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The backpack feels like a boulder pressing down more hard and forceful against her back with every passing second.  She gasps desperately as she crumples to the ground, too weak to stand and too weak to utter another wretched cry.  She roles over and searches to sky for stars, celestial orbs that she had heard of yet never seen.  She cringes.  If I could only see a star ... then I could hope ... then I would know that progress is possible.  Her instruction book had told her that seeing stars means your personal vision has improved; a layer of your personal darkness, layers which encompass every person to varying degrees, has been lifted from your sight.  This vision improvement means that you are coming closer in relationship with the person the book calls the Maker of the Stars and in understanding of your personal everlasting purpose.  Perfect fellowship with this Maker of the Stars was said to be the goal of all; a vision state of pure light is when this goal is said to be reached.

Yet, her world is surrounded in blackness - deep, dark, and oppressing.

With a final, desperate inward plea for help, Raef falls into a fitful sleep.


Stomping feet wake Raef.  She groans, wishing that her sight was light enough so that she could at least see who it is.  She hears more footsteps and mumbled words uttered by desperate humans fumbling along in blackness, searching for they know not what.  Raef stands up, grimacing, as she is reminded of her ever-present burden upon her shoulders: the hindering objects filling her backpack.  She lets out a cry from the depths within her.  I will get this off me.  The thought of bearing the weight another day sends a wave of desperation through her veins.  Her instruction book had said that the way to get the pack off is to surrender her burdening objects to the Maker of the Stars.  In doing this, she would find everlasting purpose.  Can this life really have everlasting purpose?  She takes a step forward.  How I am supposed to fulfill this duty of "surrendering" my burdens in my pack to find it?  She takes another step forward.  And if the Maker of the Stars truly is real and powerful, why won't he just remove these burdening objects Himself without my supposed surrender simply out of pity for my miserable state?  She stops walking, lost in thought.  Why do all my efforts of ridding the contents of this backpack always fail anyway?  She pushes her foot forward, slips, and falls.  

Why am I stuck in this darkness? 
A tear falls silently and unnoticed down her cheek.

Raef sits up so that her backpack's bottom is resting on the ground.  She tires again, fruitlessly, to remove the objects.  Frustrated at her failure, she twists around and manages to unzip the backpack's top.  Although this awkward motion stretches her side painfully and makes her muscles below her shoulder blade crunch up, this is the only way to see into her backpack.  It is cramped full of objects from top to bottom, containing many items that she hasn't even seen.

Yet on the top of the pack rests 4 very familiar objects that she sees every time it's opened.  The first is wispy white and small; it is her clouding doubt that blocks her mental clearity.  Then next object is a fiery red lump burning to the touch; it is her raging anger.  The third object is a large, heavy black rock that absorbs all light and reflects none; this is her discouragement that constantly sucks at her joy.  The final visible object is shiny and metal with sharp, jagged edges; this is her worry that frequently pierces her side.

She sighs and pounds her fist as a tear of hoplesness slides down her cheek.  She fumbles to regain her composure.  I have to do something! I cannot keep living like this.  She searches her mind for any glimmer of hope.  Her mind runs over all the things she had tried in attempt to rid her backpack's contents, hoping to in turn find abundant life.  How many times have I failed?  I need truth.  She searches her mind again for something that claims it leads to a true way of life, a life of answers, full and free of her hindering objects.  She latches on to what her instruction book had told her.  The Maker of the Stars promises to guide and lead to abundant life if only I will trust and surrender ... I must learn ... learn what it means to surrender this horrid pack ... learn who the Maker of the Stars is ... learn my everlasting purpose ...


find what it means to truly live.


She takes a deep breath.  What have I got to lose?  Her mind feels too muddled to send a silent prayer to the Maker, so she clears her throat and prepares to speak, knowing that her voice will give her something, at least, to focus on.  "Maker of the Stars, this is Raef.  I am terrified right now... I am also more than discouraged.  I need these objects in my backpack to leave me, or I am going to break.  Your book says ..." her gaze drifts, and her mind fogs over as the doubt in her pack clouds over her thoughts.  She grimaces and continues as best she can, "Your book says that through my trusting faith as I give you these objects in my backpack, that You will bear my burden, and I can start seeing things as they are.  Your book also says that once I have surrendered my backpack's contents, then I will know my everlasting purpose."  Her mind again clouds over,  and she loses her train of thought.  Refocusing, she tightens her determination and continues.   "Maker of the Stars, my faith is small.  I  don't know if I've ever truly trusted in my life.  Plus I hardly know who You are.  But I do know that I don't want to stay as I am now and that You are said to help the weak.  I know deep down within me somewhere that I really need You.  I cannot and will never be able to get rid of the things in my backpack of my own strength.  I can not even lift the things out of it.  So Maker of the Stars, I come to You with what little trusting faith I have and surrender my backpack's objects to You as best I can.  Please, take them so I can know You and serve You; so that I can live."

She looks around, hoping vehemently for some rapid change, and waits, but nothing seems to happen.  Familiar discouragement barges into her mind.  She is alarmed at its presence so quickly after her prayer.  I don't think I have the strength to fight it.  Her mental exhaustion and attempts to maintain her fading fast hope are draining her out.  I need to do something.  It is time for a walk.

Walking on, she battles with discouragement.  Unlike usual, she does not let it penetrate any deeper into her mind than it has already gone.  This time, she fights not only to defend, but to gain back for truth ground that she has surrendered to it.  The draw on her strength as she does this starts to become unbareable.  Maker of the Stars, I need Your strength to revive me.  She takes a deep breath as she decides to add the next part.  I trust that You are faithful as Your book says and that You will help me as I am doing what Your book commands.  Her battle letting up some, she looks up, realizing that she temporarily had forgotten about her surrounding and her pervious worries.  Where am I?  She scans the around her and starts with surprise.


I think ... I think layers have been lifted! 

She hears a voice distinctly and looks up.  She sees a shape.  I am seeing a shape!  Aghast, she keeps walking, staring bewildered at her surroundings.  Little by little, she witnesses darkness being lifted and things becoming clear.  She can see trees, waterfalls, grass, and hints of color.  And although her world is still blanketed in a mist, she can actually see people's forms.  She can, in addition, hear what they are saying much more clearly than previously.

But she hears one voice so powerful and majestic that she can not mistake it, for it is the Maker of the Star's voice.

"Well done, my good and faithful servant.  Even though you were incapable of removing your burdens, have trusted me with what's in you.  You have, to the best of your abilities, surrendered to me your life and waited on me to do the rest.  Now come, and see life more abundantly and find what it means to live."  Here the voice trails off and is heard no more, leaving Raef standing alone by a stream.

Raef was so awed by the glory of the voice that it takes a couple of seconds to regain her conscious awareness.  Then she laughs out of jubilation and starts to run.  I heard Him; He is real and true.  He has lifted my darkness! He will show me what it means to live.  Then she stops as a realization strikes her and lets out a cry of delight.  I just ran!  Raef had not run for years because the burden on her back had become too large and weighty.  My burdening objects, they've been eliminated.  The thought shocked her.  Could this possibly be true?  Hurriedly, she sits down and twists around to see inside her backpack.

Instead of her hindering burdens, she sees instead 4 beautiful objects: the first object, a crisp, bright, and hardened drop of water, rests at the very top; this is her clarity of mind spreading wisdom wherever it goes.  Next, her patience, a cool, green leaf soothing to the touch, sits leaving gentleness in its wake.  Besides that, a yellow orb giving glimmering light, her hope ever kindling inside of her, resides.  Finally, a smooth, round white stone, her trusting peace, lies stabilizing her existence.

Joy bubbles through her veins.
He is real.  

He does care; He indeed does love.  He will do what He claims and really will be my strength.  She looks around at her newly brightened world.  I can not believe how gracious His gifts are; I did nothing to deserve them.  In fact, He is the one who got rid of my old burdens in the first place.  And now I have such wonderful treasures in place of them!  She smiles at the thought of what her backpack is now filled with.  But I still have a question unanswered: what now is my everlasting purpose?  She gets up and lightly walks over to a rock.  Puzzled at not receiving another message from the Maker of the Stars already, she looks looking around.  Soon, she spots this message:  He who is guiding will never fail; His love endures forever.  He is just and faithful; He will knock at a heart's door until it's opened or until He is forever rejected.  His servants listen to His voice and obey, showing His love and the Way to all.


Raef rocks on her heels.  Showing His love and the Way ... How can I, for I chose this day to be His servant, do that?  She sits pondering then hears footsteps and groaned out words.  "No rest, no peace, no happiness."  She feels chilled as the voice continues.  "None to comfort or to help.  None to care."  The voice keeps rattling on, bemoaning its wretched state till Raef becomes frustrated with the voice's underlying self pity.  Why won't he do something about his state!  The answers are all right there in the instruction book.  All he must do is pick up and read it ... Raef starts at her own thoughts.  How quick I am to judge when I myself just came through what that man is now going though.  I am no better than him.  She smiles as she remembers what she just read: showing His love and the Way.  

A cool breeze ruffles her hair as she inhales and exhales, filled with a new sense of purpose.

Quietly, she walks over to a nearby cottage and finds what she expected the Maker of the Stars to have provided.  She grabs a fresh copy of the instruction book and a blanket and starts walking towards the man.


She looks up and sees glimmering celestial beings, stars.

This is the life.  



 © 2012 Deborah Hope Shining

This is a story that I wrote for a school assignment that was to "Christianize" a Greek myth.  The myth that I chose was "Pandora's Box."   So, without further ado, here is my version!


God watched.  One of his few faithful village servants was running at full speed up to his door.  “El Roi! Master!  The choice … the instructions … they have almost done it.  They are threatening to do it!  The box . . .”
            God, the king, sighed deeply as He surveyed the sylvan scene: the mountains clothed in majesty, the lake glimmering, and the tiny village in the midst of the enshrouding forest.  He inhaled and then pondered the box, his gift to the villagers.  By giving it to them, he granted them the freedom of choice.  They could leave the box shut and enjoy a life of peace, or they could open it and face whatever consequences the box might contain.  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.  “I am afraid you speak the truth.  No one from the village has visited me recently and sought my counsel.  The people who continually prohibit themselves from seeing the grandeur I created around them by focusing only on the temporary, daily things in their lives have given up their contentment.  They’ve started to wonder if there is more to life.  That is a slippery road to embark upon.”
            The king’s faithful servant kicked a nearby stone and watched it tumble off the mountainside.  He crossed his arms and began to pace.  “Those narrow minded, short sighted, stubborn people! They deny your goodness and refuse to realize your true character, daring to look for that something more in life while never looking to the right place, to you . . . But you still gave them the box.  Tell me, you must have had a reason.”
            “My action was just and necessary because I refuse to control them.  What is the point of having a friend if you force him into the relationship?  If he does not return your feelings of his own free will, you are only playing a game that fools yourself.”
            “Yet the people are irrational and childish craving all types of satisfaction.  They will do anything to achieve this new notion of happiness even if that means disobeying you, the only one who purely wants the best for them.”
            The only response the king’s faithful servant received was a saddened smile.  Understanding His master’s thoughtful change of mood, the servant left.  God cast his gaze over His chosen people.  They’d better be careful what they wish for . . .   
The king’s faithful servant journeyed down the mountainside to the village below.  The racket of chatter and bustle was audible from a mile off.  Once entering the village, he walked down the main lane in the village’s center.  He surveyed the houses and their many inhabitants.  Women were gathering herbs in a basket, men were fixing a roof, young women were planting seeds, and children were running pell-mell through the street.  Then his gaze was cast over the grandest house in the village, sturdy Epimetheus and curious Pandora’s house.  He grimaced as his thoughts raced back to the box, for they were the safe-guarders of that precious gift.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
            Epimetheus was standing in the doorway when he saw the king’s faithful servant pass by.  He studied the faithful servant’s movements as he passed the doorway and then sighed as he pondered his own life.  His thoughts drifted from his wealth, to his work, to his wife - a very gift from the king himself – to the box inside.  Whatever am I going to do with that!  It won’t be long till the villagers come here insisting it be opened.  Their idea that happiness is to be had in things the king has hidden from us sounds so true; however, do we villagers really know what true good is for ourselves to such a precise degree that we will directly disobey the king’s orders?   Ever pondering, Epimetheus decided to take a walk through the village and get a closer perspective of the villagers to gauge their shifting feelings.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Pandora stretched her muscles and leaned back in her chair after she watched Epimetheus walk out the door.  What a perfectly dreary day, no one to talk to and nothing to do.  Dejectedly, she got up from her chair and walked to another room.  She surveyed its contents.  A basket full of yarn for her weaving, a chair big enough for two, a crumpled blanket, and a messy pile of clothes were all visible.  Still unsatisfied, she was about to leave when she noticed a dusty edge of something half hidden in a corner.  Curiously, she walked over to it and blew the dust off, uncovering a box.  I’m afraid it’s rather an ugly, small box.  She sighed. Again, here is yet another thing with absolutely no interesting qualities.  Ahh well . . . Pandora suddenly stood upright as she remembered the giver of this box, the king.  This box was a gift with specific instructions, instructions not to open it under any circumstances.  Any circumstances, meaning none whatsoever?  Pandora set the box down and went to sit in the chair.  Her mind filled with thoughts of it, the box.  The gifted and entrusted box.  The mysterious box.  The box with seemingly no purpose, but at the same time, the box with instructions.  Yet what a small and harmless box it was, sitting all alone, forgotten in a dusty corner.  The box should have a purpose, a duty in life.  Surely, by its weight, it wasn’t empty!  It must be filled to the brim with wonderfully new and good things bringing new dimensions of happiness and telling of its divine purpose, for it was from God.  And that king does want everything to be used for its grand purpose, nothing at all should be left idle and be wasted.  The box must be opened.
            Pandora returned to the box and inspected it even more carefully than before.  Just a crack is all I need.  Then, its purpose will be revealed, and I will do good by assigning it a duty.  Furthermore, think of the happiness I will unlock!   Pandora placed her hand on top of the lid and felt for the latch.  She curled her fingers around it and moved her arm upward.  The lid opened a crack, and she pulled it open the rest of the way.
            Instantly, Pandora felt a chilling, lifeless gust of air blow onto her face.  She screamed as she heard a hissing noise.  A whirlwind quickly surrounded her, and she felt within that what encircled her was not good, pure, and lovely.  It was something she had never known before.  It was evil.  Pain, worry, envy, jealousy, greed, pride, hate, fear, selfishness, impatience, depression, restlessness, cruelty, wickedness, betrayal, and many other sensations unfelt before welled inside Pandora.  She staggered and collapsed upon the floor.  She gasped for breath and almost fainted.  With newly-found panic, she tried to gather her thoughts from among this surplus of sensations.  What have I done?
            The whirlwind was leaving her and floating to a window.  It hissed and passed through the window into the street.  Then, it split apart into many segments and each new segment slid through the streets and entered the houses.  Cries of anguish were heard in its wake.  Pandora tried to swallow and tried to move but found that she could not. 
            Then, she heard a fluttering.  A glowing, pink creature emerged from the very bottom of the box.  It was a butterfly.  It was not noticeable before because its beauty was smothered by the evil on top.  It came and landed on Pandora’s shoulder.  A gushing wave of relief from the previous sensations flooded over Pandora as soon as the butterfly landed.  Tears gushed in her eyes and inexpressible thankfulness was in her heart.  Inscribed on the butterfly’s left wing, barely visible, she noticed a word: Hope.  The butterfly flew to the window and started its journey throughout the village. 
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Epimetheus’ body contorted with the impact of the whirlwind.  His mind staggered with the new sensations’ force.  Then, suddenly, Epimetheus was relieved.  He lifted his head in bewilderment, wondering who had relieved him, but the only thing he saw was a bright butterfly gliding away.  Epimetheus thought nothing of the butterfly because only one thought could penetrate his shock.  The box.  He knew that it had been opened.  Wisdom told him that these sensations were the result of disobedience to the king.  How foolishly I have been thinking.  Who should ever dare to rebel against the Almighty King?  He is the only one who truly knows our best.  Yet, wasn’t the King the one who gave only good gifts?  What about the relief he felt?  Pondering, he stood for a few moments.  How can this fit into His plan?   Determined anew, Epimetheus walked out of the village and started up the mountain.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
God exhaled.  It is done.  They have done it.  If only they would have chosen to trust and walk down the path of obedience and not to entertain rebellious thoughts.  If only they would have embraced my love and not searched for happiness elsewhere.  If only they could know how much I still love them even now.  Oh, that they might know the great, wonderful plans of redemption I have planned for them on this new path they must now walk down, hand in hand with me. 
            God wept.          



 © 2012 Deborah Hope Shining


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Deborah Spooner is an analytical creative enamored by ideas and addicted to dripping words in candor. Serving as a Marketing Strategist for LifeWay’s Adults Ministry, she loves all things big-dreaming, difference-making, and Jesus-pointing. A pastor’s daughter with a background in communications and theology, you can find her at her local church with her students (and probably way too excited about the color yellow) as she seeks to know Christ more and make Him known.

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