September 29, 2006

*Part six, concluding a tale that illustrates spiritual bondage as well as the freedom and healing that can be found in Jesus Christ.

The daylight was finally spent.  After an especially severe beating, she managed to gather enough  strength to slowly wander back towards her hut.  When she arrived, she found the place was deserted; Anne was nowhere to be found.  Abigail left again, considering where and how to scavenge some scraps for her famished tummy and a drop of water for her painfully dry throat.  Having no other clear direction before her, she turned eastward and made her way towards the top of the hill through the darkness.  As she walked, she again heard the sound of a crow’s cawing.  The heavy air began to move ponderously along the ground and with it came a mist laden with a stench that sickened her stomach.  The mist thickened until it became difficult to see and the girl began to be afraid.  As her straining eyes tried in vain to pierce the fog before her, her feet began to stumble.  She tried to hurry upward and onward, but her toes caught on an unexpected snag and she fell to the ground, cutting her hands and bruising her face against a stone.

Then a low, quiet voice softly touched her hearing, soothingly reaching her hungry soul.  “Don’t let your eyes wander too far ahead, child.  Just keep to the path that has been laid at your feet.”  Abigail looked beneath her and saw a narrow, yet smooth path that ascended up the face of the hill.  She climbed to her feet, wiping away a trickle of blood from a cut on her forehead that had found its way into her eye.  She began to climb again, this time following closely the path at her feet. 

It was a straight path, but it suddenly turned towards the right and continued on in a straight line.  She wondered at that for she now felt a great urgency to climb to the top of the hill, yet the path now seemed to be moving in the wrong direction.  The fogs became even thicker, masking her surroundings both to the right and to the left.  She could hardly see more than a few feet in front of her, yet she chose to trust the voice and keep her feet on the path.  It turned again to the right, apparently now leading in the completely opposite direction of where she wished to go, but she knew she couldn’t find the way on her own and that there was no turning back.  She stayed on course with the path and felt a suspense growing inside of her of what would happen next.  Finally, the trail turned again, but this time it went to the left and then quickly to the left again, leading straight on until she was no longer climbing but had reached a flat, level space.

A cool, keenly refreshing breeze flowed here.  It drove the foul airs back and Abigail could finally see about her.  Before her lay a marble fountain with flowers growing thickly about it in a joyful riot of color that could be seen in a light that seemed to emanate from both them and the stone they adorned.  She gasped and stood still for a moment, transfixed by the beauty of the scene before her.  She then ran to it and fell against the shapely marble.  Her hands touched the perfectly cut stone, feeling its smooth, glassy texture.  The aroma of the flowers perfumed the air, giving the hilltop a wholesome and fresh ambience, while little lights twinkled in the clear sky overhead so brightly that they actually seemed to pierce the darkness about her.  “Stars,” she said aloud, recognizing them at once although she had never actually seen them before due to Mohjac’s clouds that perpetually covered the sky.

Water shot up merrily into the air, cresting in a graceful arc and falling back into the basin merrily.  Abigail sat for a moment, watching and listening to the sights and sounds of this secret place.  She noticed a small silver cup beside the fountain’s basin but jumped, startled by the previously unnoticed presence of someone standing beside the fountain.

It was a man that she had never seen before.  Although he was wearing a long, spotlessly white robe, brighter still was the warm smile on his face.  “Thirsty?” he asked.  His voice seemed familiar somehow, but she wasn’t sure where she might have heard it before.

She nodded, wordlessly.  She suddenly felt awkward… almost embarrassed in front of him.  She lifted her hand to brush away a wisp of hair that had fallen in front of her face.  As she did so, her chains clinked faintly against each other, but the sound seemed as loud as thunder in her ears.  She blushed and hung her head in shame.

“Are those chains tiring you?” he asked.  “They’re certainly tiring to look at.”  She became very uncomfortable.  Was he mocking her?  “In my kingdom, people don’t wear chains,” he commented rather matter-of-factly.  He paused, as if giving her an opportunity to answer.  She continued to sit still, seated on the ground by the fountain, but didn’t reply.  He went on, “In my kingdom, people aren’t thirsty nor do they hunger.”  She still did not reply, completely at a loss as to what she should say.  Perhaps he was mocking her.  Maybe he was selling something, but if so, what was the price that he’d require?

“People in my kingdom are all members of the royal family,” he continued.  “They are each princes and princesses.”  She dared a quick glance upward.  How could that be?  Surely there was some sort of jest or worse, a trap for her if she proved unwary enough.  He reached down and grasped the silver cup.  He dipped it into the crystal clear water and held it up before her.  “In my kingdom,” he said, “people have life… abundant life.”

“Sir,” she timidly said.  “How does one reach your kingdom?”

His eyes twinkled.  “I tell you the truth, no one can come to my kingdom unless he is born again” (from John 3:3).  He lowered the cup towards her.

“May I please have a drink?” she asked.  He crouched down beside her.  “Do you want to be healed?” he asked her.  She nodded her head slowly.  “Do you want to be set free from these chains?”  Again, she nodded.

“Understand, child, that if you turn to me, you are no longer Mohjac’s slave,” he said seriously.  “You can no longer do his work.  You are to no longer harvest his berries for his evil drink.”  Tears began to form in Abigail’s eyes when he said this.  He placed the cup into her hand.  “Whoever drinks the water that I give will never thirst.  Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life” (from John 4:14).

When he said this, she started to push the cup back into his hand.  “I’m not worthy of this,” she murmured softly.  “I’ve been selfish; I’ve lied; I’ve hurt others,” she protested.

 “I know, child.  I’m not offering forgiveness and freedom because you’ve deserved it, but because I knew you before you knew me and I long for you to be free.”  He took her fingers and wrapped them around the cup.  “I tell you the truth, whoever hears my word and believes in Him Who sent me has eternal life and will not be condemned; he has crossed over from death to life” (from John 5:24).

She let him put the cup to her dry and cracked lips.  “I believe,” she said, and she drank the water he gave her.  From that moment on, she was a new person.  Set free, whole, and filled with purpose, she began a new life as a child of his kingdom.  And when she again saw her friend, Anne,  they celebrated together the new life that they had found.

(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).