the ark

Last updated on: June 10, 2008 at 12:33 pm by Tim Suttle

the ark 2008-06-10T12:33:00-06:00 Tim Suttle

LOGO Patheos Explore the world's faith through different perspectives on religion and spirituality! Patheos has the views of the prevalent religions and spiritualities of the world.

The Ark

Once there was a father and mother who had a little son. He was a good boy and was their only child and they loved him very much. They played with the little boy for hours and he was the light of their life. The little boy was a naturally friendly child. From and early age the father and mother taught the boy about the importance of friendship. They modeled friendship for the boy and they trained and instructed him on what it meant to be caring and kind. They dreamed that he would grow to be a loving and caring person. They made a special point to teach the boy the importance of being a good friend to the poor and the marginalized in their town.
So that’s what the boy did.

The boy struck up friendships with some of the other little boys from the rough neighborhoods. They held sleepovers, played football and baseball and went to school together. Sometimes the little boy would tell his father and mother that his friends would pick on him. Some of the boys from the rough neighborhoods didn’t have fathers and mothers who loved them. He knew their homes were not peaceful, but often were violent and scary places to live. So he would always make up with the other little boys and try to be a good friend to them – even when they were mean and cruel. The boy’s father and mother were so proud of him for enduring the bullying and staying with his friendships. More than once the little boy came home with a black eye or bumps and bruises because of his dealings with some of these kids from the rough part of town, but he stuck it out for the most part.

As the boy grew older friendships became more difficult to navigate. Alcohol and drugs began to creep into the culture and the little boy was determined to maintain these childhood relationships, even though more than a few of his friends experimented with drugs. He resisted the drugs for years, but over time the boy became desensitized to the addictions of his friends. He began to dabbled in drugs a little bit himself. Like many other little boys who grow to adolescence, he felt a strange new alienation from his father and mother. He no longer felt like the light of their life. He didn’t feel like their little boy anymore. He was lonely. It was not long before the little boy, now a young man, fell headlong into drug addiction. He dropped out of school. Lost touch with many of his friends and soon he had runaway to live on the streets and feed his drug habit. He became embroiled in a life of petty crimes and violence anesthetized only by his drug induced haze. He could not escape from it. His addiction consumed him.

The father and mother were devastated. Their grief consumed them. They were not angry with their boy. They were simply overcome with sorrow and grief. They would search for the boy day and night and whenever they would find him they’d bring him home, clean him up and try to get him help…only to see him run away again in pursuit of his addiction. He was lost. But the father and mother remembered their son. They would tell each other stories of his childhood and innocence. The mother and father remembered how much fun their little boy was and how peaceful and happy he had been. They remembered the dreams they had for him…dreams that did not include this addiction.

Finally they resolved to do something drastic. They quit their jobs, liquidated all of their finances, sold their home and many of their belongings keeping only what they could fit in a single box moving truck. They climbed into the truck and set out to find their son. As they drove to the part of town they had found him in before, a dark rain began to fall. All through the night the rain-soaked parents poked around crack-houses and crash-pads looking for their son. After searching for days, sleeping only a few hours in the cab of the rented truck, they finally found their little boy, thin, pale and emaciated from malnutrition, squatting in a crack house in the rough neighborhoods.

They helped him stagger to the cab of the truck and just began to drive. Because of his intense addiction his detox and withdrawal sickness was severe. The family could only travel a few hours a day. Most of their time was spent in cheap motels watching their son alternate between sleeping and getting sick. For forty days and nights they floated on the waters of despair. The box truck was their ark. The only remnants of their former life crammed into the back of it. The father and mother helped their son fight for his life and finally break through to show signs of life. Slowly the boy was able to eat again. Color began to come back to his face, but there was very little conversation. Nor did the boy ask the father and mother where they were headed. They just drove.

Finally one day the boy awoke to notice that the truck had stopped. The father and mother were unloading their belongings from the back of the truck. They boy stepped out of the cab and began to help carry the family possessions inside. It was a small house, in a small town. Much smaller than the one they came from. The mother and father began to help their son re-enter a whole new life. He became a part of a new school and made new friends all under their close supervision. The parents fully entered in to their son’s new life and never let him get too far out of their sight. Everything the boy did they were a part of. Whenever he began to struggle with the demons of his past they were there to help him through, to talk him down.

The boy began to see that he was a hopeless case. He knew that he would under the waters of chaos and addiction if he were given another opportunity to do so. But he also noticed that his father and mother were always close by. They supported and encouraged him. They talked with him till the wee hours of the morning. They would tell the son of their hopes and dreams for him – hopes for a life of purpose and happiness. Dreams that their son would live a life of peace and harmony…dreams that he began to share. They would constantly remind him of how much they loved him. They kept him accountable. They fully entered in to every facet of his life.

As time went on the boy realized that he had not really changed – he was still an addict. But his life had drastically changed because of the faithfulness of his parents. Everywhere he turned they were there. No matter what he had done in his life up to that point, they had loved him. They had many more rules now, formidable barriers between the dehumanizing agents of chaos and addiction and the life of their precious boy. But he didn’t seem to mind so much. They mother and father promised their boy that they would never move again – this was their new home. They promised him that they would never abandon him. That no matter what they were going to see this second chance to fruition. They even had the old box truck parked out behind the house to remind them of the journey that had brought them to a whole new life together.

As the boy grew into a man and became more and more removed from his addiction, he would retell the story of how his parents came to rescue him; how they crammed everything from a former life into a box truck and sailed the stormy ocean together for forty days and nights. And with only the few things they could fit in that one truck they built a new life on the other side. Slowly the meaning of his own story began changed in his own mind. No longer did his drug addiction dominate the narrative of his life, but the central figure became the patience and love of his father and mother. If he felt temptation to return to his addiction, he would remember the grief and the sorrow of his father and mother. He knew that his life would have been lost were it not for them. He knew that he would have died if his parents had not entered in to his life – if they would have forgotten about him. But they remembered him. They found him. They rescued him and gave him a new life.

Uncategorized

Previous Post

May 30, 2008

See the People

Next Post

June 12, 2008 Let Your Life Speak

Browse Our Archives

Select a Category abortion corruption Donald Trump elections Empire Entertainment Ezra Klein ideology Justice Lacan politics race Sports Ta-Nehisi Coates Uncategorized

Select a Month September 2026 March 2026 September 2025 March 2025 June 2024 January 2024 December 2023 May 2023 February 2023 October 2022 April 2022 March 2022 December 2021 November 2021 October 2021 September 2021 August 2021 September 2020 July 2020 June 2020 March 2020 September 2019 July 2019 March 2019 February 2019 January 2019 November 2018 October 2018 September 2018 August 2018 July 2018 June 2018 May 2018 April 2018 March 2018 February 2018 December 2017 November 2017 October 2017 September 2017 August 2017 May 2017 April 2017 March 2017 February 2017 January 2017 December 2016 November 2016 October 2016 September 2016 July 2016 June 2016 May 2016 April 2016 March 2016 February 2016 January 2016 December 2015 November 2015 October 2015 September 2015 August 2015 July 2015 June 2015 May 2015 April 2015 March 2015 February 2015 January 2015 December 2014 November 2014 October 2014 September 2014 August 2014 July 2014 June 2014 May 2014 April 2014 March 2014 February 2014 January 2014 December 2013 November 2013 October 2013 September 2013 August 2013 July 2013 June 2013 May 2013 April 2013 March 2013 February 2013 January 2013 December 2012 November 2012 October 2012 September 2012 August 2012 July 2012 June 2012 May 2012 April 2012 March 2012 February 2012 January 2012 December 2011 November 2011 October 2011 September 2011 August 2011 July 2011 June 2011 May 2011 April 2011 March 2011 February 2011 January 2011 August 2010 July 2010 May 2010 April 2010 March 2010 February 2010 January 2010 December 2009 September 2009 August 2009 July 2009 June 2009 May 2009 April 2009 February 2009 January 2009 December 2008 October 2008 September 2008 August 2008 July 2008 June 2008 May 2008 April 2008 March 2008 February 2008 January 2008 November 2007 October 2007 September 2007 August 2007 July 2007 June 2007 May 2007 April 2007 March 2007 February 2007 January 2007 December 2006 October 2006 September 2006 August 2006 July 2006 June 2006 May 2006 April 2006 December 2004 November 2004 October 2004 September 2004 August 2004

TAKE THE

Religious Wisdom Quiz

I became queen through a beauty contest, hiding my Jewish identity at my cousin's advice. Who am I?

Select your answer to see how you score.

Ruth Esther Vashti Sarah