The Journey ~ Part 3: Not By Might
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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THIS IS INCREDIBLEEEEE!!! HOW ARE YOU THIS GOOD AT WRITING???? :O
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