Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: How to be Saved (07/02/26)
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TITLE: The Quest | Previous Challenge Entry
By Joanna Dietz
07/09/26 -
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From my youth, I had heard stories of the King’s city. The golden walls. The gates of pearl. The absence of tears.
Childhood now behind me, my soul had become acquainted with sorrow, with iniquity, and with pain. It was deliverance from these three, not a fascination with legendary architecture, that had propelled my quest to the King’s city.
I had prepared for five years. My camels were laden with treasure. I wore an embroidered coat. Within my satchel, I carried the names of dozens of respected references and of the many sick, widowed, and orphaned I had aided. All this I had done in hopes of being granted entrance into the King’s city.
And now, only a stone’s throw lay between me and my fate.
The afternoon sun beamed down mercilessly. Calling to a servant, I instructed him to settle my camels under some palms not far from the city wall. Before I approached, I would sit and watch the goings-on of the King’s gates.
Before long, a caravan of camels came into sight. One after another continued to appear, each one lavishly ornamented and carrying spices, exotic animals, and jewels. Presently, a keen-eyed man of about forty descended from one of the camels. Sauntering up to the gatekeeper’s window, he made a sweeping bow.
“I’ve come to request entrance into the King’s city,” he began. “See, I come with a present. Such a gift the King surely would not reject, would he?”
“Friend, the King cannot accept your gift,” the gatekeeper began.
The rich man’s face turned beet red. Cursing, he spit.
“Does this King not know who I am? Do I not own the mines of Africa? The pearls of the sea?”
“Friend, please listen—”
“Speak no more!”
The man turned on his heels. As his caravan faded into the horizon, I gazed at my handful of camels. If the rich man’s gift had been insufficient, how could I, with a fraction of his wealth, ever hope to enter?
My thoughts were interrupted.
Wearing a brown tunic and clutching a wooden staff, another man approached the gates. The wrinkles on his sunned face betrayed his age, but his gentle demeanor told of the good heart beating beneath his simple exterior. He came to the gatekeeper’s window.
“I have no gold or silver,” he said calmly. “But, from my youth I have always served the King.” He pulled a scroll from his belt. “Here is a record of all I’ve done.” The man untied the scroll. Unraveling, it bounced as it hit the ground. “I seek sanctuary in return for my service.”
“Friend, the King cannot accept your service,” the gatekeeper began. “But if—”
“But nothing!” the old man cried. “What more could I have done? I labored my entire life!” Rolling up the scroll, the old man hastened down the road, bent double with grief.
My mind raced. How could I, so much younger and less dedicated, ever hope to enter?
Again, my thoughts were interrupted. This time a beggar woman approached the city.
Coming up to the gatekeeper’s window, she said, “I have nothing to offer the King. I had one small coin, but—” her head drooped low, “I lost it on the way. I now have absolutely nothing. But would the King please . . . please, let me in?”
The gatekeeper reached out of his window and placed a hand on the wretch’s shoulder.
“Friend, the King’s Son has made provision for your entrance. Will you accept his invitation?”
The woman’s head jerked up. Stunned, she finally spoke. “I will.”
The gates opened. Walking, then running, the woman bounded through the gates. Instantly, they shut again.
I sat motionless. There was only one way I could pass through those gates.
Slowly, I removed my fine coat. I tossed my satchel, full of papers and names, into the weeds. Signaling to my servants to stay with the camels, I strode up to the gatekeeper’s window. Alone.
Without raising my head, I spoke.
“I come with nothing of my own to offer. But my soul . . .” My voice began to tremble. “My soul is so sick. Could . . . would the King let me in?”
“The King’s Son has made provision for you also. Will you accept his invitation?”
Unable to control my voice, I nodded.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move. The gates had opened . . . for me.
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What a powerful line!
Well done.