Go to Hell

The phrase, “Go to hell” is considered an obscenity, an entirely unacceptable utterance. But what if the voice asking you to, “Go to hell” was conveyed in hushed tones, gentle and affectionate? What if you, a warrior, a seal team member, were well equipped for this sort of operation?

The commander gives you a backpack of supplies. You will be required to die. Neither bruised nor broken your concerns, rights,  privileges and  needs will be suspended, null and void. The entire focus: the rescue of the captive. In front of you appears a pathway that is  fragile, yet sturdy,  like a spider’s web.

You arrive, after traversing the darkness, unscathed. The stench of the pigs dung is already filling the totality of your senses. You crouch in the corner, back against the fence post. Approaching is the lost son. His belly growls in emptiness. His eyes are hallow and vacant. As is his custom,  he begins blaspheming his father, his brother,  his home spewing grievances and accusations against those he once knew. Noticing your presence, he spits at you and curses you. Spiteful words unleashed from the emptiness within.

His tongue falls silent and you begin, ” I am in your corner and on your side.” You clumsily hand him a cup of water retrieved from the backpack, the cup crusted with the darkened mud of the surroundings. “Your Father is not angry. He searches for any glimpse of your appearing.”

He sips.

“You are longed for. Missed. Hearts yearn for your presence. Your father’s love is undeterred. He cares as deeply now as the day you were born. There is no difference to him. No matter what, for you there is honor, provision, celebrations, and the unity of the family. Nothing has changed in terms of your standing, only your location. The only requirement is to return.”

The son’s anger once again explodes. He pours the water to the ground in defiance. “I have zero desire for my father. You piss me off.”

He will begin to ponder your words, but for today, mission accomplished. Message  delivered.

….

The sun scorched wind billows and blows across the desert that stretches, in every direction, as far as the eye can perceive. Yards below the surface a river, crystal blue and turquoise, rushes swiftly full of life sustaining refreshing. In the future it will breach the crust, thus producing an oasis.