Death of
the Dragon
The family
laughed. They ate. They moved about their home, living their
lives as they always had, not knowing that just beyond their safe haven, a dragon awaited. He moved closer, quietly,
stealthily, day-by-day until one morning he was close enough to knock
on their door. They opened it, still unknowing, and try as they might
to slam the door against him once they recognized him, he swung wide with his tail and created
a barrier through which they could not push.
That is the
day the dragon moved inside. He brought with him sulfurous breath,
burning fire and a heavy cloud of despair. From the day he roared
into the house, he stayed with them, audaciously eating at their
table, sleeping in the front room, an obstacle around which they
always had to step.
Every day
the family held hands around the table and asked that the dragon be
removed from their home. They wanted him gone, to be sure, but as
they were so few and small and only had so much power against him,
they resolved to continue living their lives, stepping around him as best they
could. They still laughed, they still ate and they had faith that one
day they would have freedom from this dragon.
Once a
week, they opened the door and marched out into the forest, a line of
warriors holding their swords firmly and singing songs to encourage
and strengthen each other. The trees that lined the road were thick,
a canopy over their heads, blocking out the sun that they were
certain was still hanging in the sky, although they could not see it.
When they
reached the clearing, each member of the family, each a soldier in
the fight, pulled out his or her sword and chipped away at the
dragon's tail or took aim at his clawed feet or open maw. Even the
littlest one of them, although her sword was heavy and was too big
for her tiny hands, stabbed away at the awful dragon. Because, out of
all of them, the dragon had come especially for her. And when the sun
went down, they trudged back through the dark forest, saddened
although never defeated with the dragon following, scathed and
wounded, but never dead.
Yet, behind
them all, close to the tail of that dreaded dragon, followed Another.
They knew He was there, even when they could not see Him, because He
was a strong Warrior, a Healer, poised to defeat the dragon when the
time was right. But until that moment, He would quietly march at the
end of the line of soldiers and prayer warriors and would fight in
the clearing with them, sword clashing along with their own. He
walked back through the forest with them, entering the home when they
did, smiling when they laughed and holding them close to Himself when
they lost heart, doubting the dragon would ever leave.
Some days
the dragon would shrink, becoming transparent, a shadow rather than
shape. The family could imagine, for a fleeting moment, that he was
gone. But as suddenly as he disappeared, he would fill out, becoming
substance again and they were reminded that this battle was a long
one, not to be finished overnight.
On
occasion, when the night was especially quiet, the sky dark and
starless, and the dragon slumbered the sleep of the victorious, the
Healer would speak words into the ears and hearts and souls of each
of them. “I am here. Sleep well, my warriors. I will keep watch. In
the end, this battle is Mine. I will
defeat your dragon.”
Those
battles were relentless. The tides of championship ebbed and flowed,
as one often sees during a long war. Victories small and large were
celebrated with gusto. Setbacks always felt like defeat. But the
Healer remained close, available for consult, though only seen
through the evidence of His care, never seen Himself.
And
finally, one day when the blanket of forest seemed ready to suffocate
them, they came to the clearing as they had done so many times
before. Set to take action, swords raised and ready to strike, they
were taken aback as out of the darkness came One with a mightier
sword, a broader swing and a greater authority. With one stroke, the
tail was cut off, no longer able to sweep their feet from under them
and with another slice, the dragon's head was removed, no longer able
to breathe his disgusting fire of sickness.
The dragon
lay where he fell, defeated. The family was free. They danced
back through the forest, its darkness holding their joy close to them
in comfort instead of suppressing and stifling it as had been the
case just moments before. The littlest warrior was lifted high on
their shoulders, home again and healed.
The Healer
joined them as He had before and remained with them always,
continuing to speak words of life and comfort into them, because He
knew that even as that particular dragon was now gone, others always
lay close by, each biding their time. This family, as every family
does, will have dragons come in and live with them for a time. But He
will fight with them against the dragons' pain and the brokenness and
the suffering they cause, until that time when He defeats all
dragons. Then we, each of us, from the biggest to the littlest, will
be made whole.
