Everything is a privilege. Twenty-four hours past, I didn’t envisage having a post. As the Father willed it, I’m posting again.
I have another story to share, one that reflects a topic bothering me, or shall I say nipping at me. I hope it gets communicated across well:
‘Twenty yards. Throat gasping. Its steps pounded behind. Knees begging for a rest, I ran.
Ahead, the maple door loomed, chocolate and heavy from appearance. I dared to glance back and saw it roar, canines sharp and ready to plunge into flesh. Not my body, I thought, closing the gap to the door. I just need to reach the flagstaff before it reaches me.
Reaching the steps leading to the door, I hit a toe against a granite rock, felt the sharp cut of skin and rolled forward, gaining stability with one hand. Using the free hand to pick the stone, I aimed for the animal and let fly. The granite hit it right in the middle of its nose, prompting a fiery roar and a pause, as if it was nursing its wound.
Time gained, I stumbled to the door, pulled the large brass handle, and fell inside on a cemented floor. A pool of water, starting three feet from me and having its bank three feet from the flagstaff, caused me to gasp. The room was dark, brightened by whatever light seeped in through the window. Last I recalled, nimbus were gathering at the west horizon.
The pool was fenced with electric wires, and a rope was tied above, the rope two inches below my height. On the rope were white chairs, all plastic, all four-legged, with the rope passing between the legs.
A thundering roar jerked me out of numbness. I added the sums quickly. Climb the wooden stairs leading to the rope, step on each chair till the end of the rope, get down, and pick the flagstaff. Very simple. Like I had watched in Ultimate Search.
The downside however, was this: there was no logical way of stepping on the chairs without tumbling inside the water, which as I observed, would electrocute. A body slammed into the door. I jumped aside, thankful I had secured the door with a heavy metallic ring. I also knew the animal would get its breakthrough after three or more tries.
I didn’t have such time.
I started. There was a child in the room? The voice had rung out from the other end. I stepped close to the fence and peered, wishing there was a light.
Sighting no one, I called out. “Hello.”
“Hello.” I jumped away from the fence at the same time the animal slammed into the door. I had to figure our something, but all logical answers of reaching the flagstaff seemed impossible. And there was the discovery of a child.
“Come unto me.”
The metal ring creaked. Another slam and it would break. Then I would be dead. I could as well avoid that. Step on the chairs, pick the flagstaff, and command the animal. Even dispose of it if I wished. But how?
“I’ve been where you are. Now, I’m where you want to be.”
Outside the door, I heard the animal brace for another impact. I’m running crazy. There’s no child.
“Do you believe me if I say I have what you seek?”
“You have the flagstaff?”
“I have what you seek. Come unto me.”
I didn’t know if it was the pounding leading up to another crash, or the urgency to get the flagstaff, or the dawning fact that I was going nuts, or a blend of the three, I just started. Took the stairs in three.
The door crashed and the lion jumped, breaking off the wooden stairs as my left foot exited the last step.
And I was walking over water, on chairs that should dump me in a charged pool. There was no turning back. The options were spelled out: Reach the flagstaff, or die – either by the hands of a ferocious animal, or the charged pool.
I started by trusting in the child, and I would see its end, whether death or victory.’
Afterword: I believe faith is an unseen reality. Not until we walk in this reality do it dominates the prevailing circumstances. And I’m certain it never fails, which is why I could walk on those chairs. Thank you so much for reading, and visiting this blog. Kindly share this post with others. Stay blessed.