Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Space (01/23/06)
- TITLE: Secret Boxes
By Robin Wisch
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A Rolex watch rested on an open laptop. An unopened briefcase sat near the terrace door. Sighing, he laid down next to his wife; burdens buried deep inside.
Soon, consciousness blurred and he was awakened in a dream by a robed stranger. Inexplicably, he followed the stranger to the terrace. Engulfed in holiness, he whispered, “my Lord.”
“Follow me,” the man felt within his spirit.
Momentarily, he stood before a wooden door.
Turning the cool brass handle downward, the door creaked open. Swinging it inward, he questioned, “What is this place, my Lord?”
“Why do you call me Lord,” asked the Stranger?
“Am I really your Lord,” asked the Stranger.
“What do you mean?” replied the man, quietly.
“Step in my son and you’ll see.”
Cautiously, he entered. A faltering torchlight lit the room. The man’s knee hit an object in the shadowy light. He then tripped backwards landing on the arm of a large chair.
Adjusting his eyes, he recognized the silhouette of other boxes of various sizes. On the large chair were more boxes. It stood in the middle of the room.
“Sit down, my son.”
Clearly, now the man could see that the chair was really a great throne. Even still, there was no room to sit.
“There is no room; there are too many boxes on it.”
“You have spoken truthfully,” said the Robed One.
“These boxes are in the way. We need to clear them out.” stated the man.
“This room is a picture of your heart and these are your secret boxes,” replied the Lord uncondemningly.
The man was puzzled.
Carefully lifting the lid of a nearby box, the man saw his wife kneeling and crying. “Why doesn’t he love me anymore, Lord?”
He closed it quickly.
“Open another one.”
Lifting another lid, he saw a young mother with two children exiting an old Dodge Caravan. Blue smoke seeped from the tailpipe. Green liquid dripped from the radiator. The children were dressed in clothes slightly too small. The woman wore a blue dress he’d seen too many times before. Next, they stood before the church food closet. Each child held a canned food item. The woman had two bags of spaghetti noodles under her arm. The man smiled, patted the woman on the back and walked briskly away.
Uncovering another lid, he viewed a large desk covered with business documents. The man at the desk furiously tabulated numbers on a calculator. A little girl came up to him crying, holding her knee.
“I told you if you kept playing like that you’d get hurt,” he barked.
Suddenly, he heard “you’ve got mail”. Opening his email, he read,
“Mr. Walters, your new Cadillac STS will be available for pick up tomorrow at the dealership. The Avalanche white was a beautiful choice.”
Shutting the lid quickly, he looked at the Master who was surrounded by boxes of all shapes and sizes.
“That’s my SPACE over there,” said the Lord pointing to a small stool in the corner underneath the torch.
“What about this chair,” asked the man?
“That used to be my place, but you brought in these boxes long ago. Eventually, I found that small stool over there,” answered the Master honestly.
Lifting the lid of a large box, a large clown face looked up at him. It had big eyes and a huge open mouth without end. Suddenly, fang-like teeth slid into view as it lunged attempting to engulf him. The lid slammed down hard.
“That would be greed, my son,” stated the Master.
Accidentally knocking the lid off another box, he witnessed a discussion with his pastor.
“Trust isn’t the issue John; these people need to part with their money. I’m an entrepreneur. I can get this done. The building program will move forward.”
Sadly, he set the lid back.
“You’ve accomplished much…without Me. Personal achievement and greed took my throne long ago. Gradually, you moved other boxes in here.”
Glancing up, he saw the Master sitting on the stool in the corner.
Glassy-eyed, the Master raised his arms.
“I cannot move these boxes, Andrew…without your consent.”
On his knees, the man cried “my lord and my God”.
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