Empyrean Bestowal, Part II: Hope Revealed

A Visit from Red
To read Part I, click here!

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Within six feet, my foot slipped, and I hit the pebbly ground, slicing my hands, face, arms, and legs. I closed my eyes as I began to feel the familiar pain of sliding down a rocky slope. But wait, I wasn't sliding. I jerked my head up to see the Stranger holding on to one of my bloody, numbed hands. He pulled me up; I don't know how He did it. Somehow, He did not fall. Sooner than I expected, I stood before Him, though it was I who was panting, and not He.

 

He put His hand on my shoulder, and explained. "You can't do it yourself. Let Me lead, and you follow."

 

The road...it did not become easy of a sudden. The first ditches we mounted were ones I thought I knew to be insurmountable. He went before me, and somehow always gained the upper edge of the trench. Then, He would reach down for me. He'd pull me out the hole, and I know not how He managed to always do so, for the ditches were great.

I recognized many of these pitfalls. Most of them, on my downward, backsliding way, I had willingly slid into, thankful for a brief respite. Some, I know, were caused by my sliding. But one and all, both the ditches I had made and those I had fallen into, He pulled me out of. After every ditch and bramble, I found it easier to trust Him, grasping His hand with mine as He lifted me out from the depths. At first, I tried to hurry the process of getting up. Running, climbing or scurrying, up the ditches' side, I would inevitably fail. It was only when He was there to help me, and I let Him work with me, that I was able to mount those looming barriers. 

 

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At last, we reached a part in the road that slowly leveled out. Looking ahead, I saw before me a city of wondrous size resting upon the summit. Even from the distance yet before us, it shone like a lamp on a stand. As we journeyed nearer, time seemed to slow, so anxious was I to reach the Shining End. However, this last leg did not take long; although time seemed to last forever, only moments had passed before we stood beneath the jasper wall, in front of a gate fashioned of pearls. (There were three like it, and we entered by the middle). I was brought through it to the Palace of the King, along streets of gold. It is indescribable - the awesomeness of the city and the Palace within. But all grew dim - the gold, the sapphires, the emeralds, the countless other jewels and gems, the multitude of palace servants honoring the King - when I saw Him - the King of kings, the Lord of Lords, the Alpha and Omega - and the Lamb, seated at the right hand of God, Who left His throne above and gave His all for me.

 

I fell to my knees. What a Blessing I had received, without it belonging to me at all: that the King of the universe, the Creator of all, God Himself, came to me, that I might live with Him. He sent His Son down the path of life, to save me from my own destructive ways. "...Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost." (I Timothy 1:15b). May I never forget this ultimate blessing, the Greatest of Ethereal Treasures!

Empyrean Bestowal, Part I: The Final Hope of Mundi Cursum

A Visit from Red

Ahhh, friends, what can I say to you about Josh, or "Red" as he is called in the blogging world? He's my friend and partner in crime adventure. He has impeccable taste in books and amazing potential with the violin. He's learning the bagpipes. He's attentive and generous. He's the guy who seats me at dinner each night, who will be in stitches with me over something nobody else in the room finds funny (their loss), who's game for just about anything, but who maintains a balance of common sense that some of us...require. What better way to wrap up this party than with a fabulous allegory he wrote? Be patient...Part II will appear on Monday. :)

Allow me the pleasure of introducing my 15-year-old brother, Red.

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I was on Mundi Cursum, travelling like the rest. The downward slope was not too great, but at times I would find myself losing my foot hold. At other times, I would collapse into one of the deep ditches, scattered on the road at frequent intervals. This was not as bad as it may seem at first; for, while the ditch's top would be parallel to the road, the road's great slant allowed a certain ease in exiting these ditches. Naturally, one climbed out on the side that led to the down-going road, for it was impossible to climb up the slope. I had seen some try, and even tried myself; but climbing only threw the person further down the path, with a cascade of dirt and rocks following him. All who tried never, ever succeeded...at least, any of the individuals I'd seen.

 

There were many beliefs about where the road led. Some asserted that it led to a luscious plain, just beyond the thick fog (the fog - such a strange aroma it held...). Others thought that at the bottom of this hill was another hill, and another, and another, until one could find a way to extricate himself from this endless journey. Still others believed that we would die on the trail, and that would be it. These - mostly hopeless - beliefs drove many to attempt the climb upward, but after the inevitable failure, the upward trek seemed evermore unfeasible.

 

We could not exit the path off to the side, for a wide, deep ditch filled with bramble as long as a man flanked the path. More than likely, some had ventured to cross the ditch, but I did not know any who were so foolish. Death certainly met those who tried. The situation was fatally grim. Some, in desperation, threw themselves forward, hoping to reach the end before they died. Their cries were the last we heard of them. I just wanted to get somewhere, and in my youth firmly believed in a "better place;" but years of aimless, tiresome, and endless travelling changed that; I, too, no longer contested, but confirmed, the assertion that the path was meaningless.

 

That's when I met Him.

 

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He looked like the rest. Apparently, He wasn't an able climber...that's what I first thought. Cuts, bruises, and multiple wounds adorned Him. I had seen Him for some time, for instead of stumbling down the path with all, He was struggling upward. He paused at every person; His words were spoken earnestly, though gently, and never hurried. I saw those with whom He spoke look upward, back at Him, and then shake their heads, continuing their descent. Finally, I reached Him (or, He reached me...which is, I believe, the more proper verbiage).

 

"My son, do you care to travel upward?" He asked. I, like the others, turned my gaze to the path behind me.

 

"Why, Sir?"

 

His steadfast gaze held mine as He answered. "Because this road leads to death. Upward leads to life." Again, I glanced to the towering slope, which appeared to have a sharper incline, more pits, and greater brambles. Many of the ditches spanned the whole road. They would be impossible to climb out of, if one attempted the feat.

 

"Can You...how will You bring me up?" I had seen some try. All had failed. For an answer, His steady, kind eyes held mine. With that, I did not need any other answer: I knew that this Man had the ability to make it to the top. I, exhausted of this road, the falling, the cuts, summoned the resolve to grasp this final straw of hope. My head sank in acknowledgement, and I turned my back on the Cursum's plummet.



30 Day Book Challenge! Day 24: Social Renown

Day 24: What is a book you wish more people would have read?

Hmmm...I admit it, I asked my little bro for advice on this question. Basically, I think it would be incredible if more people would have read all the books I've read, but that's not specific enough. Therefore, my answer (thanks to Zachary) is:

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The Princess and the Goblin is another George MacDonald I grew up on. It's the tale of Princess Irene (who is a true princess!), who is never permitted to see the evening sky because of grotesque, resentful, soft-footed-no-toes goblins who lurk about in the dark. It's the tale of Curdie, the coal-miner's son, who works deep in the home of the goblins - the dark underground coal mines - and thus discovers the secret plot of the goblins' to kill all in the castle and kidnap the princess. It's the tale of Princess Irene's mysterious and magical, but undeniably good grandmother, who is really her "more greats than you can imagine" grandmother, and who, depsite her age, has no age, and is invisible to those who don't believe. It is a lovely, fantastic, imaginative fairy tale about faith, honor, sacrifice, and love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"That same morning, early, the princess woke in a terrible fright. There was a hideous noise in her room - of creatures snarling and hissing and racketing about as if they were fighting. The moment she came to herself, she remembered something she had never thought of again - what her grandmother told her to do when she was frightened. She immediately took of her ring and put it under her pillow. As she did so, she fancied she felt a finger and thumb take it gently from under her palm. 'It must be my grandmother!' she said to herself, and the thought gave her such ourage that she stopped to put on her dainty little slippers before running from the room."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"'I've brought Curdie, grandmother. He wouldn't believe what I told him, and so I've brought him.'

'Yes - I see him. He is a good boy, Curdie, and a brave boy. Aren't you glad you have got him out?'

'Yes, grandmother. But it wasn't very good of him not to believe me when I was telling him the truth.'

'People must believe what they can, and those who believe more must not be hard upon those who believe less. I doubt if you would have believed it all yourself if you hadn't seen some of it.'

'Ah! yes, grandmother, I daresay. I'm sure you are right. But he'll believe now.'

'I don't know that,' replied her grandmother.

'Won't you, Curdie?' said Irene, looking round at him as she asked the question.

He was standing in the middle of the floor, staring and looking strangely bewildered....

'I don't see any grandmother,' answered Curdie gruffly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What George MacDonald's have you read?
 

30 Day Book Challenge! Day 3: Favorite Series

"The tree which sprang from the core of the Apple that Digory planted in the back garden, lived and grew into a fine tree. Growing in the soil of our world, far out of the sound of Aslan's voice and far from the young air of Narnia, it did not bear apples that would revive a dying woman.... But inside itself, in the very sap of it, the tree (so to speak) never forgot that other tree in Narnia to which it belonged. Sometimes it would move mysteriously when there was no wind blowing...."

- The Magician's Nephew

Day 3: What is your favorite series?

"'Logic!' said the Professor half to himself. 'Why don't they teach logic at these schools? There are only three possibilities. Either your sister is telling lies, or she is mad, or she is telling the truth.'"

- The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

No matter how many series I have enjoyed over the years, no matter how many sequential books I have devoured in my days, there is only one series that deserves the title of "favorite".

"Who are you?" asked Shasta.

"Myself," said the Voice, very deep and low so that the earth shook: and again, "Myself," loud and clear and gay: and then the third time "Myself," whispered so softly you could hardly hear it, and yet it seemed to come from all round you as if the leaves rustled with it.

- The Horse and His Boy

"The first tree she looked at seemed at first glance to be not a tree at all but a huge man with a shaggy beard and great bushes of hair.... The same thing happened with every tree she looked at. At one moment they seemed to be the friendly, lovely giant and giantess forms which the tree-people put on when some good magic has called them into full life: next moment they all looked like trees again....and all the time that strange lilting, rustling, cool, merry noise."

- Prince Caspian

The Chronicles of Narnia is a series I've been listening to, reading, and discussing for as long as I can remember. For years, daddy would read the books aloud to us at the dinner table each night. Hanging on every word, we would beg for "one more chapter" and sit spellbound for over an hour after the evening meal was finished. We read our dear paperback books until the disintegrating spines absolutely could not be held together by tape any longer. Then we got a hardback version that held all seven books at once. The front and back cover are missing now

"'Oh, Aslan,' said Lucy. 'Will you tell us how to get into your country from our world?'

'I shall be telling you all the time,' said Aslan. 'But I will not tell you how long or short the way will be; only that it lies across a river. But do not fear that, for I am the great Bridge Builder.'"

- The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

We memorized and re-enacted lines from the old animated film, critiqued the cast of the BBC version, and attended the midnight showing of each new movie in full Narnian garb.

"'I was wondering - I mean - could there be some mistake? Because nobody called me and Scrubb, you know. It was we who asked to come here. Scrubb said we were to call to - to Somebody - it was a name I wouldn't know - and perhaps the Somebody would let us in. And we did, and then we found the door open.'

'You would not have called to me unless I had been calling to you,' said the Lion."

- The Silver Chair

Our wireless network is called "Narnia" and each computer in the house possesses the name of a Narnian hero or heroine (my dear pink laptop is the none other than the revered Lady Polly). Yes, we are a bit obsessed - but we love Narnia in this house. I love the story, the characters, the adventures - but most of all, I love the insights, and the way C.S. Lewis has of knowing precisely how to explain those deep feelings for which there are no words. Of course, by words no one can exactly explain them, but he alludes to them so perfectly that you know just what he is talking about.

"'Have you not guessed?' [Aslan said]

.... 'all of you are - as you used to call it in the Shadowlands - dead. The term is over: the holidays have begun. The dream is ended: this is the morning.'

And as He spoke He no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on for ever: in which every chapter is better than the one before."

- The Last Battle
 

One Year - Imagine That!

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Do you know what today is? Today is my first bloggy-birthday - isn't that exciting?? One year ago today I
was reallyandtruly introduced to the world of blogger. One year ago today I began the never-ending fun of playing with blog designs. One year ago today I typed my first four-lines-of-a-blog-post.


One year.          115 posts.          Imagination.          Smiles.          Lessons.          Colors.
    

And, of course, YOU!!! :)


In celebration of the fun, I'm hosting a give away! What do you suppose it could be? Come come, you've been reading my blog, what's your best guess?

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You're right - a book!

But not just any book. It's not a romance, not a classic, not a forgotten old treasure, but a book that had me hooked at the preface, nonetheless. A chewing book, according to Sir Francis Bacon's definition. It is, in fact, Anthony Esolen's ten ways to destroy the imagination of your child. In this poignant, witty satire on all aspects of child-rearing - from school to "play dates" - Esolen submits for your review 10 easy steps with which to destroy the imagination of any child. An excerpt from the preface:

"We must, then, kill the imagination. The ideal, of course, would be to cease having children, but that might have some adverse effect upon the long-range economic prosperity, besides threatening certain industries with extinction - the manufacturers of tasteless clothing, for instance, and importers of refined sugar. Since we must have children, we should be sure to subject them to all the most efficient and humane techniques to fit them for the world in which they will live, a world of shopping malls all the same everywhere, packaged food all the same, paper-pushing all the same, mass entertainment all the same, politics all the same. We owe it to them, and, what is more important, they owe it to us...."

There now, doesn't that whet your literary appetite? Wouldn't you like to read such a book for yourself? Well, let me tell you how to enter to win it!


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Mandatory:
~ Post something imaginative on your blog - it could be a story you've written, a quote you read, a photo you took, a video you made...use your imagination! - and leave a comment on this post with the link!

Extras: (one comment for each additional entry)
~ Leave a comment with the title and author of a book that has most sparked your imagination
~ Follow The Lord's Lass
~ Leave a comment with the title and author of one of your favorite "chewing" books

Entries will be accepted until 11:59 pm of Thursday, March 23, 2012. Good luck, and happy imagining!

NOTE: The drawing is open to both U.S. and international bloggers! :)