Clouds

Part One: The Journey Down (The Journey of the Father)

The climber stood at the top of the mountain. He had arrived at his long sought after destination, but he was not satisfied. He expected to see the great panorama. He had hoped for the grand vision, but it was not to be. The mountaintop was covered in clouds. There may have been plenty of things to see, but he could not see them. So he sat. Maybe it would clear up. Maybe the sun would come out. But instead, it just got cold. The longer he sat, the colder he got. The moisture seemed to seep into his very bones. He found himself shivering so hard he almost fell over. Finally, he had to admit: he was miserable. So he thought he would go back down the mountain, and try another day. But that was easier said than done. He couldn’t find the way back down. It was too cloudy. The more he walked, the worse it got. He tripped and fell and scraped his arm. He got up and tried again, but he just kept going in circles. Finally, he sat down again. He put his head in his hands and wondered what he was going to do?

He sat there for what, minutes, hours, days, years? He didn’t know. But then he heard something. A small sound, but distinct: footsteps. Then a voice:

“Hello, can you hear me?” the voice said.

“Yes, I can hear you! I’m over here!” he replied.

He strained with his eyes toward the sound. He saw a shape, then a person emerging from the mists. Nothing had prepared him for what he saw next. It was a man for sure, but an old man, a very old man, a very old, very short man wearing a flower print shirt, baggy shorts and flip-flops. He had bright red sunglasses on, and one of those big straw hats. The climber looked again, and yes, that was a glass of ice tea in his hand.

“Hello,” the man said again, “how are you on this fine day?”

“Fine day!” he replied, “It’s wet and cloudy, and I can’t see a thing. I’m cold and miserable. How could it be a fine day?”

The old man took off his sunglasses, and leaned toward him. “Are you crazy? Why, it’s a beautiful day, a wonderful day, a most impressive day of days. The sun is out; the breeze smells like flowers, and way off in the distance, I can hear children singing. What’s your problem?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the climber said, “all I know is, I can’t see anything, and I can’t seem to find my way down.”

The old man sipped on his tea and then said, “Well, I know what your problem is.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re on the wrong mountain, that’s what! Get down from here. This mountain is no good for you.”

“But…” the climber protested, but even as he spoke the old man turned and started walking away into the mist. Then he stopped and turned back.

“Here’s a piece of advice, sonny. Whatever you do, find the Seven Truths. Whatever it costs, whatever it takes. Nothing is more important that that.” Then he turned away.

“Who are you?” The climber called after him.

“My name is Philo, but that doesn’t really matter,” the old man shouted over his shoulder. “What really matters is, who are you?”

“My name is Joe!” the climber responded, but the man was gone.

“Yeah, well, whatever,” he thought. “That was a lot of help.” But then he saw something that had escaped his notice before: a rock that looked out of place. It was a rather round rock buried in the dirt at about a 45 degree angle. But the surface of the rock had been chiseled smooth. It was about the size of a manhole cover. When Joe looked closer at the rock, he noticed something written on it: the number 7. “That’s strange,” he said out loud, but when put his hand on the rock to get a closer look it moved. He pushed harder, this time with both hands, and the whole rock hinged inward. It wasn’t a rock at all, it was a door. He looked inside. There was a tunnel. Now he had a decision to make. Should he try the tunnel, or should he try again to go back down the way he came up? It was all so strange. First there were the clouds, then he got lost, and then the old man. What was he to make from him? But then again, the number on the rock seemed to coincide with the Seven Truths, whatever they were. Maybe he’d just see where this tunnel went. He could always come back later.

Joe crawled through the manhole, for that is what he thought of it now, and turned on his flashlight. The tunnel went before him for 50 feet or so then curved to the right. It was too small for him to stand upright, so Joe crawled up to the curve. Around the corner the tunnel widened out, and ended at two doors, both round like the first one. When Joe crawled up to the doors he discovered there was something written on each one. On the left door it said, “Psalm 14:1,” and on the right door it said, “Psalm 19:1.” Joe pondered this for a moment. Which door should I try?

Questions for "Clouds"

1. What does the mountain represent? What does it mean that Part One is “The Journey Down”?

2. What do the clouds represent?

3. Who is the old man? Why is he dressed like he is?

4. What did the old man mean by “You’re on the wrong mountain?

5. What do the two bible verses represent, and how might that relate to the mountain?