“Who are you, boy,” Derrique roughly asked the little boy.
“I told you. I’m a child of God.”
Bereft of his parents early in life, the child was raised by monks on the mainland and migrated with a few as a young helper as they sought to spread God’s Word among those that had not yet heard. Not knowing who his real parents were, the monks brought him up to simply know God as his only father.
“You can’t be a child of a god, boy. The gods don’t even know your name.”
“Not gods. God. He does know my name. He said that not only does He know my name, but He has numbered all of the hairs on my head.”
“Codswallop, boy. Tell me, then. How many hairs do you have?”
“Well, I didn’t say he told me.”
Derrique burst into a hardy chortle and couldn’t stop laughing. The boy just stared at him confusedly until Derrique’s tears of laughter began to stream down his face. Then, the boy began to laugh, too. At this, Derrique laughed even more boisterously until they both laughed so hard they were crying, and Derrique’s wife began to wonder what all the hubbub was about outside, but didn’t want to ruin their moment. They both stopped laughing briefly when they realized they’d laughed so hard their trousers were wet. They both looked at their own trousers and then the trousers of the other. At that, burst into even hardier laughter all of the village and other nearby villages could hear. The hills hadn’t heard such laughter since the days of their creation when the only voices they heard were from the merriment and praises of the Sons of God.
“I’ve never laughed so hard in all my life, boy. What is your name, thrall?”
“John. My name is John.”
“Alright then, John, son of God, you work harder than any man in my clan. You laugh longer than any I’ve ever met. You’ve never known your parents. You claim this is simply because you know a god.”
“Not a god, the God. He’s the God because He created everything. The Bible says He made the earth, the sky, the sea, the animals, and all the people.”
“Everyone knows the earth was formed when giants warred with the gods and some of them were killed.”
“The Bible says God made everything. It talks about giants, too, but they weren’t as big as your tales made them out to be. As a matter of fact, God used a young boy to kill a giant named Goliath in a great battle. He used a sling with a stone to knock out the giant and took the giant’s own sword and cut off his head,” he said this with ferocity with great swinging motions of his arms to tell the story.
“Is that so? He sounds like a mighty warrior indeed, to slay a giant.”
“He was because he got his strength from God.”
“If your god would make me strong enough to kill a giant, he may well be worth the risk of facing Odin’s wrath. Though if I slew a giant, it would merit Odin’s blessing and certainly grant me a place in the eternal Halls of Valhalla.”
“Valhalla? What is that?”
“The great longhall. The place where my fathers dwell. A place of eternal merriment, mead, and song. A warriors final rest from battle.”
“It sounds like Heaven.”
“What is Heaven?”
“It’s a lot like what you said: peace, joy, eternal happiness. We’ll be in God’s presence forever. It’s a perfect place. But you can’t get there by killing giants.”
“Is that right? What must a man do for your Heaven?” Derrique was truly inquisitive. He almost tried to sound mockingly, but he failed miserably as at this point he desperately wanted to know. The joy and peace and laughter of this little boy who’d never known his parents, raised in piety, had the most alluring and enigmatic spirits he’d ever witnessed.
“It’s simple. A man simply has to believe in Jesus Christ and call upon Him as Saviour.”
“Who is this Jesus Christ?”
“God came to earth, born of a virgin, and they called Him Jesus.”
“A virgin? Your story gets stranger by the moment, John.”
“Just listen. When the first man sinned, his sin corrupted his whole lineage. All of mankind was sentenced to eternal punishment in death, but Jesus came to fix it so we could all go to Heaven. To do that, He died even though He had never done wrong. After 3 days, He rose from the dead, taking the keys of death and damnation.”
“Your religion is quite strange, boy. I find it easier to believe in giants and Valhalla as a warrior’s reward than a virgin birth and a man coming back from the dead.”
“It’s true.”
“Call upon Him as Lord? That’s it? No sacrifice?”
“Jesus was the sacrifice when He died.”
“Hmmmmm . . . a strange tale indeed.”
Over the course of time when Derrique was in between battles and plundering, he and John spoke. They spoke of Derrique’s great victories, great warriors he faced whom he’d sent to Valhalla, and how he looked forward to drinking mead with them in a merry eternity. John continued to teach him things about the Bible, and while many of the stories confounded him, Derrique was enraptured and couldn’t hear enough. Sometimes their conversations would last into the night as they stared at thousands of stars and Orion the great Hunter, John talked about how God made them all.
It seemed too quickly that John grew into a young man and Derrique into a weathered one. The years began to weigh heavily on Derrique. His swing was not as strong. His legs were not as swift. Still, he slew his foes with abandon and greater wisdom in battle than he ever had as a wreck less youth. One he’d beaten many times was Old Man Winter. Still, Winter’s ax was great and had cut down many great warriors.
Derrique’s final foe took the sword from his hand and the breath from his lungs. He lay on his bed with John at his side.
“John,” he said laboriously. “You’re a great man. You’ve never wielded a blade in battle, but you’ve mastered yourself that you don’t have to battle.”
“I’ve allowed God to master me. Jesus is the greatest warrior. When He returns, He will command the greatest army and wield the mightiest sword. His eyes are like a flame of fire, and He will smite His foes with a great slaughter. Though I haven’t wielded a sword on this earth, I will on the last day.”
“I believe that. I’m ready. I’m ready to trust your God. You’ve spoken to me many times about Jesus, and He’s spoken to me as well, calling me like the waves of the sea, like the cry of battle. I wish I’d listened before now.”
“Derrique, my master, you know what to do.”
“Jesus, I’m sorry it took this place to make me listen to You, but I’m listening now. I’m ready. I know you’re Lord, Creator of Heaven and Earth, stars and sea, and that you died to pay for my murders and theft I thought were noble for my people. Please forgive me and make your sacrifice my own death.”
A great peace filled his face and a great burden was lifted.
“Get my satchel, John.”
John brought the satchel over, and Derrique removed the silver cross.
“I want you to have this.”
“Where did you get this,” John asked with tears beginning to fill his eyes.
“It belonged to a monk I killed during a raid. He began the change in me many years ago. He never begged for his life. He never pleaded for mercy. He simply prayed I would know the truth. He was the first Christian I’d ever met that seemed like he really believed in his God. I thought many times of selling that silver cross, but I would always think of that man, full of courage, and I wanted to see him in Valhalla again. Though he didn’t wield a sword, he conquered himself. Now I know it was Good he allowed to conquer him.”
“That was my father, the one who was raising me. This was the cross I held close to my chest as a child when I would pray under the stars at night. You’ve had it all this time?”
“Yes, I have. I want you to have it. Keep it close. Think of me and the man who laid down his life to give it to me, to give it back to you. John, I consider you my son. You and my wife will inherit all I have if you’ll take her as your mother.”
“I will.”
“I never said it to anyone but her. I love you, John, like a son.”
“I love you too, father.”
“On that day, we’ll fight together in the final battle. We’ll dwell together in the real Valhalla.” He closed his eyes. His final breath left him. As Winter entered in, he gained victory over his final foe.
The Josh Perspective 