The Raven

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Camp creates all sorts of experiences and perspective changes for those who attend. The following post is a creative expression of LIFT intern, Emily Anderson, written when she was in high school. Do you have a creative blog post that flows out of your camp experience, or lessons you’ve learned? Share your story with us like Emily has shared The Raven. 

The Raven

A small raven struggled against the storm.  The rain beat down on the little bird harder and harder the farther it flew.

“Just give up,” whispered the storm.  “You don’t have a chance against me.”

The heavy rain stung and the bird cried out in pain.  She couldn’t give up, she couldn’t be defeated.  Trying to keep her head high she pushed on.  Searching.

“Why are you fighting me?” the storm asked.  “What could you possibly have to live for?”

The little bird tried to push his words from her mind, but they haunted her thoughts.  Her eyes longed to see refuge but none came.  What was she fighting so hard for?  What good could she ever find in this storm?

“Nobody cares about the raven.  You are weak, and I am stronger than you.”

Her body ached and she saw no point in continuing on.  She gave one last cry of defeat and then stopped trying.  The storm felt her surrender and laughed harshly as his rain pushed her mercilessly to the ground.

The plummet was quick, the ground was hard, and the pain was cold.

The little raven lay face-down in the mud, rain still falling all around her.  Her body was broken, as was her spirit.

She would die in the dirt.  Maybe that was how it should be.

After just a moment she heard something running towards her.  She lifted her head as best she could, more out of curiosity than fear.  It was a man.  His face held an expression of love and deep concern as he raced in her direction.

He can’t be running towards me

He can’t be running towards me, the bird thought.  Nobody cares about the raven.  The storm’s words played back in her mind.  He was right.  She would never be worth anything.

The man stopped when he reached her and dropped to his knees, sloshing mud all over himself.  He didn’t care.  With gentle hands he reached down and scooped up the little bird, holding her protectively so that the rain would not harm her.  He wiped the mud from her face and looked tenderly into her eyes.

“I have been waiting for you, Beloved,” he said.

The raven looked up at him in confusion.  What could he mean?

“I listened to your cries and I have waited for you to come to me.”

Her small, frail body lay crumpled in his strong hands.  Why?  It was the only word that seemed to be running through her mind.

The raven winced as pain shot through her, a harsh reminder of the fall she had just taken.

The man sighed sympathetically, “I know it hurts, but now that you have found me everything will be different.  Together we will do great things.”

He saw the question in her eyes and smiled, “Now that you have found me, Beloved, you will never again face the storm alone.”

The raven had finally found her refuge.  Not in a shelter, but in a Savior.

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