The Traveler's Gift Read online

  As the woman’s tears of anguish turned into tears of joy, the baby was placed in her arms, and the crowd cheered. David yelled and clapped right along with them. When the king rose from his throne, the people knelt to the ground once more, leaving David standing alone. As the king moved behind the throne toward the curtain, he paused, turned, and looked directly at David as if to say, Are you coming?

  David caught the look and quickly followed him up the steps and behind the throne. Passing through the curtains, he entered a smaller but more fabulous room. Gold shields crossed with silver spears lined the walls. Pillows of linen and tanned skins were scattered in the corner near a low table covered with food of every description. Light entered the room through high windows embellished with ivory and gold.

  David came fully into the center of the room. The two attendants guarding the door did not notice him, but the king, who was speaking to another man near the table, saw David and finished his conversation. “As you wish, Ahishar,” David heard him say. “I am certain you, as prime minister, will make the correct decision.” He moved to recline on the pillows at the table. “Please go now and instruct all the attendants to leave the hall.”

  The man called Ahishar was shocked. “But, Your Majesty,” he said, “it is not safe to—”

  “I prefer to be alone,” the king interrupted. “Thank you for your concern, but at this time, it is unnecessary. Now go, Ahishar.” Bowing as he left, the prime minister exited and motioned the attendants out after him.

  Alone at last, David and the king stared curiously at each other. The king spoke first. “Do you know where you are?” he asked with a smile.

  “Yes, sir,” David answered hesitantly.

  “Do you know who I am?”

  “Yes, sir, I do.” This time David answered the question more confidently. “You are King Solomon, sir. I recognized the story.” Solomon furrowed his brow. “I mean, I recognized what happened out there.” David motioned toward the curtain. “What I am trying to say is that I remember the story from when I was a child.”

  Solomon smiled, amused at David’s confusion. “No matter,” he said. “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes, sir,” David replied.

  “Then, please, join me.” Solomon pointed to an especially big pillow on which David promptly sat. “You see before you the finest food available anywhere in the world. The food, and anything else you might need, is yours for the asking.”

  “Thank you,” David said as he reached for some fruit. “By the way, my name is David Ponder.”

  “Two names,” Solomon noted with interest. “Incidentally, you speak my language well. Have you been schooled in Hebrew, or is your tongue also a surprise?”

  “Actually,” David said as he opened a pomegranate, “I was startled to find that I understood every word being spoken when I arrived. I am even more amazed that I am able to talk with you now. I never even learned Spanish, and here I am speaking effortlessly in an ancient language.”

  Solomon chuckled. “The dialect is not so ancient to me, my friend, but I do understand your astonishment. Wherever you travel on this unusual journey, you will find that your mouth and ear have been granted a special ability to communicate and comprehend. This unique competence in other languages is, of course, critical to your understanding and application of the gift with which you are being entrusted.”

  “A gift?” David asked.

  “The scrolls,” Solomon answered. “I prepared this one for you only this morning.” He gently placed his hand on a thin piece of leather that had been tightly wound around a small wooden rod. “It is the message that was placed in my heart for you. This is merely a part of what must be ingrained in your life before you will be able to pass the gift to others.”

  “How am I supposed to pass this . . . this gift to anyone?” David asked, shaking his head.

  The king smiled slightly as he reached for a bunch of grapes. Plucking one from its stem, he placed it in his mouth and said thoughtfully, “That is something you may not know for yet some time. Then again, the answer could be revealed to you tomorrow. Jehovah moves mountains to create the opportunity of His choosing. It is up to you to be ready to move yourself.”

  David leaned forward. “I think I understand what you are saying. You mean I have to prepare for whatever is in store.” Solomon nodded slowly. “Then here’s a question,” David said, almost sarcastically. “How do I prepare for something when I don’t know (a) what it is or (b) when it will happen?” Solomon was quiet. “Sir?” David said a bit louder. He was becoming exasperated. “Look,” he began again, “I’m serious. How do I prepare for an uncertain future?”

  “Seek wisdom,” the king said simply.

  David came close to rolling his eyes. “Maybe I’m not too smart,” he said, “but I’m just not catching on here. Okay, let me ask you this: How do I seek wisdom?”

  “The answer I have for you will not quell your frustration with me,” the king replied and then paused. “My answer is to seek wisdom.”

  David’s mouth dropped open. He shook his head and was about to speak when Solomon interrupted.

  “David,” he said, “you have a condition common to most people. You hear, but you do not listen.

  “Seek wisdom. Seek wisdom. Wisdom waits to be gathered. She cannot be bartered or sold. She is a gift for the diligent. And only the diligent will find her. The lazy man—the stupid man—never even looks. Though wisdom is available to many, she is found by few. Seek wisdom. Find her, and you will find success and contentment.”

  “Well,” David said, “I certainly don’t have success or contentment in my life right now.”

  “All a part of the past,” Solomon noted. “Even the present is constantly becoming the past—now . . . and now . . . and now.” He snapped his fingers as he talked. “The past will never change, but you can change the future by changing your actions today. It is really a very simple process. We, as humans, are always in a process of change. Therefore, we might as well guide the direction in which we change.”

  “How do I guide that direction?” David asked.

  Solomon rose to his feet and began to walk around the room. Clasping his hands behind his back, he asked, “Do you have a child?”

  “Yes, I do,” David answered. “A twelve-year-old daughter.”

  The king said, “Are you concerned about the children with whom your daughter plays?”

  “Yes,” David replied. “Of course.”

  Solomon turned quickly and said, “You say, ‘Of course.’ Why?”

  David wrinkled his forehead. He was trying to figure out where the king was taking this. “Well,” he began, “I say, ‘Of course,’ because my child’s friends have such an effect on her. And I mean both good and bad. We’ve noticed that when she is around good, respectful children, we very rarely have a problem with her behavior. But occasionally, she’ll mix in with the wrong group at school, and her mother and I have to deal with the consequences at home.”

  “Consequences?” Solomon asked.

  “Her speech patterns, her attitude, the way she dresses, how she responds to us,” David struggled to find the right words. “Everything she does at her age seems to be influenced by someone else.”

  “How do you guide the direction in which your daughter changes?” Solomon asked.

  “By keeping tabs on who her friends are,” David said.

  “Exactly!” the king said excitedly. “And at what age are we no longer affected by those around us? Eighteen? Twenty-one? Thirty? The answer, of course, is that we are always and forever influenced by those with whom we associate. If a man keeps company with those who curse and complain—he will soon find curses and complaints flowing like a river from his own mouth. If he spends his days with the lazy—those seeking handouts—he will soon find his finances in disarray. Many of our sorrows can be traced to relationships with the wrong people.”

  David got to his feet. Wiping his hands on his jeans, he said, “So this is an important ste
p in seeking wisdom?”

  “Possibly the most important step,” Solomon responded. “Guard your associations carefully, David. Anytime you tolerate mediocrity in your choice of companions, you become more comfortable with mediocrity in your own life. If a lazy man isn’t an irritation to you, it is a sign that you have accepted slothfulness as a way of life. You saw Ahishar as you entered, did you not?”

  “Yes.” David nodded. “I believe you said he was the prime minister.”

  “That is correct,” the king acknowledged. “You have not met Zadok, Azariah, and Abiathar. They are my priests. Elihoreph and Ahijah are my personal assistants, Jehoshaphat is in charge of government records, and Benaiah is my army commander. All are wise and energetic men with whom I keep counsel. If it is important for a king to be careful in his choice of friends, would it not also be important for you?”

  David walked to one of the gold shields on the wall and stroked it absentmindedly. “You are the wisest man in the world,” he said, “and obviously the richest. Yet you said you keep counsel with those other men. Why?”

  Solomon smiled patiently. “Only a fool refuses the counsel of wise men. There is safety in counsel. Sensible instruction is a life-giving fountain that will help you escape all manner of deadly traps. Find a wise man, a person who has accomplished what you wish for in your own life, and listen closely to his words.” Solomon moved to the table and picked up the scroll. Placing it into a fold of his robe, he motioned to David. “Follow me,” he said.

  As Solomon exited the interior room, he held the curtain open for David to pass. David stepped under Solomon’s arm and said, “I should be holding the curtain for you. After all, you are the king!”

  Solomon laughed. “Thank you, but I appreciate the opportunity to serve you. When a king begins to act like a king, it is not long before someone else is king! Serving is a way we can place value on one another. A wise man is a server.”

  As they strode into the great hall, David indicated the throne and said, “May I touch it?”

  “Certainly,” Solomon replied. “You may sit in it if you wish. It is only a chair.”

  David placed his hands palm down on the throne. Lightly brushing the seat and armrests with his fingertips, he admired the placement of the ivory and gold. Turning, he eased himself onto the throne. Smiling sheepishly, he said, “I feel very small sitting here.”

  “As do I.” Solomon chuckled. Then seriously, he said, “The responsibility that comes with leadership is often humbling. When I sit where you are now, I am grateful for the lessons of my father. As you might know, his name was also David. He was not only the king before me, but my mentor as well.” Solomon gazed out at the empty hall, seemingly lost in thought. Continuing, he said, “My father has been dead now for many years, yet the fundamentals he taught guide me still.”

  Solomon removed the scroll from his garment and unrolled the skin from the wooden rod. As he passed the precious words to David, he said, “It is time for us to part, my friend. Perhaps our time together will bring more understanding to your life’s journey. I can do nothing to alleviate your struggles and would not if I were able. It is never the duty of a leader to struggle for someone else; a leader must encourage others to struggle and assure them that the struggles are worthwhile. Do battle with the challenges of your present, and you will unlock the prizes of your future.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” David said.

  “Of course,” Solomon replied. He smiled as he bowed slightly. “It has been an honor to assist you. Farewell.” With those final words, the king walked down the steps and directly through the middle of the vast hall. As he neared the doorway at the opposite end, he clapped his hands twice. Immediately, attendants appeared to flank the king as he left the building.

  Alone, David stood up and looked once more at the magnificent room. Slowly, he slid back onto the throne of King Solomon and smoothed the king’s words onto his lap.

  THE SECOND DECISION FOR SUCCESS

  I will seek wisdom.

  Knowing that wisdom waits to be gathered, I will actively search her out. My past can never be changed, but I can change the future by changing my actions today. I will change my actions today! I will train my eyes and ears to read and listen to books and recordings that bring about positive changes in my personal relationships and a greater understanding of my fellowman. No longer will I bombard my mind with materials that feed my doubts and fears. I will read and listen only to what increases my belief in myself and my future.

  I will seek wisdom. I will choose my friends with care.

  I am who my friends are. I speak their language, and I wear their clothes. I share their opinions and their habits. From this moment forward, I will choose to associate with people whose lives and lifestyles I admire. If I associate with chickens, I will learn to scratch at the ground and squabble over crumbs. If I associate with eagles, I will learn to soar to great heights. I am an eagle. It is my destiny to fly.

  I will seek wisdom. I will listen to the counsel of wise men.

  The words of a wise man are like raindrops on dry ground. They are precious and can be quickly used for immediate results. Only the blade of grass that catches a raindrop will prosper and grow. The person who ignores wise counsel is like the blade of grass untouched by the rain—soon to wither and die. When I counsel with just myself, I can make decisions only according to what I already know. By counseling with a wise man, I add his knowledge and experience to my own and dramatically increase my success.

  I will seek wisdom. I will be a servant to others.

  A wise man will cultivate a servant’s spirit, for that particular attribute attracts people like no other. As I humbly serve others, their wisdom will be freely shared with me. Often, the person who develops a servant’s spirit becomes wealthy beyond measure. Many times, a servant has the ear of the king, and a humble servant often becomes a king, for he is the popular choice of the people. He who serves the most grows the fastest.

  I will become a humble servant. I will not look for someone to open my door—I will look to open the door for someone. I will not be distressed when no one is available to help me—I will be excited when I am available to help.

  I will be a servant to others. I will listen to the counsel of wise men. I will choose my friends with care.

  I will seek wisdom.

  FIVE

  I WILL SEEK WISDOM—THE LAST WORDS. THIS time, David was ready. In anticipation of the dizziness he had felt before, he closed his eyes and tensed his whole body. David could feel the skin of the scroll in his left hand as he gripped it against the armrest of the throne. He was holding on for dear life. For a moment, nothing happened. Just as David was about to relax, he opened his eyes to see his fingers literally sliding through the ivory as if it were air. The scroll was still in his possession, and David’s hands, holding so tightly to a solid object only a moment before, reflexively made fists as the throne disappeared.

  The next conscious moment, David was standing amid the loudest noise he had ever heard in his life. His first thought as he tried to regain his senses was thunder, and he looked toward the sky. Suddenly, a hand roughly slammed into his chest, grabbed his shirt, and forcefully yanked David to the ground. “Get down, man!” the owner of the hand said as he pushed David’s face to the dirt. “I don’t know if you can get shot, but let’s not find out, okay?”

  David turned his head in panic and stared at the man who had pulled him down. He was somewhere in his mid-thirties with dark brown hair and a long, bushy mustache. He wore dark blue trousers with a faded yellow stripe down the side and a shirt of indeterminate color. The clothes, like their owner, looked as if they had not been washed in a month. He was rather thin and probably tall. It was hard to tell because he was laid out on the ground firing an old rifle over a pile of rocks. The sound David had mistaken for thunder moments earlier was the sound of cannon fire.

  Bullets whined off the rocks like swarms of angry bees. All around him David he
ard howls of anger and pain. A man not ten feet away sat propped against a tree, shrieking in agony from a wound in his stomach, while another, missing his right leg below the knee, slowly crawled toward a friend who was already dead. The cannonballs that weren’t pounding groups of men found trees nearby, severing trunks as big around as the soldiers on whom they fell.

  It was so loud that David had to scream to be heard. That was not a problem. In fact, at the moment, it was the most natural thing in the world—he was terrified. David grabbed at the man’s shoulder and cried, “Who are you?”

  The man had turned his back to the rocks where he was reloading his rifle from the muzzle. “Chamberlain!” he yelled. “Chamberlain of the Twentieth Maine!” and he turned to fire again.

  Once again the man called Chamberlain turned to reload. He lay awkwardly on his side as he bit the paper from a round and rammed it down the barrel of the gun with a metal rod. “What’s going on?” David hollered. “Where are we?” David had never been so scared in his life.

  “Stay down!” Chamberlain yelled in reply. “No time now. We’ll talk later—I hope.”

  David anxiously glanced around. He could see that the rocks they were crouched behind had actually been thrown up as a makeshift wall extending more than fifty yards to his right and fifty yards again to his left. They were almost at the top of a steep wooded hill that sloped down and away from them. Chamberlain continued to fire downhill, reload, and shout encouragement to the men around him.

  Just beyond Chamberlain, David saw a man thrown backward, his blood arcing into the air from a wound in his throat. He landed on his hands and knees. Slowly shaking his head, he crawled toward David. Reaching the wall, he eased over onto his back, and as his arm fell across David’s leg, he looked up, smiled, and died. As David stared into the unseeing eyes, he was horrified to realize the soldier was a boy, certainly no older than fifteen.

  David wasn’t aware of the precise moment when the shooting stopped. He had remained huddled against the rocks, looking into the dead boy’s face, until Chamberlain’s hand broke his trance. The man gently brushed the young soldier’s eyes, closing them, and said, “Neilson. He was a good kid.” He gestured to a man, obviously dead, lying across the rock wall no more than ten yards away. “That was his father. Hiram was a bank teller from Bangor. Both joined when this regiment was formed last fall. There were a thousand of us then. The three hundred that’re left are strung out along this pile of rocks.”