Duane Deats | Relatively Random

Grandma’s Kitchen Table

Duane Deats — Sun, 05 Apr 2020 06:30:00 +0000

There are some places in life that never leave us, even when we leave them. What transpires in these temples of our formation lingers like an indian summer over the rest of our life. The memories and experiences imprint on our very soul and provide the standard by which we measure goodness, love, right, wrong, joy. None of these places have marble tiled foyers or soaring columns. They are rarely pristine, often worn, and always well lived in. While not mecca, they are certainly worthy of a pilgrimage when seeking a renewal of spirit. We have all knelt at these altars, humbled by their influence, grateful for their refuge. They are the sites of our most precious memories and most meaningful relationships. More often than not, we find our way back to them on the scent of fresh baked rolls, or the sound of katydids on a summer evening, instantly transported to the safety and comfort of home. It is the place our self-confidence is nurtured. It is where who we are is created.

For me this was my grandmother’s dining room table. It was the gathering place for the whole community. The coffee was always on, and more often than not, there was some fresh-baked treat or other available as accompaniment. The door was never locked. Even when my grandmother and my aunt weren’t home, they left the doors open in case company stopped by. They prioritized family, whether by blood or proximity, above all else. Those relationships were what they lived for, and the number of people whose live’s they touched was an indication of how desperately needed their kind of love was.

A typical night would see anywhere from four or five to twenty people crowded into the small dining room. There was a lot of laughter, and some tears too. Folks didn’t always agree. Healthy debate was plentiful, and often colorful. You knew better than to express your opinion if you didn’t have the knowledge and experience to defend it. More than anything else, though there was relationship. Personal interaction. Eye contact. True concern for one another and an attempt to understand even if agreement was unlikely.

It’s what I miss most about my formative years. I didn’t realize then how quickly that type of interaction was going to fade from the world. The more “advanced” we have gotten, the further we have traveled from a place where discourse leads to compassion and disagreement does not equal disrespect. Blame is now more important than resolution and redemption is unheard of. Everyone’s voice has equal volume when there is nothing to compete against, and isolation gives a sense of bravado far greater than any that would be displayed face to face.

I am as guilty as anyone of succumbing to our digital age. For years our dinner table has had as many electronic devices present as people, if it serves as a gathering place at all. The same is true of every room in the house. I’m embarrassed by the number of virtual tethers in my home. The formative years for my kids have been dominated by social media and streaming entertainment instead of real experiences and real relationships. In an effort to give them the newest, coolest, and best of what our society offers, I have deprived them of what’s most important. Engagement. We text from the same room, share memes, YouTube videos, and communicate in a shorthand as likely to include a GIF as a complete sentence with punctuation. A family desperately oblivious to our need for a reset and reconnect.

And now here we are, a couple of weeks into limited interaction with the outside world and things are starting to change. Social Distancing has lead to dinner at home instead of in a crowded, noisy restaurant becoming our new normal. That, accompanied by a strict no electronics at the dinner table policy, excluding the one we use to Zoom for an extended family Taco Tuesday, has led to conversation, collaboration, cohesiveness. We have discovered there isn’t much on social media when everyone else is home just like you are. We have discovered that there is only so much T.V. anyone can stomach before searching for a book, or a game, or better yet, seeking out a conversation. Our house has started to resemble the home I grew up in. Sad that it has taken a government order to get us here. Funny that “Social Distancing” has resulted in reclamation of some of the closest relationships anyone should have. Not how I would have hoped for a culture shift but I’ll take the victory when there aren’t too many of those going around.

Will we be able to maintain this when the social freeze thaws? Only time will tell, but right now my back patio feels a lot like my grandmother’s table used to. If we get lucky, future days will see it filled with family, both by blood and by proximity, that need that place where they feel safe. Where they can find a little bit of themselves in the person sitting across the fire pit from them on a fall evening. Where they discover what being a person is all about from someone that has lived long enough to become one. And maybe, just maybe, it will be the setting for the conversations and memories that linger like an Indian summer over the rest of their lives.

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The Apocalypse Generation

Duane Deats — Tue, 24 Mar 2020 11:30:58 +0000

It’s easy to look around at the goings on of our current situation world-wide and panic. It’s also easy to say, “I’m not gonna drink the kool aid,” run to Circle K for a Thirstbuster and…..catch the plague. Ok, so it’s not the plague but it’s being presented that way. Don’t misunderstand what I’m saying. This is obviously serious and dangerous. People are dying from this mutated version of this flu-like virus. What I am saying is the hysteria around this situation is unprecedented.

At first I couldn’t understand why. Stay home, wash your hands, social distance and we’ll all be ok. No reason to panic. We aren’t talking about scaling mountains to find an effective containment technique. This is pretty basic stuff. It isn’t the first time we have seen an unbelievably potent version of the flu. Some quick research will tell you that, back in 2009, the Swine Flu infected upwards of 20% of the world’s population and, by some estimates, took nearly 600,000 lives across the world. Those are big numbers. So why is this worse? Let’s set aside the science of what’s going on right now. I know that’s hard to do, but I want to take a look at something outside the virus itself.

My daughter is a sophomore in high school. This social distancing thing doesn’t work for her. She is used to constant contact with her friends and freedom to plan activities on the fly, capture them on her iPhone, and post them to the social media outlet of her choice. Having to stay home and hang out with her parents and her little brother is being tolerated well considering how big a variation from her norm it is. I imagine most parents of high school kids are facing similar situations, attitudes, eyerolls, whatever. Inside we adults are all loving the extra time with these kiddos on the verge of adulthood. These moments are precious to us because they are fleeting. Maybe someday the teens will appreciate the memories as well, but I digress.

Did you know that the kids set to graduate high school this spring were mostly born in the year 2001? Kids born between 2001 and 2005 make up the vast majority of our high school students. Did you also know the iPod was first released in 2001, and the first iPhone was released in 2009, followed in 2010 by the first iPad? MySpace came to be in 2003, Facebook was 2004, Youtube in 2005, and Twitter chirped its first characters in 2006. Why am I telling you this? To highlight that this generation of high school student has never lived in a world where a handheld device has not connected them to the world.

They are bombarded moment by moment with information, misinformation, opinion, acceptance, rejection, and what their best life is supposed to look like, all in a clickbait environment competing for the 3-5 seconds of attention they devote to any one headline before moving on to the next. Since the advent of the smartphone, primarily the iPhone, in 2009, there have been nine 7.0 or greater magnitude earthquakes on record, at least eight hurricanes making landfall and causing major damage, ten terror attacks in the U.S., and eight school shootings. Add to that the chaos in the middle east, like the Arab Spring, the plane crashes, tornadoes, immigration debate, climate change claims, and perhaps the scariest thing of all, the politicians, and you can see how an increase in mental health issues like anxiety and depression are not surprising.

Now I know what you’re thinking. We all are bombarded in the same way, and other generations have faced incredible challenges too. You’re right, of course! Let’s look at how we react. In 2009 there was no panic around the Swine Flu. There was no hoarding. There was no daily press conference or constant Twitter barage. Many of us react to “News” because headlines were important when we were growing up. The news was a source of information we trusted to help us navigate current events. It sort of explains why people are buying out local stores of all kinds of products. Fear is a powerful motivator when dispensed from a source that we grant authority in our life.

But this will be the first generation that didn’t have to seek out news. They are alerted to it moment by moment 24/7, and have been for the majority of their formative years. I wonder what kind of long term impact this is going to have. Will it desensitize them to real danger? Will it leave them in a constant state of anxiety? Will they remember this pandemic as the same kind of world altering event that occurred in September of 2001? Or will they just see the news as chicken little and ignore all the falling bits of blue when it finally happens? One thing is for sure, with the inundation of negative news coverage and the social media spin that accompanies each event, these kids are The Apocalypse Generation.

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The Cross

Duane Deats — Sat, 31 Mar 2018 00:45:15 +0000

I spent the night hiding, and waiting to see what would become of the man who is my dearest friend. The mob had clamored for his blood, purchasing the responsibility for it with their lives and the lives of their children. Finally the doors of the Praetorium opened and the guards dragged a wretch out into the street and dropped a cursed cross beside him. I barely was able to recognize the man I had spent so many hours with that I knew his face as well as my own. He was beaten, bruised, and bloodied. Great swaths of his back had been stripped by the whip, leaving it raw. I don’t know how he could have seen well enough through his swollen eyes to find the cross they intended him to carry up the hill to the place of the skull, but he struggled to it.

I had my own load to carry in that moment as his mother collapsed in my arms, weeping at the sight of her broken child. She and several of the other women who had been with us from the beginning insisted on remaining with me. I tried to tell them that when they were done with him they could easily come for us, but they wouldn’t even consider abandoning him. I wish I had their strength at times.

He passed by us, struggling beneath the wait of the cross, enduring the taunts and jeers of the same ones who had laid palm fronds at his feet just days ago. So often he spoke of his sheep, but I wish they were not so easily directed as sheep. Maybe then they would recognize the truth of who is right before them, instead of being led astray by honeyed lips. I fear what this will mean for so many of my people.

Apparently he was not making fast enough progress to suit the soldiers because they dragged Simon of Cyrene from the crowd and forced him to carry the cross. I curse myself for allowing fear to keep me rooted in place instead of helping him. I could have taken up his cross. I could shielded him from the hateful words being hurled at him. I could have let him know that he was not alone on the loneliest walk.

I had to turn my eyes away as the hammer rang out and the nails pierced his flesh. I couldn’t block out the sound of his agony though. His physical is matched by my emotional. Had I realized what was going to happen I would have gladly taken his place, but he wouldn’t have allowed it. I recognize now that he had been preparing for this his entire life. Even as those men maimed him he plead for mercy on their behalf. I could hear him say, “Father forgive them. They know not what they do.” I can’t understand his compassion.

The soldiers knew nothing of who he was when they crucified him. How could they? They are nothing more than gentiles. Yet Pilate has spoken it true, whether he intended to or not. The sign reads King of The Jews. He is more than that still. The ground roars in anguish and even the sun is blotted out in mourning for him.

What is that he said? It is finished? Please, Lord, this can not be the end!

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The Kiss

Duane Deats — Fri, 30 Mar 2018 00:50:45 +0000

We got here five days ago. Almond trees and poppies bloomed everywhere. People lined the streets. They sang Hosana, and laid palm fronds at his feet, like he was some kind of conqueror. They were all hoping to catch a glimpse of the man I knew as Rabbi. I had spent the better part of the last three years with him, learning, listening, and witnessing the miraculous. He was a powerful speaker. People gravitated toward him. I remember one woman just wanted to touch his cloak as we passed. She believed she would receive healing by that alone. What’s more incredible is she was. I couldn’t understand it at the time.

We traveled all around the region calling the people to repent and return to God. Many did exactly that. I watched him cast out demons. I watched him calm raging seas. The truth is, the more I saw, the more terrified I became. The more I believed he was a danger to all of us. His effect on the people was incredible. It was a mob everywhere we went. That’s really when I began to consider the impact this man could have on our city.

Caiaphus brought up some things that I had to consider. While what I had seen the rabbi do was incredible, it didn’t make him God. Recently we ran into trouble as he was teaching on the sabbath and healed a crippled man. It was the sabbath after all. Some things just need to remain sacred. There was also the money to consider.

Some of the things he’s been telling the twelve of us just are too far out there for me to believe. As we walked to dinner tonight he tried to tell us he would be leaving us, but he would send some spirit to take his place. The more I think about it the less I want his help, let alone his helper.

Then at dinner he flat out told us that someone in the group was going to betray him. I don’t know who tipped him off, but someone must have. Strange that he wouldn’t try to stop what was happening. He simply told me to go and do what I had to do.

I knew they’d be in Gethsemane. It was one of his favorite spots to pray. I could see the resignation in his eyes as I approached. He wasn’t surprised, just disappointed. I almost couldn’t go through with it when I saw him.

Peter lost his mind, of course. The fool cut off Malchus’ ear! Like he was going to stop a contingent of soldiers by himself. He has no sense. All bluster and bravado. At least Jesus had the sense to go quietly. Had he resisted we all could have ended up dead. It was as if he chose to take the punishment himself rather than let the rest of us suffer.

Even though he knew what I was there for, he still opened his arms to me and welcomed my kiss. I watched as he was led away. Death is all that awaits him now. I knew that the moment I agreed to take Caiaphus’s silver. Blood money buys nothing else. Now I can’t even look at the bag that holds it. All I can see is the innocence I condemned with my kiss. What have I done?

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Obedience

Duane Deats — Tue, 31 Oct 2017 00:47:04 +0000

Echoed footsteps reverberated off the stone walls and marble floors. The measured pace an agonized pounding that was nearly enough to drive Dylan mad. He watched helplessly as their captor strode back and forth before them. His stature was unimposing, but the surety he carried himself with could only come from a sense of assured power and invincibility. The features of his face possessed both a beauty and a severity. There was no softness, no gentleness, no mercy present at all. Only an unrelenting that bordered on harshness. It was clear to Dylan that whatever he was, he wasn’t human. No soul could be present behind those black eyes. The petulant smile plastered to the monster’s face was the only thing more infuriating than his incessant footfalls.

The idea they were defeated wasn’t something Dylan was willing to accept. There had to be a way out. He couldn’t see one at the moment, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one. He couldn’t communicate with Dinah either. There were so many men focused on them it was impossible to engage her without drawing someone’s immediate attention. He snuck a glance at his cousin from the corner of his eye and was shocked by what he saw.

Dinah showed no sign of concern despite their current situation. She stood confidently, her hands on her hips. There was a gleam in her eye that told Dylan she had a plan. In all the years they had known each other, Dinah had never been a good poker player. She wore her emotions on her sleeve, making it nearly impossible for her to bluff. Dylan prayed that was true in this instance as well. The wrong move would certainly cost them their lives.

“I have worked a long time for this moment. My master will be greatly pleased with me. Your capture has been his foremost goal,” the ghoul in a suit gushed confidently.

“Don’t be so certain of that” Dinah almost laughed as she spoke, ”You’re assuming it was your master who ordained this. What makes you think it wasn’t mine?”

The pacing ceased as the demon, Abbadon, turned to fully face Dinah and Dylan. He considered the strength in her stance for a moment, and the triumph faded from his face. He had expected their fear to be palpable, and yet here was this child, for all intents and purposes, denying him his moment of glory and revelry.

“You’re right when you call me a child. I am a child of the Great I Am. It is you who should be afraid.” Dinah spoke with such authority that her words struck like a braided whip.

Abbadon hissed as he realized Dinah had read his thoughts. His master had not prepared him for this.

“Of course he hasn’t prepared you for this! He couldn’t prepare you to win a victory you have already lost. I almost feel pity for you.” Dinah’s eyes raked up and down the demon’s frame, which seemed to visibly diminish under the weight of her spoken truth.

“What is this?! It is I who have trapped you! How do you have this power? To be inside my mind! I will destroy you!” Rage erupted from the fear roiling in the mind of the fallen angel.

Dylan reached out and grabbed Dinah’s hand. He wasn’t convinced yet that Dinah really knew what she was doing. His intent was to caution her but, the moment his skin touched hers, he felt a surge of power unlike anything he had ever experienced before. His fear vanished, replaced by the absolute assurance that comes from being one of the chosen children of God Almighty.

“You have no power over us! We are no longer slaves to fear!” Dylan stepped forward as he spoke, his eyes blazing.

All over the room, guns trained in on Dylan, ready to fire at Abbadon’s command. Before he could give the order however, Dinah raised her voice so even the men in the very back could hear her.

“Fear not! We are not your enemy. The one who commands us loves you, and wants nothing more than for you to be restored to him. Lay down your weapons! You are forgiven!” Her palms thrust forward on the word “forgiven” and a great rushing wind burst forth in every direction. The men were buffeted about by the blast and could barely keep their balance. Hushed voices washed over the three figures in the center of the room as the men were released from Abbadon’s influence and returned to themselves. All over the room, men lowered their weapons and fell to their knees.

“What are you doing?! Get up you fools! She is nothing!! I am the one who commands you!” Abbadon screeched at the men in desperation

“You have no power here demon.” Dylan closed in with clenched fists.

Abbadon glared back warily as his adversary stalked him. “I am the King of the Pit! This world was given to me by my master! I am not to be trifled with, boy!” He spat the last word as an insult, but Dylan merely grinned back, not slowing his pace at all.

“I won’t trifle with you. I will deal with you exactly as you deserve to be dealt with.” Dylan closed the gap with one more stride and grabbed the demon by the lapels of his designer suit. In one swift movement, Dylan threw the creature against one of the great stone pillars in the foyer. “There is only one King. The one who has called me has the power here. Can you see that now? Should I speak His name? Will that convince you?”

“No!” Abbadon cowered against the cold marble. All semblance of his former confidence having evaporated beneath Dylan’s fiery glare. Even the men who still surrounded them shrank back. Many were trying to gather their bearings and come to grips with the new reality, that their leader was no longer who they wanted to follow.

Dinah put her hand gently on her cousin’s shoulder, a quiet request for restraint implied by the touch. Once again, power flowed into Dylan, but this time it called him to peace instead of action. He inhaled deeply, centering his focus on who he belonged to.

“I want you to deliver a message to your master,” Dinah’s voice was calm, implying no imminent threat.

“Am I to be your errand boy now?” Abbadon hissed derisively.

“You can convey our message, or you can be the message. It’s up to you.” This time there was no mistaking the danger in her still, even tone.

“What would you have me say?” The demon knew he was in no position to argue.

“The One who was, and is, and is to come, has claimed this world as His own, and there is nothing that can separate us from Him. No matter what your master has planned, he will fail. The victory was won over two thousand years ago. You are both destined to return to the pit you are so proud to rule over. For eternity.”

Dinah could see the fear in Abbadon’s eyes. Despite his claims of dominion, he wanted to be free of the pit. He wanted to rule on Earth, not under it. Even his basic nature was to want to draw closer to the Creator’s creation.

“You know I speak the truth. Now go and speak that same truth to your master. Remind him who the Conqueror truly is! In Jesus’ Name!”

The moment Dinah spoke the savior’s name a tremendous crack resounded through the building and the marble foyer opened like a great maw to swallow Abbadon. Sheer panic reigned over the hardened warriors surrounding the cousins as the former temple of worldly knowledge shuddered and began to crumble around them. Their screams mixed with the thunder of falling stone as they tried to escape.

Dylan grabbed Dinah’s hand and she could sense his fear. Without stopping to think about what she was doing, she pushed the peace she felt in her soul outward from herself to cover Dylan as well. Immediately his hand relaxed in hers, despite the chaos that rained down, quite literally, around them. She knew there was no way she could explain what was happening within her, or how she was able to do what she had been doing. Dinah just knew that faith was the key, and as long as she trusted in Him things would work out exactly as they were meant to. She need only follow The Light.

Dust billowed up from the building’s collapse as Dylan and Dinah stood in the center of it. A moment before Dylan was wracking his brain for any possible escape route, squinting through the choking cloud that engulfed them. The noise nearly overwhelming him all on its own. Then Dinah’s hand was squeezing his and his fear vanished. As though she knew what he had been searching for, she raised her other arm and pointed. Dylan turned in the direction Dinah indicated. Light blazed through the tumult and beckoned to them. In unison they obeyed its call.

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An Evening With the Carsons

Duane Deats — Mon, 10 Jul 2017 01:54:29 +0000

Recently I was lucky enough to enjoy my first Home Concert. If you’ve never had the privilege, let me enlighten you. The way it was first described to me was pretty apt. “It’s just like a regular concert, only smaller,” Jason Carson quipped as we were introduced. Jason is one half of an exceptionally engaging duo that call themselves The Carsons. His wife, Misty, makes up the other half. One of the great things about this home concert experience was the fact that I was able to spend some time getting to know the artists involved in a comfortable, intimate setting. The concert was hosted in the home of a friend, and the “crowd” for this show was all of eleven people. While your initial thought might be that isn’t much of a crowd, I can tell you that it was the perfect size for the venue. We were able to chat over appetizers before they began to play, and again afterwards as well. It isn’t often you get access to artists like that. What an opportunity to learn about them as people. It made their music that much more meaningful.

There’s something pure about a voice and an acoustic guitar. Bring in a little harmony and that purity turns into a religious experience. Misty and Jason compliment each other vocally about as well as anyone could hope for. They compliment each other in life just as well. This husband and wife duo obviously have chemistry. Their playful banter endeared them to their audience quickly as they shared their story of joy and heartache trying to find their place in the hyper-competitive world of Nashville music. It was easy to see that music is their passion, and that they are committed to making their passion their life.

Maybe you’re thinking, “How good can they be?” I promise you that the quality of their musicianship and vocals are as good as any professional you’ve ever heard. One verse into the first song, Mystery, and I was trying to figure out how this wasn’t a number one hit. Oh, Misty wrote that one, along with most of the others they played, by the way. Not only can this couple sing and play, but they write great music as well. The night was a personally narrated journey through their experiences. Literally, their autobiography in song.

What was really beautiful about all of this was the authenticity. Here was a couple sharing, not just their talent, but their vulnerability as well. As they played an original they wrote after a more challenging season of life, called More Wishes Than Stars, I came to understand just how much courage it takes to chase your dreams, and how much more courage it takes to redefine them.

Their remaking was summed up beautifully in their song , So Can I. The song represents the encouragement that the community of singers, songwriters, and musicians have to be to one another in an unforgiving industry. Misty and Jason have found a niche in Nashville that allows them to combine their passion for music and their passion for people. They run a consulting firm that helps young artists develop their talents, their product, and their vision in preparation for a career in music. This allows them to stand in the gap once filled by record labels, but left void due to the increasingly independent nature of the industry. Now they aren’t just sharing their music with the world, but sharing the craft of music so others can have their voice as well.

Even that isn’t enough of an impact for these two though. As they prepared to sing their final song, Love Wins, Misty and Jason shared with us their true purpose, not just for the evening, but for life. They passed around envelopes with the pictures of children from a village in Nicaragua. You see, they don’t just perform music for themselves. They don’t just help others navigate the rapids of Nashville. They are partner artists with Food For The Hungry. As such, they are committed to bettering the lives of children and communities that have no chance at doing so for themselves.

Now is every home concert going to be like an evening with The Carsons? Probably not. But if you have the chance to attend one, I would encourage you to take advantage of the opportunity. Maybe you’ll be as lucky as I was, and hear some great music, and more importantly, meet some really great people. If you’d like The Carsons to play for you visit their website at http://carsoncreative.me . You see, music isn’t just their career, or their passion. It’s their legacy and their ministry. Sounds like a life lived on purpose to me.

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Shepherd

Duane Deats — Mon, 15 May 2017 01:11:13 +0000

Peace settled on the clearing in a nearly physical way. Its contrast to the violence of the events that had just taken place was stark. Isaac stood at the very edge of the clearing, where he had dispersed his father’s ashes what seemed like a lifetime ago. He was able to survey the entire valley from the overlook. Isaac had grown up in the desert of Arizona surrounded by some incredible panoramas, but the view before him now was breathtaking. It gave him cause to reflect and simply admire creation’s splendor. The appreciation he felt reminded him of a memory. It was not his memory though. Never the less, its clarity could not be denied. He knew it did not belong to him, yet somehow it had found its way into his conscious mind.

In this vision, a spectacular garden stretched out before him. Lush plants of every kind blossomed and bloomed, vibrant colors exploding from their petals. Succulent fruit trees, with branches bowing under the weight of their abundant harvest, gave shade to all manner of creature both great and small. Birds dressed in the most beautiful plumage imaginable soared above him. The call of a multitude of beasts rang out through the valley below. Their chorus almost melodic. Isaac breathed in the heady scent of lilac coupled with citrus. Each inhaled breath revived his spirit and every exhale cleansed all the impurity from his soul.

A breeze caressed his face, the warmth a welcome change from the chill that had seeped into his bones throughout their ascent. Isaac couldn’t figure out how it was possible to literally feel the warmth within a memory. That he was remembering someone else’s experience in the first place was strange enough without the physical sensations it inspired. With senses so acute and responsive to the scene before him, confusion about where he actually was engulfed him. Experiencing sights and smells so real made it nearly impossible to determine if what appeared to be truth was a dream, or if he had been miraculously transported to what could only be described as Eden. As soon as he thought the name, a truth resonated in Isaac’s mind and there was no longer any doubt about where he was. Eden. The birthplace of the world. His perfect garden. Satisfaction swelled in his heart as he assessed his work. But it wasn’t his work. It was His work.

“Yes, son, it is my work.” The same voice that had spoken to him earlier reverberated through him again.

“How am I seeing this?” Isaac spoke the words in hushed reverence, “How is it I am present, here, in Your garden?”

“You are here because I am here. I am everywhere. I am present within all things and have always been. I am within you. I have chosen you for my purpose, so now you are where I am as well.” Isaac felt unimaginable joy pulse within him.

“Thank you, Father! I am undeserving of such a gift.”

“That’s where you are wrong. Because of my son you are perfect in my sight. He has made you deserving of this place, and of me. This is what I want for all my children. You will bring them to me and reunite my family.”

Isaac knew there had always been a calling on his life, but he had never imagined it to be anything so overwhelming as what had just been revealed to him. The joy so recently inhabiting him was replaced by all encompassing doubt. Who was he that he could unite God’s family? He wasn’t a great speaker like his cousin, Dylan, or a military leader like Lucas. Dinah had always been able to connect with people with ease. Isaac had spent his life in relative solitude. His circle of friends had been loyal, but few. Of all the people in his life however, he had been most closely bonded with his father. It was that loss that had affected the trajectory of his life most profoundly. His dad had commissioned him with the responsibility to live out his faith. Now that commission had taken on an entirely new meaning.

“What is it that you doubt?” God spoke gently, without accusation.

“I doubt myself. There are so many more qualified people to do what you need done.” Shame colored Isaac’s cheeks.

“What you are saying is you don’t trust me to know what you are capable of better than you do. Though I have known you before you were even a thought, and designed you exactly as you are, you believe I am mistaken?” The lord posed the question in a such a way that Isaac felt as though he had hurt His feelings.

“No! Of course not, Lord! I trust you!” Isaac was desperate to convince him that his faith was sufficient even though he knew it was not.

“If you trust me, then you must trust yourself. I have created you for this purpose. I will give you strength when you need to be strong. I will give you wisdom and discernment when you need guidance. The path will not be easy, but I will be with you.” Each word brought comfort and confidence.

The scene before Isaac changed. Graffitied concrete replaced the garden. Rubble cluttered the streets amidst the monoliths that once symbolized the greatness a, now broken, city could barely hope to achieve again. People more closely resembling wraiths huddled in alleys between the fallen spires of man’s overconfidence. Their sunken cheeks and sallow skin belied tragedy ongoing and severe. Children, covered in filth, cowered behind their parents. Worse than their physical state was the emptiness in their eyes. Abject hopelessness pierced pools of innocence.

Isaac’s breath caught in his throat and tears stung his eyes as he recognized, possibly for the first time, the truly unmet need his world was now faced with. It was not their hunger, or their filth that struck him. It was the fear that limited their every movement. A fear that overtook every thought and brought worry that even a base existence was impossible. There was no light at the end of their tunnel anymore. Only more darkness, yearning, and terror.

Faith had become such a taboo subject with the rise of relative socialist ideals that the marginalized no longer had a servant. They had vocal champions, but voice was the extent of their actions. Those who had actually been the ones to minister to the poor were bullied into silence for their belief in right and wrong. Now the desolate were used as propaganda to advance a cause. They were no longer human. In reality, they never were to the ones who paraded them out like mascots whenever they wanted to punish the wealthy or the righteous for their very existence.

In that moment, Isaac began to see the world through the eyes of the father. At first the sorrow nearly broke him, but then it released a rage at the injustice he could barely control. Isaac felt fire overtake him from the inside, a billowing inferno of white heat pouring out from a broken heart in righteous anger, ready to consume the evil that had created such loss.

“Lord, tell me how to stop this! I can’t let this continue!”

“I will show you the way. Your words will be my words.”

“I am ready Father! Use me for your purpose!”

The flames in Isaac’s soul began to build around him. They enclosed him and pressed in. He could no longer see the city or its people. The fire grew hotter the closer it drew to him, until he could no longer look upon it. Isaac closed his eyes and he could hear the crackling of the flames grow louder. Everything else was blotted out and there was nothing but heat and noise. In the moment Isaac was sure he would be overcome a great rushing wind quenched the flames and left him in silence.

“Arise and fulfill my purpose for you!” The word of the Lord was sheer power.

“Yes, Lord! I am but a tool in your hand.” Isaac’s words were a whisper in comparison to the voice of God.

“No, you are much more than that.”

Isaac’s eyes flew open and he found himself lying at the edge of the cliff. Devin was crouched over him, worry etched in every line of his face.

“Are you alright?!” The panic in Devin’s voice undeniable.

“I’m fine.” Isaac sat up as he spoke.

“What happened? One minute you were fine and the next you went rigid and nearly fell over the edge. I barely caught you.”

“I was with God.” Isaac didn’t know what else to say so he just spoke the truth.

“With God? What do you mean with God?”

“I mean he called me to himself and I was where he was.”

“Are you sure it was God? You were so hot I thought you were going to spontaneously combust at one point!”

“I’m sure!” Isaac couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well what did he tell you?”

Isaac smiled in awe as he recalled the word burned into his mind the moment before his eyes opened.

“I am going to make you the shepherd of my people.”

Check out all the chapters of The Mountain by Duane Deats

The post Shepherd first appeared on Relatively Random.

Tempest

Duane Deats — Tue, 21 Feb 2017 02:04:27 +0000

The vase shattered against the wall, ceramic shrapnel rebounding an impressive distance. Kieran took a deep breath as he surveyed the destruction before him. His penthouse, once ordered and pristine, looked as if it had been vandalized. In reality it had been the victim of a rage far more powerful than any vengeful enemy. This was not the first time he had witnessed the true meaning of the phrase “Hell hath no fury…” Kieran searched for the right words to sooth the tempest that was his partner, but finding none, decided silence was a wiser tack to take. He took solace in the fact the projectile had found the only wall in the cavernous room and not one of the enormous windows that lined the other three borders.

Knowing from previous experience the unpredictable nature of these tantrums, he decided to make himself comfortable on the overstuffed sofa to wait things out. Kieran thought how odd he must look as he danced his way through the chaos strewn across the floor. He had heard of tiptoeing through the tulips and nearly laughed at his own spectacle, treading carefully in an attempt to avoid the antique shards and their former floral residents. At six feet six inches tall and fifty pounds beyond the two hundred mark, he was not what anyone would call dainty. After he had eased his way down onto the sofa beneath the largest window that overlooked the Hudson, the newly minted silence became apparent. His trip through the mine field had left him the sole resident living in the crosshairs of an eerily quiet woman. Kieran was now in the eye.

“And what exactly do you think you’re doing?” Gretchen didn’t even pretend to hide her contempt.

“Waiting for you to tire yourself out.” Now that she was talking, Kieran knew he had to match strength with strength.

“You should be just as angry as I am! You were the one made to look a fool!” Her tone was venomous.

“And what good would it do for both of us to lose control? I much prefer sanity.” He never took his eyes from hers. To blink was to surrender.

“Sanity?! You expect me to be sane when some interloper dressed like a druid just stole our moment, and our crowd’s loyalty? He made them think!! There is nothing more dangerous to a mob than a conscience.” Acid scorched his ears with every syllable she uttered.

“What would you have had me do? Should I have strangled him with my bare hands? Leapt from the podium and crushed him? Showing concern would have been worse than anything he did. That would have been the weakness you fear so much.” Kieran remained implacable.

“Weakness? You think I fear weakness? You may not be as intelligent as I thought. I fear losing control. I am afraid of what our benefactor will do to us if we can’t control the masses. What concerns me even more is that you don’t share my fears. Why is that? Why are you not smart enough to be afraid?” Her derision was palpable.

“I am not afraid because death comes for us all. When and how is beyond my control, so why would I waste time being afraid? If my life is forfeit over this incident then so be it. Somehow I don’t believe that will be the case however. There is far more going on than we have been led to believe. I don’t like being a pawn, nor will I continue to be one, for anyone. I want to know what is really going on and who we are dealing with. Does that seem unreasonable to you?” Kieran posed the question as calmly as he could.

“If you had wanted to know what was really going on you would have asked before we got involved to start with. Changing the rules now is going to cost us far more than knowing the answers to your questions will gain us. What we need to do is find the man in the robes and execute him in the most public way possible. It is the only way to regain the momentum we had. The deadline is nearly upon us, and we don’t have nearly enough people to serve our purpose at this point.” Gretchen had regained her composure and was doing her best to appeal to Kieran’s logical side.

“Maybe you’re right, but I don’t intend to keep making the same mistakes I’ve already made.” Quiet resolve shown in the set of his jaw.

“Enough!” Gretchen screamed, “I won’t allow you to ruin everything I’ve worked for! Maybe you’re ok with going back to having and being nothing, but I’m not, and I won’t let you drag me down with you!”

Kieran rose from his seat and turned to face the hulking outlines of black on black that was the city skyline. He had known for some time that he was a tool of convenience for Gretchen. She would stay as long as he was useful to her, but her ambitions far outstripped his own. The idea of losing her was not one he relished, but the events of the day had given him pause. He had to look at his life and consider what he wanted it to be. The truth was that he was not satisfied with things the way they were at the moment. This was not the vision he had for this new world.

When the man in the hood demonstrated a power that required no violence, no intimidation, only a call to something more fundamentally human, Kieran recognized what he and Gretchen had missed in their approach. The man didn’t call for punishment. Just the opposite. He called for self-reflection, and mercy. What amazed Kieran was how quickly the bloodlust was silenced in that once ravenous mob. The connection the man was able to establish between the accusers and the accused was the key.

Kieran chewed on the words he needed to speak for a long moment before he faced Gretchen. In that moment, none of the beauty that had drawn him to her in the first place was visible. All he could see was the greed, the anger, and the jealousy that she had poured out all over their home. It was the confirmation he needed.

Just as Kieran drew a deep breath in preparation for what he knew would be as difficult a sentence as he had ever uttered, the lights in the room were extinguished. He heard Gretchen scream, a blood curdling shriek that left him both breathless, and desperate to save her from whatever horrors may have found her. Her cry was abruptly terminated, its end even more terrifying for Kieran than its beginning.

“Gretchen!” Kieran bellowed as he groped his way back toward the last place he knew her to be standing. This trip a far cry from his careful crossing earlier. The debris splayed across the floor proved even more treacherous in the pitch blackness than he imagined it to be in the light. The lack of response to his stricken call propelled him forward. Fortune was not with him however, and Kieran found himself half running, half crawling after the voice of a ghost. The remnants of the vase mercilessly tore at his hands and knees as he lurched through the dark. He could feel his throat constricting in panic as thoughts raced through his mind. What if he couldn’t reach her in time? What if the next thing he put his hand on was her lifeless form?

Before he could slip any deeper into the abyss of fear he was creating for himself, the lights exploded into brilliant existence. Kieran rolled to his back and covered his eyes in self-defense. With his eyes squeezed shut against the glare, he strained to hear any sign of Gretchen. His own breathing was all that greeted him. Kieran shifted his position so as to be able to get up while still shielding his eyes. He was not prepared for what he saw.

The room had been returned to its original pristine condition. Gretchen was nowhere to be found. It was as though her entire tirade had never happened. Confused and disoriented, all he could think of with any clarity was that he had not reached Gretchen in time. She was gone, who knows where, and there was nothing he could do about it. How had this happened? She needed him and he had failed her.

“You have not failed her. Yet.” A soft voice, full of power and intensity, brought the torrent of his thoughts to a grinding halt. Terror gripped him as recognition broke over his consciousness. Kieran spun toward where the voice had come from. What he saw left him paralyzed.

A man in an impeccably tailored black suit sat on the sofa beneath the window. He appeared to be completely at ease, his hands resting in his lap. When he spoke again, his colorless eyes burned.

“Kieran, I am disappointed. You don’t seem pleased to see your master.”

Check out all the chapters of The Mountain by Duane Deats

The post Tempest first appeared on Relatively Random.

Blinded

Duane Deats — Sun, 22 Jan 2017 14:07:37 +0000

Dinah whimpered in relief at the sight of Dylan and collapsed to her knees beside him. She immediately put two fingers to his left wrist and located the pulse she was desperate to find. Pulling him onto her lap, she cradled his head while she examined his features for signs of injury or abuse. Dinah was relieved to find neither.

“Dylan,” she called his name softly, not wanting to scare him. Her cousin didn’t respond.

“Dylan.” Her voice was firm this time, but still Dylan didn’t stir.

“Dylan!” Desperation began to creep in this time and she shook him by the shoulders. Finally, a groan seeped from his inert form and she breathed a sigh of relief. His eyes fluttered open and she smiled, tears of gratitude flowing from hers.

“How did you find me?” His voice cracked as he tried to sit up.

“It’s a long story. What happened to you? How did you end up here?”

“I have no idea. I remember being attacked from behind on the rooftop. I didn’t even get to see who jumped me before being thrown off. I must have passed out on the way down and landed on a balcony or something. There’s no way I could have lived otherwise. I woke up on the slab, but I was sure I was dead. I’m not really sure what happened next. I must have been dreaming. It wasn’t actually possible.” His voice gave way on him at the end.

“Nothing is impossible anymore. Trust me.” Dinah stood and offered Dylan her hand. “Can you stand?”

“Yeah. I’m not hurt, just a little groggy.” He took her hand and found his feet. He also found himself in his cousin’s embrace. He patted her back and tried to reassure her. “I’m ok. I promise. I don’t know how, but I am.”

“You have no idea how worried I was. I just thank God you’re here, and alive.” Dinah squeezed him tighter for a moment longer and then released him, surveying the rest of him to make sure he wasn’t just playing off an injury.

“I gotta say, I’m pretty happy to see you too. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get back. Do you have a transport waiting?”

“Not exactly. You aren’t the only one with a tale to tell when it comes to ending up here.”

“What do you mean?” Dylan’s confusion was plain on his face.

“Let’s just say that my transportation was other-worldly.” Dinah couldn’t help but laugh at her own play on words. The day’s events had been so impossible, improbable, supernatural, that her only response could be joyous wonder.

“We can talk about it later. Right now we need to figure out how to get back without being caught.” Dinah started to move back toward the door she had come from when Dylan cried out in shock, causing her to start violently. “What is it?!”she shrieked.

“Y-you,” Dylan stammered, “You’re glowing!”

Dinah felt foolish for not remembering that there was ethereal light emanating from her very being. She also wondered how Dylan hadn’t noticed before now. She looked down sheepishly and mumbled, “I know.”

“What do you mean you know?” Dylan was still gaping at her.

“Well, it’s kind of hard to not know you’re glowing, don’t you think?” Dinah tried to make light of it.

“But, how?” Dylan clearly wasn’t going to let it go, not that Dinah could blame him. It had to be shocking.

“It’s a gift from God.” Dinah thought saying things simply would be the best way to position it.

“Wait! You say that like He gave it to you personally. Not like you have found out you have this gift, but like He actually gave it to you.” Dylan did not sound nearly as skeptical as Dinah expected him to be.

“He did. He brought me here to you.”

“I’m pretty sure He brought me here too,” Dylan hesitated, considering how best to say what he wanted to next, finally deciding to just say it, “I didn’t get to see Him clearly, but his voice. Dinah, it was your dad’s voice.”

“I know. That’s how he appeared to me too.” Dinah’s eyes glistened with the same emotion that thickened her voice.

“It wasn’t actually your dad though was it? I mean, it couldn’t have been, right?” Dylan was almost apologetic as he asked.

“No, it wasn’t actually him, but I think God knew that would be the most comfortable and familiar way for you and I to experience Him.” Dinah stepped forward and took her cousin’s hand with an encouraging smile, “I know there is more to your story here, but before we get lost in that, we need to get back. The others need to know you’re alive.”

“Yeah. Ok. Do you know where we are?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

“Well, I did get to explore some before I blacked out again. My best guess is the old public library.” Dylan hoped he was wrong. Getting back to headquarters from there would be treacherous at best, and suicide at worst.

“Gotcha. Well that will make this interesting. Have you seen any patrols go by?” Her tone had that forced optimism Dylan had always loved about Dinah. Even in the darkest moments, she had always been a light. He wasn’t sure she even realized she was doing it, let alone the impact it had on those around her.

“Interesting. Yes, it will definitely be interesting.” Dylan laughed as he spoke, unable to hide his amusement.

“What’s so funny?” Dinah narrowed her eyes at him as she spoke.

“Nothing. You just always know how to make things a little easier, that’s all.”

Dinah shrugged, “You’re welcome, I guess.”

“I haven’t seen anything in the area, but I’m not sure how long I’ve been here, and I haven’t been conscious the whole time so there’s no telling what is going on out there with any certainty.”

“Then we are just going to have to be careful,” she chirped.

“You think?” Dylan punched Dinah in the shoulder. It was his customary response to her sarcasm.

They worked their way back upstairs. Dylan still was a little unnerved by Dinah’s status as a literal beacon of light. He knew, though, his own life was a far bigger miracle. A vast number of unexplainable things had happened since he ascended to the rooftop of that tower. His cousin’s luminescence was really on the tame side when it came down to it. He recognized that a deviation from his long held expectations of the world was in order. Clearly, it was not still the world he had believed it to be. It was a world infused with power he knew nothing about. Dylan was surprised that he wasn’t uncomfortable in his new reality. Apparently he was not as attached to normal as he thought he was.

Lost in his own thoughts, Dylan nearly ran into Dinah as they reached the top of the stairs that led to library’s foyer. He was about to step around her when she threw her arm out and pushed him back behind her. He noted with curiosity that she was no longer glowing, then he realized why.

An array of armed men had created a perimeter around the outer edge of the room. It was clear from their matching black uniforms and equipment that these were not rebel forces. Dylan could see the insignia of the New World government on the arm patch of the soldier standing right in front of them. His back was turned and there had been enough noise in the room to allow their approach to go unnoticed.

Dylan rested a hand on Dinah’s shoulder as he leaned in to whisper in her ear, “There’s too many of them. We will have to find another way out.”

Dinah remained silent and stationary. She could feel power swelling in her chest. The immediate panic and fear that had exploded in her mind at her first sight of the soldiers had been overwhelmed by indescribable peace and confidence. Her father’s voice spoke in the back of her mind.

“You know you have but to ask,” he soothed.

“Thank you Father,” she whispered.

“Who are you talking to? Come on! We have to go!” Dylan tugged at her arm, and still Dinah remained steadfast.

“Dylan, do you trust me?” Dinah searched his eyes for the answer to her question.

“Yes,” he replied after an extended pause.

“Then follow me and believe.”

Dinah pushed the energy she felt in her core outward, all the while praying and giving thanks for His protection. Immediately cries of confusion rang out from the men. Their hands flew to their eyes clawing at the darkness that had suddenly gripped them.

“Let’s go.” Dinah took Dylan’s hand and led her bewildered cousin quietly through the chaos. More sentries poured in from other parts of the building to investigate the cause of the commotion and they too were blinded the moment they entered the foyer.

“How are you doing this?” Dylan gasped as he stumbled after Dinah.

Before Dinah could answer a searing voice burned through the cacophony, stopping them just feet from the front door.

“That’s far enough. I can’t have you leaving our little party before I’ve even gotten to meet the guests of honor.”

Check out all the chapters of The Mountain by Duane Deats

The post Blinded first appeared on Relatively Random.

Awareness

Duane Deats — Tue, 20 Dec 2016 03:10:42 +0000

Devin’s throat was raw from the scream that tore through it when the gun was fired. The scene burned into his mind’s eye. It was as though time froze. From his vantage point, crouched by the fire, Devin could see every detail with a clarity that filled him with both terror and resignation. Isaac stood with his arms wide spread, as the third assailant squeezed the trigger of his AR-15. There was no possible way for him to stop Isaac’s death. He had never felt such helplessness in his entire life. All he could do was watch as his cousin was thrown backwards onto the frozen earth. His body crashed down in silent finality, an unmoving heap in the middle of the clearing.

The gunman looked down upon his victim in apparent detachment before turning his face toward Devin who remained rooted to the ground, completely immobilized by fear. Leaves crunched beneath the man’s feet as he paced closer, stepping over Isaac’s lifeless form. Each footfall felt like a hammer blow to Devin’s chest. The man’s presence seemed to pulse outward in blasts of energy that increased in direct proportion to his proximity. He had never wanted the ability to disappear more than he did right now however, with no place to hide, Devin could only await what he knew his fate to be. Unable to take his eyes away from Isaac, Devin sensed more than saw the intruder raise his gun to point the barrel at his chest. He tensed for the shot that would end his life, just like it had his cousin’s.

“So much for chosen.” A voice like a lit cigarette burned Devin’s ears. The word choice grabbed his attention and he looked up at the assassin.

“What do you mean chosen? Chosen by who? For what?” Devin was surprised he had been able to put voice to his thoughts. He was no coward, but he had never watched anyone executed right in front of him before either. It would appear he had become more desensitized to the violence of this new world than he had thought.

“Chosen by God to make straight your ways.” A voice ashed from behind a monster’s mask. The words would have staggered Devin had he not already been on his knees. His cousin acting as God’s emissary seemed a little far fetched. Recent events would be much easier to explain if it were true though. Seeing Isaac’s impact on the two other men in the clearing certainly left a void in reason. Something supernatural definitely was at work.

“If he is chosen by God then that would make you….” Devin’s voice trailed off as truth rolled through his mind. At that exact moment the most powerful surge of energy yet crashed over him. He could tell that the stranger was pleased by this recognition of his dark origin.

“Now you begin to see what’s really happening. This is my master’s world. You and everyone in this place belong to him.” There was reverence in the tone, or possibly fear.

“I don’t belong to anyone but me,” Devin retorted before he could stop himself, but the figure simply laughed a horrifying howl that sent chills down Devin’s spine.

“Then you have already given yourself over to him. Your independence is your undoing. Instead of the strength you believe it to be, it is your greatest weakness. Pride is my master’s favorite weapon against the weak-minded.”

Devin felt like he had been punched in the gut. Recognition of his own failing flooded his mind. Regret began to bubble like tar, ensnaring his thoughts in guilt. He looked up at the creature before him, as he now knew it was the furthest thing possible from human, and was surprised to see that it had lowered its gun. Triumph emanated from its mind. Devin knew now that the energy he felt before was really the demon’s consciousness overpowering him. It was drawing strength from his weakness, pain, and fear, but there was nothing he could do to stop those feelings in that moment.

“I thought you were going to kill me.” Devin stuttered the words, terrified he was asking for his own death.

“Then who would tell everyone their prophet is dead?” the demon’s voice burned even hotter in Devin’s mind.

Suddenly, a great rushing wind exploded in the clearing. It was unlike anything Devin had ever experienced before. All his breath was sucked from his lungs. He lay on the on the ground, gasping for air as the unreal scene unfolded. Trees were snapped liked matchsticks and thrown around like so much kindling. A blinding swirl of dead leaves and pine needles whipped through the air. Then it ceased as quickly as it commenced.

The fire had been instantly extinguished, yet a light almost too bright to look at was blazing from the center of the clearing. Devin had to shield his eyes with his arm, not just from the light, but from the heat. He imagined being exposed to a blast furnace felt similar. His antagonist was not faring any better than he was. The demon howled in pain as soon as the light and heat broke over them. Devin desperately searched for the source of the scorching heat but was blinded by the intensity of the light.

Then a voice reverberated through the clearing with such power it made the demon’s pulse of energy feel like a whisper in a hurricane. Devin flattened himself to the ground with his arms covering his head. Still, every cell in his body responded to the voice, drawn to it like it was being called home.

“Don’t be so fast to claim victory, demon! I am no prophet. Where you see a servant, the Master dwells. I died once, for all time. Death has no authority over me! Now be gone! Return to the pit from whence you came.” The voice grew steadily in power, which seemed impossible, even considering what Devin had already witnessed.

As soon as the voice was done speaking light exploded through Devin’s squeezed shut eyelids and he heard a wail filled with pain unlike anything he could have ever imagined. The smell of sulfur overwhelmed him to the point he had to roll over and wretch. Terror filled thoughts ran rampant through his stunned mind. Devin considered himself to be as level headed as they come. Demons and all powerful voices definitely didn’t fall into his realm of expertise. He wiped the sick form his lips and, with great trepidation, looked around to see where the voice had come from, unsure whether or not he actually wanted to know.

Before he could discern who had saved him, Devin came face to face with the smoldering pile of ash that had been his oppressor. There was no longer any doubt where the sulfurous stench had come from that made him ill. Just as Devin made the effort to get to his knees, a hand came in offering assistance. Without thinking, Devin took it and was pulled to his feet. To his utter amazement, Isaac stood before him. The trademark smirk he had inherited from his father tugging at the corner of his lips. Devin couldn’t conceal the shock on his face. The sheer impossibility of what was happening was more than he could comprehend.

“What? Aren’t you happy to see me?!” Isaac quipped sarcastically.

“But you’re dead. I watched you die.” Devin spoke with justifiable incredulity. He wanted to believe that anyone in his position would have reacted in a similar way.

“Death can no longer hold me.” Isaac spoke with an authority that was almost as unfathomable as his resurrection from the dead.

“What does that mean?! How is that possible? And how did you know what to say to those men? Where did that come from?” He could hear the demand in his questions but felt entirely unapologetic. Considering what he had just been through he felt he deserved answers.

Isaac clearly didn’t feel the same as he turned away from Devin and walked toward the other two men who were still in the clearing, lying on the ground. He knelt next to the first man, Alfred, gently shook him awake and helped him to his feet.

“I know you don’t understand what has happened here, but you need to go to your daughter. Just know that you have been set free, and so has your daughter, Ellie. Now go, and tell no one of what you have seen here.” Isaac spoke with the same authority as Devin had heard in the voice speaking to the demon. Alfred stumbled from the clearing, going back the way they had come.

Isaac moved on to the second man who had already gotten to his feet. Leeroy watched warily as Isaac approached him.

“You have nothing to fear from me, Leeroy. In fact, I have great plans to prosper you and your family. Go to your mother and tell her that her faith has restored you to her. Faith like hers is rare. I will call on you when I need you.” As he spoke these last words, Isaac placed his hand on Leeroy’s chest and a glow emanated from beneath his palm. Leeroy gasped as though he were emerging from a prolonged stint under water. He grabbed Isaac’s shoulders to keep from falling to his knees.

“I am yours!” Leeroy breathed the words as he continued to try to catch his breath.

“Thank you. Now go and tell no one of what you have seen here.” Isaac removed his hand from Leeroy’s chest and the man ran after his companion.

Isaac turned back to Devin who had watched everything that passed between his cousin and the two men with wonder and amazement.

Devin fell to his knees. He could see his cousin standing before him, but he was so much more than the man who he had climbed the mountain with that morning. The man had been transfigured.

“Can you see me now?” Isaac spread his arms, “Do you recognize me?”

“Yes, Lord! I can see you!”

Check out all the chapters of The Mountain by Duane Deats

The post Awareness first appeared on Relatively Random.