Weight

The weight was too much. The cord that held it had frayed over the years and the weight was held now by a single thread. In fact, the thread was so thin that some said a simple wind might be enough to break the cord and send the weight falling to the ground, shattering. A simple wind...

Solomon was dead, and the time came to pass the kingdom to the next in line. God had promised David that a king of his line would always sit on the throne of Israel, but within two generations, the kingship had gone to the head of David's descendants. Power was infectious stuff, getting the best of men in those days.

And so, Solomon's son came to the people to be declared king. But the people wanted to know one thing. "When your father became king, he was good to us. But the longer he was king, the more power he took, and the more we began to feel like slaves. Tell us, Rehoboam, son of Solomon, what will you be like? Will you be a king or a tyrant?"

Rehoboam was surprised by the question. He had assumed he would become king without any questions. "Um, well, give me a few days," he said, "and I'll let you know what kind of leader I will be." After all, he'd never been king before and his father really had never gotten around to giving him "king lessons." There were a few people he needed to consult.

The wind, as they expected, began to blow. Quietly at first, and the weight simply shifted in the breeze, back and forth. The thread held.

 The first people he consulted were the elders. His father's advisors. "Tell the people that you will be kind and you will listen to their concerns," they told Rehoboam. "Then they will love you and serve you." Rehoboam turned to go, and one of the elders grabbed him by the arm. "Tell them, Rehoboam. If you don't listen to them now, you will regret it later." Just as he walked out the door, he heard the man say, "Your father did. He regretted it."

And breeze died down, just a bit.

His next stop was in the home of one of his friends, and there he met the guys he had been drinking buddies with for so long. They gathered for one last party, because he knew he wouldn't be able to hang out with them as much once he was officially the king. In the course of the evening, after they had one or two, he asked them what he should do. "Tell them," one of them said, his speech slightly slurred, "that you will be meaner than your father ever dreamed of being. Tell them he didn't have the stamina for the kind of mean you're going to unleash on this kingdom if they don't behave. You've got the power, man. Use it. They can't boss you around. Your dad certainly never let them boss him around!"

Suddenly, the wind kicked up again, and the thread began to sway back and forth, back and forth...

"Time's up, Rehoboam," the crowd said. "What is your decision?" Rehoboam stood there for a few moments, letting the silence sink in. His headache from the night before was beginning to diminish, but it wouldn't be gone completely for a while yet. He looked out over the crowd, and made his decision.

And in a gust of wind, the weight swung up into the air, the thread broke, the cord snapped back, and the weight fell...

Fell...

Fell...

Fell to the ground with a loud crash. Where once there had been one weight, now there were two. And neither piece would ever be whole again.