Door
Number 1
I
stood in the foyer and stared at Door Number 1. The only choice I was given was
the order of the doors. So I could know the future to warn others—wasn’t that
what the voice said?
I
turned the handle. The door opened to a room of mirrors. However, these weren’t
regular mirrors; they were mirrored doorways. “Which one should I enter, Lord?”
I
heard nothing. I waited a little longer, but God’s voice was silent. He left
the choice to me. I wanted to choose wisely. I stepped around several and came
to a tall mirror. I stuck my hand in and pulled it out. I passed up that one
and several others until I came to a mirror with moving images. I entered that
one.
I
was in a world of moving sidewalks. They went to the north, south, east, and
west, crisscrossing each other, intersecting, and moving at very high speeds.
I
looked down at my feet, and I was standing on the word “Go” in a
multi-dimensional space. As I studied the moving tele-transports, I noticed
travelers. Some of the people were anxious. Others seemed to enjoy the journey.
Some disappeared and reappeared farther down the road. Others popped up and
stayed.
I
watched, mesmerized. I tried to see people’s faces. Who was happy and who was
sad? That wasn’t made clear to me.
There
were more than a dozen sidewalks. The longer I mulled over which one to choose,
the more uncertain I became. After a while, I grew weary. I threw up my hands.
Choices carry eternal consequences, and I wanted to make the right one.
“You
choose,” I heard a voice say. “Free will is a wonderful thing in the hands of
an awesome God.”
The
sidewalk whisked me alongside dozens of other travelers. As the moving sidewalk
carried me, I saw foods that whet my appetite. Cinnamon rolls, chocolate
croissants, and other pastries called my name. I passed a brewery with a sign
advertising free samples of beer. Farther along I caught a whiff of delightful
scents—perfumes, essential oils, and soaps—so many choices, so much
opportunity.
The
exchange of money increased. Soon I saw people buying things they couldn’t
afford. They pulled out credits cards, signed bank loans, borrowed from
friends, and more.
“I’ve
maxed out my credit cards,” someone said.
“No
problem,” a merchant replied. “Just sign here.”
I
left that conversation, and I continued along the widening sidewalk of debt.
“This
car will be the best car you’ve ever owned,” a car salesman exhorted. “It’s the
number one rated sports car in the world.”
I
looked at the price tag—a hundred thousand dollars.
Soon
I came to a crosswalk. Until now, I didn’t know the sidewalks were named. To my
surprise, I was traveling on the Sidewalk of Necessities. I came to a store
where a merchant was selling animals. The buyer offered the seller money, which
was no small amount.
The
merchant shook his head. “That’s not enough. These animals are extinct. You can
breed them and create a new Garden of Eden. Imagine the people who will flock
to your attraction—people who love Mother Earth, conservationists, animal
lovers, and bird enthusiasts. You’ll be the richest man in the world. Who
wouldn’t want to visit the rebirth of the Garden of Eden?”
The
bartering continued. What would be a fair price to buy extinct animals and
create another Garden of Eden?
As
I walked, I came to a merchant who was selling futures. “Hear ye,” he shouted
as he waved his hand. “Step right up. We’ll release your heart-felt dream. It’s
reasonably priced, and you deserve it. Come and see a demonstration of the only
dream reaper in the world.”
A
woman walked up. “What’s the price?”
The
wiry man whipped out his hand and pointed with a dramatic flair. “Have a seat.
If you qualify after this demonstration, you’ll be given a special seat in the
real dream reaper.” I looked behind the salesman at a most unusual contraption.
The
woman was in her late twenties or early thirties and appeared to be in good
health. Youth was leaving her, as it does for all of us, but she was too
immature to have attained wisdom.
The
woman poured out her heart to the stranger in extraordinary detail, expounding
on all the unfair and unjust things that had happened to her, leading to a life
in the gutter of despair. Always the victim, she wallowed in self-pity and
rejection.
The
merchant smiled. “You’re just the right person for the dream reaper. You
deserve better. Don’t worry about the cost. You can pay it off in the next
thirty years before your date with death.”
“What
do you mean, my date with death?”
The
merchant replied, “Well, I can’t tell you any more than that. You’ll need to
talk to the dream reaper. He can answer that question.”
She
looked around. “Where is he?”
The
merchant pointed. “Step right up to the dream reaper building.”
The
woman hesitated.
“You
want to release your dream, right?”
The
woman nodded, but her enthusiasm dissipated when she realized she couldn’t have
it—another unjust and unfair thing to add to her trophy list of unhappiness.
I
continued walking. A merchant stood out front waving a strange-looking
banner—Soul Extractor. No one was at his stand, so I left the Sidewalk of
Necessities and strolled up to the merchant.
“Tell
me about your soul extractor business.”
His
eyes lit up, and he greeted me with such exuberance I felt indebted to make a
purchase.
“Would
you like your soul extracted?” the man asked me.
“What
do you do with the soul once you extract it?”
“Oh,”
the merchant said, “I give it to the devil.”
“What
do you mean?”
“Have
you ever met a person without a soul?”
“Wait
a minute,” I interrupted. “If I sell my soul to you, then I no longer have a
soul.”
“That’s
right,” the merchant said. “But for some people other things are more important
than their soul.”
I
stared at the merchant.
The
man leaned over and looked into my eyes. “Think about it,” he whispered.
“You
mean people would sell their soul?”
He
laughed. “Absolutely.”
“What
do you give them for their soul?”
The
man cocked his head as if surprised by my question. “The devil sets the price.”
So
what do you do with the soul you extract?”
The
man laughed. “As I said, I give it to the devil.”
“You
can’t do that,” I protested.
The
smile left his face. “Look, I’m not discussing the moral issue of it. All I
care about is selling the soul, and all the devil cares about is receiving the
soul. So we have the soul extractor. Everyone is happy. The person has what he
wanted, I’ve made the transaction, and the devil has the soul.”
I
shook my head. “How can you do that?”
He
leaned over and whispered, “Because I sold my soul to the devil and now I do
his bidding. I have no choice. He owns me.”
⚔⚔⚔⚔⚔⚔
Isaiah 45:7 (KJV): I form the light, and create darkness: I make peace, and create evil: I the Lord do all these things.
