No one knows how we got here. We’ve been on this island our whole lives. The older folks don’t talk anymore. In fact, they don’t do much of anything. They’ll eat a little food if it’s put in front of them, but they all have this glassy stare. The glazed look has been appearing on younger and younger people. Even the kids seem to be more or less oblivious to everything around them.
We get up each morning, go to the fields to collect whatever
food is available, cook our meals over the community fire, then go back to our
wooden shacks to sleep till another day. There is no school since there is
nothing to learn and no one to teach us. No one is interested in learning
anyway. We are all just surviving from day to day. You can tell when someone
has given up and is preparing to die. They stop eating altogether, and usually
they just close their eyes and wait for it to be over.
I don’t know how old I am since no one bothers to keep track
of time, but I’m one of the younger people on the island. I realized early on
that I was different from the others. I observed the people around me and
couldn’t understand their despondent outlook on life. I investigated the island
to see what else was here, and found that we had abundant food supplies. I was
interested in our world when no one else seemed to look past their own nose.
I looked out over the sea and off in the distance there was
another island just barely visible. I really wanted to go there, but our island
had no boats and no tools for making anything of substance. As our old shacks
rotted, very little was done to repair or replace them. Some folks slept
outside because they couldn’t be bothered to make a new shelter. So the chances
of getting help making a boat were pretty slim. One of the talking people would
just say, “It’s no use.”
It seemed like the
island was drowning in hopelessness. There was no hope for change, so there was
no reason to work, learn, build, talk, or even think. And eventually each
person decided there was no reason to live.
I often pondered these things as I sat on the high rocks
overlooking the sea. I don’t know why, but that other island seemed to hold the
key for our survival. I held onto that hope even though I couldn’t imagine how
deliverance might come. We had no way of getting there, and I had seen no
evidence that there was anyone there who might be able to get to us. The island
could be deserted, or they could be in the same condition we were in.
It was tempting to give in to hopelessness, but something
wouldn’t let me. I kept looking at that island and tried to imagine what life
might be like over there. I didn’t have anything to compare it to except for
those few times I had seen a young child who still had a spark of life in his
eyes. He would make eye contact, and maybe even smile a little. Or if you were
lucky, he might hold your hand for a few seconds. But it wasn’t long before the
deadened, hopeless look came over him and he was just as self-absorbed as
everyone else. I could imagine that on that other island were people who looked
at each other, smiled, talked together, and held hands. That was the extent of
my imagination, but I clung to it every waking moment. And sometimes it even
slipped into my dreams. Once in awhile I would whisper to myself, “Please come
find me.”
One night I awakened from a beautiful dream of ‘my island,’
as I had come to call it. The night didn’t seem as dark as usual. I looked out
from my shack and thought I saw movement beyond the embers of the cooking fire.
I wasn’t at all afraid. I quietly slipped out to investigate. Something was
moving in the shadows, and as it headed toward the shoreline I could see that
it was a man. He wasn’t moving too quickly, and I had no trouble catching up
with him. As soon as I was within a few paces, he stopped, turned around, and
looked right at me. Even in the darkness I could see his eyes and I saw that
they were full of life and love. He was unlike any of the people on our island.
I was so drawn to him that I couldn’t look away from his face.
“I heard your prayers,” he said. I didn’t speak, but I
wondered what he was talking about. “I heard your whispers for help, and so I
came for you.” As he said that, I realized that he was standing beside a boat.
He beckoned for me to get in, and as I stepped up beside him he put his hand on
my shoulder. In that moment, my whole world changed. All hopelessness was gone.
I suddenly saw the stars in the sky and heard the sounds of crickets and owls
in the woods behind me.
“Come home, child. Your place is with me.”
* * *
I wrote this short
story several months ago, and as I was thinking about Christmas it came to mind
again. It’s a reminder that God came to us, to do for us what we couldn’t do
for ourselves. The difference is that He didn’t just come and pluck us out of
our situation. He actually became one of us and grew up among us. He rescued us
from the hopelessness, but He also left us here to bring the good news of Life,
Light, and Hope to others.
