The Journey ~ Part 3: Not By Might

by - 1:50 PM

Not By Might

She tried – oh, how she tried! One agonizing step after the other she made her way down to the deeper caverns and after a supreme battle of will, left the gems there to lie. Slowly, painfully, she forced her reluctant steps upwards – back to the golden light. At last she would be free! She could resume her journey and make up for the time she had lost. Maybe, if she tried hard enough, she could earn her way back to the sunlight.
But she had not been strong enough. Ever the aching longing within her grew, overwhelming her reason and conscience’s protest until she found herself going back to where she had vowed she would never return; to find that which her heart hated and yet longed for, ‘till it burned.
They are hers once more. She clings to them, whispering, muttering over them like something crazed. She will never let them go again. It will hurt too much – and the agony within is already too great for bearing. Her conscience is dying, she can feel its weakening tremor still her slowly beating heart. But it has hurt her – it deserves to die.
Yes, she has them, and believes herself complete. But now . . . now she cannot get out. Any movement, any breath too deep or whisper too loud, and she will fall down an endless pit. She dares not even blink as the moments slip by – nor could she if she wanted to, so wide are her eyes paralyzed by the fear. Each breath prolongs the agony of her plight, and still she holds her lifeless, cursed jewels close. They are hers – she will not let them go.
Alas, but she does not want to die! Why? She does not love life anymore. And yet . . . there is something. What is this glimmering flame deep within? Its light is not from the gems. They smother it and sear her heart to seal it in forever. She does not want to lose it . . . and yet knows that it is from this that the pain is coming.
“Please,” her thoughts whisper brokenly, “Please get me out. I don’t want to fall! Please . . .” she clutches the gems closer.
There is no one to help her, yet hope flickers still. She cannot be alone! He promised . . . a sob slips through her parted lips. Stones crumble from her narrow foot-hold, plummeting downward into endless night. She does not hear them strike the bottom. It is a fall of forever.
“You promised,” she whispers and a hot, bitter tear falls from her face to land on the gems in her hands, “You promised.”
“Yes,” a warm voice rolls from the stillness. Ariel gasps, jerking her head up to look around. More stones loose themselves from beneath her feet. With a whimper, she clings to the stone wall . . . and her gems.
“Where are you?” she breathes.
“Look up, Ariel.”
And she does. There, on the far rim of this midnight pit, a gleaming figure stands. He is robed in gold, silver and brilliant sky blue, but the sword at his side and shield in his hand do not diminish the soft, pitying glance which beams, like a promise, from his deep-blue eyes.
“Why are you here, Ariel?” he asks.
“I . . .” and her voice trails off. Why is she here? Because she was not strong enough to resist the lure of the gems. She glances down, away from the brilliant man, and into her treasures. Her gaze turns dark. What right has he to know?!
“Why are you here?” she spits.
The man’s eyes become sad at her tone, “I am here to help you, Ariel,” he says.
“How?” she asks, her voice still sharp, though she glances up with a desperate curiosity, “You aren’t . . . Him,” peering across the chasm, she shakes her head, “You don’t look like Him.”
“The Adonai may appear however he wills,” the man replies, “Yet I am not He, but a messenger,” he gives a slight bow of his head and smiles, “Call me Oswald.”
“Then where is He?” she exclaims, caring not for name or person, “He promised He would . . . He . . .” but she cannot say it. To repeat the words of that promise would be to admit her own wrongdoing. She knows one truth will lead to another, each equally painful and they will wrench the precious gems from her grasp. She could not, cannot bear it . . .
Then Oswald speaks: “Yes, He promised that He would neither leave nor forsake you. That you would never be alone,” he leans forward, gaze fixed intently on Ariel’s face. She shudders and clutches the gems ever closer.
“Then where is He?” she whispers, soft tears whispering down her face. Slowly, Oswald shakes his head.
“You know the answer to that, dear Ariel,” he says, “And yet you still choose to quench the Spirit.”
“But it burns!” she cries, “Too hotly . . . too brightly. Why does it burn?! He said he loves me.”
“Yes,” Oswald replies, his face eager as he leans a little further, “He does love you and that is why it burns. The best and truest refinement is that which comes from flames. Though they burn, yet you must trust Him! He knows what is best for you, and all the dross will be purged-“
“THEY ARE MINE!!” Ariel screams, hunching over her gems and panting wildly, “He cannot take them! I can’t let them go . . . it hurts too much.”
“Have a care, child!” Oswald replies, standing straighter and lifting a hand, “Or the thing you covet will seal itself to you and pull you into the abyss!”
Ariel gasps, struggling to straighten as the gems suddenly grow heavier in her hands. She tries to open them, but cannot feel anything anymore. Anything, save the searing burn.
“Why?” she sobs, trembling and gasping, “Why won’t He help me? Why didn’t He make me strong enough? Does He want me to fall?” The horrible thought chokes her as she struggles to breath through the roaring pain in her hands and the growing weight on her chest. Eyes widen as there appears beneath her feet a slivering crack.
“You will never be strong enough,” Oswald murmurs, “For your own darkness is what draws you downward. There is nothing good in you save what He put there.”
“Then why didn’t He make it strong enough?” she asks.
“He did,” Oswald replies, “He is stronger than anything. Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, says the Adonai of hosts. The Spirit dwells inside of you. The question is . . .”
Ariel glances up, weary, streaming, widened eyes meeting those of deepest blue.
“Do you want to be saved?” Oswald says.
Does she? The world stands still as Ariel hesitates. She wants to be free, to be safe from this pit, but . . . but will He catch her if she falls? Will any good come of letting go the gems she yearns for and hates, just as she yearns for and hates herself. But she does not yearn for and hate Him. There is yearning, but it is sweet, and so deep and sure and bright and hopeful – like a fountain of living water. All she wants – all she could ever want! – is to be at peace again. But . . . does He truly still care? Is He really there? Will He catch her if she falls?
“Yes,” she whispers, breaking the spell, “I want to be saved. But Oswald,” she shakes her head, voice catching, “Will He save me? I left the path. I chose these over Him. How can He . . . love like that?”
Oswald smiles, “He can love like that because He is the Adonai, and love is His name. Therefore, He says: ‘For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God . . . for God gave you a spirit, not of fear, but of power and love.’
“Fan into flame,” Ariel murmurs, “How?”
“Believe,” Oswald’s voice booms into the darkness, “Draw near to Adonai and He will draw near to you. Let go the sin which bears you downward. Only ask, and He will forgive you and save you from your own curse.”
“Ask, believe, let go . . .” Ariel whispers, closing her eyes and trying to block out the pain, “Adonai . . . Adonai, I can’t open my hands. I cannot let them go! The darkness is too strong. Please,” she takes a shaky breath and murmurs, “Be strong for me.”
A soft clink sounds through the darkness. Opening her eyes with a start, Ariel watches as the three luminous jewels plummet into darkness. She looks at her hands and for the first time in so long - yes, so long she cannot even remember! – she smiles.
“I’m free,” she whispers, glancing up to meet Oswald’s gaze. But he is not smiling.
“Not yet,” he says, and at that moment, the ground begins to shake. Ariel gasps and braces against the wall. A roar thunders from the depths of the pit, pulsing tremors through the earth and crumbling stone from the walls.
“Adonai!” Ariel screams, clinging to the wall.
“Climb the pit! Ariel, climb out of the pit!” she hears Oswald’s voice call. Tears stream as she shakes her head.
“I can’t,” she whispers, sobbing, “I’m not strong enough. It’s too high.” He did leave her. Why had she not known He would?!
Ariel, believe in Me,” a still, small voice whispers through the terror. Deep within her heart, a blossoming flame grows. Ariel looks up, and sees a stone jutting a little above her head.
“Adonai is my refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble,” she murmurs, grasping first one stone and then another. Slowly, she pulls herself up the pit wall, still murmuring, “Therefore, I will not fear though the earth gives way.”
“Be still and know that I am God!” a voice calls from above. Desperately, Ariel increases her speed. Then her hand-hold breaks, her foots slips and she falls. She screams, but a hand reaches from the clouds of dust above and seizes her arm.
“Keep praying, Ariel!” Oswald’s voice calls. She feels him struggle to pull her from the yawning black hole beneath.
“Be merciful to me, O God, be merciful, for in You my soul takes refuge,” she sobs, clinging ever tighter and struggling against a sudden-sprung wind. Stones rain in a hail of chaos around her. In the depths of the pit, she sees a molten fire burning, “In the shadow of Your wings I will take refuge, till the storms of destruction pass by,” still the fire churns beneath, and Ariel shudders, scrabbling wildly at the crumbling wall. She will fall!
“Why are you cast down, O my soul?” Oswald’s voice booms suddenly from above, “And why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God, for I shall again praise Him-“
“My salvation!” Ariel joins in the cry, and at her words a brilliant white flame shoots from her into the surrounding darkness, “And my God!
With a roar deeper than the thunder and stronger than the wind, the silver-gold flames shear the shadows, casting aside the blackness, bearing Ariel up from darkness and into a golden light.
~ ~ ~
Not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit, says the Lord of Hosts.
Zechariah 4:6




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  1. THIS IS INCREDIBLEEEEE!!! HOW ARE YOU THIS GOOD AT WRITING???? :O

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