A Modern Day Fairy Tale! If you are too grown up for fairy stories, an allegory relating to spiritual choice.

Part 1 of 4




This allegory was given to me one ordinary day as I was sitting at my computer, wondering what to write next for the book, ‘Eagles Fly High!’ The full story was revealed and recorded over the period of a fortnight. Most unusually for me, the inspiration was given while working at home. I hope you will be as excited and challenged by it as I have been.





No Background on Fairy Tales!



Online links to scriptures (New International Version [NIV] unless otherwise stated) are shown in blue







To make understanding easier and quicker, a brief summary interpretation is given here. Please takse the time to consider the many detailed spiritual meanings and messages contained within each section. The story was given by the Lord first, the interpretation after the ‘fairy tale’ was completed!

The Dream: The witness of others into our life.
The Journey: Making the decision for Christ.




Once upon a time, as all the best tales start, there was a man. He could have any number of names but we will call him John. John was a very ordinary man. He lived in a city on a vast plain. There were lots of cities round about similar to his, where millions of citizens got on with life, making a good living from the surrounding land and craft industries they had developed, producing the goods that go to make for a comfortable life. The people were happy with their lot. Generations came and generations went. Life began, was lived, and one day ended. That was that, and that was all. The sun rose, the birds came out to play. The sun set, the birds went back to sleep. The cycle of life rolled on and on throughout the ages.




John owned his own little house in a good area of town. Most comfortable and homely it was too. He worked hard, enjoyed kicking about an inflated sheep bladder, footbladder they called it, with his mates after work and in the weekends. Life was good. “This is what living is all about!” or so his mates told him.




But John had a secret dream. He couldn’t tell his mates about it, lest they thought him stupid. For when he was young, sitting upon his Grandma’s knee, she had thrilled him with stories of a people far away, living on a mountain. A land overflowing with milk and honey, a land very different to the one he knew. John had no idea what a mountain even was, for the plain was his world, stretching as far as the eye could see.  



As a special treat for his fifth birthday, Grandma had drawn, on a very expensive, special piece of papyrus, a picture of the mountain of his and her dreams. For she had once been to the mountain, returning solely to share her discoveries with others. How sad she was, that so few were interested in hearing and even fewer in going to see for themselves. For life was pretty good, you see, right here on the plains.

But John treasured that present like no other. He knew that one day, he would search out this mountain and experience for himself, the wonders of her stories.



The inevitable happened and Grandma died. What would he do? Let his dream die with her? No. He would find the mountain! So John quickly ‘rushed up’ a designer sack with shoulder straps to make carrying the load easier on a long journey, good at design and stitching as he was. (men did these things in those days – women carried the burdens – still do, some say!) Named it a rushsack. After filling it with the needs of his journey, including his precious papyrus picture, off he went. Didn’t tell his mates though, for they would only have laughed at him! 




He journeyed from city to city, showing people his picture, asking everyone he met if they had seen the mountain. But no one had. The cities themselves were interesting enough, for each had a different philosophy on life, but none excited him as much as his precious Grandma’s stories. After several weeks of seemingly purposeless wanderings, John felt down in the dumps, wondering whether the journey was worthwhile. His rushsack seemed particularly heavy that day. “Perhaps I would have been better off staying at home, playing footbladder with my mates,” he thought, in a moment of pensive reflection. But the dream he had so blissfully nurtured over the years was so strong that he convinced himself, “I must go on. I can’t give up yet!”  



Heading down the road, he caught up with another traveller, a kindly looking soul. As they pounded the dirtments, (for paving had not yet been thought of) passing the time of day, John, rushsack on his back, mentioned his search for the mountain. His friend’s face lit up like a lantern. You want to go to the mountain, he exclaimed! I am heading that way too. And what’s more, I have a map. I can show you the way. John was ecstatic! His dream was about to come true!  



Together, they headed down the road at an increased pace. They were on their way to the mountain! The way John’s newfound friend talked about the mountain was truly inspirational. John couldn’t wait to get there! After a few more days of dirtment pounding, John’s friend suddenly stopped. “Look over there”, he cried. “The mountain! I can see the mountain!” John squinted. (the only treatment for short sightedness in those days.) He squinted again. Yes, there it was! As one, the two of them jogged off down the road. Running would have made the story sound a lot more impressive, but the mountain was still 30,000 paces away, their rushsacks were heavy, and we don’t want them to collapse through exhaustion before they get there, do we? Would ruin a good story! 



As they arrived at the foot of the mountain, John could see all the awe inspiring, craggy magnificence his grandmother had spoken about those many years ago. It was as if he was coming home. John was just so happy, he gave his friend a big hug. (men were allowed to hug then! Today too actually!) “Thankyou for showing me the way,” he cried. It was a really emotional moment. He didn’t care about his tears, though real men, even then, were not meant to cry!  



At the foot of the mountain there was a river, deep and wide. “How do I get across?” John asked his friend. “For it is too deep to wade and the current is so strong.” “There is a way” his friend replied gently. “A bridge. Come, let me show you.” So he led John round a bend in the stream towards the bridge. As they got nearer, John’s friend stopped. “I have to leave you here,” he said with a sigh. “For we all have to make our own journey onto the mountain.” As John watched with amazement, his friend was transformed. Light glowed over his whole body. A thousand candle power! Wings sprouted on his back. He rose gracefully into the sky. “Don’t worry, I will be on the mountain too, keeping an eye on you,” he said comfortingly, disappearing into the sunset.  



John, walked towards the bridge, astounded. “What else is going to happen today! Well, I have dreamed of this moment for so long, I can’t back off now,” he thought to himself.

“Can I be your guide?” asked the man at the bridge. A man like he had never seen before. So kindly and merciful, yet strong at the same time. It was impossible to explain. “I would like to go across the bridge to the mountain,” John requested quietly. “My Grandma told me how wonderful it is, and I would like to experience it for myself.” “Have you got your toll?” the Guide asked gently. Now John knew what he was talking about, for tolls and tax gathering are as old as history itself. “So, how much is it to get across?” “It costs nothing to cross over the bridge my son, your ticket is my free gift to you. But, be warned, to climb the mountain will cost all that you have.” “That’s okay with me,” John said quickly, so keen to get across. “Okay, let me take you by the hand, for the bridge is narrow and I wouldn’t want you to fall off, after having come all this way.” “How does he know how far I have come,” John thought to himself. “He seems to know me better than I know myself!”

So John held out his hand, letting the Guide take him over the narrow bridge, into the land of his dreams. Halfway across, glancing down for a quick look at the water, John gasped with amazement, for the river was flowing blood red! Surprises abound for our intrepid traveller!



Upon recovering his composure, John looked up and down the bridge itself exclaiming! “It’s made like a giant cross. Criminals are normally hung on these. The Guide doesn’t look like a criminal, though!” “The cross is mine, the blood in the river is mine,” said the Guide gently, again reading his mind. “It is the toll I paid to get you across.” “Thanks so much,” John exclaimed, staggered by the ease with which the Guide understood his thoughts. As they stepped off the bridge, he turned to John saying, “I have to leave you now to go back and bring others across. But I am leaving you with another friend to ‘show you the ropes’ of my kingdom. You can’t see him, but he is now inside you. Just ask in your mind anything you want to know, and he will tell you.” Naturally, John thought this to be completely weird, but then, so was everything else about this place. The Guide obviously knew what he was talking about though, so he thought he might try it sometime. Bidding his Guide farewell, John headed off on a journey of exploration, keen to experience all that Grandma had thrilled him with, those many years ago, as he sat on her knee. “Great days, they were,” he reminisced. “But now, I can experience it all for myself!” 


<i>NEXT WEEK</i> UP THE MOUNTAIN Part 2 of 4


Once we make our decision for Christ, we have to decide where we are going to walk - or in this case fly! Are we satisfied with the plains, the hills, or do we seek the mountain tops.  




The joy of the time of our salvation generally remains etched in our minds throughout life. It is an amazing experience! But it is only the start of our walk, as we will find out next week as our journey continues.


Although it has many names, most New Testament readers recognize “the Sea of Galilee” as its common designation. It is also called the Sea of Kinnereth (Num. 34:11; Josh. 12:3), the Lake of Gennesaret (Luke 5:1), the Sea of Tiberias (John 6:1; 21:1), and sometimes simply “the lake” (John 6:16).

Set in the hills of northern Israel, the Sea of Galilee is nearly 700 feet below sea level. It is nearly eight miles wide at its widest point, and more than 12 miles long from north to south. In places, the sea plunges to depths of 200 feet.

Many first-time visitors are surprised to see that from any point on the rocky shore, all other locations along the shoreline are visible. Around the sea, the hills of Galilee reach nearly 1,400 feet above sea level, and the mountains of the Golan Heights (called the Decapolis in Jesus’ time) reach more than 2,500 feet.

Much of the sea’s beauty comes from being nestled among the hills—green in the spring, brown during the dry season—which contrast with the deep blue of the water. The slopes of the Golan Heights on the east and Mount Arbel on the west drop sharply down to the sea.

The sea’s location makes it subject to sudden and violent storms as the wind comes over the eastern mountains and drops suddenly onto the sea. Storms are especially likely when an east wind blows cool air over the warm air that covers the sea. The cold air (being heavier) drops as the warm air rises. This sudden change can produce surprisingly furious storms in a short time, as it did in Jesus’ day (Matt. 8:24).

Source: http://www.followtherabbi.com


So until next week.......

His servant and yours

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987. To see the view we must first climb the mountain.

David Tait         




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