Bel and Daniel
In the time of Cyrus the Persian there was a revered prophet in the land named Daniel. Daniel was known for his faithfulness to the one true God, the creator of heaven and earth. However, Cyrus and his disciples were not believers in this God of the Hebrews, for they placed their devotion at the feet of an idol called Bel.
Bel was a statue made of clay that was encased in brass and it stood alone in its own temple. Every evening, the worshippers of Bel would enter the temple and lay lots of food and wine at its feet and then leave, sealing the door behind them. When the king would go to the temple each morning for his morning prayers, all of the food and wine would be consumed. This was the sign that Bel was the living god.
One day Daniel and the king got into a discussion about who the true and living God really was. Daniel told the story of how he had been thrown into the lions’ den and how his God had shut their mouths and he was spared. Cyrus retorted with the evidence of his daily devotions and how he could see with his own eyes how Bel consumed the food and the wine every night.
Evidently, he was not entirely convinced of his own argument, because eventually Cyrus decided that he had to know the truth—for sure. So he placed a challenge before Daniel, but he was really challenging God. He invited Daniel into the temple of Bel, as he himself would place the food and wine at its feet. He said, “If, in the morning, you find all of this food and wine consumed, you shall be banished from my kingdom. If, not, we shall presume that Bel is a false god, and I will banish its worshippers instead.” So Daniel agreed and stood by as the king laid the food at Bel’s feet; and as the king stood by, Daniel sprinkled ash all over the floor of the temple. When they were both done, they sealed the door and left for the night.
The next morning, Daniel and Cyrus rose early and went to the temple together. When they arrived, the seal was not broken. Cyrus opened the doors and the two entered in. There, they saw all of the food and wine consumed. Cyrus began to laugh, but Daniel simply pointed to the floor.
“Do you not see the footprints and where they lead?”
The king was shocked. Sure enough, the footprints of many men, women, and children—the worshippers of Bel—were plainly visible in the scattered ash; and they all led to a little trap door hidden just behind the altar.
The Blue Truck
An old blue truck remains parked beneath the city bridge. Often alone, its sagging tires sit very depressed. There was a time when beneath the bridge cars and trucks would merrily roll about on their morning joyrides. Coming from who-knows-where en route to nowhere in particular, vehicles would take their time, packed with people, front to back, waving and singing, hooting and whooping. Small stores would line this street and their owners would stand posted with a broom and a smile. But now it’s quiet and still, except for the constant whish of the freeway overhead. And the blue truck stands alone.
It happened one day that a very sad young man was walking alone beneath this bridge when he came upon the old blue truck.
“It looks just like me,” he said aloud to whoever might be listening. Day in and day out, the sad man would walk by this truck, but this was the first time he actually took the time to notice it. Something drew him in, and he decided to stop and take a closer look at it. Cobwebs stretched between the side mirrors and the door. Rust had begun to eat away the paint, and in some places, it left ominous, gaping holes.
“Poor ol’ truck,” the man thought to himself. “Some of us just don’t have what it takes to make it in this world.” He slowly shook his head from side to side, with his chin stretching downward. He was about to walk away when, lo and behold, he noticed there was a set of keys left in the ignition!
Without thinking, he immediately tried to open the door, but it was locked shut. And then suddenly, the sad young man was hit with a realization. His face began to brighten and the blue truck seemed to speak to him:
Sadness has overcome you because you shut all others out of your life. The way back to life and love is forgiveness; the journey to hope and joy means seeking out all those you have abandoned, as well as those who had abandoned you.
The young man stared deeply at the blue truck and it was like looking into a mirror. Just like this rotten ol’ truck with the keys locked inside, he was utterly powerless to start himself on the right path. He needed to discover what had been placed in him from the beginning. He needed to find the One that was there all along dwelling within his heart.
With his head up high and a new light in his eyes, the young man turned around completely from the way he’d been going and ran as fast as he could in the other direction . . .
And the blue truck continues to stand alone.
The Light of Man is Darkness
There once stood a wall that divided men. Tall, grey, and monstrous, it cast a shadow so large it was as if the sun only rose on one side. On the brighter side, there lived those that knew freedom. From morning to night, men played like children, either singing together to color the air around them, or simply sprawling about to gaze at the shapes of the clouds up above. Men were free to be as they pleased. But on the other side of this wall, darkness reigned over the people like a devilish sheet, suffocating them slowly, stamping out any signs of light and life. Men could not speak, let alone sing.
It happened one day that a man from the lighter side walked along the wall, joy welling up within that was hardly containable. Until, that is, he began to hear some faint murmurs and gurgles coming from the other side. Putting his ear to the cold cement seared the wails of misery in his mind and solidified the suffering of flesh in his chest. These sounds struck to the heart and it was a mere moment before the man began to scale the wall. Onlookers observed, faces displayed dismay, and horror was heard in gasps of breaths and clicks of the tongue.
Nobody of the lighter side ever heard from the man again, but nonetheless, a strange thing happened that day. The man’s light, upon entering the darkness, was ne’er snuffed out. Rather, beams of new Light from the dark side began to break through the wall, a Light so bright that the previous light seemed like darkness. Every couple of minutes another piece of stone would shoot from the wall and a ray of light would penetrate and burst forth, transforming all that men thought was real.
(For R.P.)
Who Are the Poor?
There once was a beggar that lived in a small, dark alleyway in a great city. This beggar was paralyzed from the waist down. Everyday he would crawl with his arms, legs dragging behind him, to the city gates. There, he would hold up a small wooden bowl he had found.
He would plead, “Alms for the poor! Could somebody please help a crippled beggar! Please! I am so hungry!”
As each day went on people would usually drop a pinch of rice in his bowl. At the end of the day, he would have about a half a bowl full, and he would drag himself back to his alleyway where he would make a fire, cook it up, and eat. Every day he did this. Every day he cried, “Alms for the poor . . .”
Then a day came when he sensed something different going on in the city. It was festive. It was joyful. He dragged himself over to the gates to try and get his usual amount of rice, but was surprised to find a caravan of people entering the city. They were singing and dancing. When the man held his bowl up, before he could even say, “Alms for the poor . . .” the people had spotted him. They went up to him, smiling, and dropped handfuls of rice in his bowl! It was absolutely amazing! He had enough rice in a matter of two minutes to last him for the next three weeks! The beggar was overcome with joy.
At the end of the caravan, a grand coach pulled up to the gates. The beggar was in awe as the