of . . .”
“There is a third element.” Now it was Simon. “A Witness is not only the photographer and the photograph but uniquely an essential living participant inside the picture. A Witness is neither outside nor detached, is not objective and is not independent. Your very presence introduces innumerable potentials, and your choices impact history as we now know it. These are then woven in new ways into the unfolding purposes of God.”
It sounded complicated and Lilly longed for an escape, for an uninterrupted sleep, but she tried to focus. “Are you saying thatwithout a Witness there is no photograph at all? If someone is not there to see it, it doesn’t exist?”
“Close but not exactly,” piped in Anita.
Gerald added as if quoting, “God has always been the Witness, apart from whom nothing has existed. God is the Grand Observer, always and continually the Picture; the Word in all Their nuance is the Glory and Affection.”
“And they are the Grand Interferer,” added Anita. “This is why knowing the character of God is essential. Without God being Who They are in essence—Good submitted in knowing Love, One to the Other—then everything would pffft .” Her fingers twirled up into the air like a balloon that had escaped. “Everything, including us, would vanish into nonbeing.”
“Then why does God need me,” queried Lilly, “or any human witness?”
“Ah,” Gerald replied with a chuckle, “we are back to Beginnings. God has need of nothing, but God will not be God apart from us. To live inside God’s life is to explore this mystery of participation.”
For Lilly, it was perplexing, but they encouraged her not to get lost in the details. She was a child, after all, they explained, and children know intuitively what they will never learn by education. That didn’t help her grasp what they were saying, but it was comforting regardless.
Sometime, as the evening wound down, Letty vanished without saying good-bye. Her humming simply disappeared.
John was about to accompany the three Scholars to their sleeping quarters when Anita held up her hand.
“Wait,” she exclaimed. “Wehave forgotten the gifts we brought for Lilly!”
“We certainly have,” said Simon. “But I have left mine in my baggage. I will have to bring it later. Tomorrow perhaps?”
“Gifts?” Lilly was feeling exhausted, but curiosity raised her flagging energy. The prospect of a gift from Simon sent a little shiver of anticipation through her.
The younger Scholar withdrew to the edges of the room while Anita and Gerald each patted pockets, trying to remember where they’d stored their treasures. The woman found hers first and approached Lilly.
“Dear one,” Anita began, “When I was praying about coming to meet you—”
“You pray for me?”
“We all do,” Gerald said. “Prayer is mostly about talking to God—about life and people and what is before us and who matters to us in that moment. Does that surprise you?”
She nodded.
“Well,” began Anita again, “when I was praying about coming to meet you, this token came repeatedly to mind.” She opened up her hand and revealed a small, ornate, and finely crafted silver key, hanging from a silver chain.
“It’s beautiful!” Lilly exclaimed. “Thank you.” Anita placed the delicate piece into the girl’s hand.
“This ancient key has a story, a fairy tale of sorts, attached to it. Are you familiar with the tale of the ogre and the princess?”
She shook her head.
“No matter.” Anita smiled and they hugged. “Lilly, this is notonly a key to be worn, it is a key to unlock something. And no, I don’t know what. But you will, when the time is right.”
“That is true of my gift as well,” chimed in Gerald, holding out a little jewelry box. Lilly opened it to find a single band, a gold ring. “It is a Betrothal ring,” he said, and Lilly smiled, unsure what that meant. “This ring has been handed down through my family since the
“There is a third element.” Now it was Simon. “A Witness is not only the photographer and the photograph but uniquely an essential living participant inside the picture. A Witness is neither outside nor detached, is not objective and is not independent. Your very presence introduces innumerable potentials, and your choices impact history as we now know it. These are then woven in new ways into the unfolding purposes of God.”
It sounded complicated and Lilly longed for an escape, for an uninterrupted sleep, but she tried to focus. “Are you saying thatwithout a Witness there is no photograph at all? If someone is not there to see it, it doesn’t exist?”
“Close but not exactly,” piped in Anita.
Gerald added as if quoting, “God has always been the Witness, apart from whom nothing has existed. God is the Grand Observer, always and continually the Picture; the Word in all Their nuance is the Glory and Affection.”
“And they are the Grand Interferer,” added Anita. “This is why knowing the character of God is essential. Without God being Who They are in essence—Good submitted in knowing Love, One to the Other—then everything would pffft .” Her fingers twirled up into the air like a balloon that had escaped. “Everything, including us, would vanish into nonbeing.”
“Then why does God need me,” queried Lilly, “or any human witness?”
“Ah,” Gerald replied with a chuckle, “we are back to Beginnings. God has need of nothing, but God will not be God apart from us. To live inside God’s life is to explore this mystery of participation.”
For Lilly, it was perplexing, but they encouraged her not to get lost in the details. She was a child, after all, they explained, and children know intuitively what they will never learn by education. That didn’t help her grasp what they were saying, but it was comforting regardless.
Sometime, as the evening wound down, Letty vanished without saying good-bye. Her humming simply disappeared.
John was about to accompany the three Scholars to their sleeping quarters when Anita held up her hand.
“Wait,” she exclaimed. “Wehave forgotten the gifts we brought for Lilly!”
“We certainly have,” said Simon. “But I have left mine in my baggage. I will have to bring it later. Tomorrow perhaps?”
“Gifts?” Lilly was feeling exhausted, but curiosity raised her flagging energy. The prospect of a gift from Simon sent a little shiver of anticipation through her.
The younger Scholar withdrew to the edges of the room while Anita and Gerald each patted pockets, trying to remember where they’d stored their treasures. The woman found hers first and approached Lilly.
“Dear one,” Anita began, “When I was praying about coming to meet you—”
“You pray for me?”
“We all do,” Gerald said. “Prayer is mostly about talking to God—about life and people and what is before us and who matters to us in that moment. Does that surprise you?”
She nodded.
“Well,” began Anita again, “when I was praying about coming to meet you, this token came repeatedly to mind.” She opened up her hand and revealed a small, ornate, and finely crafted silver key, hanging from a silver chain.
“It’s beautiful!” Lilly exclaimed. “Thank you.” Anita placed the delicate piece into the girl’s hand.
“This ancient key has a story, a fairy tale of sorts, attached to it. Are you familiar with the tale of the ogre and the princess?”
She shook her head.
“No matter.” Anita smiled and they hugged. “Lilly, this is notonly a key to be worn, it is a key to unlock something. And no, I don’t know what. But you will, when the time is right.”
“That is true of my gift as well,” chimed in Gerald, holding out a little jewelry box. Lilly opened it to find a single band, a gold ring. “It is a Betrothal ring,” he said, and Lilly smiled, unsure what that meant. “This ring has been handed down through my family since the
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