What about the price?

During a period of much hope, a king proclaimed He would construct His great city on a holy mountain, a land of incomparable beauty and infinite tranquility. He dispatched His messengers afar and wide into the land, calling upon all who desired a fresh land to go and dwell.

Two of the builders, Caleb and Eli, overheard the announcement. Their hearts skipped a beat as they heard the announcement. They celebrated, rejoiced, and started packing their equipment, imagining the magnificent mansions ahead of them.

The descent down the face of the mountain was straightforward and cheerful, done largely in verse. There, however, they encountered not a pavement street, but a narrow, steep, and balky trail cut into the face of the mountains. Along it stood the King's Son, held in his hand a hammer and a set of blueprints. He smiled at them, but His palms were bruised.

"Come," the Son said. "The city is waiting. Your home is ready. But the journey there is the cost. Will you come with me?" 

Caleb's face fell. He gazed at the rough, rock road and then to the pleasant valley he had come from. I gloried in the city," he answered, "but I did not see the road would take away my comfort." He gazed at the Son's disfigured hands and a chill ran down his back. He resolved that his glory was in the concept of the city, not in the King who constructed it. Gradually, he turned the other side, went back to the valley, constructed a small, temporary house, always gazing towards the distant mountain with happiness soured.

Eli, though, glanced from the road to the Son's face. He saw a profound, loving confidence there. His gladness hardened into stern determination. "My joy is not in the mansion alone," Eli said, "but in the one who brought it to me. If you went this road before me, then I will go it now with you."

And thus the climbing started. The journey was the cost. It cost Eli his pride, since he had to climb as the Son himself patterned, not as he himself patterned. It cost him his independence, since he would tumble often and had to rely on the Son. It cost him his old weights, since he had to shed the worldly weights he carried with him in order to keep ascending.

There were times the incline was so steep all he could do was step into the Son's next gouged footprint and put his own foot within it. He was no longer celebrating about the end with superficial glee; he was discovering how to celebrate in the King through the travail, finding a deep, unbreakable joy in the company of his Pilot.

When they finally made it to the top, Eli was not that man who had first set out to climb it. His hands were calloused, his will tried, but his heart was more steadfast. And there, more glorious than he could ever have imagined, was the city and his name on a mansion door.

The King Himself received him and greeted, "Well done, good and faithful servant. Not only did you rejoice at my gift, but you were also willing to pay the price to know the Giver. You have shared in the sufferings of my Son, and now you will share His glory."

Eli at last understood the final truth: The price was never about deserving of the gift; it was about becoming the kind of person who could really live within it. The path, traveled in the fellowship of the Son, was what transformed a sinning happiness to a saintly happiness.

Vickie🌸