My little children,

come close and

listen to the words
of your Father. Rest
your heads upon my
knees; Jesus Loves You wrap
yourselves in the
warmth of my robes
while I tell you my
stories. Open your
eyes and see the
world as I see it.
Close your eyes and
dream of yourselves
in it.
Remember
always.

1
 The Old Man and the Garden

Would you like to hear a story of the beginning? Would you like to know what
happened before what you know happened, happened? Then sit with me for a spell and I
will tell you a story.
There is a mountain that exists in a land across the waters that is so high its summit
is perpetually covered in cloud and mist. Ancient writings have been found that tell of a
fountain at the peak of this mountain that bubbles up continuously from a source hidden
deep within the mountain’s roots. This fountain’s water is said to be so pure that he who is
blessed to drink from it will live forever. And at first those who drank did live forever.
Those who have passed down this account also describe a garden planted around
this fountain by a kind and generous old man. This man’s name has been lost to history but
it is said that he existed before written record and that his name was only spoken in the Old
Tongue, one which must never be spoken by modern man. The garden reached across the
plain at the mountain’s peak. It was filled with exotic fruit bearing trees and animal life
and its song spread over the entire earth.
One day the old man opened the gates he had built to hedge in his beautiful garden
and sounded a shrill whistle into the regions beyond the mountain and across the skies to
distant lands. At the moment his cry went out there appeared a young man and woman who
had just crested the peak and were waiting at the end of the path that led up the mountain
into the old man’s lands. When they heard his call they ran into his waiting arms as a child
will run into his mother’s. The old man embraced the two and invited them to live with
him forever in his garden. The old man showed the man and woman the trees and the fruit,
the animals, the shelter he had prepared for them, and then he brought them to his fountain.
“This,” he said, “is my life and the source of my strength and power. It is from this
fountain and the well beneath that I have cultivated this garden and will soon cultivate the
entire world. It is for you to drink from as well, to grow strong with me and to enjoy my
garden and your life here forevermore.”
The man and woman were astounded at the beauty that they saw in the garden and
with the generosity of the old man in sharing so abundantly all that he possessed. They
stared deeply into his eyes and felt his great kindness shining upon them. They knelt beside

2
the fountain and with bare hands cupped water to their mouths and drank. Instantly they
were refreshed from their journey; instantly they were filled with the life giving power of
the water.
The old man drew the two young people to his side and said very gently, “This I
have prepared for you, and give to you freely. All that I ask in return is that when you
drink you do not put anything but your own hands into my fountain to bring water to your
mouths. In this way my water will remain pure and you, my children, will remain alive
forever by my side.” And with these words the old man left the man and the woman to
discover for themselves the wonders of sleeping in a garden at the top of a mountain with a
fountain of life gurgling softly in their ears.
The night deepened quickly and the two made their down the short path from the
fountain to the little home built for them by the old man. As they settled inside they were
startled to hear the sound of the garden gate swinging wildly. They heard it bang against
the garden wall and then bang again as it swung back inside and hit once more. Curious,
they left the warmth of their shelter and hurried to see this new thing.
Standing between the posts of the gate was a dark man. He stood about the same
height as the young man but he was not clothed as the young man was. This dark man was
fully clad in gleaming armor and carried both a magnificent sword and shield emblazoned
with fiery designs. He slowly panned the garden before him and rested his gaze upon the
young man and woman who were marveling at this new creature before them.
The young man stepped forward extending his arm to greet the visitor warmly,
“Welcome, friend. Come into the garden and refresh yourself from your journey.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I have come a long way and am weary. It would be nice to
rest my soul a bit before I continue on.”
At this the young woman stepped forward and bowed slightly to the dark man and
said, “If you please, come with us to our home, where we can give you food and shelter for
the night.”
The dark man nodded his assent and together the three made their way back to the
dwelling by the fountain of the old man. There they relieved him of his sword and shield
and gave him cushions on which to recline and eat. They prepared a banquet for him of
fruits and vegetables and listened to him as he told them stories of his journeys. The dark

3
man regaled them with adventures and mysteries. He spun tales that were incredible to
believe but too compelling to doubt. He told them the history of his people and their plight
under the rule of a tyrant king. He told of bondage to this king, cruelty at his hands and the
slavery of his people. Then he wove a tale of the final battle between his people and the
forces of this wicked king. It was a battle that lasted for days and weeks and months until
finally the king’s forces were defeated and the people set free. The dark man looked deeply
into the eyes of the young man and woman. “I have seen much of this world, there is much
I could show to you, if you would like.”
“You are welcome to stay with us as long as you please,” returned the young man.
“Our master has opened this land to us. He has placed no restrictions upon us, except to
live here forever by his side.”
“You are very kind, though I am surprised though to hear you call him master. I
will have no part of that ever again. I am my own master. I have broken the chains of that
kind of oppression forever.”
“But, how is it that you live in the world? What land then do you call your own?”
asked the young woman.
The dark man turned to her and said, “I was driven out of my land when we won
our freedom. We were strong, but not strong enough to drive our king out of his castle.
Knowing that he would slowly rebuild his forces we left our homes. We have been
scattered across the face of the earth and are waiting for the time when we are strong
enough to win back our rightful inheritance.”
“That is sad,” said the young man. “I am sorry for you. But I am puzzled by your
account of this wicked king. Our master is so kind and giving. He promises to provide for
our every need. How can it be that there are those in the world who are not like our
master?”
“Outwardly there appear to be many kinds of masters in the world. But at heart
they are all the same. They want to be the ones with the power. They grab at it and control
it in whatever way they can. Believe me; your master is no different. He may seem to care
for you, but if you were to begin to desire your freedom from him, he would show you his
true colors very quickly.”

4
 “Why would we want our freedom? Our master is the one who has guaranteed it
right here in this garden. We can do whatever we desire right here. We can live forever
without fear of any of the things you have spoken of,” responded the young man.
The dark man seemed to contemplate the words of the young man but all the while
he gazed thoughtfully upon the young woman. Appearing to have decided something the
dark man reached into his cloak and removed an object wrapped in leather and tied with a
silken cord. He carefully untied the cord and unwrapped the object. As he did so the two
young people were surprised to see the room brighten as if the sun were rising within its
walls. The object glowed with a light of its own as dark man carefully revealed it to their
wondering eyes. It was a chalice made of purest silver. It workmanship was magnificent;
there was not a ripple or distortion at any point around its gleaming circumference. It was
truly a beautiful piece of craftsmanship. As the dark man produced it from its wrappings he
slowly turned it so that the couple could see its design fully. It was marked at the rim and
base with strange words written in a tongue they could not decipher. It was adorned with a
single ruby, delicately cut in the shape of a rose and set into the chalice midway between
the rim and the stem.
The young woman was the first to break their astonished silence. She gasped
slightly and moved closer to the dark man. As she edged away from the young man she
reached out to touch the beautiful vessel.
“Please, tell me what it is,” she murmured.
The young man was likewise enraptured by the shining object. It was like nothing
they had seen in the garden. It was a beauty wholly different than the beauty of the flowers,
and the animals, and the sun they had enjoyed during the day. The chalice was a wonder to
behold.
“This is the chalice of my king. During the great battle I stole into his private
chambers and retrieved it for myself as spoil of the war. This is the chalice that he used to
consecrate his kingship over my people. This is the chalice from which he himself drinks
water from his private fountain. His fountain is said to contain the purest water in the
world. It is said that he who drinks that water from this goblet will gain not only eternal
life but also the wisdom and might of the great king himself. Needless to say, this chalice

5
is a very powerful weapon against my former lord. I have carried it these long years in the
hope of finding the source of his power, the fountain of life itself.”
The young woman was startled by this new information and sat back on her heels
perplexed.
“Has something I have said troubled you young one?” asked the dark man.
“No; well yes, it is that we know something of what you speak. Our master has
shown us a fountain like the one you describe. He has told us that it is the source of his
very life. But he has freely given us the fountain to drink from! His only request was that
we drink with clean hands, that we let no other object near the water; to do so would
contaminate it and us forever.” The young woman glanced at her husband; he too was
deeply troubled and did not return her look. He merely sat silent, considering what this
could mean.
The dark man smiled mischievously at the young woman and the young man and
said, “I think that you know what this means. It is clear that my master and yours are one
and the same. My master has lands all across this world. He has different peoples and
different ways of controlling them in his many kingdoms. I had heard of this garden in my
travels and had wondered if it were possible that this was the place where I could find my
king’s treasure. It appears that my wondering is over. It also appears that your master is not
who he has made himself out to be.” The dark man stood and began to arm himself once
more with his sword and shield.
“Are you leaving?” asked the man.
“I am going to find this fountain of yours and have a drink of victory over my
enemy,” the dark man responded.
“But you mustn’t,” said the young man and he quickly rose to his feet to block the
way of the dark man.
“Do not be foolish. You may stay here and live out this fantasy your master has
created for you, but I am going to find the truth. Let me pass.” With that the dark man
stepped out into the night and seeing the path made his way to the fountain. He stood
silently over it, contemplating its clarity even in the darkness, and wondering at its source.
The dark man waited quietly, and smiled slightly when he heard the soft padding of

6
footsteps coming up behind him. He turned to see the young woman who looked both
scared and strangely curious. She too became lost in thought before the fountain of life.
“If you would like, I will share this cup with you,” said the dark man.
He offered her the chalice and she grasped it tightly in her hands. Gone was her
fear and apprehension. They were suddenly replaced with anticipation and expectation.
Without thought or care plunged the cup into the fountain and brought it quickly to her lips
and drank deeply. At that moment the young man came rushing up the path in time only to
knock the chalice away from her and into the pool of water. He reached for it, thinking at
first only to remove the forbidden object from the fountain, but once it was in his hands he
felt its power. He was entranced by the miniature pool that now swirled in the chalice he
held in his hands. He brought it to his lips and drank deeply.
The dark man’s steely eyes sparkled as he said, “You are now free, my children.
Your master will no longer rule you, but you will rule each other.”
The exultation the two young people had felt in drinking from the cup faded
quickly. They turned to look at the dark man, but he was gone. He had vanished into the
night leaving only the cup and its empty promise.
In their uncertainty over what they had done, the two young people instinctively
reached out to touch each other, but they now felt a barrier between them that hadn’t
existed before. Having drunk from the chalice, they were now ashamed. Gone was the
feeling of freedom they had enjoyed only that morning. Gone was the sense of protection
and security bestowed on them by the old man. Gone was the love they had shared so
freely. Standing over the fountain with the cup in their hands they were confused and
uncomfortable in their nakedness and with each other. They turned and fled into the trees
bordering the fountain and hid until daybreak.

When morning came the old man came into the garden and called to his children.
“Come to me my children, come quickly!” But the young man and the young woman did
not respond to his call. They heard his voice and they saw him walking in the garden and
searching for them among the trees and at their shelter, but they remained hidden from
him, trembling with a fear they had never before possessed.

7
 He called again, “I must see you both, come to me at the fountain. I will wait for
you there.” And they heard the old man walk slowly up the path to the fountain of Life at
the top of the garden.
“He will see what we have done,” the young man hissed to the young woman.
“This is your doing, if you hadn’t been so bold as to follow that man last night we would
not have done what we have done,” he said to her.
“I could not help myself. His cup was so beautiful, and the water was so inviting.
Why shouldn’t I have drunk from his cup anyway? And you! You did not fare any better
than I did; you drank from the cup as eagerly as me!”
The young man shrank away from her, dejected. She was right, they had both done
this thing and now they had to face the old man. He rose to go waiting only momentarily
for the young woman to follow. They made their way out of the trees and up to the
fountain, fearing what they would find, half expecting to see the tyrant from the dark
man’s stories.
They saw instead the old man resting easily against the tree whose branches
overhung the fountain. He was watching them as they approached; he seemed to be
contemplating something deeply. As if reaching a conclusion, the old man straightened up
and met the two young people on the path before they had reached the fountain.
“I am sorry but you may no longer approach this fountain. You have drunk freely
of its waters and will live, but you have spoiled its purity and must no longer be allowed to
partake of it.”
The young man and woman looked at each other and back at the old man. “But we
didn’t know,” stammered the young man. “We only drank once, and we are terribly sorry
for even that!”
“I am afraid it is done. And what is done is done. You have disregarded my request
and have chosen to live among the peoples of the world instead of with me in this garden.
You have chosen the dark man over me. And for that I will grant your desire and allow you
to live among his people.”
The man and the woman sank to their knees in terror before the old man. “Please,
do not do this thing, we are so sorry,” they begged.

8
 “It is done, my children. But you will not be without help in the world. I am not the
tyrant the dark man has told you I am. I am kind and generous and my arm is not so short
that you will be lost forever. I will come to you and show you who I am. I will lead you
back to this garden. I will aid you in your journey and provide for your needs and you will
survive. Only, beware of the dark man. He has spoiled you in the world and now owns a
portion of each of you. You must fight against him, rejecting him and choosing me, if you
hope to return to this garden and your place at my side.”
The old man straightened to his full height and the young man and woman were
amazed to see the years stripped away from his countenance. He appeared before them as
one shining in the light of the sun, clad himself in gleaming armor, without wrinkle and
without blemish. With outstretched hands and closed eyes, the old man sent the two young
people away. They found themselves outside the garden gate. Its gate was now closed to
them but before them the path wound down the mountain and into the lands below. The
young man and young woman took each other’s hands and began to descend into the
world.
“One day we will return,” they said to each other as they went. “One day.”

9
 What the Vessel Said

Children are born into the world every day. They cry and mess (everybody
messes!), they fuss and they gurgle. They grow and they laugh and run and hurt and play.
They do this all across this great world, and all across this world children turn to their
parents and others with love. They hug them and kiss them and try always to please them.
At least that is the way that it used to be. Until it happened. What exactly is it you ask?
Come closer and I will tell you the tale.
On a tiny island in the midst of the great ocean there lived a wonderful people. If I
could describe to you their ingenuity with art and music, or show you the kindnesses that
sprang out of their hearts toward one another you would be astounded. These people lived
in harmony for many, many years, always seeking ways to improve themselves and to help
their neighbors. And always, always, they honored their parents above all else.
One day, in the spring of the year, when the flowers were just beginning to bloom
and the animals were beginning to creep out of their burrows and greet the sun, there was
born in a little village next to the sea a baby boy. His parents were overjoyed at his arrival.
They had wanted and prayed to receive a boy and their prayers had been answered. He was
beautiful in every aspect. His olive skin was smooth as satin, he had a full head of the
blackest hair you can imagine, and he had the bluest eyes they had ever seen. In their
innocence they named him Pride, because of the great joy and happiness that he brought
them.
His parents gave him the best of all they possessed. He had a warm house, sturdy
clothes to wear, a healthy diet, and the love of the two who had brought him into the world.
He grew rapidly before their eyes and showed all the fruit of a soul filled with love and
compassion for others. He was helpful, respectful, generous and kind. His boyhood was
filled with playing games with the other children, going to school in the village, and daily
worship in the church that stood in the center of their market place. It was a happy time for
the parents and the boy who had made their house a home and their life together a family.
But boys do not stay boys forever. They grow as all children do and enter
manhood. Pride grew into a tall young man, confident in himself and his abilities and
brimming with ideas for the future. He teemed with desires for himself and others and

10
there was no limit to the expression of these ideas. As a boy he had had limited opportunity
to bring to life his many ideas and they stayed alive only in his imagination. As a young
man he began to see the possibility of achieving his dreams with the help of others and
wherever possible his parents obliged and he was happy. But when he became of age and
his desires grew beyond the capability of even his parents and the wisest in the village to
create, Pride became exceedingly frustrated and his frustration he vented in anger toward
his parents and his village. He became sullen and volatile; he shouted at his neighbors for
their inadequacy and treated even the animals harshly. He took to working alone in the
shed he had converted for his own use as a workshop.
Pride’s parents became worried for him. This had never happened to one of the
children in the village before. They prayed for him daily. They talked to him every evening
about his work in the shed and about his relationship with the villagers and themselves.
But it was to no avail.
In the summer of Pride’s eighteenth year Pride committed the unthinkable act.
While eating together in the evening as was their habit, Pride’s parents once again began to
talk to him soothingly of his work, his ideas, and his life in the village. They wanted so
desperately for him to see his behavior as they saw it; as a wicked and selfish thing. They
wanted their little boy with the smile and the laughter to come back to them. To their
surprise what they received in return was a horror. While they were still speaking Pride
dropped his utensils onto his plate before him and abruptly pushed away from the table. He
stood angrily and slammed his chair back against it. What he said next has haunted his
parents and the world ever since.
“I have had enough of both of you. I have had enough of this village. I have had
enough of our family and its quaint approach to life. I have had enough of your love and
the love of our neighbors. I want it no more! I want what I want! I want to think the
thoughts that I think. I want to feel the feelings that I feel. I want to behave in the way that
I want to behave. I want to do what I want to do and I want to be who I want to be!”
Pride’s parents were astonished. Never before had a man spoken this way. It was
unheard of in their little village; it was unheard of on their island; it was unheard of in the
entire world. And what the most terrible thing about it was that it was spoken to his
parents. Pride’s parents had given their lives in the creation of their son. They had given

11
their love in the making of his life and the protection of his steps. Pride was their very own
and nothing would ever change that. The bond between parent and child is so strong that it
cannot be broken. It is the foundational reality that under girds the entire creation; to deny
this truth is to deny existence. And yet here was Pride denying his place in that very
existence!
Pride’s father stood slowly from the table and reached across the void between
himself and his son. He said, “You must stop this wicked talk my son. What you are saying
is terribly mistaken and evil. Sit down with us so we can help you.” Pride’s father moved
around the table to touch his son. A father’s touch has the power to heal of its own accord,
and healing is what this father desperately wanted for his son.
Pride remained unmoved both in heart and in body. When his father reached out for
him the last vestige of his self-restraint gave out and he sealed his own fate. Just as his
father’s loving touch landed on his shoulder’s Pride vented his dreadful rage. Pride swung
his hand willfully across the face of his father, slapping him hard enough to send him
staggering away. Pride’s father’s face quickly reddened from the lash he had received and
his eyes filled with tears from the pain it had caused in his spirit. In a day of ‘never
befores’ this also was a first. Never before in history had a man struck his own parent.
Never before had a son hit his father. Never before had the one who was birthed strike out
at the one from whom he came. Here was a new thing, an abominable thing, a vessel
crying out to its maker, “I do not need you any longer. I am my own now.”
Pride stood defiantly before them for a moment and then turned on his heel and
walked out of their once happy home. His parents huddled together at their table for a very
long time that night, exceedingly scared of what was to come.

Pride took his few belongings from his workshop and moved outside of the village,
far enough away to be independent but close enough to get supplies from the market and
water from the river. He spent the summer preparing for the coming winter. He was a very
capable woodsman and he quickly established for himself a store of food, firewood, and a
small compound of buildings. He congratulated himself on his accomplishment and told
himself that without the bondage of his parents and the villagers upon him there was no
telling what he might be able to accomplish. He settled into his work as soon as he was

12
ready. In a short time the villagers, who had heard of his wickedness and were watching
his work warily, began to see smoke emanating from several of the buildings Pride had
constructed in his small compound. They talked amongst themselves in wonder at the
goings on at the edge of town. Many were worried; a few were frightened, but most were
utterly helpless to know what Pride’s actions could mean.
As winter progressed they saw less and less of Pride. His trips into the village for
supplies were few and his work outside his compound was postponed until spring. As the
villagers retreated into their homes to wait out the cold and snow, a wary sense of
anticipation formed over the village about what might emerge when the weather turned.
In the spring when the first flowers began to push through the soil of the earth the
villagers began to see a change in their children and in their youth. New mechanical toys
were appearing in the streets. Clothing was showing up for sale in the marketplace made of
surprisingly durable material and in the most vibrant of colors. New beverages were
introduced in the food vendors’ stalls that bubbled and fizzed and tasted sweeter than
honey from the comb. The village was buzzing with these new things and the children
were absorbed in trying to acquire them. Pride watched his new inventions take the village
by surprise and gloried in the success he was enjoying because of them. The children
streamed to him daily to ask him for more of his inventions and to get a glimpse of his
workshops. Pride congratulated himself for finally beginning to achieve some of his
desires. He felt that he had shown the village that he was right in breaking free from his
parents and building a life for himself.
The villagers were as surprised as the children at the appearance of Pride’s wares.
They too were amazed at his resourcefulness and his skill in fabricating. But as their
children grew more and more eager to indulge in these things their parents were not able to
grant all of their desires. For Pride was not giving these items away he was selling them in
the market. As much as the parents of that village loved to give to their children there was
a limit in their ability to do so. Parents began to have to decline to grant their children’s
wishes; they offered their reasons and tried to soothe their children’s hurt feelings and
disappointment. Because of Pride’s introduction of his material goods the children were
consumed by a desire to possess them. The desire for these things was not a natural desire
and therefore it could not be adequately met. When the desire was not met the children

13
were consequently disappointed and frustrated. They began to cry out to their parents,
“Why? Why can’t I have one? All the other children have one!” And their parents shook
their heads in desperation.
The parents met together and decided to go and talk to Pride. They decided to thank
him for his work and to congratulate him on his success. They planned to tell him of the
difficulty his creativity was making in the village and ask him to consider adopting new
methods of sharing his work with them. They would ask him to reduce the amount of items
he introduced in the market and to consider lowering his prices. They would promise to
compensate him by providing food and materials in equal exchange. After all, they said to
each other, the marketplace has never been for profit, it has always been there to fill need.
During the meeting Pride sat silent before the parents of the village. He was
incredulous at their audacity. When they asked him to reduce his wares and lower his
prices he could contain himself no longer.
“What do I have to do to be accepted by you? I have worked hard all winter to
create new and exciting things for your people and this is how I am thanked? You ask me
to give away my wares, at a price less than that which they were them? No! I will not do
this. My work is important. It is quality work and it deserves the attention of a full and
profitable fair price. What you ask of me is offensive. You are asking me to give up my
rights over my own creation and I will not do it. It is mine.”
So the parents left Pride’s house. They walked together back to the village and
sadly entered their own homes. Their children grew older and Pride’s wares grew more
enticing and the frustration of the children grew ever more acute. In some of the homes
there was heard arguing about the new things that were desired and the impossibility of
acquiring them. Children could be heard yelling at their parents and screaming into the
night about the unfairness of it all. Parents gathered together to pray at first, but slowly
praying ceased as parents grew ashamed of their children and their own inability to affect
change at home. And still Pride produced his inventions and flooded the streets with
exciting new goods.
It wasn’t long after Pride’s first season outside the village that he received at his
door the first of many converts to his way of life. The first were a brother and sister who
had come of age the year before and were ready, they said, to live life on their own. They

14
too had given up on the old ways and wanted to live life as Pride had, doing the things that
they desired to do and receiving their due in return. Pride welcomed them into his
compound and the two young people joined him in his work. Many more followed over the
years. A short time after that first season Pride’s community had swelled considerably.
Most of the children had abandoned the village and had taken residence in the compound
with Pride. Pride’s workforce grew and soon they were shipping their wares to every
village on the island. Word spread from village to village about the excellence of Pride’s
work and before long children in every village were clamoring for more. In each of these
villages the same story played itself out again as it had in the village of Pride.
Communities began to form outside of each village filled with adherents to the new way of
living. The island lifestyle marked by love for others was soon replaced with a lifestyle that
spoke only of love for self and the use of others.

I wonder if you can guess what happened next in this story. Can you imagine an
island that was completely changed by events such as I describe? Well, these changes
could not be contained of course. With the ingenuity introduced and inspired by Pride the
islanders soon progressed technologically far beyond their own borders. Ships were
developed that could take them across the sea for the first time in their history to new
continents and countries all over the globe. They bravely faced these dangers and the
hardships of establishing compounds in foreign lands. But Pride’s followers were intrepid
adventurers and perseverance marked everything that they did. The world was not any
more ready for them than Pride’s parents were ready for him or his village was ready for
his creativity. The world was also taken over and it too forgot that love of others is the root
of all goodness. To begin to love oneself, even in the slightest can only lead one to the sin
of Pride.
I hope you weren’t expecting a happy ending to this story. Not all stories have a
happy ending you know. Some stories are downright sad and heartbreaking as this one is.
But sometimes happy endings do come to a story, but they come after, at the real end of
things.

15
 Mr. Phil Folly Osophy

Mr. Phil Folly Osophy considered himself a handsome man. Every morning he
enjoyed gazing upon his own reflection in the mirror as he shaved. Shaving was such a
drudgery for him, how much better it would be to have that clean shaven look without all
work it required; but, oh, how handsome it did make him! It is a strange truth, he often
thought, how the reward of a thing has the ability to make one forget the effort in earning
it.
Each morning Mr. Phil Folly Osophy maintained exactly the same routine.
“Routine and discipline are the keys to life,” he was oft heard saying. How anybody could
hope to succeed in the world without such routine and the discipline to adhere to it he
would never know. After his daily shower and shave; Mr. Phil Folly Osophy dressed,
strictly simple attire you must know (for complexity in adornment is a major distraction to
life’s pursuits) and eat a light breakfast of dry cereal, a small glass of fresh squeezed juice,
and a small piece of sweet bread. He allowed himself this last indulgence because to refuse
oneself all such pleasures is not practical. “Man must have some outlet for his desires,” he
often said. “It is better to control one’s desires by granting them minimally than to attempt
the impossible by prohibiting them all.”
Mr. Phil Folly Osophy was a teacher by training and was deeply satisfied with the
results he achieved in his classroom. He was a fine teacher by anybody’s standards and
consistently received the highest praise from his administrators and his student’s parents.
“One must have a system if one is to succeed in the classroom,” he said. His system was
threefold: to set firm expectations for behavior and academic achievement, to set in place
firm rules governing such behaviors and consistently enforce them, and to prepare each
day’s lessons and objectives well in advance. This system was supported by a series of
subsystems that reduced teaching to a very simple process, one that was exceedingly
doable and understandable. “Another teacher may want to reach further than I in terms of
relationship with his students, I sacrifice this tenuous and indefinable objective in favor of
my proven and achievable ones,” he liked to point out. “It is best to set obtainable goals
and reach them than it is to set goals that require risk and carry the likelihood of failure.

16
What good is it to have intentions of success but never providing a sure way of achieving
such success?” was his indisputable logic concerning teaching.
Mr. Phil Folly Osophy was a spiritual man as well as an educator, although he was
confirmed in his belief that man was the only power in world and that the notion of ‘God’
is and always has been, a human fabrication. He read voraciously and was literate in the
history of the world’s religions. He remained current in the anthropological studies of
culture and the development of civilization. He could recount the development of man’s
enlightenment and convincingly demonstrate that man is indeed alone in this universe and
that spirituality is merely a function of man’s own unfortunate biology. Therefore, his own
spirituality was merely an intellectual assent to the reality of his own physical and
emotional makeup. To deny it would be like “denying one’s own feet, for goodness sake,”
he would laughingly remark. Being such a practical man, Mr. Phil Folly Osophy became a
member of the local church and quickly proved himself a capable adherent of its tenets.
The church was by no means ‘fundamental’ or ‘conservative’ in its beliefs, but was
considered very tolerant of all belief systems. His church believed that all religious systems
were merely expressions of the “hidden divinity lying dormant in mankind and that
through embracing all such forms of religion might man begin to release his own humanity
and divinity.” Needless to say, Mr. Phil Folly Osophy was welcomed with open arms at his
new church. Within a short time he had become an elder of their congregation and overseer
of their religious education program for youth and adults.
Mr. Phil Folly Osophy was a man who had discovered the method needed to
navigate life successfully. He had reasoned answers to the questions that so plagued those
with lesser abilities. He was a man who knew that his way was the correct way. His
confidence in himself was complete.

“Have you noted any change in the PFO’s demeanor or behavior since you
introduced the variable into his environment?”
“No change, sir, I expect to see some change within the week; the meeting of the
two should occur within that time frame.”

17
 “Very good, Clarence. Keep an eye on that case, it troubles me. I am afraid of what
might happen if the PFO’s influence is not checked. There might be considerable collateral
damage.”
“I will do my best, sir.”

Today is Sunday and it is the day Mr. Phil Folly Osophy is scheduled to teach the
segment concerning Christianity in his World Religion Survey class at church. His Sunday
routine differs only slightly from his weekly routine. He wakes, showers and shaves, and
eats his light breakfast. But on the first day of the week Mr. Phil Folly Osophy wakes a
half an hour earlier in order to devote time to prayer. Prayer for a man such as Mr. Phil
Folly Osophy is also a matter of routine as you might expect. He prays simply to appease
the completely biological urge that is the chemical byproduct of his own intellectual
endeavors. He lights a small white candle and kneels before it, and reads from a book of
prayer compiled by his church. Today’s prayer happens to be the Lord’s Prayer, a strange
coincidence, Mr. Phil Folly Osophy concedes, considering his subject for class this day is
entitled, ‘The Man Jesus.’
“Forgive us our sins as we have forgiven those who have sinned against us. Lead us
not into temptation and deliver us from the evil one. Amen.” Mr. Phil Folly Osophy raises
his bowed head, blows out his candle and proceeds to the church.
Worship at Mr. Phil Folly Osophy’s church is typical of such institutions. The
service is opened with song, selected from a hymnal compiled much like the prayer book
in use by the church. The minister steps forward and reads a prayer for the people and their
worship. Today, he speaks for the allotted thirty minutes about the human capacity to love
and the necessity of accepting all forms of its expression among humans. Mr. Phil Folly
Osophy leaves the auditorium uplifted by the ‘sermon’ and buoyantly anticipates a vibrant
discussion with his students in his World Religion class.
Mr. Phil Folly Osophy enters the classroom and greets the fifteen or so adults
gathered around the coffee maker and tray of donuts. He eases himself into the
conversation and shakes hands all around the group. He is well liked in the church and is
well thought of as a teacher. His views are always confirmed by the most recent
scholarship and his approach to religion embraces all aspects of its manifestation.

18
 Mr. Phil Folly Osophy moves to the small table he uses to hold his notes, and the
class takes his cue and settles into the chairs that form a ring about the room. As he is
getting ready to begin there is a slight commotion at the door as a new member of the
church is shown to the room by one of the other church members. The man quietly
whispers his thanks to the greeter and his apologies for disrupting the class and takes his
place in the circle. Mr. Phil Folly Osophy introduces himself to the late-comer and
welcomes him to the class.
“I think you will find that we are very welcoming of all people in this church. Can I
ask what brings you here?” Mr. Phil Folly Osophy askes.
“I am a Christian and I have just moved to this area. I was looking for a church and
thought I would try this one. It is real close to my new apartment!”
“Well, you certainly picked a fine day to begin attending! We are starting our
survey of the Christian religion today. You say you are a Christian. Maybe you can share
what this means in order to help us to get started in our discussion this morning.” Mr. Phil
Folly Osophy was pleased at his own ability to use this unforeseen addition to his class to
his own advantage.
The man smiled a little sheepishly, but said, “Well, it’s pretty straightforward. I
believe that man is inherently sinful and that God is inherently holy. Because of God’s
holiness it is impossible for Him to live with sinful creatures. His perfect holiness would
consume them. But He very strongly desires to live with them, with us, forever. So, to
‘pay’ for these sins, to give them the consequence they deserve, He sacrificed his own Son.
Jesus is that Son; his death was a substitutionary punishment for our sins. And anyone who
believes and confesses these things to be true will not have to be punished for their
sinfulness. They will be saved by the payment made on their behalf. But those who do not
believe and confess these things to be true will pay for their own sins eternally.”
Mr. Phil Folly Osophy smirked at the man’s innocent belief in the myth of
salvation. He said, “That was a very accurate picture of the Christian faith. I wonder
though if you have considered other religious viewpoints before your selection of
Christianity. Don’t you think your view is a little narrow?”
“No, I must confess, I did not consider the other religions. I have never had reason
to. I take Christianity to be fact. I take it as a fact of history that God created this world,

19
man fell into sin, and God offered man salvation through Jesus. What more is there to
say?”
Mr. Phil Folly Osophy looked around the little circle. A number of the class
members were looking awkwardly at the newcomer. A few others seemed troubled. At
least one looked indignant. It was this last who spoke next.
“How can you say that this myth is a fact of history? It cannot be proven that Jesus
was all these things. He was a man, for sure, but the Son of God? Really!”
A few of the others murmured their approval. Another man spoke up, “I do not
believe the things that you say about Jesus, I do not even believe in a god. Are you
suggesting that I will be assigned to hell for this belief?” A chuckle went around the room.
All eyes were on the man. But the man simply sat and stared at Mr. Phil Folly Osophy.
Mr. Phil Folly Osophy began to think that this man might be more trouble than he
was worth. He cleared his throat. “It seems you have sparked a little debate in our circle,
Mr., uh, I’m sorry, what is your name?”
The man smiled, “My name is Foolishness. Please just call me Fool.”
Mr. Phil Folly Osophy smiled politely in return and said, “Mr. Fool, I wonder if
you know the type of church that we have built here in this neighborhood. We strive to be
accepting of all beliefs and in our studying of all beliefs we desire to gain a universal
understanding of the true nature of things in the world. So you see, your adamant belief in
your belief is a bit unsettling. It leaves no room for any others. It precludes the possibility
of gaining a higher wisdom.”
The Fool shifted in his seat, leaned forward slightly and looked around the circle, “I
apologize for upsetting you. You are right; I did not know what kind of church this was.
But if what you say is true, that you accept all men and all beliefs, then might not the
Christian belief be accepted here as well?”
“Of course it would, and it is!” Mr. Phil Folly Osophy was pleased that the man
was so reasonable. Maybe he would be a welcome addition after all. “I am glad you are
willing to be so tolerant. For a moment, I think that most of us thought that you were
insisting that your fundamentalist version of the Christian faith was the only belief one
must have, the only right belief, that is.”

20
 “Oh, but I do believe just that. Jesus Himself said that He was the only way.” The
Fool laughed, “If God tells me that there is only one way to go, who am I to argue? Don’t
you agree?”
The angry man spoke up again, “No, we don’t agree! That is the essence of
intolerance. We cannot accept your belief that yours is the only belief! Our beliefs leave
room for all the others. It is only through believing in all beliefs that we will be led to a
greater good.”
Mr. Foolishness calmly responded, “Then you are neither truly tolerant nor
accepting. Your tolerance only tolerates that which is agreeable to itself. Your intolerance
of my belief makes you as narrow as you have considered me to be. Now, let me ask you
question. Have you ever considered what might happen to you if you are wrong in your
beliefs? If I am wrong, I lose nothing; I simply spend my life living as I have believed right
and then I die, returning to the earth as part of its grand cycle. But, if I am right! If I am
right I gain forgiveness and love and help from a God who loves me dearly, and I get to
spend eternity being loved by my Savior, forever! If you are right, you really gain nothing
that extraordinary, except the governance of your own life for the short time you possess
the strength to do so. However, if you are wrong you will be held accountable for every
word spoken, every deed committed, and every thought held that is in contradiction to
God’s will for you. You will be consigned to hell until every last cent of your debt is paid.
Let me ask you, have you ever considered the ramifications of being wrong?”

“Doctor, there is some action being observed. Come quickly.”

The doctor peered into the glass beaker on the burner in the spotless laboratory. On
a shelf behind the two were shelves and shelves of beakers and vials, each containing tests
and trials of various sorts and kinds. The doctor tapped the beaker in front of the lab
assistant and smiled. “Well done my boy, it seems that the PFO is indeed susceptible to our
F factor. Keep an eye on this one a little while longer. Make sure to continue to supplement
the F factor with nutrients and keep it hydrated. We don’t want it to waste away before its
work is done. Yes indeed, well done.” The doctor gave his assistant a pat on the back and
went back to his office.

21
 The lab assistant smiled a deep smile of satisfaction and peered into the beaker
before putting it back onto the burner. He could see the PFO sitting awkwardly in the ring
of adults. He watched him shift nervously in his seat. The lab assistant read the latest
printout that the machine continued to spit out. It read: “Mr. Phil Folly Osophy was
unprepared for the directness of the man’s statement. He masked his discomfort well and
with only slight hesitation began his prepared lecture. But all the while he spoke he could
not meet the newcomer’s gaze, there was something about what he had said that he could
not dislodge from his mind…”
With a smile and a little whistle, the lab assistant moved on to his next test case.

22
 Two Houses

Once there were two houses on a small island on a small planet in a small galaxy
far, far away. One house was built of wood and straw and clay. The other house was built
of stone and mortar. Both houses were strong and well built but only one house could
remain.
The wooden house sat on the beach right next to the water. She saw the sun rise in
the east every morning and glowed in his light as the slowly climbed in the sky each day.
Every morning the small wooden house watched her inhabitants scurry to complete their
daily tasks and chores on the beach. Every evening the wooden house watched them return
to her and spend the night peacefully in her warmth and safety.
The stone house was found in a clearing in the deep forest quite some distance from
the beach. She could not see the sun at all until he had made his way to the summit of his
journey and sent his rays into the clearing in the woods. Every morning the stone house
would watch her inhabitants leave the shelter of her walls to go about their daily business
in the forest. Every evening the stone house would open her doors wide as they wearily
returned.
This is the way it had been on the small island on the small planet in the small
galaxy for a very long time. The sun rose and the sun set. The light of the sun rested on the
wooden house longer than it did on the stone house. The wooden house glowed and the
stone house cast shadows. But as it has also always been in these sorts of stories, one day
things began to change; things rarely ever stay the way they have always been you know.
One day the sun did not climb up the arch of the sky as he had always done. He
began his ascent and then stopped midway. His early morning light beamed into the
windows of the little wooden house and his warmth brightened every face inside.
Something has happened, the inhabitants thought to themselves and they went outside to
investigate. They stood on the beach staring into the sky; amazed that the sun had ceased to
climb. “What can this mean?” they asked one another. Their work for the day was
forgotten and they stayed on the beach all day long talking, laughing, and wondering at the
new thing that had happened.

23
 In the forest the sun did not clear the trees at all that day and the small clearing
remained in shadow. The inhabitants of the house wondered at the lingering darkness and
went outside to investigate. They were likewise amazed at the new thing that had occurred.
“What could this mean?” they asked each other. They too ceased working and gathered
together in the clearing to wonder together, comfort each other, and keep warm together.
The day finally ended for both houses, as best a day can for houses with such
different perspectives of the light, and the new day came. The people of the wooden house
opened their windows and doors to the favor of the sun. They rushed out to greet him with
open arms and lips full of praise. Their praise was answered with yet another new thing.
For, seated on a stone not far from the water’s edge was a small child. She could not be a
wooden house dweller because her hair was cut very short and her dress was very brightly
colored. They approached her as she sat facing the sun with her arms outstretched toward
him. As they drew near they startled her and she stood to run away.
“Wait,” said the oldest inhabitant of the wooden house. “Who are you, little girl?”
The girl stopped and slowly turned to face them. The people were astonished. She
was a forest dweller! They could see by the markings upon her face and arms that she lived
in the stone house in the woods. As far back as the people could remember forest dwellers
and beach dwellers have never associated with each other. No one knows exactly why this
has been; it has just simply always been. Some have said it is the nature of people to
congregate only with their own kind. Others tell stories about times long ago and fierce
battles between the two peoples. Whatever the reason, the reality was clear; neither forest
and beach, nor stone and wood have ever joined together.
“You have the sun,” the little girl said. “I like to stand in our clearing and greet him
as he rises above the trees of our forest each day. I missed him yesterday and I came to find
out why you have kept him for so long.”
The people of the wooden house were shocked by her simplicity. They began to
talk hurriedly to one another about this little girl, about her visit to the beach, and about her
questioning them about keeping the sun.
“We have not kept the sun,” the elder said to the girl. “We were as surprised as you
were when he simply stopped and rested where you see him now.”

24
 The girl stepped up to the elder and looked him deeply in the eyes. She spoke
again, “I will bring others to this place and we will live with you and the sun together.”
And with that the girl skipped away. The people were in an uproar about this
terrible new development. “What will we do?” they asked. They had never met the forest
people before. They had only heard the stories told about them. “They are barbarians,” said
one man. “They eat their young,” said an old woman. “They have strange ceremonies and
rituals,” said another. The people’s discussion grew into a loud debate as their fears and
worries were exposed to the open air and the light of day.
“Stop this!” said the elder. “She will be back soon, we must prepare for the arrival
of her people.” The elder called together the council and sent the people back to the
wooden house. The elders gathered on the beach and held council together for a very long
time. As they were discussing with each other a commotion came from the direction of the
wooden house. Hands were waving and pointing and voices were harshly whispering
warnings. The forest dwellers had arrived. At the edge of the forest there had appeared a
small band of men and women, led by the little child. Each member of the party carried a
basket and each was wearing a brightly colored robe. As they approached, the sun shone
off of their skin bringing their markings to life and setting their jewelry on fire.
The young girl spoke first and said, “We come as friends, please accept our gifts as
a sign of our goodwill.” As she spoke the people from the forest stepped forward and laid
their baskets at the feet of the elders. Their baskets contained the meat of animals found in
the forest, a variety of prepared insects and roots, and many kinds of berries and nuts; all of
which the wooden house dwellers had never seen before. The elders received these gifts
kindly and respectfully, although they were very uncomfortable before this strange people
and this strange food.
“Thank you for your kindness,” the elder said. He pointed to the baskets and
signaled to one of the younger men to take them away. The young man warily approached
the offered food and slowly removed it.
“We are pleased that you have come to visit us and are happy to make your
acquaintance,” the elder said.
A man stepped forward and offered his arm to the elder. When the elder grasped it
the man said, “I, too, am pleased to make your acquaintance. We will make good friends,

25
you and I.” He pointed to the small girl who had led them to the beach. “She has braved
the beach and has found the light. Now we who were two people can become one. Now all
men can share the light from above.” The man smiled broadly and waved his arms
expansively, as if to indicate the extent of the meaning of his words.
The forest dwellers and the beach dwellers visited with each other for the rest of the
day. And then the forest dwellers made their request to leave and went back to their stone
house in the dark forest. The wooden house people returned to their own house and slowly
closed the door, firmly latching it to keep away what they feared must surely be.
In the morning the beach was a hive of activity. The wooden house people awoke
to the sound of many voices and much commotion. As they opened their door they saw the
beach alive with forest dwellers busily building a new house on the sand. The men were
singing as they worked. They felled trees built their house near the water after the fashion
of the wooden house people. The house they built was similar to the wooden house but
oddly different at the same time. The shape of the roof was pitched at a strange angle and
the windows were pointed and long. The door to their house was carved with strange
symbols. The plot of ground around the house was staked with painted poles tied with bits
of ribbon.
The wooden house people could only stare at this newest thing to happen on their
beach. They whispered to one another from the doorway and from their windows. They
sent for the elders and waited to see what would be done.
The elders counseled together again and then approached the forest dwellers. They
were very concerned about this new thing. The forest dweller who had spoken to the elder
before rushed to greet him as he approached.
“Brother,” he cried. “I am happy to see you. Come let me show you what we have
done.” He grabbed the arm of the elder and pulled him toward the new house that was
being erected. “See, we are building a wooden house just like yours. We have faced her
toward the sun and have opened her windows to receive the morning light. We have
studied your house and we see the excellence of your design. We will live as you do.” The
man showed the elder the exterior of the house, excitedly pointing out the markings and the
details. The man led the elder into the house and showed him the main hall and the living
areas. The elder was stunned. Everything was eerily similar to his own house, yet

26
peculiarly different. He might have been standing in his own hall in the wooden house
except for the strange forest dweller before him and the uniqueness of the house’s
adornment. It was shocking to see the man’s short hair, the bright colors of his clothes and
the walls of the house, and the markings carved upon the door. The elder was deeply
unsettled.
The man sensed that the elder was not pleased. He released the elder’s arm and
stepped away. He bowed his head slightly before the elder and said simply, “This does not
please you, my brother.”
The elder was strengthened by the man’s obeisance and took advantage of the
man’s humility. He said, “It is not possible to live as we live merely by copying the ways
of the wooden house. You must first learn them thoroughly by living them; then you will
be able to reproduce them in your lives and in this house.”
The elder and his council retreated from the forest people’s new wooden house and
counseled together once more. They decided they would allow the forest people to stay.
They decided to train them in the proper ways of living on the beach and in a wooden
house. They began to meet regularly with them to teach them. They taught the forest
people how to catch fish from the sea and to roast them over a fire on the beach. They
taught them to grow their hair long and to weave clothing of uniform color. They taught
them to adorn their bodies simplistically and to remove their markings. Within a short time
the forest people began to look and act like the wooden house people.
Things continued in this way for quite some time. The peoples of both houses
greeted each day by opening doors and windows. They raised their arms to the sun and
sang songs of praise. The sun still hovered above the horizon. Still he paused in the sky,
frozen in place, as if waiting for something to happen. The sun’s settling in place had
brought together the two peoples of the island. Now he seemed to wait to see if the two
might actually become one.
But the beach dwellers never truly accepted the forest people into their house. They
allowed the forest people to live on the beach and to build their house on the beach. They
showed them how to live as beach dwellers and look like beach dwellers. But the two
houses remained separate. The wooden house people would not visit the new inhabitants of
the beach. They did not allow their children to play with the newcomer’s children. They

27
lived side by side with their new brothers and sisters yet remained estranged from each
other.
With the passage of time this separation became even more pronounced. The
wooden house people looked on the forest people as inferior to themselves. They thought
of them as foreigners trespassing on their beach. Their sense of superiority caused them to
look for ways to criticize the forest people’s behavior. Their criticism resulted in the
creation of rules and regulations for the forest people to follow. Punishment for infractions
of the wooden house’s new rules became common. The wooden house people eventually
threatened expulsion from the beach and the light for violations of the strictest of the rules
of the new law.
Great fear grew among the forest people. They tried their best to please their new
neighbors. But they wondered at their older brothers and sisters. They wondered at the
coldness they saw in their eyes and the unfriendliness directed at them. They tried their
best to follow the new rules. They changed their clothes and their hair. They ceased
painting and carving their symbols. They wanted only to live and breathe under the sun
that they loved so dearly. But the wooden house people would not let them.
Eventually there came a day when one of the wooden house’s most serious rules
was broken by a young man from the forest people’s wooden house. He had been found
with a young woman from the beach people’s wooden house and had painted designs upon
her cheek and arm. You see, he had fallen in love with her and had performed the ancient
customary ritual his people used to express deep love. The elders of the wooden house
were outraged. They immediately condemned the man for attempting to persuade their
daughter to abandon her beliefs and banished him from the beach forever.
The man sadly collected his belongings and, with many tears shed by his people on
his behalf, he left the beach. As so often happens, once a cruel die like this is cast it is
usually followed by another. More and more frequently the elders of the council heard
complaints against the forest people and more and more frequently they answered these
complaints by expelling the accused. Before long the forest people began to whisper
among themselves. “It is unfair,” they said. “They have no right,” they complained. “We
can’t bear it any longer,” they moaned. They established their own council and sorrowfully
decided that in order to maintain the unity they had always enjoyed together they would

28
follow their exiled brothers and sisters back into the forest. They did not know how they
would survive in the darkness. They did not know how they could live without the light of
the sun each day. But they knew that they had to be together as one people, for that was the
most important thing. In the evening of that fateful day the forest people became dwellers
of the stone house once more. It had waited for them through the many years they had been
away. The early exiles from the beach had spent their time cleaning out her rooms and
repairing her roof and windows. By the time their entire people had returned, the house
was lit from within and the door stood open to receive them once more.
They found that life was possible away from the beach. They discovered how to
make their own light to light the poles outside of their house and the passages they traveled
through the woods. They discovered how to keep these lights burning throughout the night.
They learned to make them brighter with each passing year. They learned to thrive in the
darkness because they had found a light within themselves.
And at the end of this story a final new thing occurred that changed everything
upon the island; for both the wooden house people and the stone house people. The sun,
which had shone continuously from his point above the horizon upon the wooden house
alone, decided to continue his course. He began to move one morning and traveled to the
apex of his arc and completed his course in the evening just as he had done in times long
past. Both the wooden house people and the stone house people were amazed. The stone
house people were overjoyed at seeing the sun again and celebrated for days on end in his
light and warmth. They established midday as a sacred time and each day when the sun
rested above their house they ceased all labor and rested in his glorious light. The sun
resumed this natural course for many more years. And for many years the inhabitants of
both houses continued to live as two peoples.
The sun continued to slowly revolve around the small planet in the small galaxy
over the small island. But unbeknownst to the two houses, his revolutions were winding
down toward a final and ultimate event. The sun had finished waiting and had decided
upon an eternal destination. On the last day he stopped his travels for a final time. He
ceased to move at midday when the beach dwellers were busily working and the forest
dwellers were resting. He stopped directly above the stone house in the woods and settled
snugly above her clearing. He filled the small clearing with his rays, and he warmed the

29
stone house with his heat. The forest people wondered at this newest of new things. They
rejoiced at his favor upon them. They recounted the old tales about the sun’s journeys to
the young ones. They remembered together the stories from the time long ago when they
lived on the beach with the sun and the wooden house people. They listened to the old ones
tell tales of the times before that and before even that. They smiled and laughed and rested
in the radiance of their sun and their sun smiled broadly upon them forevermore.

30
 The End
“Did you like my stories?”
“You did? Wonderful! But you do know that there is more, do you not? Oh, there is
so much more! But this time I cannot merely tell you, no, no, I have to show you; words
would never be enough!”
The children scrambled to their feet when they saw their father get ready to stand.
With a quick smoothing out of his robes and a gentle pat on the head of one of his
daughters he gestured majestically to the doorway just behind his great old chair.
“Do you know what lies behind that door?” he asked.
The children were perplexed, because they had not even noticed that door the
whole while they had been sitting at their father’s feet. They approached it with their father
in wonder, for it was a very ancient looking door. It was carved from top to bottom with
the most intricate of markings. Letters and rune-like formations traced the edges of the
door jamb. In the center of the door was a carving of a creature none of them had ever
before seen. It was a grand lion with flowing mane and stern, ferocious eyes. It was sitting
proudly upon a field of battle as if it had just won a great victory. The bodies of its
opponents littered the field behind him and his paws rested upon the sword of his enemy’s
king. The children breathed out their awe at the majesty of this carving.
The father spoke, “Do you know who that is my children? That is my father’s son,
His one and only son. And this is his door. It leads to his kingdom, where he sits upon a
throne so high that the entire earth is beneath his feet.”
“But he is a lion, father, not a man. How can he be king?” asked a small boy.
“Oh, he is much more than a lion, dear boy. He is so much more.”
“Can we go inside?” the little girl asked.
“You can try to enter, but I do not believe that you will be strong enough to open
this door. This door is made of solid oak and twelve inches thick. It stands over eight feet
tall and is four feet wide. It has never been opened in the history of creation, except by one,
and that one a mere lamb compared to you.”
A boy of twelve bravely stepped forward and said, “I would like to try it sir.”
The father’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. He liked the pluck of his children if
not their ignorance. He stepped aside and motioned the boy forward.

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 The boy reached tentatively for the large bronze door handle and gave it a mighty
turn. To his surprise the handle moved freely and the door began to move inward. Excited,
the boy leaned hard into the door and pushed with all his might. But to his surprise the
door swung back violently, slamming shut on him and sending him tumbling to the feet of
his father.
His father laughed aloud and reached down to help his son to his feet. “I thought
that might happen,” he chuckle. “It always does!” He looked around the small group of
children, “Does anybody else want to try?”
This time a boy of nearly sixteen stepped forward and said courageously, “I will!”
He crept silently up to the door and quickly reached for the bronze door handle. As hard as
he could he pushed the handle downward while leaning his shoulder into the door. He
strained against that door until he was red in the face but it did not move an inch.
Exhausted he slumped to the floor and said, “That is one door that does not want to be
opened.” The children giggled.
“Any other takers?” asked the father as he helped his teenage son to his feet.
“I’ll try,” piped a small voice. It was the youngest son, the pride and joy of his
father, a boy not nearly two years old. The other children laughed, saying amongst
themselves, “If they couldn’t move that big door, how in the world can he?” The children
smirked as the little boy stepped up to the door. They sniggered when he balled his little
fist in preparation. They watched him as he quietly walked up to the door and… knocked.
Three tiny little pecks upon the door from a fist no bigger than his fathers thumb.
Three tiny little knocks so soft they were barely heard by the children standing quietly
behind him. But three tiny knocks that were answered by a roar the size of Mt. Everest! It
thundered through the door, bowling the children over into their father’s robes once more.
The little boy cowered behind his father’s legs and peered out curiously from his hideout.
The other children’s eyes had grown wide as well and they each cautiously waited to see
what would happen next.
From beyond the oak door came a mighty and terrible voice, “Who is it that has
knocked on my door! Step forward!”

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 The little boy shrank back in fear. But his father gently peeled him away from his
legs and placed him firmly in front of him. “Answer him; he is speaking to you, young
one.”
The boy looked up at his father whom he trusted above all else and summoned his
courage. “It is only I, my father’s son.”
With that meek remark came uproarious laughter and cheers of delight from the
other side. The children stood amazed as the door silently swung inward on well oiled
hinges and revealed to them a vast territory on the other side of its portal. Standing in the
path leading from the door into the land beyond was the lion from the carving. But he was
changed from that lion, for he appeared gentle and kind. His eyes glowed with delight and
he was smiling. He raised his paw and motioned the children to come forward.
As they approached he lowered his head to the ground and purred. The children
rushed forward to pet him. The boy looked back at his father and smiled.
His father smiled in return and said, “This is my father’s son, children. He is the
ruler of all that you see. He has been given the crown of all of creation, both in heaven and
on earth. It is he who controls that door. It is he alone who will decide who may enter and
who may not.”
The lion tenderly shook himself free from the children and stood upon his mighty
legs. As they watched he changed from a lion to a man. He took the form of a man, a man
like their own father. A man like they themselves would one day be. He smiled at their
wonder.
“I am many things dear ones. But to you it is most important that you know me as
your brother. I am your friend as well. My name is Jesus and I am glad you have come.”
He gazed intently upon his new arrivals and asked, “Do you know why you could
not enter the door the first two times you tried?”
The children thought about it for a while and then one by one they all seemed to
reach the same conclusion. They motioned to the littlest among them, the one whose knock
had proven so effective. He spoke up, “Because they were not being polite! It is always
best to knock before entering a room!”
The children laughed along with Jesus and their father. “That is right my little
brother. You can not force your way into my kingdom. You cannot enter if you carry the

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same sin that all the others carry.” He paused and then said, “Do you remember the stories
you heard? Do you remember the young man and the young woman and how they lost
everything in the garden because they would not honor the old man? Do you remember
Pride, who became so deceived by his own desires that he refused to love his parents? Do
you remember poor Mr. Phil Folly Osophy who became too smart in his own eyes to
consider his own need for any other wisdom? And do remember what happened to the
house by the sea when it forgot why it was planted there in the first place? These stories
your father told you so that you would see the sin that has so upset the world outside my
kingdom. It is the sin of forgetting who you are and from where you came. It is the sin of
forgetting what it is you have been created to do.”
He looked at the little two year old boy, “This child had the answer all along. He
remembered who he was. He simply said, ‘I am my father’s son.’ And that is what you are.
You are my Father’s sons and daughters. You have been created by him that you may love
him forever and live with us in this kingdom for eternity. You have been placed upon the
earth to love the others and to show them the truth of my Father’s love for them. You have
been made to bring others to me.”
He grew quiet then and a look of sadness crossed over his face.
“What is wrong Jesus?” asked one of the children.
“I am sad, my child. There are so many whom I would love to have with me. But
they do not come. Look at what I have prepared for them!” He swept his arm across the
horizon. It was a magnificent land. It was full of trees and meadows. There were mountains
in the distance and the sky was as clear as any had ever seen it before. “I have all of this
waiting for them to enjoy. They could live here with me and we could create a new earth.
There is so much we might accomplish, if they would only come.”
The little boy spoke up again, “Maybe we should go back and tell them?”
Jesus eyes sparkled. He hugged his little brother so tightly the boy began to squeal.
“Will you?” he asked. “Will you bring this news to my father’s lost children? Will you tell
them to come and knock on my door? Will you tell them that I am waiting?”
“Once again, the children responded in chorus, “We will, we will!”

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 Jesus said, “Then, go! Go and tell the world what I have done and what they can
do! Go!” Jesus stood and received his children as they ran into his open arms to give him
their hugs. As each child hugged, Jesus whispered to him, “Remember, please remember.”
When the last child had given Jesus his love they turned and went back through the open
door. They found themselves back in the room with their father, the door firmly shut
behind them. They stood together for a long time, a family of brothers and sisters holding
hands and smiling the smile of those who know.

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