A quick introduction: This is the first part of a story I’m writing called, you guessed it, “The Wall.” I’m just going to post it as I write it, and I’ll probably put it out as one complete story when it’s all done. I invite you on the journey with me, and hope you enjoy the story!
The Wall – Part One
In the distance, a wall rises toward the sky. My dream is to see the lands beyond. Stories tell of magic lands and magic people, of great heroes and living legends. They tell of trees that stretch to the heavens that are wider than houses. They speak of mountains grander than anything in all the drab lands on this side of the wall. They say the people there can fly, and appear suddenly as if from nowhere.
I’m told to get my head out of the clouds. I’m told that no one has ever crossed the wall and no one will. Never mind the fact that the stories had to have come from somewhere. If no one has ever crossed the wall, then are all these things mere fabrications? That would be so very sad if it were true.
But I don’t believe it is true. I believe the stories, as crazy as that may sound to some. These stories are the only things that give me hope. After all, this world is hopeless. Nothing but despair and death waits for those born on this side of the wall. It’s a dark and cruel land and in truth, any hope is hard-won. That’s why I can’t give up on the stories of the land on the other side. That’s why I won’t.
They can call me crazy, but I just know it’s there. My heart longs for it and my soul cries out for it. I know there’s a better life, a better land, a better world, just beyond that seemingly insurmountable horizon.
I’ve tried dozens of times to organize an official expedition from my hometown of Salome. But everyone seems so content to go about their boring little lives, waiting for war or famine to wipe them all out. But I’m not okay with that. I’m not willing to just die here like everyone else. Not when I know Who is over there.
That’s the most beautiful thing about it all. He is over there, on the other side of the wall. He, the One Who created all things, makes His home there in the vast, magical lands I long to see. He, of Whom I dream, awaits all those willing to die to reach Him.
I am willing to die. I’m willing to give absolutely everything to meet Him and to see with my own eyes that irrefutable, inescapable glory I see in my dreams and visions. Waking or sleeping makes no difference because I see it no matter what state I’m in.
So what if I’m crazy? At least I’ve got purpose. So what if no one will go with me? I’ll just go by myself. I can’t just sit here any longer. I can’t waste another moment. I have to go. And maybe, if I truly do find what I’m looking for, Who I’m looking for, I can come back, temporarily, and tell the truth of it all.
I can be the one who makes the trip and returns to give hope to all those like me; all those suffering under the weight of a fallen creation.
And So I go. Today. Now. My bag is packed, Everyone tells me I’m going to die. They all say I’m too weak; too sick; too naive. I won’t let excuses like that deter me any longer, though. I will make it to that wall or I will die trying. Either way my life here, living a broken and desperate life, is over. Either way, I decide my fate.
Being Sanctified 