A Pearl of Great Price: Part VI

Once I had gathered myself and the mingled, bitter-sweet taste of Shiloh's sacrifice for me had subdued enough for me to regain my faculties, I remembered where I was sitting: at the gates of the City of Promise!  A fluttering, palpitating surge of joy and fulfillment coursed through my whole body as I leapt upon my miraculously-healed feet and gazed in wonder at the luster of the place for which I had been searching for so long. 

"I'm here," I whispered to myself, still in disbelief. 

Images of my journey flashed before my eyes:  the night of the sandstorm that left me without shelter, but that had introduced me to the Wanderer's kindness; the day I nearly died of thirst, but was once again saved; when I had the opportunity to help Jesse and Ruth stave off the jackals and return Shiloh's kindness; the blazing sands and circling buzzards that had been my only company for so long; the vicious brutality of the bandits and the icy grip of fear that had clutched my heart as doom drew near, only to find my Savior once again rescuing me--as I reflected on how far I had come, the joy of my arrival at this blessed place grew ever more potent.

It struck me that all those who had gone and returned in vain must not have believed that the destination would be worth the trial to get there.  They must not have been changed by their experience, nor had they grown or become anything different than when they had left. As I reflected thus, my mind caught hold of another idea: perhaps the destination wasn't where the growth was meant to come anyway!  Perhaps, I thought, the reason this place was so blessed was because when men and women who ventured here arrived at these gates, they came tired, beaten, and spent, but they had learned the true meaning of love, of sacrifice, of the joy of selflessness. I had!  I had learned, out in the wastes, that to give of oneself is to receive; that when you strive when your arms are too weary and reach for the seemingly unreachable ideal, you grow to become something more.  I had overcome so much--only, of course, with the help of the Wanderer.  The joy had been in the journey.

I was lost in thought for quite some time, basking in the luminous joy and unspeakable gratitude I felt merely standing where I was.  Presently, I floated back down from my flight-of-fancy and strode through the ornately wrought gates and into the city.

It was so beautiful.

A Pearl of Great Price: Part IV

For the first two months or so, I traveled entirely alone (save the few times the Benevolent Wanderer had chanced upon me).  I must confess, it was quite lonely, having no one to speak to for days and days on end.  Sometimes I would sing the familiar songs of my childhood to myself, other times I would speak to the bleakness or to some imaginary companion; often I would speak openly with God, asking for His blessings and safety.  Truly I missed the human-to-human interaction that of necessity constituted my daily life at home--haggling some merchant who was charging me too much for cattle feed, laughing with my boyhood friends, conversing with the elders about the pearl and the Promised Land, seeking advice from my parents and kin.  I missed that.  It was a lonely time indeed.

The gap was partially filled by the love and joy I felt when I had met the Wanderer those brief, dire moments.  I knew at least there was someone out here in this waste who cared about me.  His bread, water, and light comforted me and at least took away the strain of survival from my mind so that I could focus on where I was going and try to make it as safely as possible.  I was filled, it was true, but somehow it seemed something was missing...

Late in the afternoon one particularly hot and unpleasant day, I spied a small, dark figure far out on the dunes ahead of me.  I couldn't exactly tell what it was at first; it lay motionless on the sand.  As I drew closer, I realized it was a person!  I ran to his side.  He lay unconscious, his breathing shallow, his face bright red.  As I looked him over, under his desert garb I could see he was emaciated and starving.  Immediately, I slung one of the Wanderer's waterskins from my shoulder and sprinkled a few drops on his forehead and lips.  His eyes moved under their weary lids, and slowly he opened his red and exhausted eyes.  I was shocked--they were such piercing blue, and so familiar-looking...  I gazed at him for a moment, then remembered he was dying.

A Pearl of Great Price: Part III

Over the next several weeks, I pondered on the singularity of the events the night of the sandstorm.  What strange events they had been indeed.  How could it have been that I would have chanced upon such a marvellous person as I had?  And how had he bested the storm enough to have reached out in love and compassion toward me?  Surely, I thought, there must be a way to overcome as he had, to reach out and think not of yourself in the perilous times, to not take only, but to give.  Though I had encountered him but once, this man, this friend inspired me as a great mentor.  I hoped to God I would meet him again.

A word about survival in the desert:  if ever you should venture out as I did, remember that food and water are very scarce.  I know that sounds obvious, but you really don't grasp that concept until you have to go days without restocking your supplies.  It was about three weeks into my journey that I realized I would probably be without water for a few days; prior to that, small rivulets or streams had zig-zagged across the sparsely vegetated desert floor, providing for my thirst.  However, as I ventured farther and farther into the barrenness, the streams no longer flowed the direction I knew I needed to go and I found myself drawing solely upon the water I kept in reserve in my animal skin, which, I realized to my utter disappointment, was not entirely full.  How foolish I had been, when the water was plentiful, to not fill my skins with all the water I could carry!  I remember thinking to myself, "Well, the little streams will run along for another while, I'll be alright.  Besides, water is heavy!  why carry it when there is an abundance?"  Indeed I had played the fool.

A Pearl of Great Price: Part I

They told me I was crazy to even attempt it.

Everyone who's ever lived has heard the stories--our ancients and elders speak of a far away place beyond the brutal desert sands, out past the remotest oasis, and beyond the edge of the Known where there springs a fountain of everlasting life; where grows a tree of the sweetest fruit, which is said to fill one with intense joy; and where each weary traveller is rewarded a "pearl of great price", a prize most desirable above all.  The elders spoke of this land from the records of our fathers.  They spoke of those who had come before us--how many a wide-eyed wanderer had set off on the journey, fully- (if not over-) confident in his or her abilities to best the desert's perils, to traverse the sands by his own strength and to reach the blessed home, only to return dejected, battered, and spent. 

 

Far worse, we knew, were the tales of those who encountered the ruthless bandits who hid amongst the dunes and rocks, waiting for unsuspecting travellers to fall victim to their insatiable lust for carnage and treasure; only a few survivors ever returned to tell the tragic stories of their less-fortunate friends.  Truly it was a perilous journey, one fraught with danger and uncertainty--who was to say if any of the travellers ever actually found the place of legend, where they could rest from all care and sorrow?

Thus, you can understand when my friends and relatives balked at my announcement that I, too, wished to brave the desert, to embark on the quest to find the pearl of great price.  They asked me to reconsider:

"It will be dangerous!  Have you not heard the tales?"
"How can you be so certain such a prize exists?  No one has ever returned to show us the pearl or give us of the fruit!  You'll die in the desert chasing after a fantasy, a disappointed, unfulfilled wretch."
"Life here in the village is so much more fulfilling than getting chased by bandits and snakes and eating cactus and bugs.  Now go clean out the cow stalls--they stink."