There was a girl who stood in a desert with nothing but the clothes on her back and the shoes on her feet. She had been abandoned, left alone in the wilderness to die. So she began walking, walking towards hope in the form of a sparkling city she spotted in the distance. The city resided in the middle of the desert as a refuge to the weary, and she knew she must get to it if she were to survive. So the girl walked towards the city’s light with nothing to protect her or guide her on her way.
The first day of her wanderings, she found no shelter from the heat which beat upon her, no water for her thirst, no food for her hunger. All was sand and wind and sun. But she knew there was hope, for she could still see the city, and she knew the city held peace and food and water and love.
She looked around her, at the desert, at the lifeless abode of sand and dust. Her stomach growled, and her skin was hot to the touch. Why would the Creator allow her to be treated this way, abandoned in the desert to die? But she still looked up, for she saw the city in the distance and she knew hope still lay ahead.
Over time, the girl found herself with thinner muscles and cracked lips. Her skin reddened and peeled from the sun’s intense rays beating down upon her. Despite her pain she continued to push toward the city which glistened in the distance, knowing that was where her refuge lay.
Then a dust storm came. The suffering girl knelt down on the ground and curled up in a ball in defense against the swirling sand stirred by the wind. Not one or two, but thousands of tiny rocks that, by themselves would be harmless, together created a raging force against her. They pelted against the girl’s cracked skin, beating upon her like fists of stone. The wind raged and the pellets of swirling sand were so thick she could no longer see the city which lay beyond. Desperate, she looked up and prayed, hoping that her cry would be heard in the midst of the wind and lifeless desert which muffled her voice to just a whisper.
When the storm subsided, the girl peered through the shifting waves of dust only to find the city she hoped to reach was no longer visible, having disappeared among the restless hills of orange surrounding her.
The girl fell to her knees once more and wept at the realization she had nowhere to go, no place to be. Surely she would die, crushed by the weight of the sun’s rays and scorched by the intensity of heat against her skin.
Her hope waned, but then she saw life. Although the sandstorm created towering hills in her path to block her way towards the shining city, in the accumulating doom, there remained a glimmer of hope. Revealed by the hardships of the wind, a single cactus plant with a flower in bloom stood bright green in the midst of lifeless orange.
The plant was covered in spiky thorns, but the girl knew that underneath those thorns, a fleshy substance contained moisture she could drink. Wrapping her hands with cloth torn from her clothing, peeled back the flesh of the cactus leaves and drank in strength to her aching bones. There she found a sparkle of grace in the heartache.
Continuing through the vast wilderness, the girl pressed onward in no particular direction. Hours went by with the rays of sun glaring down upon her. Still she could not see the city. She couldn’t help but debate in her thoughts her existence or the being who created her. She knew there was a creator who formed the desert, who made the cactus, who breathed out the air she breathed in, but where was he? Why couldn’t he show her the way? Why did he let her suffer? She shook her head in defiance against the thoughts knowing doubting would only bring greater despair.
The afternoon sun beat down on her with greater heat than that of the morning, and soon the girl’s weakened legs gave way. She fell to the sand, hollow eyes staring at its grains, wishing there was some way out of her misery. All hope seemed lost. The cactus she once tasted was gone and long sweated out of her skin. She lay her head on the hot sand and closed her eyes, willing her body to perish and return to the dust it once was made from.
The winds blew, this time carrying a new sound to the girl’s aching ears. There, growing louder, was the coo and tweet and clatter of a bird. Her body and mind must have been at its last straw, she was sure she was hearing things. The idea of hallucinating only furthered her agony.
However, the sound persisted, louder and ever closer. She opened her eyes to see two smaller eyes staring back at her and two long feet protruding from a feathery body. It was a roadrunner standing in front of her with a curious look on its little face. She reached out to touch its feet, and it let her. The girl smiled. The roadrunner was very real and if the roadrunner was there, then that meant there was food and water for her to survive. Hope burst from her heart.
She stood up and readied herself for another journey, another try, to trust in her newfound companion to take her to wherever she needed to be. The roadrunner darted expeditiously towards the direction from which it came. For a moment, the girl felt too tired to follow, but hope strengthened her and she began to walk more quickly in the direction the roadrunner went.
“Wait!” she cried, as though the bird could understand her. Her voice crackled, no more than a whisper, yet still she persisted. She had to try. The girl picked up her pace with painful effort. “Don’t leave me here to die alone!”
She heard its hoot and clatter again and followed its voice though she could no longer see where the creature was as he was too far in the distance. Listening and following the sound of the bird – and by faith alone, hearing but not seeing – she followed, exhausted, hungry, but faithful.
Suddenly, there it was! The city of refuge. Closer than before. She began to run.
As she raced toward the city, her lungs burned worse than her skin and her legs more tired than they had ever felt before and soon her body gave way. She fell at the gate of the city, whimpering of how close she had gotten. So near to life yet to die of exhaustion in the end. She prepared her mind and lungs to breathe their last. Soon, however, the doors opened. Hands grabbed the girl and lifted her gently from the ground.
Days of unconsciousness followed, with spurts of awareness in between. The cooing of birds, the touch of another’s hand to hers, the moisture of water, the coolness of good air.
Finally, the girl opened her eyes to find herself in a small room. Its walls were made of stone, and the bed she slept on was covered with fine linen. Next to her bed were rags soaked in a bowl of water. The bowl was set atop a wooden table, and next to it was an empty chair.
The girl sat up in her bed, carefully because she was still very sore. She watched intently as a little feathery roadrunner hopped onto her bed with excitement in its step and huddled closer towards her.
It stared at her with its tiny eyes as though it had smiled at her. It flapped its delicate wings and gave a cheerful coo of excitement. The girl tilted her head to one side, seeing the intelligence this otherwise ordinary creature held behind its eyes. She had followed the bird even when she had no reason to trust it. It was just a bird after all. Yet it brought her to the place where she needed to go, and the look in its eyes told her that was exactly what it had intended to do all along. “Thank you,” she told the roadrunner.
Looking up, the girl saw an old man enter the room. He, too, had scars of his own on his head and hands, scuffling closer and settling himself into his chair.
“You are awake!” the man said with a cheer. “I see you have met my little friend.”
The elderly man took a wet cloth from the bowl and wrung the excess water out till the rag was only damp. He dabbed the girl’s forehead with its cool moisture, and then touched her chapped lips with the cloth’s fine fibers. “Take it easy, child. You have kept your trust in me, and followed me when all hope seemed lost. A storm came, but you still arose and followed. You trusted, even when tribulation came and you could no longer see the city.” He handed her a glass of water. “Here, drink, be filled.” The girl took the cup to her lips and took a sip. The roadrunner walked up next to her and placed its head in her lap and nuzzled itself into her bed covers, enjoying the touch of its new friend.
“He likes you,” the old man said with a nod towards his feathered companion.
The girl, looking up to the old man with respect, smiled the best smile she could muster with chapped lips. She sipped down more water, grinning with the happiest joy she’d ever felt. There was a new gleam in her eye as she knew everything was going to be okay.
She persevered and believed. And now she was safe.
~
There are times in our lives where all hope seems to be lost. Tiny pellets of accumulating issues add up their sorrows into storms of disaster. We are left without water or food, whether spiritually or physically. At times, it seems like God has abandoned us with no sight of a haven in the desert. We need to remember that through life’s struggles, we must persevere.
Over the past several months, perseverance has been weighing heavily on my mind. Whether it was trials of my own, or watching others go through their own wildernesses, the thought of faith and hope remained in my thoughts.
There have been times in our lives where we have asked God why he lets some things happen or why we must suffer. The truth is, as humans, we do not know. However, even when we don’t see the city of refuge in the desert, it is still there, and inside awaits a God who cares, and is leading us to that safety. In the end it is all for His glory. There is always a light in that darkness – hope like a city haven in the wilderness.
Job, in the book by the same name, was a man who suffered tremendously and lost everything he had; people he loved, his wealth, his family and his honor. Despite his doubts, he still trusted that God had a plan for him. After the suffering, Job received even more blessings and a better life than he had ever had before.
With faith and hope comes the word “perseverance”. It’s something we all think we can do in hard times, and it’s something that in hard times we realize we don’t have enough of. That is when we need to look up, to trust, to never give up, and to try even when it seems like there is no hope left to have. Most importantly, we must pray and have faith, even when there seems to be no hope remaining. At times, a cactus might appear to give us water, then fade again to leave us thirsty but we cannot lose faith that the roadrunner will come and lead us to a haven of safety and love. We must never give up.
And there are some moments in our lives where we might feel as though we have given up, like the girl wishing for her body to let her die. However, if she would have truly given up, she would not have opened her eyes at the roadrunner’s coo. She still had faith, even if smaller than the smallest grain of sand, it was enough to get her through her pain and follow the roadrunner to safety.
I am writing this as I enter a new phase in my life called young adulthood. I am writing this as I watch others being torn apart in front of me by mistakes, failures, and unintended consequences. For some it is unforgiving hearts, others the loss of hope and belief, and others are merely torn by circumstances from choices they’ve made in a messed up world. Some seem more broken than shattered glass, more fragile than the cracked remnants left behind. Even when the glass is broken, it can be heated and mended, made new again.
In thinking of metaphors and similes, I am reminded of coal and its transformation into diamonds, how in many ways it is just like us. Sometimes it may seem that our lives, like coal, are dirty and black, forgotten and lost. Yet, under pressure, yes severe pressure and heat far worse than a desert, the coal can be transformed into a diamond. Beautiful, precious, worth far more in value than when it was coal. To be made into a beauty, the coal must first go through trials, but in the end the trials turn to joy as beautiful as a crystal, if not more.
I am writing this blog to all who read and hear; people who need encouragement in hardships of their own, those who blame higher powers for the suffering in this world. You must not forget that in the desert there are cactuses which are full of life-giving water to hold your strength for a while longer, roadrunners that guide you back on the right path, cities in the wilderness that provide shelter to the weary traveler, shelters to provide rest.
Some trials are consequences for sins we have committed, others are tests to prove our faith, and some just happen as part of a severely corrupt world. Remember that no matter the reason for your struggles, God is always there, and though it appears the city has vanished because you do not see it, it IS still there, and you will find it. Trust in the roadrunner’s coo and walk in its footsteps, have faith, hope, patience, and persevere. Things will get better.
May God’s light shine upon you.
~ Noa Allen
“Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.” - Romans 5:3-4
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