The successful businessman reveled in the applause. He had worked
hard for this prestigious award. Everyone admired him—his strong work ethic, his
determination, and the fact he had saved the failing tech giant from a
humiliating fall. The major news outlets had featured his accomplishments,
and Time magazine named him a
finalist in the “Businessman of the Year” award. That was the award that had
eluded him for too long.
A pang of jealousy ripped through his heart. Mr. Ransom Smith personally knew the last two winners, and he was much more of a business genius than
they were. He spit on the sidewalk of the busy New York City street as he pushed
his way through the crowds remembering the night before. This was his year for glory.
Why couldn't his wife appreciate how wonderful he was? When
he arrived home after a ten-hour day, the tired, haggard woman wasn't
interested in his exploits. Even the cat ignored him. Only the dog appreciated
the sacrifices he had made, wagging his tail and extending affectionate licks
and kisses.
Mr. Smith approached a busy intersection that he frequented several
times during the week. One business establishment always caught his
attention—The Utopia Connection. Business people frequented this hole in the
wall, and today wasn’t any different.
Two men entered as they were greeted by a stunning young woman with long blonde hair draped over
her shoulders in ringlets. Mr. Smith glanced at his
iPhone. He had a few minutes to linger. Unexpectedly, as the blonde
was shutting the door behind her customers, her eyes caught his. For a fleeting
moment, Ransom, surprised by the chance encounter, fixated on her face.
The young woman smiled. Her enticing eyes called out to him, speaking
to his soul, “Ransom, stolen water is sweet, and bread eaten in secret is
pleasant…come and celebrate with me
The woman disappeared inside, and Mr. Smith shook his head, mumbling
under his breath, “That was odd. It was as if she knew me. Maybe the young
lady did know me. Maybe she had seen the news coverage. Maybe I should introduce
myself.”
The man stood and watched a couple more businessmen enter. He imagined
it must be a restaurant and drew nearer out of curiosity. How had he not
noticed the extravagant entrance before—the mosaic lined floor and the golden
flower pots. Still, the strange photographs caught Ransom’s attention the most.
Snapshots lined the walls with an assortment of captions, “Bill was
here,” “John’s favorite hangout,” “Sam’s place,” and dozens more. Ransom did
not know any of the men. Strangely, Ransom noted that all the visitors were dead.
Beneath their photographs were the dates of their untimely demises.
The scent of burning candles and air misters permeated the softly lit
marquee. Etched glass lined the other wall. Mr. Smith tried to see through the
exquisite façade, but to no avail. He waited for someone to exit, to ask what
was inside this beautiful, captivating establishment. After all, Ransom didn't
want to be seen entering a place that might be unseemly. He was too prideful to fall for
that temptation. But despite his waiting longer than he meant to, no one
exited.
It must be an extraordinary place, Mr. Smith reasoned, because so many
enter and no one leaves. A few more minutes passed as Mr. Smith’s curiosity
clashed with his better judgment. He glanced at his watch. If he didn't go now,
he would be late for his next meeting. But he longed to admire that beautiful
face once more. He wanted to see those eyes, those eyes that latched onto his.
She no doubt knew him from the news reports, and if by some unlikely
chance she didn’t, he could impress her with his accomplishments. Surely she
would be impressed. I wonder if she is
married.…
Abruptly the door opened, and Mr. Smith was surprised to see only the
beautiful young woman reappear. Where
were the men? But he quickly dismissed the question as he peered into those
eyes—deep and mysterious.
She held out her hand to him, and once more, Ransom heard the same
words spoken in his mind earlier:
Click to Tweet: “Stolen water is sweet, and bread eaten in secret is pleasant.”
Click to Tweet: “Stolen water is sweet, and bread eaten in secret is pleasant.”
“Yes,” the man replied, “I’d love to share your stolen water and secret
bread. And I’ll pay.”
He followed the young woman through the door and disappeared
inside. The door shut behind him.
Mr. Ransom did not know the dead were there, and her former guests were in the
depths of hell.
Proverbs 9:13-18
A foolish woman is clamorous;
She is simple, and knows nothing.
For she sits at the door of her house,
On a seat by the highest places of the city,
To call to those who pass by,
Who go straight on their way.
She is simple, and knows nothing.
For she sits at the door of her house,
On a seat by the highest places of the city,
To call to those who pass by,
Who go straight on their way.
“Whoever is simple,
let him turn in here”;
And as for him who lacks understanding, she says to him,
“Stolen water is sweet,
And bread eaten in secret is pleasant.”
But he does not know that the dead are there,
That her guests are in the depths of hell.
And as for him who lacks understanding, she says to him,
“Stolen water is sweet,
And bread eaten in secret is pleasant.”
But he does not know that the dead are there,
That her guests are in the depths of hell.
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