I
Once upon a time in a very distant
land near the town of Greyton there lived a brother and a sister named John and
April Mayfield. Being orphans, John and April had to look out for themselves. And
being alone in the world, they were considered Outcasts, and had to live as
shepherds in the wide open spaces beyond the town.
This night, John
Mayfield sat on the cold, hard ground beside the unconscious body of his now
sleeping sister, April, and he wept. He cried because he was afraid, but most
of all he cried because he was ashamed that he had done nothing to help.
Earlier that evening,
John, April and the other shepherds were moving their flocks closer to the
town. The severity of the winter-Winter had set in and food was scarce. For the
past few nights, packs of desperately hungry wolves were drawing closer to the
flocks. Their howls grew louder, and the shepherds knew that at some point the wolves’
hunger would overcome their fear, and they would attack. When the attack came,
even the older shepherds were surprised by its ferocity and speed .
When the wolves
rushed in among the flocks, April moved to protect the ewe lambs. Swinging
wildly with her staff, two of the wolves turned on her. John also had rushed
in, and he saw the wolves turn to attack his sister. John tripped on the uneven
ground, and the spectacles he was wearing fell from his face. Lying on the
ground and frozen in fear, he trembled as he lay helpless. In the commotion,
another shepherd, named Gabe, rushed to April’s defense. As Gabe ran past John,
he looked down at John. John knew Gabe saw him, and John believed Gabe saw his fear
and shame of powerlessness. Gabe drove the attackers away from April and pursued
them into the wood. The howls and cries of battle continued out of sight and became
more distant and more faint. Even though Gabe was an experienced shepherd and a
strong man, it had been several hours, and Gabe had not returned. So, it seemed
that though Gabe had saved April’s life and the flock, John was afraid that he
was unable to save his himself.
John had seen the
evening’s events, unspectacled, and he saw them for what they were. Now that he
had put the spectacles back on, he saw himself for what he was: a coward. Yes, he
had fallen, and yes, he was still a young lad, but he knew. He knew that he did
not get up though he could have; he knew that he didn’t even try. Instead, paralyzed
by fear, he laid there and watched another shepherd – an Outsider, save his
flock. But most importantly, he saw him save the life of the only other person
in his life who cared about him. And now, he sat beside her alone in the empty
and icy hardness of Winter thinking himself the most unfortunate boy who had
ever lived.
II
Things had not always been
unfortunate for John and April. Seven years ago, before the goblin, Glubglot
was made Governor by the Old Steward, the Mayfields had lived with their mother
and father along the banks of the Wandering River in the town Greyton. Though
their means were modest, they lived a comfortable and happy life. But then The Age came, and the endless Winter
began and the River froze hard and sickness and hunger descended on the land,
and the wolves came down from the distant mountain wilderness.
The Age took its
toll on the Kingdom and on the Old Steward who himself gave way under the
weight of its melancholy. Just as the Age made the land hard, it made the
people hard. Even in the small town of Greyton where people had been friends
for time out of mind, the people grew cold to one another. They envied and grew
suspicious and spied on each other and were harsh. The Steward, bent over with
the burden of governing, began to look for help from anyone who would offer,
and it was in this way that the he began to give his ear to the goblin.
Globglot was an ugly
goblin. (Now, if you’ve known goblins you know that being an ugly goblin is very
ugly, and Globglot’s ugliness was inside and out). As goblins go, he was a clever
goblin, and he used the hardness of The Age to his advantage. The scarcity
caused by the Unending Winter made the Steward desperate to have more. Glubglot
used the Steward’s fear to gain power, and he promised to increase the
kingdom’s productivity and make more efficient, its use of resources. And so,
in this way, the Steward turned from trusting the Promise-Maker’s promises to
getting what he wanted by other means. The Age produced a good measure of
misery which Glubglot enjoyed immensely. But the genius of his wickedness he
demonstrated in the Lead Glasses he made for the people.
Glubglot called
the glasses, Suspectacles which, when worn, would give the wearer the ability
to see through things. Anyone wearing suspectacles would be able, so they
thought, to see things the way they really were. Through their lenses, no one
saw the wonder of creation, any sincerity in motives, and no beauty in
sacrifice. They only saw: efficiency or not, utility or not, profit or not. And
so, as you or I would surely realize, being able to see through everything only
means that your are unable to see anything, and in the end, though the Steward
and the people thought they were growing in knowledge and insight, they were
really being blinded, and the longer the people wore the heavy lead framed suspectacles,
the more their heads dropped, and the more miserable they became.
There were others
among the Kingdom who would not wear the glasses; they were the Outcasts.
Because they would not submit to wearing the suspectacles, they were sent to
work as shepherds out beyond the security of the town. The Outcasts believed
the Promise-Maker’s Promises and the Stories of the promises, and they lived in
the hope that the King would come and that he would end the Age of the Unending
Winter and that sitting on his throne the Forever-Joy would begin.
Gabe was an
Outcast, and he was called Good Gabe by all who new him. At first, John and
April did not trust him. Seeing him through their suspectacles, they thought
that this big, strong, loud man with red cheeks and a hearty laugh was really
out to take advantage of them. But over the months, he had shown himself a
light-hearted and merry kind of fellow. “He may be a fool,” April would say, “but
an honest and jolly fool is better company than a clever goblin.” And so, John
and April kept company with Gabe around the campfire in the evening, and
sometimes they forgot themselves and laughed with him, but this night, there was
no laughter around the fire, John was alone full of shame and regret.
III.
Maybe it was because his spectacles
had been knocked from his eyes during the attack by the wolves, but John saw in
Gabe’s courage and desperation as he fought for April a beauty that he could
not explain. No doubt, if he had seen things through the lead glasses, he
would’ve seen a fool-hearty and reckless act. Gabe’s sheep were not at risk.
Both John and April offered no real advantage to him or the other shepherds.
Their ignorance of shepherding and their youth made them more a liability than
an advantage to the company of shepherds, and yet the bravery with which Gabe had
saved April and John and their flock began to work in John’s heart. In that
moment, a possible hope and even a little fear, began to stir in John, that maybe
there was something heavier—something more real through which one could not see
but was that which all looking hoped to see.
Sitting beside the
resting body of his sister, John remembered the many campfire talks they had
with Gabe. John recalled how Gabe’s unspectacled eyes twinkled kindness and
warmth—even if he was, by all accounts, just a jovial fool. Gabe told them
about how life had been before Glubglot had deceived the Steward, and that
there was still a hope in which to hope. Long ago, the Promise had been made
that a new King would come and that he would bear away all the heaviness of
life and speak wise words and turn things from the way they are to the way they
ought to be and that his ageless reign would not grow old but would be new
every day. During the King’s reign the Winter would give way to summer and
anger to reconciliation and wrongs to forgiveness and sadness to joy. He
thought of the song he often heard Gabe sing,
The door that was closed shall be opened.
The lingering cold shall give way.
The power of winter shall be broken,
And night shall give rise to New Day.
But of course, John suspected that that was only wishful thinking. April had
been inclined to believe, but John could not…would not, and even more so now, as
the weight of his sadness and weariness pressed down on him. There beside her, he
groped for some explanation of the weakness of his heart and the beauty of
Gabe’s selflessness.
IV.
April awoke in the next hour, and
though she was still shaken, she sensed the silence of his mood and having lost
her glasses in the struggle, she saw more clearly the resignation and defeat in
her brother.
That evening as
they sat up to watch the sheep, the heaviness of John’s sadness and regret hung
over him. The events of the night and of the preceding seven years as well seemed
to wash over him in a deafening, silent darkness. April reached out and took
his hand and said, “I wonder…”
And from behind, a
voice laughed and said, “I wonder, indeed.” Startled, John and April turned to
see Gabe – Good ol’ Gabe -- standing behind them. Jumping up, they each rushed
to embrace him, but John drew up short and lowered his head. Gabe caught his
eye and said, “Come now, John. Do not hang back but welcome and be welcomed,”
and he reached and took John in his arms and said,
“The door that was closed has been opened.
The cold that has lingered gives way
The power of winter is broken
And night gives rise to New Day.”
And suddenly, Good Gabe glowed with
all his goodness as if a fire had ignited from within him. Unmasked, he showed
his true quality as one of the Bright Messengers of the Promise-Maker. He
glowed with a brightness that pushed down harder than any burden, and in his
revealed presence, John and April trembled before the glowing reality. In the
presence of this light, the lead suspectacles which John wore evaporated in a wisp
like a fog before a spring morning. And now John really saw. He saw his refusal
to enter into joy, his cynicism and sadness, his cowardice and fear, and even
his shame for what they were: a denial. All his life, John had lived in fear of
being taken in by an unreal happiness. But now, being really un-happy,
would he step into the uncertainty of a future grace?
In the presence of
that glory John’s doubt shook, and his pettiness cracked. Gabe, glowing ever
brighter, said, “Do not be afraid because I have great and joyful news. Today,
the long-awaited King has come to Greyton. And so that you will believe that
what I say is true, hear this:
The Great King has come as a baby.
Draw near as you would any child.
He is swaddled in the arms of lady
The Majestic come meek and mild.
He sits not in castle or throne room
But lies in a manger with straw
Infinity wrapped as an infant
The Joy who is offered to all.
Go now to His side and there greet him.
The Joy that the Promise has made
Eternity has entered our Grey Town
The Promise has come as a babe.”
And at that moment the clouded-night
winter skies were ripped open and thousands upon thousands of Bright Ones
appeared in the now starry sky; the weight of their glory was joy, and it fell in
huge blocks of light. They sang the song of the Good News, and of highest praise to the Promise-Maker who had
kept his promise to all those who’s hope is in Him.
And to all this John
and April listened and received and welcomed. And as they received, they were
changed. For no matter what had happened to them, and what sadness and
brokenness they had born, this news meant that they were not alone and that it
was not all for nothing. It meant that the great, lumbering distance to the end was
not their walk to make, but rather, the Blessed One who awaits at the end has made
his way to them.
John, April, and
the other shepherds rushed to the town and found the baby King just as Gabe had
told them, and in that moment, their belief hardened; it did not callous, but
rather, as in a sad song, it resolved into a major key and they too shown with
the light of his glory. John and April told the parents of the baby King all
that had happened and of the beauty and glory and music and light, and the baby’s
mother seemed to specially take it all to heart.
Now, though everything
changed that night, it would be many years before the beginning was finished
and the end begun. And even though The King had come, Glubglot still deceived
the people, and many still wore their lead suspectacles and thought it very
foolish of those who did not.
And since the
beginning of the end, more goblins have continued to come and bring with them other
devices which they promise will help people to really see. Yet for those who lay
down their real unhappiness before the King and step into the light of the news
of his coming, unending winter passes, and he bears them into the cosmic summer
of his unshakeable joy.
0 comments:
Post a Comment