Crossing the Veil of Shadows

By J.K. Stenger

The ominous sound of a distant stream, like an unwanted siren’s song, grew louder with every step. 

“Soon, we will get to the river,” he said. The soothing tone of his voice was supposed to calm my fears, but a knot of worry tightened my stomach. “The river?” I asked. “Are you sure?”

He nodded and there was even a smile on his face. “There’s nothing to fear.”

I studied him. He had suddenly appeared, resembling a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief. Clearly, he had seen more than his share of pain. Was that perhaps why his face carried such tenderness and his whole being radiated resolute joy? He appeared unconquerable. 

But the river? No, I didn’t want to go there. 

I had heard about the river. Most feared it and refused to speak of its existence. A few were longing for it, but nobody had ever survived it. At least, not as far as I knew.

And now I was going there myself. 

He led the way and the sunny weather turned dark and oppressive as he entered a valley. Ragged rocks with sinister peeks loomed up before me and the path became narrow. Still, he led on.

“I want to go back,” I cried. If the way leading to the river was like this, what would the river itself be like? I had no desire to find out.

He stopped for a moment, turned and repeated what he’d said before. “There’s nothing to fear. Come, hold my hand.”

As I took his hand, things felt safer. If anything terrible would jump out at me from these dark crevices, it would have to touch him first, before it would get to me. So, I squeezed his hand even tighter and he responded with a smile. “That’s good,” he said. “You just hold on tight.” 

Darkness descended. I couldn’t see a thing anymore, but he just walked on as if we were on a happy journey on a beautiful Spring morning.

At last, he stopped. “The river,” he said. “We have arrived.”

The riverbank was vaguely visible in the dark. Terrifying gurgles came from the rushing waters and a strange, unfamiliar scent permeated the air. It was pungent and there was nothing fresh about it. “C-Can we go back now?” I stammered. “I’ve seen enough.”

He shook his head. “We don’t go back. We only go forward.”

“What? Into the river?” I yanked my hand away from his. “No way. I will drown.” A wave of sheer terror washed over me. I longed to turn and run, but the impenetrable darkness made it impossible.

“You won’t drown,” he said. “I will be with you.”

“Must we go into the river?” I asked, my voice quivering with uncertainty. Why would he do such a thing? 

But as he took my hand again, a deep warmth spread out and touched my trembling heart.

“Do you trust me?” he asked. 

I’d trusted nobody, but as I looked into his eyes, I felt his deep gaze boring into me and a strange peace settled upon me. Somehow, I knew I could trust him. He meant it when he said there was nothing to fear. He would go with me. “Yes,” I whispered, overwhelmed by emotion. “I trust you.” 

There, by the riverbank, the meaning of trust dawned on me and as I held his hand, joy bubbled up inside. “Let’s go,” I said, and I meant it.

I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he was smiling as we stepped into the stream. The water was unlike anything I experienced before. I expected a piercing cold that would cut through my body like the devil’s knife. I prepared to let a monstrous giant squeeze my lungs until I suffocated. But the water was soft and balmy and I could breathe. In fact, it didn’t even feel wet. Rather, I had the strange sensation the river was cleansing me. All my former fears, sins and bitterness toward life could not stand the water. The river just ripped them from my being. Oh, what a sudden, unexpected joy.

He spoke; his voice clear despite the water. “Though you pass through the waters, I will be with you and soon we’ll be on the other side.”

The other side?

He nodded. “Yes, my child. The other side. There is joy and everlasting life. Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.”

How glad I was that He had come.