WHEN THE FATHER SENT THE SON – a short story re-post

Originally published in 2011.

The idea for this short story came to my mother one morning recently after reading the Christmas story in the book of Luke.

After we talked about it, I began to pray for God’s direction on whether to take the story and write it out, building on the ideas Mom had been given.  As I prayed, the words were suddenly there, filling my mind.

This is what He gave to me:

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Father set the letter down and closed His eyes.

Pain filled Him at the thought of what must be done.

He knew the outcome even before He summoned His Son to come to Him, but knew there was no choice.

“Yes, Father?”

The Son stood in the doorway, waiting for His Father to acknowledge His Presence.

The Father raised a hand and beckoned His Beloved to come sit next to Him.

“Son, I am afraid the people in my kingdom need help and I must send You to take care of the situation for me.”

“Of course, Father.  Whatever You need Me to do, I will do.”

“But Son, it is a very difficult thing that You will be doing.”

When He turned to meet the Son’s gaze, the Son read His Father’s pain and deep sadness there.  He reached out and laid His hand over the wrinkled one of His Father.

“What is it Father?  Please tell Me.”

The Father looked at the hand covering His own and felt tears sting His eyes.

“These people … they hate me.  They do not want me to rule them anymore.  And because they are so unhappy, they argue amongst themselves; hurt, and kill each other.  They do awful things that I do not want to discuss.”

He lifted His eyes to meet those of His Son.

“Son, I want you to go talk to them, teach them, show them that if they come to Me, I will help them.”

“Yes, Father, whatever You wish Me to do, I will do.”

“Son, they will not want You there.  They will not listen to You or accept You.  They will turn from You and say that You do not come from Me.”

“But, Father, why would they not know Me?  If they know You, surely they will know Me.”

“Because, My Son, most of them do not know Me.  They say that they do, but they do not truly know Me.  So, they will not know You, or believe that I sent You.”

“But surely, if I tell them … will they not listen to reason?”

“No, My Son, I do not think they will listen to reason.  In fact, I think that they will try to hurt You because they do not want to hear what You have to say.”

The Father’s voice broke on the pain that filled Him.  To have to send His only Beloved Son to be abused and murdered for the sake of a few filled Him with sadness.  He cleared His throat before continuing.

“They will be too sure of their places in the world, too sure of their own importance and their own beliefs to want to listen to anyone that does not agree with them.  They will be angry with You when You try to tell them they are wrong and that they need to come to Me.”

“Then why send Me?  Why not just let them live amongst themselves the way they want to live?”

“Because if they do not turn to Me, they will be separated from Us forever.  I do not want to be separated from My people forever.”  He drew in a deep breath and blew it out on a sigh.  “I love them Son and do not want any of them to be lost from Me.”  He hesitated, then said quietly, “Son, You need to do this for Me, but first You must understand all that You will suffer for their sakes.”

Not able to sit any longer, He got up and moved around the room.

“They will start out resenting You because You will prick their conscience.”  He held up a hand.  “Indeed, some will listen and believe You.  They will follow You to their own deaths eventually.  But the others …”  He lowered the raised hand and began to pace the room.  “The leaders will be ever more angry with You because they will know You are talking about them.  They will not want You to draw the people from following them.”

He stopped to looked at His Son across the room.

“Eventually, they will figure out a way to kill You.”

“But Father!  Surely there is another way.”

“No, My Son, there is no other way.  If only a few turn their hearts back to Me, then it will be worth the price.”

“Please Father, can’t You find another way to reach them?”

The Father stepped across the room, anguish filling His features.

“Oh, My Son.  A ransom must be given for their sin.  You are the Only One that can pay it.”

“Alright, Father.  Let Your will be done, and not Mine.”

The Father wrapped His arms around His Son and held Him for quiet minutes before stepping back.

“We will be together through eternity, Son.  Nothing can ever separate Us from each other.  You are My Son, in Whom I am well pleased.”

He watched, His tears falling at His feet, as His Son turned and walked away.

His Beloved, only begotten Son, sacrificing Himself for the sins of the people.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

© Drusilla Mott and https://drusillamott.wordpress.com, 2011, 2019

Second Chances – Manuscript Excerpt

The following excerpt is the property of Drusilla Mott and is not to be copied, stored, forwarded, or used in any way without the written permission of the author.

Shannon Miller sat on the lawn watching the large gathering through amused eyes. Who are these people? Her mouth quirked as the thought went through her mind again. They were her family, but she didn’t know half of them. The cousins she had grown up with were familiar, but the rest were … relative strangers. The curve of her lips threatened to grow as the words entered her mind. She turned her head and grinned at her sister.

“Who are these people?”

Megan grinned back and shrugged.

“Beats me.”

Their humor was self-directed. Even though it was a fairly large crowd, she felt ridiculous not knowing her own family.

The sound of another car drew her attention to the driveway and she watched three more strangers walk across the yard. The little boy ran ahead, running straight to some of those unknown relatives. Her amusement grew at this. He was perhaps three, but he knew her relatives better than she did. Her eyes moved over the woman as she followed the child, and came to rest on the man.

Many things were immediately obvious. There was a tension between the two adults that spoke of barely suppressed anger. She was a short distance ahead of him, and he was in no hurry to walk beside her. Shannon got the impression that the distance between these two was more than the short physical space that separated them, and that they were both responsible for it. Theirs was not a happy relationship.

She studied him, taking in his faded blue jeans and white t-shirt, his short brown hair and mustache. He looked quite a bit older than the woman did, but that could have been due to the short military-style hair cut and the hard, set expression that seemed carved into his face. He wasn’t really tall, but he had the kind of hard, muscular build most men only dreamed of having.

She followed the man’s progress to the side porch, studying him as he sat on the porch steps, only barely aware that the woman had joined the group that the child had run to. He seemed so withdrawn and apart from the rest of the crowd as he sat there, as if he were deliberately distancing himself from everyone else. It was obvious he did not want to be there.

She turned to look at the woman, already involved in the conversation of the group she had joined, showing no concern toward the man she had arrived with. It was as if there was an invisible wall between the two and she couldn’t help but wonder what had put it there. Shannon herself seemed more connected to him than his companion did.

Was it the bond of one unhappy person to another, the shared pain of an empty relationship? Was she picking up his feelings because she was also trapped in a miserable life with no way out? She couldn’t be sure, but she knew that the sadness and angry frustration she saw in him were reflections of her own soul.

She had been existing in an empty marriage for years, trapped in a life full of anger, hatred and suspicion. Was it possible that her own deep unhappiness made her more aware of someone else’s? If so, why had she never felt this empathy with anyone else? Why now with this man?

She looked back at him, still sitting silently alone, and felt a strange twist of something unnamable move inside her, almost as if his self-imposed solitude was her own. She could feel his anger and pain, his unhappiness and loneliness, settle deep inside. It made her want to go to him and try to help. It made her ache to sit down next to him and talk to him. She wanted to take his pain and unhappiness and make it disappear.

The yearning for something unknown swelled inside her. It was a need for something she didn’t have and didn’t really understand. It brought an aching emptiness into her that desperately needed filling; a silent cry for something she wasn’t even sure existed. Something clicked in her mind, a shadowy memory of something that she could not put her finger on. She tried to remember, to draw up the elusive memory, but it stayed stubbornly hidden from her thoughts. Slowly she relaxed her mind, hoping to will the memory into place.

© Drusilla Mott and https://drusillamott.wordpress.com, 2019