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{25} The Lure

My Side: Day 25 of 31 Days

For Day 1, click on the photo above

The Enchanter slipped out the door without making a sound, and Jewel was left alone. Although, she not alone. In the corner of the room, ablaze with furry, stood her Advocate.

Jewel saw him and said, “You can put that sword away now.”

“Can I, Jewel? Or is there still a lie that lurks in this room?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, truly confused. She thought through the conversation carefully, but it only confirmed in her mind that everything the Enchanter said was good and pleasing to her ears.

“I don’t remember him saying anything that wasn’t true,” Jewel countered. “In fact, he was a perfect gentleman! You could learn something from him. Look at you, drawing weapons on a visitor.”

“He was no visitor, Jewel. He was an imposter, and you should never have given him an audience.”

Jewel was astounded. “Weren’t you listening to anything he said?” she cried. “Are you so suspicious that you could not hear the good and kind things he said to me?”

“That is his way, Jewel. When you are in his kingdom, he uses evil as his tool. You were tangled up in it before you were brought here, and you remember how tightly it bound you.

“But the people of this kingdom are best trapped by the good things. It is the good that keeps you from his presence and mars the face of the prince until soon, you are serving a prince of your own making. A beautiful lure can be far more effective than a brazen hook, Jewel, and I’m afraid you have fallen for it.”

The Lure

“No…no, that can’t be. He wants to make a truce with us! He did not come here to trap or fight me.”

“He has no need to fight with those he’s beaten.”

“Beaten? I am not beaten! I have won! Didn’t you hear? The Enchanter has seen something in me he never saw before. He has come to understand the prince because of me, because he knew me once, and he sees how beautiful I am now. He said it right in front of you. He called me a friend.”

“Jewel, do you really think that you could affect a change in the Enchanter with your beauty that the prince could not do with truth? Do you really think you could conquer something he has condemned?”

Jewel rolled her eyes and turned back to the mirror. “Apparently, I can, because he recognized how far I’ve come. I don’t think you appreciate the fact that I’m not the girl I once was. He said more kind things to me in five minutes than you’ve said the entire time you’ve known me.”

“The question is, are those things true?”

Jewel spun to face him. “Of course they were true! Look at me! I am beautiful now. I am like him.”

Her Advocate shook his head slowly. “He told the truth about one thing, Jewel. The prince will not recognize you when he comes home.”

She was hurt, and very much frightened, by her Advocate’s response to the Enchanter’s visit. In one instant, the Enchanter had validated her growth and allowed her to believe, for one second, that she had something to do with it. What was wrong with that?

After living for so long in debt to the prince and his adviser, she felt relieved to give a little back, to add some goodness of her own to the pile. Now, the prince’s own enemy had come and acknowledged that she—Jewel!—was the one who had brought about his change of heart. Wouldn’t the prince be amazed when he heard?

He would rejoice. She was sure of it.

Then the adviser would know what the Enchanter had already figured out: there were some things she could do very well on her own.

“You should be on my side,” Jewel said hotly when she thought about it.

“No, Jewel. You should be on his. I have not moved.”

Angry tears streamed down her cheeks. She could not see the difference.

“Come,” he said, directing her to a seat by the window where a large scroll blanketed an ornate table. “Let me show you.”

“Not now,” she said. “I am tired.”

That was only partly true. Many times in the past, she had stayed up studying the scrolls with her Advocate while the candles burned down into puddles on the table. She did not have the heart for it on that particular night when the Enchanter’s footsteps were still hot on the stones in the hall. She wanted some time to think, alone. An idea had begun to form in her mind. It would condense into thoughts that would lead to a plan that would take her somewhere she never intended to go.

{5} A Rescuer

Day 5 of our 31 Days series: From Enemy to Heir
Click on the image above to begin at Day 1

Obscurity did not expect to open her eyes again. She had always feared death until that very moment when she realized it was winning the chase.

That is when she saw the good of it. She would simply close her eyes and cease to exist. Where was the fear in that? The pain would disappear, along with the failure, the torment, and the heartbreak. She would slip quietly from obscurity into oblivion.

It was a small step to make for someone who had been nearly dead her entire life.

But pain woke her. Her body screamed. She was dead. But she wasn’t.

Slowly, her mind woke to the betrayal. Where was death? Where was the oblivion she had been promised?

She had failed. That was all there was to it. She had failed to end it all. Even when she was handed the opportunity, she had messed it up, just like always.

Bitter tears welled up inside her and she groaned because it was not over, it was just worse than ever.

Then a thought came to her, like a whisper in her ear. There was still a chance she could succeed, and quickly. Surely there was a sharp rock or a poisonous plant somewhere nearby. She knew she had the courage to do it, if only she could find the right tool.

Obscurity forced her swollen eyes open to look around, and gasped.

A man was leaning over her.

He spread his shadow over her while the rising sun, already scorching, burned a halo around his head. “What has happened to you? Are you injured?” His face creased with the weight of concern.

She crouched back, searching her mind to see if she knew him. She felt that she should, if she could just think. Something about him seemed so familiar.

The man was dressed like a beggar, but his face, though plain, was not marred like one. He had none of the brutal marks that came with living in a land of dragons.

I should know him. I should know him, her mind insisted. But it could not come up with the secret.

“Please, come with me,” he was saying. “I can help you if you come back with me.”

Those words snapped her back into the present. “Come back with you where?” she sputtered.

“To my kingdom,” he said, as if surprised by the question. “I am the prince.”

The power of his name threw her back into the shadows and she screamed. Senseless with panic, she scrambled to get away from him, wishing more than ever that she had not survived the night.

She did not fear death, but she feared life with the prince more than anything in the world.

In all of her worst nightmares, she had never expected to be staring into the face of the one who desired to enslave her. But here he was, plain-faced and pathetic, sneaking in when she was at her weakest. It was just like the Enchanter had always said.

He thought he could take her without a fight, she thought. But Obscurity was nothing if not free, and she had just enough stubborn will left to resist the prince’s powers.

Like a wild, injured animal, Obscurity flung herself at the prince. But either her injuries had left her weaker than she knew or the prince was stronger than he appeared.

She could not prevail against him.

And he would not be dissuaded from trying to help her. “You will die if you stay here,” he said, holding her wrists so she could not beat him with her fists.

“What if I do?” she screamed. “It would be better for me to die!”

“Better if you die?” the prince repeated, softly and sadly. She did not understand the look on his face. What did he care if she died?

“What a waste of a precious life,” he said, and she cried out at the words because they stung like slap.

No one had ever spoken to her like that, and it hurt worse than a punch to the face.

Long ago, when her memories where still forming, Obscurity remembered being precious to someone. But it didn’t last because hers was not a precious life.

She swallowed the aching feeling in her throat. “Let me go,” she demanded, though she did not expect her captor to comply.

He dropped her arms.

It shocked her so much she did not even think to run. Truth flashed before her eyes and for the very first time in her life, she began to see through the cracks in the Enchanter’s lies.

He was not a captor at all, but a rescuer. And she, of all people, needed a rescuer.

*Join us tomorrow for Day 6!

{1} 31 Days of Blogging Martyrdom

If you’ve been around the blogging world for a bit, you may have noticed some of your favorite writers participating in a blogging challenge every October called 31 Days. It is an opportunity for normal, busy men and women to inflict pain upon themselves for the sake of community. It is blogging martyrdom, pure and simple. Fall on your pens, folks!

I was not about to do it.

Last year, when I had not even been blogging for a full twelve months, I stumbled upon this whole thirty-one-days-of-group-torment a little too late. Posts started popping up on October first and I had no idea why. “Huh, running a series must be a great way to grow a blog,” I thought.

Then I found out the real reason. It was like a blogging version of an Ironman competition, and I had just missed the starting gun.

“Whew,” I said to myself. “That was close.”

Still, the idea intrigued me: thirty-one days of straight writing, thirty-one days of posting brilliant content. At the end of thirty-one days, I would have so many words. I would have disciplined myself to write and post content every single day. Since I am not very disciplined, I couldn’t help but think, “This will be so great!”

November rolled around and all my blogging buddies were sleeping off their thirty-one day comas, and I began a series of my own.

It was only thirty posts, and that’s as close as I came to replicating the kind of diligent writing my friends had accomplished the month before.

See, I wasn’t very far into the first week of writing when I discovered that I am incapable of posting brilliant content every single day for thirty-one days. I have a two, maybe three-day brilliance capacity, max. My thirty-one day series turned into a six-week series, which turned into a two-month series. I think I managed to wrap things up before Christmas but I’m not really sure. Everything that happened after Thanksgiving is kind of fuzzy due to blogging toxemia.

But then the series came to an end. I slept again. I ate again. Actually, I ate all along it’s just that I was now conscious of the fact.

I reflected. I realized that I was not the same writer who sat down at her laptop on Day One. That series changed me. When I think back to that time, when every spare second of my day was spent wrestling with the truth of the Scripture and pinning it down into paragraphs and coherent sentences, I realize it was one of the sweetest, most difficult times of growth I have had in my adult life.

And I never wanted to do it again.

But I am.

Because it is October, and I believe God has something He wants me to write. I have trembled about it and made up all kinds of excuses because I don’t really like hard things, especially thirty-one days of hard things. I consulted the wisdom of my husband who confirmed that this whole idea is nuts. After all, October is a very busy month. We have extra responsibilities this month, and I’m already not doing very well at the responsibilities I have.

I am afraid.

I am afraid of failure. I am afraid of getting to Day 2 and running out of steam. I am afraid of writing at 3 am and sticking commas in all the wrong places and having you all know that I am not a very good writer after all. I am afraid of neglecting my family and the house and forgetting to feed the fish.

Most of all, I am afraid of writing words that are not His just so I have something to fill up the screen.

But then I think about burying talents, and I don’t think God likes it much. It seems to me that if I have the choice between a shovel and a keyboard, I’d better pick the keyboard. Because there is no failure like the failure to try. There is no sin like refusing to step out on the waves if He calls.

I doubt. I falter. But that’s part of walking, and I am marching to the cadence of the Word pounding in my ears:

“His divine power has given us everything we need

for life and godliness through our knowledge of him

who called us by his own glory and goodness.”

–2 Peter 1:3

Do I believe it? I’ve spoken on this very verse so many times. I’ve gone to MOPS groups and said it loud over the noises of the babies. I’ve stood in front of high school students and quoted it to crossed arms and slouched bodies. Every time, the crowd presses in, hungry, because this is promise that is almost too good to believe.

Is it true?

Think about it. God’s Word says He has given us everything we need for life and godliness. Everything. It’s almost too much to comprehend.

Sometimes, the best way to understand truth is to put it into story. Jesus did that for us when he told parables. I like to think about him gathering the big kids around and making profound things simple with a “Once upon a time…”

For the next thirty-one days, or however long it takes my frail self to get the words out, we are going to spin a tale so we can see the truth of what it means to be rich in Christ like Peter tells us we are.

Like any good story, it’s going to begin like this: “Once upon a time…”

Join me tomorrow for Day 2.

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