The towering, brass iron gates glare at him like a treacherous fortress. Locked and sealed, daring him to enter. Installed as a reminder of what was. How things used to be. How it was always meant to be. Nothing good can come from entering, and yet his heart yearns to see it one more time. Reconnect with a beautiful past that now haunts him. Maybe he’ll be able to hear their voices, feel their presence, sense the gentle beating of their hearts. They are long gone now, but if he closes his eyes and keeps perfectly still, he might just hear them. He really shouldn’t enter. There’s nothing there but an empty shell of plants and trees. And yet…
The gates slowly open, yielding to the sovereign power that stands before them. He doesn’t move, fixing his gaze upon the resplendent scene in front of him. Its beauty as magnificent as it was before; tender rays of sunlight landing gently on leaves and plants. Legions of trees in unifying formation. A delicate and precious mix of tranquillity and splendour. But he feels little peace. The distant echoes of a joyous past are now a scar on his heart.
He can’t resist. One foot in front of the other, and again, then another, drawn in by the longing of his heart, until he enters and finds himself in a place they once called home. Somehow escaping the dam behind his eyes, a single tear meanders down his right cheek, pausing momentarily before resuming its journey as others soon follow. He knew this would happen, but he had to come just one more time. He can hear their distant voices, giggling, teasing, playing, sharing happy and fun experiences. Even now he can smell the sweet scent of their hair. He misses everything about them. The tinkling in their eyes whilst asking never-ending questions. The way they would tease him whenever he looked too serious. How they would run to him with such glee whenever he arrived; telling him about their day, what they had got up to, species they had named, new games they had created. The melodious beating of their hearts whenever they heard his voice.
If only they were still here. He sits, placing his head in his hands as more tears gather. Why couldn’t things have been different? Why couldn’t they just trust him? Everything he did was for their sake – loving them, caring for them, protecting them from sickness, harm, anxiety… grief. It had all been for them.
He loved them so much. Still does. Always will, no matter what they do.
He can’t go on like this. There must be another way.
“There is, father, ” comes a kind and gentle voice. “I will give my life for theirs.”
Everything is still again. And yet, this stillness is different. Hope. A precious love rekindled.
‘Nothing can separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow – not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love.’
Romans 8 vs 38