They came to it just after sunrise – a rising structure, out of place and proud, rearing its head against the sky. Stone stacked on stone, voices rising higher than the walls themselves. People moved with purpose, hauling, shaping, bringing a monstrosity into existence.
“We are reaching the heavens,” one of them said, eyes gleaming with fire. “We will make a name for ourselves. We will not be scattered. We shall be remembered forever.”
The man watched in silence. Ben sniffed the ground, ears low.
It was impressive. Ambitious. And deeply hollow.
They had no interest in the journey. No desire for the One who made the heavens – they only wanted to reach him on their terms. With their strength. Their plan. Their glory.
The man felt the weight of the decision. He could stay. He could help. He could ascend together.
Yet, his mind was very clear, this is not the way.
So, he turned. Without fanfare, without argument. Just turned and walked.
Ben followed, leaving the tower and its noise behind.
They didn’t need to build their way to heaven. Heaven was coming to meet them. One step, one day, one quiet act of obedience at a time.
The tower faded in the distance.
The man pressed on – still walking, still trusting, still free. The air felt fresher.
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