I began to suspect, when walls of water collapsed on me, that I was no god. I and the army of upper and lower Egypt were crushed and drowned.
“My son, my beloved son, in whom I am well please.”
Still muzzy from dying, I supposed, the words made no sense to me. If I was son, then who was father? The voice didn’t resemble my own father’s. His was cool, aloof, royal. This voice was warm and tender, a voice which drew me in, cradled me, loved me. Not since leaving my mother’s rooms in the palace at six, had I any such sense of love. I opened my eyes.
All was light. Though we rarely saw rainbows in Egypt, my magicians could produce them in certain circumstances. I was unprepared for the light which was rainbow itself. Rather than arching, it twisted around and within itself, colors mingling, blending, producing infinite variations from the basic seven colors. It was a glorious sight, infinitely absorbing, worthy of long contemplation.
“Welcome, my beloved son,” the voice said again. “I’ve looked forward from all eternity to this moment, when we meet face-to-face.”
“Who are you?”
“I AM all that I AM. You knew me as Yahweh, the God of Israel.”
“You destroyed my Egypt!” I cried out, enraged. “There is nothing left, not a single green tree, not a stalk of wheat, not a cow or sheep. Worst of all, you took my son, my heir, my dynasty.”
If a voice can smile, his voice did. “Actually, it was the other way round. It was you, your resistance that broke Egypt. Let’s not quibble. It was in my plan and was necessary both for Egypt and Israel that your power be crushed.”
“But I am the Pharaoh of Upper and Lower Egypt, the lord of the Nile, the son of Ra. The life of my people is in my hands. I am,” less certain now, “or was, the god of Egypt. Our gods were all-powerful; the Nile, Ra, the sun…”
“Well, a tiny bit of that was once true, though I think I made a few pretty good points against your gods.”
I trembled deep in my spirit. The solid ground of all my beliefs shook and shifted, threatening to collapse. I stood straighter, tensed my muscles ready to do battle. As if reading my mind, the voice said, “What battle can flesh wage against spirit? Even your religion came to that conclusion.”
“But Egypt has lasted for a thousand years and will last another. How can you argue against such success?”
“Yes, that I well know. It was I who brought power to Egypt’s first monarch. It was always I who chose her rulers, raised them up, brought them low. It was not the might of armies, the cunning strategies of generals and kings or even luck. It always was and always will be, I who work these things by my own will and for my purposes. Let’s take you, for example.”
“I came to power by my own cunning! It was I who assassinated my brother and seized the throne. It was I who coerced the generals of the armies of the Upper and Lower Nile to support my kingdom. I did it.” I pounded my chest with a clenched fist. “It was all my doing.”
A melodic chuckle came from within the light. “Weren’t you surprised when your brother so readily agreed to attend your banquet?”
“Well, yes, a little. He was wary of me from the time I came to manhood. He knew I was ambitious and desired to reign even though I was the younger.”
“I changed his mind. He didn’t plan to attend, suspecting that he was in danger from you. He came and you poisoned him. Right?”
“Yes, that’s exactly how it happened. But it was I who convinced the generals to support me against my other siblings and a couple of pretenders. That wasn’t easy.”
“No, it was difficult and dangerous for you, but did you notice that they all changed their minds at once and that the pretenders fled into Canaan?”
“Well, yes. Your doing, I suppose?”
“Here’s something even better. You remember the plagues?”
I shuddered. “How can I ever forget? No nation on earth has suffered such devastation in so many forms. Your doing, too, I assume?”
“Of course. Did you notice the pattern?”
“No.”
“Each plague was against one of your gods. Snakes swallowed by Moses’s snake. The River Nile, one of your chief gods, turned to blood, abhorrent to you Egyptians. The frogs…”
“I get it, I get it. You attacked my gods to show how impotent they are against you.”
“Exactly. Now, think about it. Each time a plague fell on you and your kingdom, you almost decided to give in and let those pesky Israelites go. Right?”
“Well, yes, I suppose.”
“Yet you changed your mind. Even, toward the end, when your counselors begged you to send them out, you ‘hardened your heart,’ as Moses later wrote. Didn’t that trouble you a bit at the time--the logic of giving in and yet making the illogical choice?”
“I remember the feeling of conflict, of wanting to get them out so the plagues would stop, yet finding a deep well of resistance in the depths of my being.”
“That was me.”
“You?”
“Yes. You see, you were working out my will. Think of it this way. If Egypt’s gods, the gods of the most powerful nation on earth, could not resist me, how then could any other nation hope to do so?
“I guess I see what you mean. I was the example.”
“You and your nation and your gods, yes.”
“But you say you, how did you put it, you hardened my heart? How is that fair?”
“If you had followed your own inclinations and let them go, let’s say at the third plague. Egypt would have recovered quickly. You could attribute the misfortunes to some error in an incantation, a fault in a priest. But if I led you through to the bitter end, then there would be no doubt.”
“But why that scurvy little ragtag band of slaves? Why were they so important to you that you would destroy my beautiful Egypt for them? They were slaves, after all, expendable!”
“True, they were slaves, but not expendable. I’m not going to go into all their history just now. Suffice it to say that I chose them for a very specific purpose. May I reveal something to you which very few know, even here?”
“Will it hurt?”
“No.”
“Ok.”
“This world is not as it will someday be. There was a time when all was perfection. Then, in my own plans, it became what it now is--violent, troubled, terrified. You know, for you yourself participated in it.”
“Yes, I see that now.”
“Someday, a man will appear, born into the people you call ragtag. He will change everything. He will absorb all this pain and sorrow into himself. He is the real Son of the Real God. You, my friend, are an imposter, claiming to be the son of the sun. This One, this true Son, will rescue the whole system from itself. He will draw all humanity to Himself and all will turn to worship me, the creator and Sustainer of all things. I am He who raises up and brings low, who sets up kings and humbles them in the dust. But not for no purpose. All is in my grand plan to bring all of you back to myself, elevated above all that you could have been without this troubled time. Do you see how you and your nation entered into my plan? You were the launching pad for the nation that is, at this moment, being formed in the wilderness of sin. They are a troublesome lot; always will be. Yet, through all their tribulations, their rebellions and backslidings, will come prophets who will point the way to Him who is the savior of the world, the true Son of God. You were a pivot in this grand plan. You were essential. I set you up for just this moment. You died in a deluge of water, but your death is far from insignificant. Though you will have no monument, no tomb, no extravagant pyramid to mark your resting place, though you will not be embalmed, you will be remembered and honored through all eternity for the role you played in my purposes and plans. Can you accept this?”
“I, the Pharaoh of Upper and lower Egypt, the proud ruler, Son of Ra, brother to Osiris, ruler of a vast and rich empire, fell on my face before this God of all Gods, the creator and sustainer of all humanity, the true River of Life which overflows with life-giving water. It is to Him that I give all honor and glory. I am humbled in the dust. I cannot lift my eyes to Him. I am content to lie prostrate before Him as long as He gives me life.”
Hands lifted me, pulled me into the Light. I am a Son of the Great and Only God, Yahweh of Israel. I am adopted into His family, now His loyal servant. I resisted, I perished in my resistance, but He has revealed His purposes in me—an honor I do not deserve, but which thrills my heart all the same.
“My soldiers no longer obey me, for we are equals before the Majesty of Yahweh. I no longer crave their obedience. We worship together, a band of brothers, recreated in His image, dwelling within Him, rejoicing in His goodness and love.”
We are sons of the only true God. There is no higher honor.
This is an excerpt from a version of Hitler's Hell by Winslow Parker and published by Blind Tortoise Publishing. It is placed in the public domain under the creative commons copyright initiative. This means that the book or significant portions thereof may be used for non-profit purposes. It may be sold for fund-raising for charitable endeavors. In any case, author attribution and contact information must be included.
Author Winslow Parker notes the following:
These Ten short stories are an attempt to portray Father in the light of His true character and to point the way toward a more humane earthly justice system. Most Christians believe in the division of humanity into two groups—the saved and the lost. The saved go to an existence of peace. The “lost” are either burned up or tortured forever in fiery torment. In these stories, rather than being retributive, vengeful and vindictive, I portray God as an infinitely loving Father who desires, and will have, the best for all of His children. He will not kill or, worse, torture eternally, those whom He brought into existence. In harmony with this, I attempt to portray a hell that is restorative, healing, mending Rather than destructive or eternally painful. The product is a friend, a loving comrade, a fit eternal companion for Father and all humanity. These stories are fiction. Yet, I believe they are true in the deepest sense of that word. I am not attempting to portray in any literal sense, His actual methods, His process of hell. Rather, these are allegories of His eternally-planned outcomes for all humanity. There are two outcomes. First, all will go through a hell, a cleansing, purifying, restoring hell. Death is not the end of choice or of change. Second, all humanity, without exception, will experience this cleansing and restoration. A subtext to all of the stories is that evil, sin, tribulation, trial, pain, suffering are not random or chance events. All that we consider “bad” has purpose including “The Fall.” He is leading everyone on a predestined path back to Himself. He knows how to bring each of us into fellowship with Himself. He will succeed, for “All things are of, through and return to, Him” (Romans 11:36) “My Word will not return to Me Void.” (Isaiah 55:11)
Though the contemporary Christian culture does not accept these beliefs, both scripture and in the extra-canonical writings of the early church attest to their validity. Could we but see the beauty of God’s unfailing love and accept that His hell is restorative, not retributive; a dramatic change could sweep our justice system, our nation and our religion. There are already glimmerings in the “Restorative Justice” movement, which partakes largely of the spirit of these stories. If even one item in this book touches your heart, I am content.
Mr. Parker can be contacted at winslow617@comcast.net. Please use this address to find out more about the book. Mr. Parker has mentioned to me that he lives with his wife in Portland, Oregon where he is retired from his work teaching other blind people how to use computers. Together they have two children and three grandchildren. He enjoys writing and woodturning.
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