The Greater Yes
The storm thundered overhead.
Jon looked around at the people who sat with him in the circle of golden light. Beside him was Nan, his first friend, whom he had met on the road to the Door. Although it had just been the two of them, at first, they were no longer alone. Not anymore. Jon’s gaze traveled around the circle, and as he looked from one to the next, he caught an answering glance and a brotherly nod from many. Others – many others – had come out of the darkness to take their place around the fire since they had first arrived.
Now, these were his people. His friends. They had become his family. Together, they had weathered many storms. Together, they had built a home here among the ruins of a broken world. Together, they had breathed life from the Book and had marveled at what and Who lay beyond the Door. The people who knew the Doorlight held all things in common and each worked diligently for the good of all.
This evening, Jon’s gaze rested in particular upon two people. Steve had been one of the first to welcome Jon and Nan when they had come back through the door, and Sara had become Nan’s best friend. The four of them had found that they naturally worked well together to aid their community. Both Steve and Jon were expert foragers, and Sara and Nan could grow anything. Steve was one of their light-tenders, and he was always quick to step up whenever the world-storms blew over and thundered around them.
Each time that this happened, Steve and Sara would rise from their places and go to the center of their glowing circle of light. There, they would feed fresh fuel into the three lamps that held the Doorlight from beyond the Threshold, singing songs from the Book, or telling one of its many tales.
Their words spoke life into the people, and the lamp-light held back the storms.
Their three lamps had been a gift to the people. By their light, all could read the Book. In their glow, the Glass that each person carried was renewed and strengthened. The lamp-light pushed back the darkness that perpetually lurked beyond the edge of the camp. The lamps held Doorlight and formed a bubble of hope, riding and bobbling on the dark waves of a sea of despair. For all around them was darkness.
One day, as Jon and Steve were foraging for provisions in the gloom to the west of their camp, Steve stopped and straightened up.
“Do you hear that?” he asked.
“Do I hear what?” Jon replied.
“That voice?”
Jon cocked his head to one side, then shook it saying, “No, I don’t think so.”
“Listen again.”
He did. As he strained his ears to catch any sound besides the perpetual whirling and whining of the winds, he thought that he did hear something.
Jon caught snatches of a faint voice farther out in the darkness.
“—elp… Can … anyone … ?”
There was one voice. Jon wasn’t sure whether there was more than one. He looked at Steve and nodded, about to go investigate. But, just then, a strong squall blew up out of nowhere, and they both had to run to get back to the safety of their camp.
That night, Jon noticed Steve staring silently into the campfire. He looked troubled, despite the fact that he sat in the golden glow of the Doorlight. Jon saw him take out his glass and stare down at it, then up, and then off to the west. That cry for help had come from the west.
Jon could guess what he was troubling him. He went over and sat next to Steve.
“Still thinking about them?”
Steve nodded without looking up. He turned his glass over and over in his hands as he said softly, “I remember that first day. Do you?”
Jon sat back. He knew what Steve was asking. He did remember. All too well. He remembered waking up and finding himself alone and lost in a storm-torn world. He remembered stumbling through the dark, and then finding Nan, and then finding the road, and then finding the Door. He remembered how beautiful that golden light had been when it had first appeared to him in the darkness.
“I do,” Jon looked down at his feet, and then he looked over at Steve.
“You’re going out there, aren’t you? You’re going to find them?”
For a moment, Steve didn’t respond. Then he said simply, “Yes.”
Jon nodded. He’d already known. This had to be the answer. He wouldn’t be Steve, otherwise.
Somewhere in the darkness were others who still wandered without light. Above them all, the storm still raged. Jon knew from reading the Book that one day the skies would clear and all would be put right. But, until then, they were all wanderers in a wasted world. The only thing that made it bearable was the fact that they had one another and that they walked by the light of the Door. Jon leaned in.
“You and Sara should take one of the lamps.”
At first, even Jon couldn’t believe that he had just said that. Steve also looked at him in surprise.
Jon just shrugged, “The two of you are going together, aren’t you?”
“Well, yes, … I mean, she said she’d go if I was going.”
“You won’t be the only ones. I’m sure a few others will want go along, too.”
“Would you go?”
Jon looked down at the glass that he held in his hands. This was the question, wasn’t it. Someone out there needed him. Surely, he should go. Surely, he should help them. Slowly, he turned the glass over and over. As he did, the faces of those around their fire flashed and flickered across its glossy surface.
The question formed within him, “Would you give up this comfort and safety to follow me?”
His answer echoed back, firm and determined, “Yes.” Jon almost turned to tell Steve then and there.
But something held him back. If Steve left, who else would gather supplies? Who else would tell the stories from the Book? Who else would mind the lamps? He looked down at his glass. Once again, it pulsed with golden light. In that light was another question.
“Would you remain here and send out your brothers and sisters so that others can find me?”
Jon paused. In that moment, the idea of staying behind seemed harder than going. He looked out to the east, beyond their circle of light. There, fierce winds howled freely. There, the storms stabbed angry spears of light at the already-shattered rocks. There and everywhere, all around them, he saw a sea of black darkness without a single star.
Stars. He thought of stars, trying to imagine what this place might one day be. He tried to picture clear skies, but he found that he couldn’t. It was too much. Then, as he looked to the west, he imagined seeing an answering light, gleaming on the horizon. He thought of those two circles of light, both working together to push back the darkness. That, certainly, would be a wonder.
But, if that were to happen, then light must be sent. And light must stay.
“Will you stay, that the light may spread?” the question asked again.
Finally, Jon looked back over at Steve and shook his head. He said, “The storms aren’t over yet, Steve. Until they are, until we walk under clear skies in the light of the open Door, we have work to do. Yours is over there. Mine … mine is still here.”
He looked down as he finished. The glass in his hand glowed with golden light. Yes. That was his answer.
Steve nodded. Then he looked up. His eyes were now fixed on the western sky. Jon looked down at Steve’s hands and saw that his glass also glowed with golden light.
All too soon, the day of their send-off arrived. Steve, Sara, and the rest of their companions stood at the western edge of the circle of light. Jon, Nan, and the others faced them, standing with their backs to the two remaining lamps. Steve held the third. Everything had been said and done. The moment had come. Steve nodded, raised the lamp, and began walking to the west in the golden glow of the Doorlight.
Whether or not tears were shed is unimportant. This much is certain; no inappropriate tears fell, and the One who had first called out to them, he counted each drop. In the end, not one would go unrepaid.
The darkness seemed very dark for those first few nights. Those who remained lived much as they had done before. But now, when the storms shattered the cloud-ridden skies, someone other than Steve and Sara, stepped up to tend the lamps, sing a song, tell a tale, or read from the Book. Sometimes, it was Jon. Sometimes Nan, Sometimes, it was someone else.
Before long, others wandered in out of the darkness. They too had been drawn by the light of the Door.
The first time that one of these newcomers had sat down in the place by the fire that Steve and Sara had always favored, a stab of sorrow tore through Jon. But even as he winced at the memory of his loss, he had looked at the face of this new member of their family. She had just come through the Door. On her face, he had seen the same wonder and peace that he and Nan had felt upon finding the People.
At the sight of it, his sadness fled.
Without waiting, he found Nan, and the two of them crossed the circle of firelight to sit beside the little girl who had sat down in Steve’s spot. Nan began to ask her questions about where she had come from and how she had found the Door. She answered at once, voice full of excitement and eyes aglow with wonder. Soon, she and Nan were lost in conversation. As the two of them shared stories, Jon looked out beyond the glowing circle at the dark wasteland of the horizon.
As he did, something caught his eye, and a slow smile spread itself across his face.
There, far to the west, gleaming against the blackness, he saw an answering glow of golden light.
Michael Somerville is the author of several short stories, as well as an in-progress high-fantasy series called the Tales of the Broken Realm. He loves telling stories of hope about ordinary characters doing their small part to help heal a broken world. By day, he pays the bills as a hands-on storyteller and project manager, leading and envisioning professional teams in the "real-world", even as he is busily building and illustrating imaginary worlds in his evenings and on the weekends.
Outside of work and writing, he enjoys a wide range of hobbies, including playing music with his family and friends on keyboard or guitar, drawing, sculpting, painting, sewing, and blacksmithing, or walking the length of the Appalachian Trail in his home neighborhood in the Shenandoah Valley, where he serves as a Board member on his local civic association.
Most important to Michael are his family and his church. Michael and Jessica celebrate their 20th anniversary in 2026 and are happily raising three wonderful daughters. He serves actively in his local church, playing music on Sunday, teaching the older elementary kids, and leading a “small group” full of wonderful saints. He hopes to hear "Well done" one day, and plans to keep serving his true King until then.
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