Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Cyber Communication (email, IM’s, etc) (11/04/10)
TITLE: A Name Concealed
By Theresa Santy
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By chance, a fluke so random and natural I’m certain the event was planned, I came across a website hosting the most beautiful writing I’d ever seen. The essays were raw, essentially primal, and unspeakably moving. That the author pen-named Alemeth was lost and often miserable was no secret, as each of his words bled with incomprehension and pain. His words were nothing less than a picture window revealing his soul.
The author wrote of his afflictions, his unceasing questioning of life, and of a haunting sense of detachment. He reflected on his occasional use of drugs and on his occasional lack of sanity including a sketch of time when he was institutionalized. Alemeth longed to be near, but kept himself at a distance. Within a single poem he gazed at faith with starving curiosity and revealed the impossibility of our saving ourselves.
Alemeth’s writings were unlike anything I’d ever encountered outside of the Bible. They dripped with an eternal sort of love, reflecting no distinction between human beings, reflecting the divine reality that no one is more or less than another.
‘Your words move me to thought,’ I wrote in an email addressed to the author. ‘They move me to deep reflection, and to tears.’ I agreed with the impossibiliy of saving ourselves and to the best of my abilities I assured Alemeth that there is One who can save us all. But my words fell short. They were weak. For what can mere words boast about when standing in the light of a greater need? After receiving a simple and unnervingly modest reply, I whispered to myself, ‘Next time.’ With that I’d made a vow to send another email the next time this author posted an entry.
Alemeth’s writings breathed with an honesty, as if he had written with his own blood, that I’ve rarely had the chance to experience. If this young man was not in the knowledge of our Lord, he was but inches away from finding the Truth. This is what I struggled with the most, since there would be no ‘next time.’
Weeks later the absence of a new post was broken with an email notice of Alemeth’s untimely death. I never learned the details of this tragedy, but I was struck severely. How was it possible that this man seemed to grasp the knowledge of eternal love without possessing the knowledge of his Holy Father?
But then I realized I could have been wrong. Excluding his pen name, I knew nothing about this man, having no relationship with him outside of a single email. How could I have known whether or not Alemeth had a relationship with God? Isn’t it possible that Alemeth knew Him all along? And if not, isn’t it possible God gathered Alemeth up from this world? How could Alemeth resist dropping to his knees at the mere site of Him? Perhaps during this most vital time of confession when Alemeth gave an account of himself to the Lord, the author collapsed into submission and received a most merciful salvation, even if only immediately following his final breath in this world.
I believe the name above all names has been revealed to the author whose name has been concealed. I believe this man was saved. I live within this wrinkle of hope, resting beneath its fold. For if I thought a soul as beautiful as Alemeth was denied entry to Heaven, I would be at risk of terrible fright and uncertainty. If I meditated on this too long without this hope, I would be at risk of drowning inside the confusion of my own mind.
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