The City of Dire Straits

[irishman]

“Dire Straits” is my hometown; I have lived here for many years. It isn’t much, with all of its crime and vice, but it is the place I call “home”. I am not very excited about living here, but with my “roots” planted deeply in the soil, and family and friends all around, I feel I can hardly leave this place. People seem to love it here, there are many that live in Dire Straits. We are not really the greatest city in size, but we lead the country in crime and vice, which I say to my own shame. I hope to be free from here “someday” but when that will be, I do not know; it would take a miracle to get me out of here, it seems. The people are not the friendliest you could find in the world, but then, they do live in Dire Straits! Someday we will escape the hold this city has on us, and be free from its grasp, and from the adverse influence it effects upon us and others. Meanwhile, please don’t come to Dire Straits, it is not a resort town, and strangers are not trusted, let alone not well received. The streets are rampant with crime; “druggies” and prostitutes rule the highways, and the sodomites are in a majority here.

Life in Dire Straits is miserable, but then life anywhere can be miserable, so I might as well be miserable here! My family is in Dire Straits too, of course, and we all seem to be trapped in our own hometown. Is there any hope for us? It would take a miracle for us to break free from the influence and I am wondering if it is even possible at all.
I have not seen many miracles, and don’t expect any in the near future, so I have given myself to life in this town for now, and silently cling to the hope that there is something better for us ahead. Making a living in Dire Straits is not easy; there is constant bickering; jostling for position in the work-a-day world; and even immorality and envy and much strife. It almost sounds like a church! But as they say, “Life goes on.” Each day is a drudgery, and a burden; I live for tomorrow; I see no light in the near future, and all hope is at a premium. Is this all there is to life? One wonders.

Please don’t plan your vacation in Dire Straits; there are better places to go. This is not a resort town, full of charm and gaiety, but a “prison” or rather a “city of prisons”, and the chances of getting away unscathed are minimal indeed. It seems that all my neighbors have the same problems, and are also miserable here; their misery is well seen and felt among their peers. We are all “in the same boat” as the saying goes, and of course, that is because we all live in Dire Straits, and there is no way that we know of to escape it, at least not without outside help. You see, there is a great wall around the city, high and vast, so that none can escape; there are guards on all the gates, “demons” of death and mayhem, waiting for the execution and the torture of an escapee, or an alleged escapee. It is a prison, indeed. The one main entrance that is called “Hope” has been shut and sealed long ago, and all chances of escape there have been destroyed; it has been torn down and cemented shut so that it resembles a part of the original wall, and one must study it to even know that there was once a door of Hope. Who can help me? I have heard of a Great One who has the power to deliver us from all sorts of “prisons” and malady’s, but as to where to find Him, I know not.

The people try to suppress the rumors of this Great One, and His name is not spoken in public anymore, but I have heard much…rumors of long ago. They say He is a mighty King, a “King of kings” and that He turns none away who seek refuge in Him. I must find this Great One, but where do I begin? His name cannot be spoken in public for fear of retribution, but many of us have heard of His greatness.

There is, in Dire Straits, an old, dilapidated and broken-down building that burdens the lot where it sits. It has long since lost its charm and has given way to decay and has been enveloped with weeds and thistles, and is an eyesore to all who pass. No one graces its doors anymore, but it sits in solitude, and sadly and slowly dies. It was at one time the home of the Great king, and many came to honor Him, but now men have ignored it, and it has fallen into the clutches of Dire Straits, and has taken the mood of the rest of the city; it is there, but it is not there. The physical building is there, though in need of much repair and cleansing, but the building itself is empty. One can look upon it, and see the entire city in its backward charm; it is a reflection of what Dire Straits is all about. It stands as a monument to yesterday, and what used to be, but no more does it shine its light into the dismal city of despair. This building was a center of activity at one time, with singing and gaiety filling the air, but now it has been abandoned for many years, and stands in a state of ruin. The city had another name at that time, it was called the “City of Hope” then but has long since been changed. My grandparents used to tell me stories of the Great King and that He dwelt in that old building, which was then a new, vibrant light to our dismal town. They told the stories with a gleam in their eyes, as if they longed again for the “old days” but knew that they would not see them again in their lifetime. They died a few years ago, and with them the tales of hope and of the Great King who can deliver us; they never did see the King again as far as I know. I find myself curious of the old place, and spend much time there dreaming of better days.

There are two fellows that seem to follow me wherever I go. Every turn I make, I see them there, lingering, and ogling at me with sneering eyes. Their names are “Grief” and “Despair”. They follow me, stopping where I stop, and going when I go; the only recourse I have is when I flee to the old building called “The House of The Living God”, therefore, I find myself spending more and more time in the “church” (another name that my grandparents used to call it). There is debris all over the place when I enter, the place is a shambles, and yet, I find peace from my pursuers. Long benches have been overturned, and windows have been broken out, and the walls are full of holes, but it is here I find my greatest refuge. They will not enter the threshold of this place, as if they fear its mysterious charm. Through a hole in the roof, the sun shines; and as I follow its rays, I see it illuminates a well preserved cross that has been placed up on the stage. Such an awesome sight it is, that I can only stand and gape, stunned by the peaceful bliss of the moment. I do not understand the feelings inside me, but there is something very peculiar about that cross, and very comforting. I do not know how long I stood gazing up, but it seems as only minutes. I find myself muttering words that I don’t really understand, and it seems as if some great force is compelling me to call upon the Great King and seek His grace. I humbly fall prostrate before the cross, and spill out my heart in tears. Finally, I turn to leave, and see that my pursuers have fled, and I am free of their gaze and their stalking; I have never felt so good!

Everything seemed to take on a new look, as if the world had been painted with bright and happy colors. My eyes seemed to see differently, and those things I held dear before seemed to be of no avail to me now. I don’t know exactly what had happened, but I liked it. As the months went by, I fled to my place of refuge often, and began to clean it up. It was in such a state of disrepair that I alone could not restore it to its original state, but by then I had recruited a few friends, and they too began to seek refuge from the city of Dire Straits. It wasn’t long before we had quite a group and someone had found an old Holy Book in the cellar of the church, and we began to meet together to read from it collectively. The things we read there were amazing! It was such a comfort, and it spoke of the greatness of the Great King that gramps used to tell us about--a greatness that far exceeded the stories we used to hear. The place had shaped up quite well and we were meeting every couple of days for fellowship and comfort and for the hearing of the words in the Holy Book, and to talk of those things that we had learned.

Because I was the burdened one that began to work on the church and gather the people, they put me in charge of the Holy Book. I read it every day, and met with the God of the Book that was introduced to me there; I had discovered that he was the Great King of lore, and that he was the Creator of all things, and the Judge of the whole earth. We began to meet early every morning, and, as time would have it, He had given me favor in the eyes of the people. The church had grown to an immense size, and we had to expand a few times to hold all the people. Being the keeper of the Book, I also had the great honor of speaking to the people of the wondrous things contained therein, and the church continued to grow. Soon, I was made the keeper of the gate also, and sat in the high place of the government of the city. Certain changes had been effected, but now the Great King, who I now know as my Lord and Savior, had inspired me to repair the door of Hope, and eventually to change the name of the city. When I brought it to the people for a vote, they were of the same mind, and the work was begun. The walls were later torn down and a gate was put up with the inscription over it “Whosoever will may come”, and come they did, until we could hardly contain all the people. The City of Hope had been restored, and the new name now was adopted into the minds and hearts of the people, and even the surrounding cities began to effect change. Revival swept the country, and the old ways were woken. The old timers were seen crying and dancing in the streets, and even this man was of a glad heart and rejoicing greatly at what the Great King had done. He had removed us from Dire Straits and given us a new hope, the city of Hope in the Lord our God. Never despair; there is always a City of Hope; there is always hope, found in the Lord Jesus Christ. Blessed be the great name of the Lord.