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NOTES:

CHRISTIAN SHORT STORY: SPRING 2008 - First Place Winner

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"A Great and Glorious Mystery"

by Heidi Springston - Parker, Colorado, USA

FIRST PLACE IN THE "CHRISTIAN" CATEGORY, SPRING 2008

1 Kings 2                 

Psalm 110

“He wishes to see you, my king.”

The young monarch caught his breath and halted his tears, loath to allow a mere servant boy see him weeping.  He rose from the stone bench, drenched in the garden sunlight. 

“Tell him I am coming shortly,” he commanded harshly.  The boy receded from the garden in haste.

Solomon paced in the daylight, soaking the sun into his skin.  Two days earlier, he had been called to the king’s bedside.  He was given a final charge, to take hold of the throne without fear and to follow the Lord God and the Law of Moses wholeheartedly.  Solomon had promised, proud to be given such unwavering confidence.  Since David’s health had begun to fail, Solomon had been carrying out the duties of running the kingdom.  He even began the mighty task of building a temple in Jerusalem for the Lord.  Solomon maintained an air of calm and confidence through every situation, but relied heavily on his elderly father’s counsel.   Now was the moment, though, that the mighty king David was being called to leave this earth.  Solomon had been given a report that the his father would die within the coming few hours.   And Solomon, cursing his weakness, felt like a child.

Who could take the place of King David?  His reign had meant prosperity for Israel and ruin for their enemies.  David had risen from a lowly shepherd to the ruler of God’s chosen nation.  For forty years, all of Israel bowed at the sight of him.  Enemies had dared to curse his name, even those within his own family.  But they were always brought down in the end.

David had danced before Jehovah and sang his praises.  Even after grievous sins, he returned to the Lord in thanksgiving.  Who was Solomon to presume he could follow?  He had put his trust in the king; now he was truly to be the king.  How could he rule when his one teacher would not be alive to show him the way?  If only he were more like King David, perhaps he wouldn’t fear the unknowns of a thousand tomorrows. 

Solomon continued pacing for longer than he had intended.  The servant boy was waiting in the corridor leading inside the palace.  The boy cleared his throat, clearly intimidated to approach Solomon again. 

“I am on my way!” he shouted at the servant, and stormed into the palace.  He walked determinedly to the room where the king lay dying. He swallowed his anguish, and swept inside with counterfeit confidence.

“My lord!” he said and knelt strongly at the king’s bedside.  The next moment twisted any false strength from him.

King David turned his head toward King Solomon.  Solomon gasped audibly and then averted his eyes, shamed to have had such a reaction.  In the two days since Solomon had visited the chamber, the king’s appearance had altered drastically.  The eyes that once beamed like the sun were now sunken and hollow.  The strong features of his face, once the envy of all men in Israel, now lost in withered flesh.  The mouth that once spoke the truth of God was now a frail slit.  He was walking in the valley of the shadow of death.

“Solomon, look at me,” came a voice like a breeze. 

Solomon picked up his head and obeyed the king’s command.  Tears rolled down his face and he did not try to stop them now.  “Father,” he breathed to the once King of Israel.

“My son, my son,” David comforted the boy who had become a man.  “Son, do not grieve so.  You know the Lord God Almighty has chosen you to take my place.”  The words that fell from the king’s lips were a stream in volume, but always a mighty river in wisdom. 

“Father, I am not like you.  I don’t have your strength, your courage.  I have always leaned on those things in you.  Forgive me.  I don’t think I can do this on my own.”  Solomon could not lie to this man; he could not even pretend that he was ready to take his place.  Within moments, though, he would be called to do just that.

“Solomon.”  His name came from his father with a force of spirit.  “You are not on your own.”

Solomon looked at his father.  He knew that the wise king spoke of Jehovah being with him, and he knew this in his heart to be true.  He took some comfort in it, but he still felt as weak as a reed, poised to break in the wind.

David continued.  “The Lord has chosen you to be a part of his legacy.  He is at work within and around you.  It is.....it is....” the king’s eyes dreamed away to an ethereal land. “It is a great and glorious mystery.”

Solomon grappled with his father’s disconnected words.  “What is a mystery, my lord?”  David’s line had been established as the rulers of Israel.  He found nothing mysterious about this.

“Son, have you read my psalms to the God of our fathers?”  David gestured to several scrolls that were rolled up and placed carefully in the corner of the room. Usually they were kept safely with other sacred documents.  To the people of Israel, David’s written words were second only to those of God himself.  But David had asked for certain scrolls to be brought to his chamber over the last several days.  It was reported that he poured over them day and night, sometimes weeping, and sometimes laughing like a child. 

“I have read them, sir.”  The Psalms of David were beautiful.  They were passionate in a way most of Israel couldn’t understand.  They were sometimes anguished, and other times incomprehensibly joyful.  They were a mystery in themselves.  To Solomon, they simply enhanced the evidence of his father’s superior wisdom.

“Pick up the scroll closest to the door, the one lying on its side.”  Solomon obeyed his father and brought the scroll to his bedside.

“You read it, son.” 

Solomon unrolled the scroll.  This was a psalm he recognized, but had not read often.  To him, it was one of the most mystifying.  Solomon began reciting the words on the page.  As he did, King David closed his feeble eyes, a tranquil expression passing his lips.

“The Lord says to my Lord, ‘Sit at my right hand until I make your enemies a footstool for your feet.’  The Lord will extend your mighty scepter from Zion; you will rule in the midst of your enemies...” Solomon read the words and grew increasingly uncomfortable.  He feared that his father would expect him to react with perfect understanding to his words.

“The Lord has sworn and will not change his mind; ‘You are a priest forever, in the order of Melchizedek.’” Solomon continued to read until he had finished the cryptic psalm.  He then looked at his father, whose eyes were closed.  The realization struck Solomon that perhaps his father had passed on while he was reading.  But then, the king spoke.

“Son, do you know of whom I spoke when I wrote that psalm?”

Solomon furrowed his brow and paused.  He thought he knew.  But if the answer were really as simple as it seemed, his father would not have asked.  Still, he'd be better off with a safe answer.

"I always thought it was you, Father.  You are king, and God has shown his favor to you and put your enemies under your feet."  He gazed into his father's eyes, which were shimmering now with tenderness not characteristic of the mighty King David.  "But there is something else to these words, isn't there Father?"

A strange smile passed over David’s lips.  He scarcely seemed capable of taking a breath, let alone will a smile.  "My son, these psalms are not just my own words working within me.  At times, the Spirit of God came over me so strongly, I wept with humbled gratitude as I penned the words."  The King of Israel stretched out his hand, transparent skin sagging, and stroked the scroll his son held.  "This was one of those psalms."

Solomon immediately looked at the worn parchment again.  He reread the words, trying to unlock the captive mysteries hidden there, but was unable to find an answer that seemed to make sense.  If only he had the wisdom of his father.  If only he could also hear the voice of the Holy One.  Perhaps then he would be ready to be king.

"Tell me, Father, who is it if not you?"

David closed his eyes again, inhaling and exhaling slowly.  "I felt Him, Solomon.  The Lord God of Israel.  These are His words, not mine.  'Sit at my right hand until I make your enemies a footstool for your feet.'  This is the voice of the Lord God speaking...speaking..."  David's words trailed off.

Until today, Solomon had never desired to study his father's words in great detail.  To him, they were like the clouds—something to be admired, but impossible to touch or be a part of.  But in the cold, dim chamber, a new reality washed over him, warming him like the sun.  His own father communed closely with the one and only God.  Suddenly, the words shone brilliantly in his heart.  Solomon at last realized that these were more than the wise words of a wise man; they were the very words of Jehovah, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.  The hand that held the sacred scroll began to tremble.  His apathy turned into intense desire.  He had to know what his father knew.

"Speaking to whom, Father?  Who would the Lord be speaking to?  Who is it that you call 'my Lord'?  You mention that this person is a priest, like Melchizedek.  Is, is he one of our priests?  Someone I know?"

David answered cryptically.  "What is the promise the Lord God made to me long ago?"

Solomon didn't know how this was related to the psalm, but he knew this answer.  It was one that filled him with great awe and fear.  "That one of your descendants would always sit on the throne in Israel.  Your kingdom will be established forever."

"Not my kingdom, son.  Not mine." David's voice began growing quieter.  Solomon couldn't tell if it was his father weakening, or the solemnity of the subject that affected him.  "It is a kingdom established forever.  Tell me, Solomon, how could a kingdom last forever if the kings who rule it live but a mere shadow of days?"

Solomon waited, not sure if King David wanted him to respond.  Even if he did, he hadn't the faintest idea what answer his father was looking for. 

The king answered his own question.  "It is not merely a kingdom of Israel, even a kingdom of this world."  He searched his son's eyes, smiling again.  "It is the Kingdom of God!"

The Kingdom of God?  Well, certainly God was a king.  He was the King. Solomon was still confused, but felt he was on the edge of a precipice, waiting to freefall into understanding.  He pressed deeper.  "But Father, what has this to do with us?  With our family and line of kings?"

"The world will be blessed beyond imagining, my son, by a King of kings and Lord of lords.  He will rule with perfect judgment.  He will set all captives free.  His kingdom will last forever, for he will never die."

Solomon was becoming as giddy as his elderly father, these strange prophecies filling him with an insatiable curiosity.  "How can that be, Father?”  Solomon stopped short.  Something or someone seemed to whisper to his spirit.  “Unless he himself is God?"

David shook his head.  "I know only in part, Solomon.  That is where the mystery lies.  He will be the Anointed One of God.  He will have the beauty of holiness and be one with Jehovah.  And here is where we are blessed above all men, my son:  the Lord God has chosen our line…” the King’s breathing became quick and shallow, “…to bring this Messiah to the world.  We, of all men, have most to be thankful for."

Silence permeated the dim chamber.  Light ignited within Solomon.  His heart began beating faster, and faster still, until he thought it might burst through his chest.  There within the confusion and turmoil that had been plaguing him in recent days, Solomon found a new, inexplicable calm.  He realized, finally, the truth that was bringing his father so much peace: it was God's sovereign choice to make David king, as well as Solomon.  The Lord had known this path since before Solomon's birth.  What did he have to fear?

"Father, God truly is with me.  Isn't He?"  Solomon asked as he smiled at the simple beauty of it all.  Finally, he believed this truth that he had always been taught.

David laughed, and for the first time that day, he resembled Solomon's vibrant father.  "Yes, my son, He is overwhelmingly with you."  Then David took the hand of his son.  Solomon knew the end was very near. 

"Son, I know you worry about being wise.  Let me remind you of words from another psalm.  'The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom; all who follow his precepts have good understanding.  To him belongs eternal praise.'"  David stopped speaking for a moment and sighed deeply.  "The most tortured times of my life were when I forgot those three truths.  Whenever I began fearing man more than the Lord, or following my own precepts instead of His, or praising anything or anyone instead of Jehovah-- well, that is always when tragedy and pain took over.  Yet, when the truths of this psalm were steadfast in my heart, there was peace through any circumstance."

Feebly, David willed himself to grasp Solomon's shoulder and pull himself up to almost eye-level with his son.  He breathed his final words to his son as Solomon's eyes filled with understanding tears.  "Humble yourself before Almighty God, my son, and you will have all the wisdom you need." 

Solomon could not speak.  He simply nodded his head, hoping his father would understand how much he was promising in his heart to carry on this legacy.  He did want to follow the Lord all his days.  He wanted to fear the Lord and even begin to have wisdom.  He wanted so much to live up to the honor of being a part of God's chosen line.

David's hand slowly crept from Solomon's shoulder to his face.  Here, the king touched his son gently, gazed lovingly into his eyes, then allowed himself to fall back to the waiting bed.  His eyes closed, and King David was asleep.

Solomon’s heart lifted, and he seemed to transcend his circumstances.  He felt as though all the past goodness of God's provision for Israel and all the promises yet to be fulfilled converged on this single moment.  In this sliver of time, Solomon found himself content to be exactly who God had chosen him to be.

"Holy God of Israel, I exalt your name."  He remained bowed at his father's bedside, tears streaming down his face, a beautiful joy overwhelming his soul.

He rose and opened the bedchamber door.  The same frightened servant was waiting just outside, prepared to do his duty in any way.  Solomon walked slowly toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

"Announce to the people of Israel that the great King David has died today.  It is a day of great loss..."  He sobbed between words, his previous pride diminished.  "It is the greatest day of mourning."

At this proclamation, the servant began weeping as well.  He gathered his strength, fierce eyes of determination shining through the tears.  "I will announce it as you have said, King Solomon."  And with that, the servant was off to perform his task.

King Solomon stole back into the chamber where his mighty father rested in the Lord.  He pulled a scroll of David's psalms from the pile by the door, and found a chair to rest his weary body in.  He would begin with this psalm and he would not cease until he had read them all.  And then, he would start them again and bring them to light for all of Israel.  The chosen people of God would again hear the words of God, penned through His servant David.

He unrolled the scroll and began reading aloud.  "As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, O God.  My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.  When can I go and meet with God?"  His gaze drifted to the body of his father, and then to the window in the room and up to the heavens.  Today, Father.  Today is the day you have been waiting for.

Solomon remained all the night, as words of truth and glorious mystery made their home in a young king’s heart.

Copyright (c) 2008 by Heidi Springston - do not reproduce
without the author's written permission!
 

COMMENTS FROM OUR COMMISSIONING EDITOR, Jo Holloway:
Awesome! What a fantastic perspective and setting. Characters well drawn, emotions high, and a clear strong message of the Messiah. I loved the "opening up" of Solomon's mind through the love of his father's understanding. Very well written; a pleasure to read and to be moved by.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Heidi Springston grew up waking each morning to the majestic landscape of the Colorado Rockies.  Writing was a constant companion as she journeyed through childhood, as a cardboard box full of stories and books will prove.  She attended college at Harding University in Searcy, Arkansas and graduated in 2003 with an education degree.  God has given her different assignments in the years since, including teaching middle school Language Arts, doing missionary work in Juárez, Mexico, and teaching writing (among other things) at a Christian high school.  One of her greatest joys is guiding students to express their unique selves through writing.

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