The cliff didn’t look impossible to
climb, but Joe wasn’t going to climb it today; and probably not for a while. He
had other issues to face first. Water was his most immediate need. Without that
nothing else was going to matter. Then there was food. Even if he could find a
water source, he couldn’t function effectively for long without food. Shelter
would be an issue only so long as he stayed on the beach. Once he started
climbing, however, body covering would really come in handy. He was ready to be
mad at Bruiser again, but that would only distract him from what was most
important. Joe decided that his body needed some time to heal, so he planned on
staying on the beach until he felt he could climb. With his priorities in
order, Joe began his search for water.
As it turned out, he found food
first. His beach (for he began to think of it as his at this point) was about a
half mile from end to end. At either end where the cliff came out to the water
were several tide pools. They were teeming with life. There were starfish and
sea anemones, but he didn’t think they were edible. There were some little fish
he couldn’t identify, but how would he catch them? However, there were some
little crabs in the pools also, and there appeared to be plenty. He was pretty
sure that, even raw, they wouldn’t be horrible. When he reached for them, they
wanted to skitter under a rock, but Joe found that if he was quick, he could
catch them. Those he caught he would smash with a rock and pick out what he
could eat. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. He also found that
some of the plants weren’t too bad. So he ate a breakfast of raw crab and sea
plants. It was salty, but it was food. He even said a prayer over his meager
meal.
After breakfast, Joe was especially
thirsty. He thought that his best bet would be to inspect the cliff face for a
spring, or any other sign of water. He started at the north end of the cliff
and worked his way south. Hobbling about on injured feet made his inspection
tour take forever, but eventually it paid off. About two hundred yards into his
search he found water. It was in fact a spring. Not much of a spring, but if he
put his mouth right up to the rock, with a little patience he could suck water
off the surface. By this time the sun had risen from the east over the top of
the cliff. Joe was tired and still in a lot of pain, so he lay down and slept
in the warm sand. He woke two hours later feeling better than he had since
Bruiser had beaten him up.
Joe got up and searched the cliff
again, only this time he was looking for some place he could sleep that night.
In his search he found a shallow cave. He drug some driftwood over to the front
of the cave to block off the wind and scooped out sand until he there was a
little hollow he could lay in that night. Then the thought of fire occurred to
him. He remembered watching Castaway with Tom Hanks. He had loved that
part where Tom had finally made fire, and how proud he was of his
accomplishment. So Joe collected some twigs and lichen and laid them in the
cave for later.
The last issue Joe worked on that
day was clothing. No refuse had washed up on his beach that could be used, so
the only thing he thought he might be able to do was weave some crude covering
out of the beach grass. He had never woven anything in his life and he was not
very successful. His weave kept falling apart. Then he thought about the only
manmade thing he had on the beach: the life ring. After some thought he figured
out how he could unravel the fabric from the outside of the ring and use the
little pieces of thread to tie off the ends of his woven grass. That kept them
together. In this way he was able to make a sort of grass blanket. It was starting
to get dark and so Joe moved all the things he wanted to keep up to his cave.
He did not know how high the tide might come while he was asleep. He was too
tired to try making fire that night, so he just crawled in his shelter and
slept as best he could. It was actually more comfortable than the cave he’d
slept in on the mountain. He was still cold, and still in a lot of pain, so he
woke up several times during the night, but it was a vast improvement on the
night before.
The next morning was pretty much a
repeat of the day before except he did not have to search for water or shelter.
He was able to dedicate his time to weaving. It took him all morning. When he
had a rectangle about two feet by five feet he felt like an accomplished
weaver. He took the sharpest rock he could find and cut a hole in the middle
for his head. Then he tied off all the loose ends around the hole. Now he had a
kind of grass tunic. He slipped it over his head and it came down to mid-thigh.
It was scratchy, but it might provide some protection when he was climbing. He
was even able to make a belt out of the rope that was looped around the ring.
With that done Joe thought about trying to make some protection for his feet
out of the remains of the life ring, but couldn’t think of anything he could
climb with. “Well,” he thought, “I may be a tailor, but I am not a cobbler.”
Giving up on shoes, Joe took off
his tunic, waded out into the water, and then looked back at the cliff. He
studied possible routes. As he stood there he noticed something he had not seen
before. About halfway up the cliff and off to the left was what appeared to be
a cave. What was more amazing was that it looked manmade. That brought Joe up
short. How could that be? Or a better question, why? He crossed his arms and
thought about that. After several minutes he thought about when he had been on
the mountain. At that time he had come to realize that his path off the
mountain was ordained by God. Was this cliff any different? He had been
thinking that Bruiser’s act of violence was just a random event he had to cope
with. But could it be that God had-what would be the right word here-allowed
Bruiser to do what he did to bring Joe to this very spot? God was certainly
able to prevent it, so what other conclusion was there? If Jesus were his Lord,
then this too was from him. If this beach and that cliff were part of The Way,
then so be it. This beach, then, wasn’t his prison, it was his salvation.
For the remainder of the day Joe
focused on the issue of fire. He gathered more kindling and added that to what
he’d gotten the day before. Then he found some medium sized pieces of driftwood
and brought them to the area in front of the cave. He tried making sparks with two rocks, but he had absolutely
no success with that. Then he remembered from somewhere about making a bow. He
found a suitable stick and tied off his rope at either end. He then looped the
rope around another stick. This way he could spin the upright stick with the
bow. He soon realized that he was going to need something to hold the upright
stick. He finally found a small rock with an indentation he could use. Then he
placed the end of the upright stick in the notch of a large almost flat piece
of driftwood. He piled lichen and twigs around the notch. He started a sawing
motion with the bow. It wasn’t too long before he could see wisps of smoke, but
fire did not come so easily. It took him an hour to get a flame of any kind,
and most of another hour before he could sustain a fire at all. But he did have
a fire! He thought of all the times he had just turned on a burner on the
stove, or pushed some buttons on the microwave or turned up the thermostat.
There was something extremely satisfying about making your own fire. ‘Tom Hanks
has nothing on me’ he thought. He sat at the mouth of his cave completely warm
for the first time in two days. He sat there until the sun set beyond the
ocean. He put more wood on the fire and lay down to sleep. He would climb
tomorrow.
Joe rose on the next day and exited
the cave. He went right to the cliff. He got two good hand holds, but when he
tried to push up with his foot the pain shot up his leg. There was just no way
he was climbing today. He decided to stay off his feet for a full day, so he
sat and perfected his tunic until it got dark and then he slept. The next day
showed a little improvement, but really he just needed a doctor; well a doctor,
a physical therapist, a chef, a tailor, and a rock climber. He was just going
to have to wait. He made his way over to his water source with his sharp rock
and hollowed out a place for the water to pool up. He didn’t know how long he’d
be on this beach but at least he had water and now that he had fire he could
sort of roast his crab. It was much better cooked.
One day stretched into another until
Joe lost count of the days. Then one day he stepped up on a rock to get a
better angle at a crab. When he stepped down he realized he hadn’t felt pain.
He tested his feet and they felt good. Maybe he was ready. Tomorrow he would
make another attempt. He was happy to find there were some embers still warm
from his fire the previous night. He put some more lichen on the embers and
managed to get the fire going again. The tide was out. He was going to have a
real cooked meal before he left his beach. He’d seen a fairly sizable fish
yesterday in one of the pools. If he caught that it would be just what he
needed. He went to the south end of the beach where he’d seen the fish. It was
still there. He didn’t know what kind of fish it was. If it was one of those
poison fish he had heard about, he hoped the baking would purify it. But how
was he going to catch it? He tried swiping it out of the water like he’d seen a
bear do in a movie once, but that didn’t work. He got a stick, but he couldn’t
make it sharp enough without a knife. What finally worked was a primitive net
he made from his underwear and a branched stick. The tide pool was small enough
for him to “herd” the fish into a corner and then sort of scoop him out onto
the rocks. He quickly hit the fish on the head with a rock to kill it. He
needed to clean the fish, so he cut it open as best he could with a small stick
and cleaned out the insides. He’d heard somewhere about scaling, so he went to
the cave and got his sharp rock and scraped the outside of the fish until it
looked good, whatever that was. Joe was not a fisherman.
While he was scaling the fish,
something fell out of its mouth. Joe reached down and picked up a little copper
coin about the size and shape of a dime except thicker. It was clearly manmade.
There was a small hole in the center and around the perimeter something was
written. Joe couldn’t read it because it was written in another language. He
thought it looked cool so he pulled a couple of strands from the rope and made
a necklace. He put it over his head and wore it like a medal.
Joe then stuffed the fish with some
of the plants he had been eating, stuck it on the end of a stick and cooked it
over the fire. The aroma brought tears to his eyes. Many years later Joe still remembered
that aroma. His fish, his fire, his beach. He ate the fish with his fingers.
Each bite was better than the last and it didn’t kill him, in fact it was
extremely satisfying. Joe bowed his head and thanked God for the fish. Now it
was time to leave while there was still a lot of day left. Without ceremony he
put out the fire as best he could, donned his tunic, went to the spring and
took a long drink and began his ascent to the cave.
Joe had gone rock climbing with
some friends once, but that was indoors on a climbing wall with safety
equipment. This climb had no margin of error. When he got about 20 feet up he
looked down. That look was almost fatal. He lost his toehold and started to
slip. He clawed at the cliff face, and almost caught himself, but instead he slid
down the cliff, damaging his already sore body before he fell into the sand
below. He lay there hurt and mad at himself for not being more careful. The
worst part was banging his nose on the way down. It started bleeding again, and
hurt almost as much as when Bruiser punched him. After the bleeding stopped he
stood up. Nothing more was broken. He started again. This time he was more
careful. He made his way up and passed the spot where he had fallen. He was
more confident now, but he had not anticipated how quickly his arms would get
tired. It was tempting to want to pull up with his hands instead of pushing
with his feet and this had weakened him much faster than if he’d been an
experienced climber. Finally he came to a little outcropping of rock that allowed
him to sort of sit and rest his arms. But Joe needed desperately to make it to
the cave before dark, so he pushed on after a short break. Maybe he should have
waited longer. Soon he got tired again and this time there was no convenient
rock to sit on. All he could do was let go with one hand at a time and let his
arm rest at his side. It was dangerous to do so, but he was almost out of
strength. He did not want to look around, but he could tell the sun was low in
the sky, and he was beginning to get worried. However, he kept moving even
though he made slow progress trying to conserve energy. He was sweating and out
of breath. The tunic irritated his skin in numerous places. Soon the cliff face
was red with the glow of sunset. In fifteen minutes he would be blind. He
looked up. He could see the cave above him. He started in that general
direction, but he didn’t make it. When the sun went down, and it got darker, he
panicked. His bare toes and fingers ached and bled. He had scrapes and cuts on
his knees, elbows and a dozen other places. He was scared, but what could he
do? He pushed up with his left leg. He found a handhold with his right hand. He
reached up with his right foot and found a place, but he couldn’t find anywhere
to grab with his left hand. It was now dark. He swept the cliff with his left
hand, but there was nothing. He stretched out as far as he could reach and
found, to his surprise a hole. But not really a hole. He had found the cave. He
managed to grasp the side of the cave and gingerly make his way over. A minute
later he was lying inside. He was not going to fall.
Joe was exhausted. He had never
done anything so physically demanding in his whole life. Even though his feet
were still hanging off the lip of the cave, he didn’t move for a long time. His
arms felt like lead weights. He wasn’t ready to even think about his feet.
Everything hurt. His old wounds seemed to compete with the new ones for
attention. He didn’t have enough energy to worry about any of them. He lay
unmoving in a fetal position for perhaps 20 minutes before he felt like even
shifting his weight. He pulled himself further into the cave and slept.
Joe woke up. It was dark in the cave. He could
not see beyond a few feet. He reached up and could touch the ceiling as he sat,
so he would not be able to stand up. His knees hurt so bad from climbing the
cliff he didn’t think he could put any pressure on them so he lay on his side
and kind of crept along a few inches at a time. Thankfully he didn’t have to go
far. The cave ended about ten feet in. Joe felt a slight breeze. To his left
was a stairway that looked like it led up and out. Joe crawled up the steps. It
was dark when he got outside, but the moonlight revealed that at the top of the
cliff was a meadow covered in heather. The meadow ran up to a forest. Joe
wasn’t sure what to do at this point so he sat by the edge of the cliff and
looked out over the ocean. It reminded him of the night he got thrown in. He
peered carefully over and could just make out his little beach down below. He
looked out and imagined the way he must have come to shore. He could see where
he had slept the first night. At that point he saw the lights of a ship passing
by and he wondered where The Pearl was right now. Probably in port up
north. Bruiser was probably sitting in a bar or with a woman. To be sure he
wasn’t suffering from cracked ribs or a broken nose. He had his clothes and
shoes. He’d eaten three squares and slept in a warm bed these last three
nights.
“It’s not fair!” Joe said aloud. He
sat in silent frustration and pondered the significance of this. Was God
judging him for almost selling out to Rich? But if that were true, why hadn’t
he judged Bruiser? And there was the problem. Joe was trying to be a good
person and a true follower of The Way and bad things were happening to him, yet
Bruiser was a bad person and bad things were not happening to him. In fact an
argument could be made that good things, like food and clothing, were happening
to him. Then there was Rich and Randi. A lot of good things were happening to
them. If God was the Ruler of the universe, why didn’t he at least make sure
that good things happened to his friends? Joe had no answer to these questions
so he struggled to his feet and looked for a place to sleep. It was dark but he
finally found a spot in some soft soil that would work for a bed. He didn’t
have to brush his teeth or straighten out the covers or set the alarm. He just
stretched out on the ground and closed his eyes. He fell asleep immediately. He
was so tired didn’t wake up an hour later when a human figure emerged from the
forest and slowly crept over toward him. When the person realized Joe was
asleep they just stood over him. “Hmmm,” the person said, “Ah, yes. Well, not
tonight. No, this one’s not ripe yet. Hmmm, well maybe tomorrow,
hmmm?” Finally it turned and went back into the woods looking over its shoulder
every few seconds.
When Joe woke it was barely light.
Fog had drifted in and he was cold. He sat up. He was still sore all over but
he felt a sense of anticipation, even excitement: he was off the beach. Who
knew what today would bring? He stood up. It hurt to stand up. It hurt to move.
He looked around and noticed the beginning of a trail leading into the woods.
It reminded him of the trail at the top of the falls. There was a large stone
on each side of the trail. Joe hobbled over. There was a plaque on each rock.
The plaque on the left said: “Psalm 37:3,4: Trust in the Lord and do good;
dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture. Delight yourself in the Lord and he
will give you the desires of your heart.” The plaque on the right said, “James
1:2-4: Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many
kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.
Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not
lacking anything.”
Joe thought about what God was
saying to him here. It was obvious that these passages applied to his current
circumstances. He needed to trust God and do good. God’s ‘pasture’ was safe.
Okay, things were hard, but he was alive. God would give him the desires of his
heart. So what were his desires? Right now food and clothing would be at the
top of the list. But he remembered that passage about seeking God and his
kingdom instead of worrying over these things. So then, that was a desire also:
to seek the Seven Truths, seek the kingdom
of God
Joe had walked for about fifteen
minutes when he saw someone step out onto the trail twenty-five yards ahead of
him. Joe stopped. He could tell it was a man because he had a long beard. His
hair was long and ratted. He wore brown leather clothes. He seemed to be
covered with paraphernalia. He carried a couple of satchels over his shoulders.
He had numerous little bags tied to his belt along with a rather large knife.
He had things tied in his hair. He cocked his head to one side, put a fist on
his hip, stroked his beard, and looked at Joe.
“Hello!” Joe yelled. The man rose
up in alarm and ran back into the woods. Joe couldn’t see or hear where he
went. Now what? Was it safe to go ahead? The man seemed to be able to come and
go without Joe knowing, so it was just as safe down the trail as it was here.
He decided to keep walking. He limped along the trail for a half hour, and was
beginning to think the man had run away when he heard someone clear their
throat behind him. He turned around and there was the man not ten feet behind
him. Joe jumped back in surprise.
“How long have you been there?” Joe
asked.
At first the man didn’t say
anything. He stood there with his hands clasped behind his back, rising up and
down on the balls of his feet, smiling.
“Oh, yeah there,” he finally said,
nodding his head, “that’s the one. How long? I’m never there. I’m always here. ‘You
can’t not be in a boat.’”
Joe noticed that though the man was
clearly an outdoors type, he looked intelligent. His keen blue eyes missed
nothing. His long fingers alternately stroked his beard or pressed together at
his chin. The man did not sound threatening. But he looked like he might be
crazy. He was constantly looking around while he talked. His conversation
alternated between keenly insightful and incomprehensible. He punctuated his
speech with certain words as if they were italicized in the text and were
pregnant with meaning.
“My name’s Joe,” Joe said and held
out his hand. The man walked up slowly, cocked his head like before and finally
took Joe’s hand and shook it and quickly dropped it. “Luther Jarvis.”
“Pleased to meet you, Luther.”
“Some people call me “The Hermit”,
but my friends call me LJ,” Luther explained.
“Why do they call you “The Hermit?”
Joe asked.
“Maybe because it’s the bottom of
the ninth and nobody’s on. Maybe. Or maybe it’s because I mind my own
business…or is it business is my mind, I’m not sure, a mind is a terrible thing
to waste. Anyway, it’s kinda like you can get anything you want at Alice ’s Restaurant, except for Alice
“What’s that mean?”
“Oh, man! Sometimes I say things,
Joe…they just come out. I don’t know what they mean. But listen, Joe, I gotta
ask: where’d you get that coin?”
Joe had almost forgotten about it,
but he saw Luther pointing to the copper coin hanging around his neck. He told
Luther about being stranded on the beach and the fish with the coin in his
mouth and climbing the cliff. Luther interrupted him,
“Wait, Joe. You said he had
a coin in his mouth. How’d you know it was a male fish?”
“Well, I didn’t, I just…what
difference does it make?”
“Oh, it makes a big difference,
Joe. Big difference. If it’s a male fish, it’s a sign from God. If it’s
a female fish, then it’s a sign from God. Do you see what I mean?”
“Not really, Luther. I think you
just said the same thing about both.”
“Did I? Wait!” He took that pose
again, one hand on his hip and the other stroking his beard. He thought for
half a minute. “Okay. You’re right. They’re the same thing. But still it’s a sign
from God, Joe. No mistake about that.”
“What’s it mean?” Joe asked.
“Gotta think about that for a while.
Go back to the night the bed fell. Been there. Done that. Hey, Joe! Where you headed with that coin in your hand?”
“I, uh, I’m a follower of The Way.
I am seeking the Seven Truths. You mentioned God. Are you a follower of The
Way, Luther?”
“That one is outta here! Grand
Slam, Joey boy! I am. But where are you headed right now?”
Joe thought about this for a
moment. Then, “I am looking for the Sixth Truth.”
“Ah! Justice! Let me help you, Joe.
Sit down over there on that fallen tree.”
Joe wasn’t sure what he meant, but
he sat down anyway.
“I didn’t think you were
ripe yet, Joe,” Luther said as Joe sat.
“What do you mean by ripe?”
“You hadn’t found the Seven. You
know, all the Seven. Let me look at your feet. Saw you limping. Can’t
find the Seven with bad feet! ‘How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of
those who bring good news!’” He said, quoting from the Bible. He opened one of
the bags on his belt and put some kind of salve on Joe’s feet. At first it
tingled, and then his feet got really warm. “Let’s let that work. You hungry?”
“Yes.”
Luther took another bag and shook
out what looked like trail mix into Joe’s hand. He tried to be polite and only
eat a piece at a time, but finally he just shoved the whole of it into his
mouth. They sat in silence for a while and Luther seemed to relax somewhat.
Even so, he got up every few minutes and walked up and down the trail.
Joe’s curiosity finally got the
best of him, “What are you looking for, Luther?”
“Ah, rug rats and stray cats. The
boys of summer. Don Ho. Huey, the Olson twins, Dewey, Prince Charles, and Louie.
Joe, let me make you an offer you can’t refuse. Let me take you to my place.
You can stay until you are ready to make the journey. Okay? Say okay, Joe.”
“Okay.”
They walked along the trail for
maybe a mile through the forest. Luther was careful to go slow enough for Joe
to keep up. Then he made a quick right turn onto a little path Joe would have
missed completely. The path went through progressively denser trees until Joe
had to duck and push branches out of the way. Then all at once the trees opened
up and they were in a clearing. There was a lake in the clearing and on the
other shore a log cabin. They walked around the lake to the cabin. On the left
of the cabin was a garden with a high fence around it. On the right was a small
building. The cabin had a covered porch. The door was in the center of the
cabin and there were windows on either side of the door.
Inside the cabin was only one room,
but it had a bed and a table with a couple of stools. There was a loft over the
bed. Underneath the window to the left was a small sink. There was a stone
fireplace to Joe’s right. There didn’t appear to be any electricity, but the
sink did have a faucet, so there must be running water. Surprisingly there was
a photograph on the wall over the bed of a young man and woman. Joe saw a Bible
on a nightstand next to an old hurricane lamp. There were several other candles
set at different places around the cabin. There were some basic dishes on the
counter next to the sink, and some cooking gear next to the fireplace. Other
than that, the room was free of any typical comforts of home. The room smelled
earthy, but clean. The cabin didn’t get a lot of direct sunlight, so it was
kind of dark inside. Luther lit a few of the candles, and when he did Joe
noticed two eyes staring down at him from the loft. Luther saw the worried look
on Joe’s face. “That’s just my cat,” he explained. As if on cue the cat came
down the ladder. It was a large black cat.
“What’s your cat’s name?” Joe
asked.
“Spot,” Luther answered. Joe stared
at him.
“You know, like one big spot.
Kinduva joke, Joe. Man you need to laugh more. You know that? Like Ike. I mean
I like Ike,” he said nodding. “That should be self-explanatory, so I’m
just lettin’ it go. Don’t ask. Look, I’m going to make some stew. If you want
to lie down go ahead. The outhouse is back of the cabin. I got some meat
hanging in the root cellar I need to use up. So make yourself at home.”
With that he went outside. Joe took one of the stools and sat on the porch.
After he sat there a while all the troubles of the past few days slipped away.
Joe thought that this might be the most peaceful place he had ever known. He
could hear Luther busy at his stew. Soon the smell of vegetables and meat
cooking drifted out to Joe. Almost immediately it made his mouth water and his
stomach growl. He couldn’t wait. But then he thought, “Didn’t I wait? I haven’t
had a decent meal since I was on the ship. It was hard, but not impossible.”
Joe began to realize how soft he had been most of his life.
Luther stuck his head out the door,
“Stew’s up, Joe.” Joe took his stool back inside and they sat at the table.
Then Luther said, “Let’s pray.” Joe noticed that Luther didn’t bow his head
like so many people Joe had seen. He raised his face toward the sky, closed his
eyes and spread his hands out palms up. “Almighty God,” he began, “I thank you
for this food. You are good and may we be worthy of this blessing. Amen.” The
stew was pretty basic fare, but it was tasty and filling. For Joe it was a
feast for a king. Luther had made some biscuits in a Dutch oven. He had
homemade blackberry jam which Joe slathered on liberally. Essentially Joe ate
everything Luther didn’t eat. When they slid back from the table there was
nothing left.
After the meal they took their
stools and went out to the porch. They sat in silence mostly, except every few
minutes Luther would take a quick breath and say “You know…” or “remember
the time…?” and drift back into silence stroking his beard. Joe wasn’t sure who
he was talking to. Spot wandered out and rubbed against Joe’s leg then ran
after some little creature in the grass. Finally, Joe said, “Luther”-
-“You can call me LJ,” Luther
interrupted.
“LJ, can you help me find the Sixth
Truth?”
“Does God pervert justice?”
Luther asked.
“What do you mean?” Joe asked in
return. But Luther just said: “The Lord is known by his justice…For the Lord is
righteous, he loves justice; upright men will see his face.”
Joe was beginning to see the flow
of Luther’s thought, but then he voiced the question he’d thought about the
night before: “If God was the Ruler of the universe, why didn’t he at least
make sure that good things happened to his friends? Luther, I committed my life
to God. I am a true follower of The Way. Why are bad things happening to me?
That’s not just!”
“Ah! Hmmm…so you know all about
justice, I see.” Luther said.
He had Joe there. In fact Joe had
to admit he didn’t really know that much about God. He’d only a believer a few
days. “No, Luther. I guess I don’t know all about justice.” Then Luther said:
“Joe, would you like to stay here until you’re better?”
“Sure, but uh, why did you ask that
now?”
“Noonday sun, Joe!” he exclaimed as
if any sane person would know what that meant.
“I don’t understand.”
“Ah, yes, but you need to, don’t
you think?”
“Okay, Luther. I’ll stay until I’m
better. Thank you.”
Joe ended up staying two weeks.
Luther told Joe to take the bed because of his feet. Luther slept in the loft
with Spot. Every day when Joe got up Luther was already gone. Joe didn’t know
where he went. All Luther said when Joe asked was, “Face time.” They ate one
‘formal’ meal a day in the early evening. The rest of the day they nibbled on
vegetables from a little garden Luther grew, and nuts and berries he’d gathered
from someplace. They sat for many hours on the porch or down by the lake
talking. Joe told Luther his whole story. How he came down from the mountain,
how Philo, Abigail and the others helped him. Of course it was not like a
normal conversation. When Luther talked Joe had to ask for clarification many
times. But it seemed like Luther appreciated it, and Joe imagined that he was
actually getting more comprehensible.
Physically, Joe was getting better
every day. His nose and ribs were healing, and his bruises were fading. He swam
some in the lake, which was good for him, but walking was still painful. Joe
didn’t feel he had a handle on the Sixth Truth yet. Every day he and Luther
talked about it, but the concept of God’s justice seemed out of reach. Then one
day Luther began talking about the Kingdom
of God
“Do you remember,” Luther
asked one day “what the Kingdom of God is?”
“Didn’t you say yesterday that the Kingdom of God
“That I did, Joe. Now, how long is
a ruler?”
“LJ, I think that is a math
question,” Joe corrected.
“Ah, Joe, I keep fixing the holes
where the rain gets in, but…hmmm. Okay, the Kingdom of God
“Yes,” Joe said.
“And yet there are many like
yourself who submit to his rule, and do his will. But that doesn’t mean we will
escape trouble.” Luther got up and went inside. He came back out looking
through his Bible. He stopped, and without looking up said, “Says here ‘We must
go through many hardships to enter the kingdom of God
“Where’s that?” Joe asked.
“Book of Acts, chapter
fourteen, verse 22. If it were a perfect world, God’s kingdom would be over
all, and no one would suffer, but that’s just not true. His rule is not
strictly universal, even though he has power over everything. We also know that
the once and future King will return to finally rule over all. So the Kingdom of God
“I can see that,” Joe responded.
“Justice is tied to the
Kingdom, Joe.”
“So then,” Joe said excitedly,
“justice also has a present and future character to it.”
“B-I-N-G-O,” Luther sang, “and
bingo is your name!”
“So Bruiser or Rich may prosper
now, but in the end they will face God’s justice, and unless they change, it
will not be pleasant. Abigail, on the other hand, may suffer now, but also in
the end she will face God’s justice. Only for her it will be a reward, not a
punishment.”
“Joe, you have discovered the power
of the Sixth Truth!” Luther exclaimed.
“Power? How is that?” Joe asked.
“Think about it Joe. If you
look for justice in this life you will either become frozen by fear, or
kill yourself with effort. But if your eternal future is secure you have
incredible power right now. Nothing can hurt you. You’re immortal ‘till the
Lord takes you. If God is for us, who can be against us, Joe? ‘Commit your way to
the Lord; trust in him and he will do this: He will make your righteousness
shine like the dawn, the justice of your cause like the noonday sun.’ Hey, all
this theology is making me hungry. Let’s go pick some berries.”
Questions:
1. What is the Sixth Truth?
2. How do Joe ’s difficulties relate to this truth?
3. In what ways did God provide
for Joe ?
4. What biblical truths are
illustrated here?
5. How was the beach both Joe ’s prison and his salvation?
6. What is the significance of
the white stone? (Read Revelation 2:17)
7. What do you think Luther meant by “face time”?
8. How is justice tied to the Kingdom of God
9. What is the power of the
Sixth Truth?
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