnesses shared between them in the past. The brief, but pleasant memories of those times fed their hungry souls a few small crumbs of comfort. But a shadow circled overhead that did not move with the clouds. Unnoticed by the girls whose eyes were focused downward upon the monotony of their work, a large raven spiraled in descent until it alighted onto a tangle of branches. Hidden amongst the shadows of dead and decaying leaves that had yet refused to fall to the ground, the large bird silently observed the girls’ labor, cocking its head at each word that was said.
“Oh,” Abigail moaned anxiously as the day’s light began to fade. “I can’t seem to find enough berries and our time is nearly over.” Anne, who had scarcely more than did Abigail, smiled and cheerily said, “Not to worry. There are lots over here. You can have some of mine.” With that, Anne dipped into her own basket, carefully screening its contents from Abigail’s view, and then deposited a large handful of berries. “Thank you,” Abigail breathed gratefully, as Anne hastily turned away and went back to the other side of the bush. Hidden on the other side of the bush, she feverishly worked to make up for her lack of berries, reaching deep into the branches of the bush, the long and cruel thorns of the plant cutting into her flesh until her arm was streaked with blood.
Just as their time was nearly over, the berries drew level with the tops of their baskets. They had done it! Perhaps they would not be beaten that night! Anne placed her basket down on the ground and began to sing happily. Her face lifted up and she saw a small white bloom in the rocks above them, barely visible in the grayness of the waning daylight. An exclamation of joy burst from her lips and she sprang towards it so she could see it better.
Abigail also began to move towards the sight, but when she attempted to set her basket down on the ground as well, the basket tipped over on the uneven rocks. Too late did her hand grab the basket, trying in vain to set it right. Her berries bounced and spilled out, rolling down into the midst of the rocks and instantly disappearing into cracks and crevices. Horror gripped Abigail and she momentarily lost her voice. But then she glanced up at Anne and saw that her back was still turned towards her. Without thinking, she reached into Anne’s basket, grasped as large a handful as she could and then placed it into her own. Again, she slipped her hand into Abigail’s basket and took another handful, holding her breath, hoping that Anne would not see. She carefully turned Anne’s basket on its side, and then scrambled away from it. The raven still clinging to its branch with ebony talons, watched silently with an evil glint in its eye.
“Anne!” Abigail cried. “Your basket!” Anne’s head whirled around and her eyes focused on what was left of her hard work. As her eyes drank in the scene before her, all color left her face. She stood frozen in place, knowing the wrath that would soon befall her. And then the slave masters returned. In a moment, they assessed that Abigail’s basket was satisfactory but that Anne’s was not. They lay hold of Abigail and Anne and returned them to their shed. They chained Abigail to a wall but then, in Abigail’s presence, began to beat Anne as they had never beaten her before. She was struck so many times with their rods that she soon couldn’t even cry out anymore. They laughed and mocked her but whether she could hear them or not was unclear to Abigail, who, in her terror, could only try in vain to shut out the sight and sound of her friend’s torment. But there could hardly have been any pain more biting and severe than the strange and unexpected feelings of guilt and condemnation that came from her betrayal of Anne.
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Our circumstances in life are often “unfair” and overwhelming. But circumstances do not make our character: they reveal it. How do you face difficult or adversity? What is your typical response to trials and tribulations? Do moments of pain or fear become rationalizations for “subtle, little betrayals” and moments of compromise in your life? Are your choices simply “reactions” to your circumstances that pull you deeper into the slavery of victimization? Or are they “responses” that come from a daily abiding in Christ Jesus, allowing you to freely be what you were created to be? Only Jesus can give you a secure sense of hope and a lasting perspective of victory. Only Jesus, our eternally reigning Savior and beloved Son of God, can free us from the slavery of merely reacting to our circumstances and the powerlessness of feeling that we just can’t help but make the poor choices that we do.
“I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the anxious longing of the creation waits eagerly for the revealing of the sons of God” (Romans 8:18-19 NASB).
To be continued…
(Thom Mollohan and his family have ministered in southern Ohio the past eleven years. He is the pastor of Pathway Community Church, which meets on Sunday mornings at the Ariel Theatre. He may be reached for comments or questions by email at pastorthom@pathwaygallipolis.com).
