The King

 

The king sat at his desk in stoney silence. He did not know what to do. He looked up, first at the ceiling and then at the Lord.

“What now?” He asked and was not told because the next move was not his to make.

The war dragged on. Not that one only, but the other one too, the one that encompasses the whole world, and everyone pretends we are not fighting.

How would he stop it?

He had the feeling he could not. It would stop on its own or there would be divine intervention. That’s all he knew.

The storm came just as predicted. The ground was shaking something free. They could hardly believe what they saw. A thousand, ten thousand and more, human beings holding their own broken chains in their hands. This is what had been buried for so long? Our freedom.

Son of Man, don’t you see? Our selfishness and pride, murders, theft, it blinds us to reality. We can spend a lifetime in pursuit of nothing. We can waste all our days. Will we not look up to the Creator of all things? Will we not turn from our wicked ways and repent?

The king did just that. He rose from his chair so quickly it spun around behind him. The other kings did the same, some of them, and rose just as quickly. All of them bowed their heads. All of them dropped to their knees. And us with them.