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A Parable igh on a ridge overlooking the valley stood the King, framed in the sun’s fading light. His form rose like a monument of unyielding strength. Above his head swirled hostile, black clouds. Raging winds snatched at his coat. Yet, he who could quell their assault with a word refused to be distracted. He had fixed his eyes on the valley below. Capturing each tiny detail, he traced the movement of gathering armies. Suddenly, his gaze rested on a shadowy form hidden from ordinary sight. Anger and agony flashed across his noble face. “I created that imposter,” he mused, “but the Prince of Darkness only loved himself. I made him strong and beautiful, but he used my gifts to build his own throne. Did he imagine that his mutinous force could quench my power and hinder my plan? Has he spoken his own lies so often that he has deceived himself as well as my people? His foolish pride kindled this war, but soon even his blinded slaves will see the triumph of my kingdom.” The King’s focus moved from the enemy headquarters to the city nearby. Its people slept unconcerned, smug, and oblivious to the scheming, waiting legions. Tears stung the King’s eyes as he spoke to the city he loved. “If only you had listened,” he whispered softly. “If only you knew. But you ignored my warnings and went your own way. You followed your own foolish dreams—lies and deceptions that were more pleasant to your ears than my saving truth. "My dear people, open your eyes and see! I came to love and care for you, but you turned away. The thief came to steal, kill, and destroy, and you worship him. If you only knew where you are heading!” Far below, near the edge of the city, where the forest opened to a wide clearing, the grim armies merged into a ghostly, quaking mass. Suddenly, without a sound, a message burst into their consciousness: The prince has arrived. As one, they bowed in fearful surrender, breathing their salute, “Hail, Prince of Darkness! Master of the Force! Hail!” Before them rose the tall, dark figure of the prince. “My friends,” he purred, “I hear you have done well!” A wave of relief swept over the mass. “Report your progress!” his voice cracked like a whip over the trembling slaves. “Have you captured the city? Are its people ready to follow?” Silence hung like an ominous sword striking terror into the hearts of the trembling warriors. Brash tyrants away from their master, they cowered like frightened dogs in his presence. Finally, a creature stepped forward. “Sir, the coup is almost complete. The city has yielded to your control.” “How did you win their allegiance?” demanded the prince. “We followed your plan, Sir. You told us to target the children, to reform their schools, pollute their movies and music, infiltrate their churches—” “Stop, stop! I want details. Who handled the schools?” “I did, Sir.” A burly figure lumbered to the front line. Under the heavy shrouded cowl, which hid his features, his body was shaking. “Explain your strategy.” “We followed our ancient plan, Sir. You told us to change labels to fit contemporary tastes—and it worked. First, we whispered doubts about the King’s repulsive Book of Truth. Then we planted tantalizing visions of the New World into the minds of educators. We showed them irresistible images of their own greatness, the power of Self, the pleasures of sex, and the peace of global unity under your mighty reign.” “Slow down and describe their response.” “Those open to transformation were thrilled with their new discoveries. They quickly fit your ideas into their curriculum.” “Is that all?” “No, there’s much more! We also told them that the King’s values hinder the freedom, growth, and happiness of Self. To build a better world, they must discard obsolete boundaries and pave new paths to higher consciousness and spiritual oneness. Quick to catch on, the kids are learning to ridicule the King’s archaic standards and narrow-minded subjects. Soon they’ll hate all who oppose your plan!” He giggled. “Well done,” grimaced the prince, “but control yourself.” Scanning the dark mass, he shouted, “Who’s in charge of music?” A squat, slinking creature crept forward. “I am, Sir.” “Report your progress!” “We have revived your fool-proof formula: drugs, chants, sensual delights, and throbbing drums. This formula blocks logic, dulls reason, and keeps our connections open. We show them a good time—and make sure they come back for more. With more advanced subjects, we no longer hide your identity. They crave your savage malevolence.” “Well done!” The prince rubbed his hands together in sardonic glee before he shouted, “Next! Who transformed television?” “We did,” answered a shrill voice. A short, stocky figure pushed his way to the front. “One battalion loaded cartoons with wizards amid superheroes winning battles by your cosmic energy. Kids want supernatural power, so we’ve showed them yours. Camouflaged, of course.” “Splendid!” The prince’s cruel voice rose excitedly. “Soon they’ll want more, and when they’re hooked, they too will be glad to see me. Ha! I will be their god, and they will learn a new form of worship! Go on. Tell me more.” “We have been showing our vision for the New World Order to reporters, producers, and writers,” he snickered. “We convinced them that the King’s values block progress. Today children choose their own way—r rather, our way. . .” “My way, you mean!” shrieked the prince. “Your way, Sir!” quaked the commander. “You met no resistance?” “Not much. Your brilliant ideas usually excite them.” “What about the King’s subjects?” “Many don’t notice. Since we keep them too busy to study the Book of Truth, they can’t tell your plan from the King’s. Those who notice are afraid to speak up, and the few fools who do complain face our correction squad. Ridicule and exclusion usually silence them.” A cacophony of cheers arose. For a moment, the prince gazed silently into that dark mass of veiled warriors. Fear and hatred, not love and loyalty, bound these miserable subjects to do his bidding. “Watch every rebellious subject!” he shouted. “Find loopholes in their armor. Distract and discourage those who pray. And above all, hinder their use of the Book.”
Lightning cracked the sky, and the distant thunder grew to a deafening roar. But the King kept his watchful position high above the city, waiting for the precise moment . . . Suddenly he raised his right arm. “Be still,” he cried into the storm. And the storm stilled around the summit. He raised his left arm, and a battalion of soldiers dressed in white appeared before him.
“I have told them to rise, take their swords, and fight for their families and children. You must take your positions at their sides. Sing with them the song of victory, then conquer the forces of evil in the name of the King.”
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