It was good to see land again. For months he had been imprisoned in the vessel. Imprisoned? He regretted thinking that way. Especially after what had transpired. He was glad he had obeyed God and built the massive ship. But it was good to see land again. Better still was to feel it under his feet.

He opened the doors of the ark and watched as the animals clamored to claim the earth for themselves. Hundreds of animals sped out of the ark and onto the dry land. Last of all came his family.

Eight. Only eight had survived the ordeal. Though joyous at seeing them, he couldn’t help but feel sad. Sad for the millions who had died; their bodies rotting in the heat of the sun.

For hundreds of years he had tried to warn them. “Repent! Turn back to God.” But they chose to ignore him. They treated him like an outcast.

Finally he started building the ark. He cut down trees and sawed beams out to make it. All the while he listened to the jeering and scoffing of the people around him. A universal flood! They said it was improbable and impossible. Where would all that water come from?

He was inclined to agree with them. Still he continued working on the ark. Was it foolish to do so? Not to him. He had heard the voice of God, and though every nerve inside him cried out telling him what he was doing was absurd, he knew he could trust God.

Normally he would have asked many questions. Not this time. He had a feeling that the full implications of the ark and the flood would be hard for him to grasp. With every blow of the hammer he realized he understood less. But what did it matter? God knew what He was doing and he could rest with that knowledge.

Finally the day came for them to enter the ark. He heard the scornful laughs of the people as he herded the animals in. With all the animals inside the ark, he and his family went in and closed the doors.

He was beginning to have second thoughts. They had been in the ark for a week now but there was no sign of rain. Had he been wrong about God’s intentions? Had he been under this great delusion for six hundred years? He almost started to wonder if God had let him down when he heard the first rumble of thunder.

Everything was damp. Well, what could he expect? For forty days it had rained and rained without stopping. He was nauseous from being tossed about on the massive waves. He wasn’t a seafaring man. But the ordeal would soon be over. The rain had stopped.

Soon? It was another ten months before they could come out of the ark. But he did come out; he and his family and all the animals. It was good to smell the clean, fresh air. Better still was to feel solid ground under his feet.

He chose a young ewe to offer to the Lord. It was an offering of thanksgiving and one of praise. The aroma of the offering filled his nostrils and he immediately felt hungry.

As he ate, he gazed upon the ark. He and his sons had built it. How many years had it taken? Thirty? Forty? How many cypress trees had they hewn down? A hundred? A thousand? He had lost count. Lost count of the years and the number of beams of wood it had taken. So many years and so much wood to save eight people.

Thousands of years later God decided to involve Himself in another saving act. He chose to do it Himself, because no one else could do it. And He saved millions. But there on a hill outside Jerusalem all He needed was six hours, three spikes and two beams of wood.

“It is finished!”

(Written on Thursday, 2 February 1995)