The Fifth Jewel of Earth

“And now… you are a father,” added the nurse emphatically. “Another momentous crossroad in the human experience. From fatherhood you will learn something more about the father heart of God.” “The creator of this universe is a father?” “A devoted father, an attentive mother, a life-giving spirit, a faithful son, a trusted friend, a righteous judge—each human expression provides some insight into His fullness. He is all in all!” She regarded the Traveler for a long moment, knowing that temporal human words were inadequate to express all that described the Creator of the universe. “Some travelers will never be a father; you can bring them nourishment. Others will be a mother and learn nurturing; you should listen to them. Together, you will experience God.” “Ishi said He was the Father’s Son,” recalled the Traveler. The Counselor nodded. “And He was so anxious to get home. Did He get home?” “Oh, yes, Traveler! He received a royal homecoming! The two became One again in ways you cannot imagine, even if you were shown the scene.” “And you,” pursued the Traveler breathlessly, “you once said you were not God and yet you were indistinguishable from God. How can that be?” The Counselor smiled confidently and gestured to the man’s coffee cup sitting on the small table between their chairs. The man’s gaze followed her leading. The dark brown fluid rippled from the slightest jostling and then suddenly froze solid. Icy frost formed across its surface. Amazed, the Traveler reached for it, but the contents instantaneously broke into a full boil, dissipating in a whiff of steam, leaving the Styrofoam cup rattling to an empty stop. “Solid—liquid—gas! Creator—King—Counselor! Father—Son—Spirit! Which state of reality is correct, son of Adam?” Correct? The Traveler averted his eyes and shrank back in his chair. They were all correct! What was he to do? Kneel? Fall prostrate? Confess his unworthiness? Mortality shrinking to insignificance before divine immortality. There were no words—no strength—no energy! Like a newborn baby, his senses were being overloaded with impressions for which there were no words. He bowed his head. Then quietly the Counselor continued, “Your traveling is needed again. The pendant you wear was purchased at an awesome price. That much is finished! And no principality or power—in heaven or on earth—can undo that accomplishment. The bridge has been rebuilt and the path has been thrown open. Now you must complete your traveling in fear and trembling. Salvation is between you and the King, but working out your salvation is between you and Me. Wisdom has been given to allow you to see the plan, Knowledge to understand the circumstances, and Belief in the Plan to strengthen you for the long, hard journey. Choosing Life,” here the Counselor hesitated, touched again by the inestimable cost of that horrific sacrifice, “provides you with an inerrant compass toward home. Now, I need you to acquire Right Standing, the privilege to face the Creator in His throne room. He is Perfection itself, chosen mortal, and all imperfection will be consumed by His righteous indignation. Your best efforts will not be enough!” “Not enough?” The last sentence echoed down the corridor. Your best efforts will not be enough? How was he to acquire something which his best efforts could not attain? Perhaps he had already failed at some previous test and had arrived at this moment hopelessly flawed and deficient. Perhaps the Counselor was displeased with his lack of progress up to this point in time and his failure was now inevitable. Perhaps there were lesser assignments in the Kingdom for which he might qualify, rather than standing in the throne room before the Creator. How long he sat there he could not say, but the silence was deafening. His heart pounded in his ears. Blinking back tears, he slowly raised his head. He was alone. Glancing at the empty coffee cup, he knew he had only two choices. Eventually, everyone’s cup was empty. He could either stay here while refusing to follow the Counselor’s leading, or he could begin another quest. There was no holding back the moment; time ran on with the tyranny of inevitability. Travel for the King or don’t; those were his only choices. Seek the King’s way—or die! You could give up your life and find it, or try keeping your life and lose it. All mortals die, but there was only one way out of this paradox. A bridge had been built. Where? How could he find it? And what of his life here? Amanda—and Nathan? In leaving them here, did he lose them? If he tried to stay in this moment, could he hold on to them? No, in the end they needed him to go! These journeys for the King equipped him to be a better man, a better husband and a better father. He regarded the pendant again. Was it changing him? Remaking him into something better? Rather than being conformed to the mold this world forced upon mankind, was there another way to be transformed into something… more than human? The answers were not here. His cup was empty. He must move on! He stood and faced the double doors at the end of the corridor. Well, this was certainly familiar; his first journey had begun facing closed, double doors. Then, he had been a timid and frightened victim of life. But he was shown someone in that hallway that had been transformed. The epiphany had come—it was himself, as he could be—as he would be! A confident and gallant soldier dispatched in the King’s service. Had he learned anything in his traveling? That time he had cowered before the future! This time, he strode confidently through the double doors.