The Idol Worshipper in Need

A fire priest had shut the world's door in his own face, and bound himself in service to an idol. After many years, that man of a shameful faith was struck by fate with a terrible ordeal. Hoping for relief, the wretch rolled at the idol's feet on the temple floor. Crying, 'I am helpless, take my hand, O idol! I'm at the end of my rope; have mercy on my body.' He wailed and begged in its service again and again, but none of his affairs came right. How can an idol answer anyone's needs, when it can't even brush a fly away from itself? He raged, 'You anchor of error, for years I worshipped you in vain. Solve the trouble I now face, or else I will turn and ask my Lord.' His face was still soiled with dust before the idol when the pure God granted his wish. A knower of truths was baffled by this, and the clarity of his own inner state turned dark. How could a lost man who worships something less than God, his head still drunk on the wine of the idol temple, who never washed his heart of unbelief nor his hand of treachery, have God grant the wish he sought? His mind sank deep into this puzzle, until a message reached the ear of his heart: 'Before an idol, that feeble old man of dull wit said much, and his plea was never answered. If he were turned away from our door too, what difference would remain between an idol and the Eternal One?' You must fix your heart on the Eternal One, my friend, for all others are more helpless than any idol. It is impossible, if you lay your head at this door, that your hand of need should come back empty. My God, we come as sinners, empty-handed and full of hope we come.