by Andy Andrews
“Yes,” Gabriel answered.
“Why is this being done to me?”
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “Explain yourself more clearly, please.”
“Why am I seeing this now?”
“Special dispensation is allowed for a traveler to gain greater wisdom and understanding.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Obviously.”
David took a deep breath. “Am I supposed to somehow understand?”
“Everything will become clear to you.”
Turning to face Gabriel, David said, “What is this place?”
Flexing the wings on his back, Gabriel took a step closer to David and swept his arms out from his sides as if to welcome an honored guest. “This, my friend, is the place that never was.”
David scarcely breathed as the angel took the picture from his hands. Using it to gesture around him, Gabriel said, “This is the place where we keep all the things that were about to be delivered just as a person stopped working and praying for them. The contents of this warehouse are filled with the dreams and goals of the less courageous.”
David was horrified. He turned open-mouthed, casting his eyes up and down the aisle, seeing the coats and shoes, the bicycles and blankets, and remembering the pedestal. His eyes fell again upon the photograph in Gabriel’s hand. Reaching out, he asked, “May I keep it?”
“I’m sorry,” the angel said, placing the picture back into the basket. “Jason and Julia do not exist. The time for their arrival has passed. The opportunity is missed. There are no second chances.”
Almost immediately, David’s right hand felt for the ground. With his knees buckling, he lowered himself quickly to the floor. He didn’t trust himself to stand, and so he just sat there at Gabriel’s feet. He didn’t scream or cry. He was past tears. He felt purged of energy, barely able even to breathe.
For what seemed like an hour or more, David sat trying to gather his senses. Gabriel stood motionless the entire time. Finally, David looked up and asked in a weak voice, “What am I supposed to learn here?”
Gabriel smiled and sat down beside David on the floor. “You must know,” he began, “that in the game of life, nothing is less important than the score at halftime. The tragedy of life is not that man loses, but that he almost wins.”
David shook his head slowly. “Why do we quit? Why do I quit? Why do I ease off? Why do I detour everything in my life?”
Gabriel responded instantly, “As a human, you detour and ease off because you lack understanding. You quit because you lack faith.”
“Understanding about what?”
“For one thing, you do not understand that constant detours do not bring a man into the presence of greatness. Detours do not build muscle. Detours do not provide life’s lessons. Between you and anything significant will be giants in your path.
“Easing off does not make the going easier. Neither does it guide one to the desired destination. Most men ease off when the going is rough. Most slow down when the road appears treacherous. These are the times when you must feel the weight of your future on your shoulders—the throbbing, unstoppable strength of destiny coursing through your veins.
“Times of calamity and distress have always been producers of the greatest men. The hardest steel is produced from the hottest fire; the brightest star shreds the darkest night.”
For a while, David was silent. He seemed deep in thought. Then as if having locked away the angel’s words, he said, “Gabriel, you also mentioned that I lacked faith.”
“I said those who quit lacked faith.”
“You meant . . .”
“I meant your race. The human race. With only a few exceptions, you lack the faith that produces greatness.” Gabriel sighed. “It was not always so. Your civilization was once alive, vibrant, productive, and borne in glory. Now look at you—a wandering, questioning pack of rebels teetering on the brink of dissolution.”
“What?” David said as if he could not believe his ears. “We are living in the most advanced age our planet has ever seen!”
Gabriel shook his head sadly. “You truly have no memory or cognitive knowledge of your history. Sometimes when I sit with our Father and watch the movements of your civilization as the time shifts, I am astounded at the arrogance I see displayed in your people. On several occasions, I have asked permission to teach you a lesson, but so far, His patience has greatly exceeded my own.
“It amuses me that you would think your civilization so advanced. There once existed a culture on earth so highly evolved as to make you look like dull children. Their mathematics, metallurgy, engineering, and architecture were far beyond what you revere today. These were people of great understanding, great wisdom, and an even greater faith.”
“Why have we never heard of these people?” David asked doubtfully.
“Because most of your scientists work within a parameter of time that is far too narrow,” Gabriel said. “A few of them, however, have begun to suspect that this society predated the Aztecs and Incas by more than thirty thousand of your years.”
“What evidence is there of that?”
Gabriel chuckled. “Not much for you at this point. To be frank, you are too far removed from those people in terms of capacity and time. Your civilization is just now arriving at the point of recognizing the scant clues still left of their existence.”
“What clues?”
Gabriel paused for a moment, then said, “The engineering of Cuencan temples, still standing in what you call South America, used stones that are rectangular in shape and weigh more than one hundred tons each. The builders of Balbek in Lebanon laid cornerstones as tall as your five-story buildings. They weigh more than six hundred tons apiece.
“In both places, and many more I might add, the andesite blocks were quarried and set together so perfectly that grout was never considered necessary. Just to cut stone to the same specifications, your engineers today require diamond-tipped, laser-guided quarry saws. And still, they can’t duplicate the dimensions.
“Do you remember the Abu Simbel statues in Egypt? They are one hundred twenty feet high, one hundred forty feet wide, and weigh thirty-three tons. When an international task force of your civilization’s finest engineers was assembled to save them before completion of the Aswan High Dam, they decided the only possible way to move the statues was to cut them into small sections and reassemble them on higher ground. Yet the original builders quarried the rock from a source miles away and moved it in one piece.
“Their knowledge of astronomy also far exceeded your current levels. They knew that the celestial dome is fixed— that your sun, moon, and planets rotate. They knew the exact circumference of the earth and chartered it into systems of measure around the world. Your mathematicians and engineers have now seen this in surviving buildings in South America and Europe because they incorporated the figures into their architecture. And these equations were calculated perfectly. You were able to obtain these exact mathematical values only after Sputnik circled the earth in 1957.
“Truth needs no evidence, of course.” Gabriel smiled. “But since you were curious, that should give you something to consider.”
For a bit, David sat still. He was almost unable to comprehend the riddle of history Gabriel had shared. He had no doubt, though, that it was true. “Why are they gone?” he finally asked. “Why did that civilization disappear?”
“For the same reasons that your civilization is in peril,” Gabriel said carefully. “Arrogance, ungratefulness, and a loss of faith. Your people have reached the precipice of the same cliff in an astonishingly short time.”
“Is there anything that we can do to turn back?”
“Of course,” Gabriel said. “And that is precisely why you are here.” Gabriel stood and helped David to his feet. Reaching into the folds of his robe, the angel drew out a small scroll. Laying it across his upturned palms, he extended it to David and said, “This decision is the final portion of the whole. Take it.”
As David reached for the scroll and took it in his hand, Gabriel frowned. “I am not certain why you were selected for this great honor, David Ponder, for I am but a messenger.” He paused and took a deep breath. “You are the last traveler. There will not be another. You have been given a gift that has the power to change your civilization. Everything from this moment on will key upon you.
“You will study one decision at a time, each for twenty-one days. You will read it aloud twice daily during that time. First, upon awakening, and again, as the last thing you do before sleep. You must not miss a day. Each decision will become a part of your being, buried in your heart, captured in your soul.
“You will share the gift of the decisions with others. Those who absorb and apply this wisdom will rise to greatness and inspire others to the same heights. Those who ignore the power of these scrolls might seem to prosper for a time, but do not be deceived. Their lives will be only brief illusions, and when their time is finished, they will be chained to the Mirror of Regret. There, they will spend eternity examining a reflection of the person they could have become.”
Gabriel placed his hands on each side of David’s face. “You have everything you need, David Ponder. You know that you are not alone. You are being guided. There will never be a reason to lose faith. The future, as you choose it, is yours. But be warned. Yours is a future as you choose it. Our Creator has granted you the extraordinary power of the wisdom contained in the Seven Decisions. But our Creator also grants you free will. Should you choose not to ingrain this wisdom in your life, should you choose to ignore this power, the future will be lost forever.”
David took both of Gabriel’s hands in his own and said, “Thank you. I will make the very most of this gift.”
Gabriel smiled and stepped away, out into the middle of the aisle. “Yes, David Ponder,” he said. “I believe that you will.” And with that, he slowly stretched his wings over his head. Raising his arms, he swiftly drew the wings to his side. Instantly, in a thunderous rush of wind, he flew up and was gone. David moved quickly to the aisle and looked up, but he still could not see a ceiling . . . or any sign of the angel.
For a few moments, David stood there, watching and thinking. Then slowly, he began a purposeful walk. Entering the area of the pedestal, David glanced around again, as if to memorize this place and what it meant. Then he eased down onto the floor where he had felt such pain only a short time ago. He unrolled the scroll of Gabriel and read.
THE SEVENTH DECISION FOR SUCCESS
I will persist without exception.
Knowing that I have already made changes in my life that will last forever, today I insert the final piece of the puzzle. I possess the greatest power ever bestowed upon mankind, the power of choice. Today, I choose to persist without exception. No longer will I live in a dimension of distraction, my focus blown hither and yon like a leaf on a blustery day. I know the outcome I desire. I hold fast to my dreams. I stay the course. I do not quit.
I will persist without exception. I will continue despite exhaustion.
I acknowledge that most people quit when exhaustion sets in. I am not “most people.” I am stronger than most people. Average people accept exhaustion as a matter of course. I do not. Average people compare themselves with other people. That is why they are average. I compare myself to my potential. I am not average. I see exhaustion as a precursor to victory.
How long must a child try to walk before he actually does so? Do I not have more strength than a child? More understanding? More desire? How long must I work to succeed before I actually do so? A child would never ask the question, for the answer does not matter. By persisting without exception, my outcome—my success—is assured.
I will persist without exception. I focus on results.
To achieve the results I desire, it is not even necessary that I enjoy the process. It is only important that I continue the process with my eyes on the outcome. An athlete does not enjoy the pain of training; an athlete enjoys the results of having trained. A young falcon is pushed from the nest, afraid and tumbling from the cliff. The pain of learning to fly cannot be an enjoyable experience, but the anguish of learning to fly is quickly forgotten as the falcon soars to the heavens.
A sailor who fearfully watches stormy seas lash his vessel will always steer an unproductive course. But a wise and experienced captain keeps his eye firmly fixed upon the lighthouse. He knows that by guiding his ship directly to a specific point, the time spent in discomfort is lessened. And by keeping his eye on the light, there never exists one second of discouragement. My light, my harbor, my future is within sight!
I will persist without exception. I am a person of great faith.
In Jeremiah, my Creator declares, “For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” From this day forward, I will claim a faith in the certainty of my future. Too much of my life has been spent doubting my beliefs and believing my doubts. No more! I have faith in my future. I do not look left or right. I look forward. I can only persist.
For me, faith will always be a sounder guide than reason because reason can only go so far—faith has no limits. I will expect miracles in my life because faith produces them every day. I will believe in the future that I do not see. That is faith. And the reward of this faith is to see the future that I believed.
I will continue despite exhaustion. I focus on results. I am a person of great faith.
I will persist without exception.
TEN
DAVID TOOK A DEEP BREATH AND EXHALED LOUDLY. Carefully, he rolled the scroll into a compact shape. Then, standing, he fished the tobacco pouch from his bulging blue jeans pocket. For a moment, David paused and ran his fingers across the smooth fabric of Chamberlain’s offhand present to him.
He touched the two gold buttons holding the pouch closed and marveled at the craftsmanship that had formed an eagle on each. With the nail of his forefinger, David traced the embroidery of crossed swords on the flap. The symbol of a fighting man, he thought. That’s what I am. I am not a quitter. I am a fighting man. Suddenly, David smiled. “I will persist without exception,” he said aloud.
Quickly, he unfastened the buttons and squeezed the small scroll from Gabriel into the pouch. It nestled beside the words of a king and under the parchment from an explorer. At a glance, David saw the crisp, white folded stationery of two presidents, lying together as if filed carefully at the back of the pouch, beside a ragged piece of paper written in a warrior’s own hand. On top of it all, David noticed as he compressed the contents and closed the pouch, were four small pages torn from the diary of a little girl.
“Thank you,” he murmured as he put the pouch back in his pocket. He was overwhelmed by thoughts of the people he had met. Then David stopped. Mindful of a larger picture, he closed his eyes, bowed his head, and said the same words again. “Thank You.”
Opening his eyes, David found himself standing in a vast parking lot. He grinned and almost laughed out loud at his lack of astonishment. He didn’t know where he was yet but was curious to note that he was not afraid or even unsure of himself. Looking around, he idly wondered if he’d ever be shocked by anything again!
It was very cold and obviously nighttime, though extensive lighting brightened the area as if it were the middle of the day. The parking lot, filled with cars, was arranged around a massive steel-and-glass arena standing several hundred yards in the distance. David, feeling strangely drawn to the building, walked toward it.
Threading his way through cars and the occasional tree that landscaped the parking lot, David felt his heart skip a beat when he realized where he was. To his left, rising almost directly over the building to which he was walking, was the Reunion Tower. In the skyline beyond it, David saw the Magnolia Building with its trademark flying red horse on top.
To the right, standing above them all was the Jolly Green Giant. That is the name, he remembered, that Jenny had given this build
ing a week after the green argon lights had been installed to run the full length of the enormous edifice. The structure, the National Bank skyscraper, had for years been the tallest building in Dallas. David was home.
I’m back, David thought as he quickened his steps. But something didn’t seem right to him. Continuing to walk toward the arena, David looked again to the Jolly Green Giant. There, no more than a mile beyond it and slightly to the east, was another even taller skyscraper that David didn’t recognize. It was a beautiful white granite tower that was lit from the bottom to the top.
David stopped and slowly turned around. He examined the skyline to his north, then back to the east, south, and west. There were other new buildings as well. Frowning, David put his hands on his hips and thought, What? Dallas has grown overnight? Walking to the car in front of him, David narrowed his eyes. It was a red Jaguar convertible but shaped unlike any Jaguar he’d seen before. Next to the Jaguar was a burgundy Ford truck and next to it a white Lincoln. They were all different somehow, flashier maybe? A new type of paint?
He turned around again, this time counting eleven buildings that he knew for a fact were not there when . . . David cocked his head, raised his eyebrows, and smiled. He looked back at the Jaguar and laughed out loud. “I get it,” he said to the car. “You are at least ten, maybe twenty years newer than anything I’ve ever seen.
“I’m in the future,” David said to himself and began walking once again to the arena. “I’m in the future.” He blew out a deep breath and shook his head. “This really ought to be interesting.”
Approaching the massive building, David picked his way through a line of taxicabs and stepped up onto a broad sidewalk. There were a few people, well dressed and evidently somewhat late, hurriedly making their way through the turnstiles. David walked around for a few minutes, seeing the same scene repeated at every gate. He searched through his pockets, knowing he had no money, but thinking that just possibly a ticket might have magically appeared. Stranger things have happened, he thought wryly.