The 6th of 12 Intertwining, Allegorical Short Stories in a Winter Anthology by Will Callery

entitled

THE FOREST OF THE DEEP FETCH & THE HEARTWORN HIGHWAY

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♥♥♥ Though a heavy snow has not yet fallen, the frosty breath of my Steed does attest to the fact that the temperature has. Winding through the mysteries of the Old Growth Forest that I knew back in my younger days as The Forest of The Deep Fetch, my Steed and I, in awesome wonder, do gently lace our way through, amongst, and beneath the Venerable Old Giants of days gone by, out of whose hallowed heights, burgeoning boughs, like massive arms, reach up into the winter sky above displaying what can only be described as an ancient yearning for their Creator, for their roots do run deep.  High up in their windy spires, in the grasp of the finer fingers of the younger little spindles and branches of these deeply rooted massive Old Timers bedwells the ever mounting expectation of a celestial adornment to come; Christ the King. To these Stately Wonders, the Majesty of a Heavy Winter Snow is but a Harbinger of the far Greater Wonder yet to come.  With Great Expectations, they spend their entire lives in a deep and yearning adoration for the Second Coming. They consider everything prophetic, from the slightest summer breeze to the heaviest winter snow. Oh, how these Gentle Giants do yearn for His return, and when in the restless throes of a tempest, they are a sight to behold. Is it any wonder why I do enjoy their company so?

♥♠♥ However, between this past Thanksgiving Day in that Lodge hidden in the Forest of the Deep Fetch and the upcoming Celebration of the Virgin Birth of Jesus Christ, the Creator of the Heavens Come To Earth, there is a lengthy stretch of Ruthless Roman Road that runs right through the Wilds and the Woolies of Humanity that I must navigate, and from what I understand, it is one of the favorite haunts of the Bushwhackers of the Souls of Men, where souls are taken captive and caged in Religious Structures built by men who, with great swelling words, religious programs, condemnation, Oscar winning theatrics, Grammy award-winning performances, doctoral oratory skills, and that Great Golden Calf of Christendom the Almighty Dollar, do pursue, pursuade, and convince the unaware, from the narcissist, to the fearful, to the naive, that, “If they simply ‘Repeat After Me’,” they have been Saved from the clutches of the Evil One, and that No Matter What, from that day forth, nothing can snatch them from below. And that they have, indeed, NOT ONLY attained Eternal Fire Insurance, but that THE GREAT TRANSFER OF WEALTH will, in due time, be Added to Them, and that no matter how they live their lives, they are forever Saved by the Great Love of God. Oh, yes, for some strange reason, they not only disdain the Spirit of God and those who are in “Possession of the Evidence” of such a “Treasure”, but gaze upon the Gifts of the Spirit and the Evidence as nonsense. (1 Timothy 4:1-3 & 2 Timothy 3:5 & Matthew 15:9)

♠♠♠ Being several weeks out from having to negotiate that notorious neck of the woods where these Bushwhackers of the Souls of Men are known to lie in wait, the Ruthless Old Roman Road I’m traveling, took an unexpected turn, dropping off into what can only be described as a very disturbing, seemingly boundless expanse of sulfurous bogs, sloughs, quagmires, and, strangely enough, towering Obelisks, STEEPLES, rivialing, in stature, Nimrod’sTower of Bable, not to mention the lumbering, Old Dead Snags, whose crowns did, centuries ago, reach into the heavens. How unearthly it was to see such towering, man-made Obelisks, Steeples, rivaling the Tower of Babel in Stature, rising up out of, and through, such a stench, as if they were trying to pierce the thick and ominous heaviness above to let some SonLight in while frantically gasping for air. Even though these Obelisks, these Steeples, lumbered over the imposing heights of the most herculean of the Old Dead Snags, they could not break through the ominous, heavily laden skies above. These Towering Obelesks, Steeples, had obviously been preaching to the Old Dead Snags for centuries, “That they were wealthy, of great stature² (towered over others), had need of nothing, and that they would live forever²”, (Revelation 3:17). Little did they know that they were, indeed, living forever, for they had already been Plucked-Up and were suffering the Second Death of the Double Dead, who had, however, not yet been cast into the Lake of Fire… ..At which time they would, most assuredly, realize that the Heavenly Herald, “COME OUT OF HER, MY PEOPLE,” had been bouncing off of their “OBSTINATE COVERING”, their “RELIGIOUS STRUCTURES”, for centuries. (Revelation 18:4, Revelation 20:14, 21:8, Jude v.12). )

♥ It was only after making my way up and out of the sulfurous, Stygian Bottomlands of the Plucked-Up and the Double Dead, back into the cool breezes of the earth, that I realized I had crossed the River Styx, that murky, vaporous morass of stench that separates the Living from the Dead, and made it out again. Before ever traversing that Neck-A-The-Woods a second time, I would gladly take a shortcut through Nineveh.

♠ It was then and there that I noticed, stretched out before me, through what seemed to be thousands of miles of endless salt flats, a Straight and Narrow, yet Heartworn Highway, where, built up on each side of it, were a blue jillion denominations, all claiming “The Straight & Narrow” as their own. From the Ancient Nicolaitans to the Unitarian Universalists. From Ol’ Dan Tucker to Old Joe Smith. From Long Dresses and Bundage to the Pentacostal Squirrel. From Peppermint Prophets who love Handing Out Candy to the God’s Gonna Getcha Boys. From the What, Me Worry? Kid, to the Not To Worry About the Flesh, It’s the Soul Jesus is After, to , I Can’t Do Much About It, Why,  I’m Just an Old Sinner Saved By Grace and a Blue Jillion more Ringtailed Religions; every one of them claiming that they were “The Way, the Truth, and the Life” …and that  “The Straight and Narrow” was OWNED by them alone. Unfortunately, none of them had even the slightest notion that they were Void of the Spirit, and IN GRAVE NEED of a GREAT AWAKENING. (2 Thessalonians 2:1-3 & Matthew, Chapter 24) 

♠♥♠ Now, not to the point of Sweating Great Drops of Blood, yet in the dire straits of my own human perplexity, with my head in my hands, and my heart in a quandary from considering the tangled mess that lay up ahead, I strongly pondered, heading back for the DURATION of this thing, to linger in the Forest of the Deep Fetch amongst those Venerable Old Oaks of Righteousness, those Great-Hearts of Old, for among those Old-Timers a man my age certainly does feel at Home, and somewhat younger. Why the thought even occurred to me that if I went back and lingered long enough, perhaps I might take root and become one of them, for these Old Oaks of Righteousness are not only splendid company, they are, as the Truth has it, THE PLANTING OF THE LORD. However, to backtrack, I would have to, once again, cross through the stench of the River Styx and Journey through the Land of Plucked-Up and Double Dead. As I said, before ever traversing that Neck-A-The-Woods again, I would gladly take a shortcut through Ninevah.

♥ Oh, Deep in the Fetch of an alternate plan was I, when my thoughts were interrupted by a loving, gentle, warm, yet Powerful Voice within me saying,  “Do you not remember the Desperate Soul that you once were, forty years ago?”

♥ Do you not remember when,

He found you layin’ by the side of the road,

How He scattered the wolves and carried you Home?

Do you not remember when I said,

Everything that I have, son, it is yours,

But you’ve got to go back into the midst of those wolves?

 

Do you not remember when I told you, “Son, I have another!

When I gave you My Word, you gained a Brother!

A Kinsman Redeemer, a Warrior King,

And how He will deal with those wolves; you just bring in My sheep

 

Through that Cross Over Yonder, to the River that Flows

From the Throne of your Father to all those dry, thirsty souls;

He is the River of Life, He is the River of Delights, 

And how you are to tell them, that they can drink from that River, Any Ol’ Time?

 

Do you not remember when I told you of

 My Fine Afternoon?

How you will look high and low through Heaven and Earth,

Through the Mysteries and Wonders of this whole universe;

That no danger, no death, no devils, no goons

Will you find anywhere on that Fine Afternoon!?

My Fine Afternoon?  Do you not remember?     {Any Ol’ Time,©will callery}

♥ And so, encouraged by the Spirit, I put my concerns behind me to reach out into whatever it was that lay ahead. I mounted up and struck back out into the Winter of My Years for my destination, that City Not Made by the Hands of Man, reminding myself that, scattered here and there throughout the Perils of this Present, Evil World, and also, still safely nestled in nooks and crannys of the Remnants of the Forest of the Deep Fetch, all lit up with the Warm Glow of the Glory of God, are a few Clandestine Lodges For The Wayfaring Man. The Very Haven that Jeremiah longed for, so long ago (Jeremiah 9:2). And that I do, genuinely, not only have a Powerful Friend that sticks closer than a Brother (Proverbs 18:24), but that His signs and wonders will Follow me (Mark 16:17,18) until I arrive at the Gates of that City Made just for me by the Son of an Earthly Carpenter, Born of a Virgin; the Son of Man, the Son of David, the Son of God; Immanuel; God with me!

♥ Leaving you now with, hopefully, much to ponder, I wish you all A Very MERRY CHRISTMAS. God bless you, one & all!!!

♣♥♣ HANDS ON THE WHEEL by Will Callery. Performed by Will Callery, Jerry Jeff Walker, Joe Forlini, Eddie Cantu, Greg Lowry, & Ted Sweeney.  Executive Producer, Pete Smith. Recorded at Mike Morgan’s Studio, THE ZONE, by the Wizard of Sound, Pat Manske, back in the Good Ol’ Days.  A Product of Pete’s Productions / ©Waylonson Pub. Co. BMI ©1975

 

¹wcv / My Emphasis, My Version  {Always taken from the Greek, Hebrew, Aramaic, and Arabic translations, definitions, and connotations}

² / My Insert(s)

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Letters From Over Yonder, The Deep Fetch, A Pod, Fashioned Over Yonder & Ain’t It So are published by William & Cynthia Pub. Co., ©2025.

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