One final mighty thrust and the First came through the door. The increased moonlight entering the cabin illuminated splinters flying in the air. The rush of fresh oxygen made the coals in the fireplace flash bright enough to make it hard for the First to see. He paused at the threshold to allow his eyes to focus.
The pause in the action allowed me to see one of the wolves that haunted me night after night and day after day like I had never seen them before. In the past I only caught glimpses of them; their teeth, their shiny fur, their muscular legs and sharp claws, their glowing eyes and their flaming nostrils, the pointy ears that crown their triangular heads, and the stank damp breath that came from their mouths. How I hated, feared, and revered the wolves.
As I sat there cowering in my corner I marveled at something that I had never seen before. The four legs of the First were attached to a board and his body was as stiff as the board. I shouted out loud in fits of self rage and excitement, “The wolves were taxidermies and the boards that they are mounted on are held by two large hands!”
My shout caught the wolves’ attention. The First quickly turned toward me. I panicked as I grabbed my rifle. I used this rifle every time the wolves came. It was the lamest rifle one could imagine. Its barrel was made of coiled leather and it contained no stock. If I wasn’t careful the barrel would go limp and fold down. The only way to make it stiff again was to snap it like a whip.
I snapped it and shouted, “Bang, bang! Crack, crack!” There was no need to load it because it fired imaginary harmless bullets. My only weapon against the wolves for all this time was a fake rifle, imaginary bullets and a loud cry, “Bang, bang! Crack, crack!”
My rifle and bullets did no harm to the wolves. It only scared them away. I knew the truth. My weapon was useless. So, the fear I had most was that one day the wolves would learn my defenselessness and kill me for the deception.
Yet, now I had just learned, the wolves had a deception of their own. They were not real. Sure, they were real in the sense that they could be sensed and feared. But they were not real wolves. Perhaps at one time they were real. But now they were dead and mounted on a piece of wood. Their only mode of transportation was someone else’s hands.
The relief I felt at the discovery was short-lived. With my cry, “Bang, bang! Crack, crack!” the First learned of my location. He turned and showed his death. In new fear and anxiety, I snapped my rifle and shouted, “Bang, bang! Crack, crack!” My deception worked again. The First turned and exited through the front door.
“Sun will be rising soon. Light will come and the wolves will go. I’ve lived to escape another night of fear.” Some relief came to me and some time to think.
“They are not real! They are not real! Why then be afraid?” A glimpse of confidence entered my heart. More confidence than my rifle and bullets gave me. “The wolves are not real! You are not real,” I shouted out with all my remaining strength.
“Crash!” Glass flew from the window before me. The wolves had broken down another barrier between me and them.
“First the door, now the window. I’m dead for sure!” The greatest fear I had ever known since the wolves started to come entered my heart. “I’m dead for sure!”
“You reek of fear and anxiety,” the one who crashed through the window sang.
Just as I was about to close my eyes fearing the worst, the new morning light coming from the rising sun blinded me.
Then came a pause, a silence, a stop in the action. When I opened eyes again the wolves were gone. The window I looked out of was different. Not only was it not broken; it was not made of wood. It was made of plastic. The next thing I noticed was that I was not sitting in the corner. I was in my bed. I was not in the cabin’s bed. I was in my house’s bed. In fact, I had no cabin at all. I had been dreaming again.
I got up to relieve myself and drink water from the bathroom sink. The dream was so vivid. My fear of the stuffed wolves was so great. How could I forget a dream and feelings like that?
When I set down the glass of water a thought was spoken into my mind, “Why do you fear and have anxiety over things that are not real? Why are you anxious when I am around? I, the Lord Jesus am your God always. You have nothing to fear, nothing to be anxious about. I am your protection. With me, the wolves are not real. Be safe. Be still. Find pleasure and comfort in me.”
I considered those words. I thought about my fears and what made me anxious. Yes, in Jesus they are not real. Sure, they are real in that they could be sensed and feared. But they are not real because in Jesus they are dead. Once they were a real threat. They could have killed me. Yet, now in Jesus, they are dead objects manipulated by the Evil One’s hands and he cannot touch me. He can only wave dead objects of fear and anxiety at me. In Jesus I am safe.
