The tear stretched up to the top of the mountain where two opposing forces faced each other. Blackness clothed one creature, layering him in obscurity. The other was a man with a white shawl draped over his head and shoulders. His lacerated feet were swollen from walking in the hot, dry desert. Weary, on the verge of collapse, he leaned against a rock, breathing heavily.
How could I see such detail so far away? Was I watching a movie that a mysterious director wanted me to see?
“Hee-haw, hee-haw. That is the king!” Baruch exclaimed. The donkey held his head high and bowed low to the ground.
“Which one?”
“The one in white. The one in blackness—oh, I bet that is an underling.” Baruch dithered and dathered about, trembling one moment and singing the next.
“That is just a man,” I said. “The one in white doesn’t look like a king. You must be mistaken.”
“No, it’s him. The king. I’d recognize him anywhere.”
“How can you recognize him?”
“He called my name. Once the king says your name and you listen, you never forget who he is.”
I remembered the story about Baruch from The Donkey and The King:
“Baruch walked towards the flaming sword.
He heard the king call his name. ‘Baruch.’
‘I’m not afraid,’ he said. ‘I know the king loves me.’
Tears of Joy fell from his face and covered the flames.”
“Why would he even be here?”
“I don’t know,” Baruch said. “Let’s watch and see what happens. The king has rewarded us with a front row seat to what might be a spectacular event.”
Except I wasn’t sure I wanted to watch. Maybe we weren’t even supposed to see it.
The dark creature’s outer covering was pitch black—so gloomy that nothing could penetrate its facade.
Despite my worry, my vision, hearing, and sense of smell seemed magnified a hundred times—like an eagle soaring and spotting his next meal or a rescue dog discovering a missing child. A crow’s call from beyond the mountain echoed over the valley. An ant scurried several feet away. I could see it clearly, as if my eyes were like a Nikon lens. Sweet spices from a distant town made me hungry. I assumed that’s where the scent came from as I’d brought no food, and no one was cooking nearby.
Lightning pierced the sky—revealing a wild remote niche hidden in the wilderness, nearby but far away.
The vile-looking creature towered over the man. His black robe furled across the sky darkening the desert of light, hope, understanding, and knowledge.
The underling said, “If you are the Son of God, command that these stones become bread.”
Stones appeared before the man in the white shawl, some in piles, and others scattered across the barrens.
“Son of God?” I repeated. “What does that mean?”
“I’m telling you, that’s the king,” Baruch said. “The other creature is an underling. Maybe THE underling. The underlings looted the garden and stole from the king. The king protected us and kept us safe.”
The blackness contracted and expanded across the hinterlands.
The man said, “It is written. ‘Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that proceeds out of the mouth of God.’”
“Baruch, if that is a king, a king of what country?”
“He’s the king of the garden.”
A longing arose within me and burned a pathway to my soul. Another reality emerged—of love, oneness, beauty, and knowledge, but a power struggle brewed. Could evil challenge goodness and win? My heart thirsted for the truth, to understand. The meaning eluded me.
In the desert, a beautiful city sprawled out across the way of the wilderness. In the center of the metropolis stood a magnificent temple. Its ornateness spoke of charm, glory, and future perfection, but where were the people? The city was empty.
The veiled creature led the man to the highest point of the building. He said, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down; for it is written, ‘He will command his angels concerning you’; and ‘on their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.’”
Was this man the Son of God? Where were the angels? What magic did the black creature possess? If he was so powerful, why did he want this ordinary man to call on the angels to save him?
The man replied, “It is written, ‘You shall not put the Lord your God to the test.’”
The heavens shook at the man’s response. The evil creature hissed and spewed profanities as if speaking the language of demons.
Angry lightening flashed across the sky. I tapped Baruch on the side. “If he’s a king, is he also the Son of God? How can a king be the Son of God? He even sounded like he is God.”
“Hush, just listen.”
The underling took the exhausted man to the highest peak. A prism stretched across the heavens and the wilderness. A third reality emerged, a magic beyond anything I had ever seen, revealing dark secrets.
In a twinkling, the cloaked figure that I now perceived to be demonic made known all the kingdoms of the world. Temples of gold sprung up over the mountains, and all the deceptive power of the black creature’s kingdom filled the air—an illusion of wealth that would fool those who did not know the difference between real and counterfeit.
How could something so vile create such beauty? The man, a willing captive, watched attentively.
The underling mocked the man’s appearance and cast insults. His desperation mounted to the point of total self-absorption. “All these things I will give you, if you fall down and worship me.”
“Baruch, what’s happening?”
“Wait, Miss Shale. We need to see the rest.”
Was he the king of the garden, as Baruch said? If he was, why was he here? Why were we the only ones to witness this? Did the powerful words stir me, or was it something else? I identified with the pauper. I knew what it felt like to be bullied, but his humility was superhuman.
The man responded, “Go, Satan! For it is written, ‘You shall worship the Lord your God and serve him only.’”
A brief silence followed. “No!” the wicked creature bellowed.
Dark bat-like bodies fell from the sky, shape-shifting apparitions, without substance, and the desert floor broke apart to inhale them. A treacherous chasm opened swallowing the underlings. Screams screeched out of the hole in the ground, pathetic, whimpering gasps, and the hole collapsed in on itself, like a sinkhole. The tempter departed.
Descending from the heavens were beautiful creatures, too numerous to count, decked out in white. They wore glowing robes of dazzling splendor. As they tended to the man Baruch called a king, I watched, too awed to speak, and too stunned to know what to think.
A few minutes later, I regained my senses.
“Now you know what an underling is,” Baruch said.
“A coward, a bully, a demon.” I shook my head, still stunned. “Baruch, you did see all of that, right? I wasn’t imagining it.”
“Heehaw. Now you know the king.”
“I want to meet him, Baruch. How can I?”
“Just call on him, and he’ll answer you.”
“Ca-ca. Shale Snyder?”
I spun around. I’d heard that voice before. On a barren rock sat a dazzling black crow. The pink backdrop of the desert silhouetted him making him look like a creature from Mars.
The crow cocked his head and flapped his wings. “Did you know that crows are among the smartest creatures in the world?”
Chapter Nineteen
THE CONFLICTING WORLDS OF SHALE AND DANIEL