In this week’s story, we step into a kingdom where the King has a rather unusual idea about how things should be ruled. A children’s story? Perhaps, but it is actually a lighthearted parable about the very serious matter of light and darkness. It is a tale about the choices we make, the voices we follow, and the light we sometimes overlook.
I hope it encourages you and that it may bring a chuckle to your face.
The King Who Hated Light
By J.K. Stenger
King Blimp was sitting on his golden throne. He looked down upon his subjects before him in the darkened throne room. The shutters to the outside world were closed and the lights were dim, so one could mostly see shadows. That was exactly the way King Blimp liked it. A benevolent smile stretched across his thick lips as he stared at the people, inspecting them like dumb cows in the market square behind his palace. Cows, they were, at least in his mind. Of course, he couldn’t say that aloud. After all, they were his counselors and he had to maintain the illusion that everything in the kingdom was decided democratically and that everyone had a say.
They had not. Only King Blimp had, but it helped to keep everyone happy and docile. He was king, and they were not.
But today, it wouldn’t hurt to garner a few ideas. Who knows, maybe one or two good suggestions would rise from the darkened minds of his counselors.
He chuckled while considering his own words, as today’s emergency meeting was about light. Or rather, how to get rid of the light.
Light disturbed King Blimp.
All light did.
Natural light, artificial light, inner light … everything had to go.
A difficult feat, and he wasn’t entirely sure whether such a thing was possible. But he had to try, for he hated the light. It hurt his tender blue eyes and made it harder to go anywhere without being seen. He longed to do things no king should dare, but the light kept him from satisfying the deep, royal cravings that raged through his heart each day.
What did not help either were the inner lights. The inner light most definitely had to go as well. Some called it the conscience, but he just scoffed at that word. To King Blimp, the inner light mostly manifested itself in the voice of his mother. When he was a child, she had disturbed him with her ideas about all kinds of things a king should or shouldn’t do. But she was now dead, and it was time to squelch all lights.
King Blimp decided it was time to start the meeting. He clapped his hands, cleared his throat and rose from his throne. His impressive ermine mantle unfolded behind him, but it was too dark for anyone to notice.
“Gentlemen and wise men of the kingdom,” he began. “I’ve called you together to discuss an important matter. The matter at hand is ‘light.’
“A light matter, oh King?” one his generals said. “Then why do we all have to be here?”
“I am talking about LIGHT, you fool, as in the stuff that makes you see,” King Blimp scoffed. “Light as in, the electromagnetic radiation within a range of wavelengths that the human eye can detect, which is roughly 400–700 nanometers.” He smirked as he saw the befuddled expression on some of the faces of his subjects. Yes, he knew his stuff, and they didn’t.
“The point is,” King Blimp continued, “I want to rid the kingdom of light. We do not need it. Not the physical light and not the inner light. It all needs to go. I want you to give me ideas as to how we can cast the light from us, so we can all enjoy our lives without being seen.”
“So … we would be sort of invisible?” the general asked.
“That’s the idea,” King Blimp replied, feeling rather proud of his wonderful new idea. “People will be finally free to do as their heart tells them to do. Since nobody can see them, nobody can stop them either.” He licked his lips and while raising his finger in the air in order to hammer the idea down, he explained in a commanding voice, “We will enter a stage of unequaled bliss.” He smiled. He would go down in history as the wisest king that had ever lived.
“Excuse me, oh King?’ the general asked again.
“WHAT?” King Blimp replied. He glared at his general and wondered if, perhaps, the man needed to be demoted.
“And God? How can we shield ourselves from the light of God?”
King Blimp stared at the general and felt his heart racing. He didn’t like that general. In fact, he never had.
“God?” he scoffed at last. “Let us cast his cords from us. God doesn’t even exist. We throw off the shackles of narrow-minded bigotry so we will finally be able to enter a world of bliss and true euphoria.”
It was still for a moment, but then everyone applauded obediently. “How will we do it, oh King?” someone else asked, a skinny man who looked like a weasel, wearing a counselor’s robe that was way too big for him.
King Blimp nodded his approval. “That’s why you all are in here. I want you to come up with ideas.”
A profound silence settled over the throne room, until a timid voice in the back cried out: “We can start by removing all the lampposts, oh King. Preferably, we cut the electricity in the kingdom too. That saves money for the treasury.”
King Blimp liked the idea and ordered a scribe to note it down in the ‘idea book’.
“We could build massive mechanical shutters over the palace and then over every town,” someone else suggested. “We need to block out the sun.”
Another voice cried out that dark smoke needed to be released from an enchanted furnace to create a permanent dark sky.
Great. They were all great ideas, and king Blimp would muse over them later in his private quarters. Still the eradication of the most important light had not yet been touched. He grunted and said, “And what about the … inner lights? The light that enlightens every man that comes into this world and that some refer to as the light of God, who doesn’t exist. We need to especially blind that light, as it holds people back from their true potential.”
It was still for a long while, but at last a few voices spoke up.
One said, “Your Majesty, drown the minds of your subjects with constant bustle. Let no citizen have even a single, quiet moment.”
“Erase the old stories and the good books,” another quipped. “If the people forget who they are, their inner light will slowly fade away.”
More enthusiastic responses followed, as everyone did their best to come up with the best suggestion and so win the favor of the king.
“Flatten their imagination. A world without wonder has no room for light.”
“Offer them comfortable shadows, pleasures that leave the soul dull.”
“Introduce new speech that makes expressing truth or beauty difficult. If we lack words for goodness, we will forget goodness itself.”
And on and on it went.
The scribe was busy, sweat on his forehead and King Blimp nodded in pleased satisfaction. At last, he raised his hands so everyone would stop shouting out their suggestions, and he said in a warm voice, “Thank you, dear counselors. I have a lot to muse on tonight. Soon, I will let you all know about the changes we will make in making sure the light will forever leave our kingdom.”
Everyone cheered and clapped.
The meeting was over and King Blimp resided to his study to retire for the night.
***
He slept splendidly. Wrapped in his royal quilt, he dreamed sweetly of spreading darkness and enchanted selfishness across his realm. He rose in an excellent mood, as today he would refine the magnificent plans laid out in yesterday’s triumphant meeting.
But a surprise struck him, the moment he pulled the black sleep mask from his eyes. The world around him was pitch-dark; utterly, impossibly dark. Not a single speck of light shone anywhere.
King Blimp despised the light, yes, but he still needed a little of it to stomp around and make proper plans. Darkness was delightful only when he decided it should be dark, but this was darkness at the wrong time and there was far too much of it.
A terrifying truth struck him. Had he gone blind overnight?
He blinked, hoping for sight to return, but nothing came. Yet he did not feel blind, although he had no idea what being blind truly felt like.
What in the world had happened? He swung his kingly legs over the edge of the bed and set off in search of his clothes. That proved harder than he expected. He stumbled several times, banged his knee against his desk, and while waving his arms in a desperate attempt to find his boots, he accidentally scratched his face with his carefully manicured nails.
At last, he managed to get dressed and he even discovered the door.
Would the world be brighter outside? He took a deep breath, paused for a moment to summon courage, then swung the door wide open.
Everything beyond his room remained as dark as the inside. Nothing had changed.
“Hello!” he cried, hoping a servant would come rushing to his aid.
But a most alarming voice answered, telling him that help was nowhere near. From somewhere deep within the palace came a muffled cry from one of his servants. “I can’t see a thing, oh King. I am as a blind man.”
King Blimp’s hand nervously went up to ruffle his hair, but in the process, he knocked his crown loose. The precious diadem tumbled from his head and crashed loudly onto the marble floor. King Blimp let out a furious curse and cried, “I need to see at least something! Can anybody hear me?”
“Yes, oh King… I hear you.”
A voice from a corner made King Blimp shudder. “W-What’s going on… Who are you?” he demanded, turning his face toward the sound.
“You asked for darkness, oh King,” the voice replied evenly. “God has simply granted your wish.”
“God?” King Blimp yelled. “There is no God. You are lying. I am God. You are God. We are all God.”
Silence settled for a moment before the voice replied, “No, you are not. You are nothing more than a man and worse still, a man who has rejected God. Yet even now God is willing to help you, if only you would repent.”
King Blimp felt rage rising. Who was this impudent fellow who had entered the royal court without permission? “What is your name?” he hissed.
“My name is Uriam,” the voice replied. “It means flame of God. I am a prophet of the Most High.”
“I-I… am the most hi—” King Blimp began, but he quickly realized how ridiculous and weak he sounded. He stepped forward and promptly dashed into a chair. Perhaps he needed to be a bit more polite to this Uriam, maybe offer him a position at court or even a large sum of money, just to get some answers.
“What’s going on, Uriam?” he demanded.
It was still for a moment, and then Uriam said, “O King, you have unleashed a terrible darkness over the land that only unbelievers experience. All who trust in the Most High God can still see. They rejoice in the wonders of creation and seek to forsake themselves and live for others.”
This knowledge was too much for King Blimp to bear, and he roared, “Nonsense! This is a wicked trick, and my magicians will certainly be able to reverse this curse.”
“Let them try, oh King,” Uriam said. “But I am afraid that unless they yield to the Most High God, they will have a hard time even finding their magic wands. Like you, they stumble around in darkness.”
King Blimp understood his predicament, but this Uriam fellow had to help. After all he, King Blimp, was the king. “What do I do?” he hissed.
Uriam’s voice was grave and deeply serious as he spoke softly. “All who cry out in desperation with an honest heart, who confess their sins, and who yield to the light of the Most High God will see.” He paused for a moment, then added, “The Scripture says, ‘The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined.’”
It remained silent in the royal courtroom for a long time. Only the happy chatter of children outside the palace could be heard, and in the distance a church bell tolled, calling the faithful to gather for service. At last, Uriam spoke, almost in a whisper. “Oh King, the spell you cast over the land will not be undone by your demands, your pleas, or your own efforts. The light will only respond and return to the cries of the truly broken.”
***
And so, the kingdom entered a strange new age. Those who trusted the Most High God walked in clear daylight, tending their families, their work, and their worship with joy. But those who followed King Blimp wandered blindly, tripping over the very paths they had once walked with confidence.
As for the King himself, he stayed in his palace chambers, fumbling through pitch-black halls that no servant could brighten.
Uriam’s words, however, remained true for all who listened: Only those who bow to the Light will see again.
Whether King Blimp would ever bow remained a question for another day. But for now, he remained alone in the shadows he mistook for freedom.
Let us not be followers of King Blimp, but rather open our hearts to the fresh beauties of heaven, and let God’s light fully shine upon the fields of our hungry hearts.
____