EPISODE · Jan 13, 2025 · 6 MIN
Like Snow
from Unlocked: Daily Devotions for Teens · host Keys for Kids Ministries
READ: PSALMS 51:7; 103:8-12; 2 CORINTHIANS 5:17 The midnight bell tolled as Freya stood before the stone steps of the king’s library. She shut her eyes and for a moment she was just a child again, lying on the deck of her mother’s ship, black sails snapping above her in the wind. She saw her first dragon that day, silhouetted by the orange sun, his rider standing on his back, arms spread wide, laughing into the wind. I will be a rider, she promised herself then. Now, so many years later, only one final thing stood in her way. She stole up the steps and heaved open the heavy doors of the library, cringing as they creaked shut behind her. She darted through the maze of bookshelves to a spiral staircase at the far end. Climbing it soundlessly, she reached a stone door. Her hands shook as she picked the lock and slid into the room. There, on a carved marble table flooded with moonlight, was a huge book. Sweat trickled down her neck as she desperately rifled through the pages. Finally, she found what she was looking for: nineteen words scrawled on a single fragile page: Freya Stone, born in the year five hundred. Father: Unknown. Mother: Scia Stone, convicted Pirate of the Andorran Sea. She ripped the page free. Freya knew that on the day of her initiation as a rider, this record would be read before the king and his court. They would cover their mouths in shock and mutter among themselves, and all she had dreamed of and worked for would be stripped from her; for law commanded that the child of a pirate could never enter the king’s ranks. She lifted the page to the moonlight so she could read it one more time before destroying it. But as she lifted it, a voice spoke behind her. “You are the orphan girl,” the voice said, “the one training to be a rider.” She caught her breath and whipped around. A man stood in the doorway, cloaked in shadow. She backed up against the marble table, crumpling the page in her fist. “They tell me you have talent and determination, that you could be great,” the man said. “So why ruin your future with petty thievery?” “Let me leave,” she hissed. He blocked the only exit. “What’s in your hand?” he asked. She looked down at her clenched fist. When she did not show him, the man snapped his fingers—and the page vanished from her grasp, reappearing in his right hand. She wanted to run, to scream, to fight, but dread froze her limbs. The man summoned fire with his free hand and tilted his head down to examine the page. Freya’s blood turned cold, for the fire illuminated the man’s face: standing before her was the king himself. “I see,” he said, then looked up from the paper, directly into her eyes. “Do you truly wish to become a rider?” he asked. “More than anything,” she answered, her jaw clenched so hard it hurt. The king looked at her for a long time. “Then let it be so,” he said, snapping his fingers again. Fire leapt onto the torn page in his hand. It consumed the record till all that was left was white ash that fell to the floor like snow. “Now,” the king said, “welcome to my ranks, dragon rider.” • Margaret Bellers • Like Freya in today’s allegorical story, sometimes we can feel like we’re hiding or running from things in the past, even if those things weren’t our fault. The good news is that God sees and knows all that haunts us, but He does not define us by our past. Have you ever hidden parts of your life, afraid of how people would treat you or look at you if they knew who you truly were? • God knows who we are, what’s happened to us, and what we’ve done. But He never looks away from us in disappointment or shame. Instead, He looks at us with pride as beloved sons and daughters. How can...
What this episode covers
READ: PSALMS 51:7; 103:8-12; 2 CORINTHIANS 5:17 The midnight bell tolled as Freya stood before the stone steps of the king’s library. She shut her eyes and for a moment she was just a child again, lying on the deck of her mother’s ship, black sails snapping above her in the wind. She saw her first dragon that day, silhouetted by the orange sun, his rider standing on his back, arms spread wide, laughing into the wind. I will be a rider, she promised herself then. Now, so many years later, only one final thing stood in her way. She stole up the steps and heaved open the heavy doors of the library, cringing as they creaked shut behind her. She darted through the maze of bookshelves to a spiral staircase at the far end. Climbing it soundlessly, she reached a stone door. Her hands shook as she picked the lock and slid into the room. There, on a carved marble table flooded with moonlight, was a huge book. Sweat trickled down her neck as she desperately rifled through the pages. Finally, she found what she was looking for: nineteen words scrawled on a single fragile page: Freya Stone, born in the year five hundred. Father: Unknown. Mother: Scia Stone, convicted Pirate of the Andorran Sea. She ripped the page free. Freya knew that on the day of her initiation as a rider, this record would be read before the king and his court. They would cover their mouths in shock and mutter among themselves, and all she had dreamed of and worked for would be stripped from her; for law commanded that the child of a pirate could never enter the king’s ranks. She lifted the page to the moonlight so she could read it one more time before destroying it. But as she lifted it, a voice spoke behind her. “You are the orphan girl,” the voice said, “the one training to be a rider.” She caught her breath and whipped around. A man stood in the doorway, cloaked in shadow. She backed up against the marble table, crumpling the page in her fist. “They tell me you have talent and determination, that you could be great,” the man said. “So why ruin your future with petty thievery?” “Let me leave,” she hissed. He blocked the only exit. “What’s in your hand?” he asked. She looked down at her clenched fist. When she did not show him, the man snapped his fingers—and the page vanished from her grasp, reappearing in his right hand. She wanted to run, to scream, to fight, but dread froze her limbs. The man summoned fire with his free hand and tilted his head down to examine the page. Freya’s blood turned cold, for the fire illuminated the man’s face: standing before her was the king himself. “I see,” he said, then looked up from the paper, directly into her eyes. “Do you truly wish to become a rider?” he asked. “More than anything,” she answered, her jaw clenched so hard it hurt. The king looked at her for a long time. “Then let it be so,” he said, snapping his fingers again. Fire leapt onto the torn page in his hand. It consumed the record till all that was left was white ash that fell to the floor like snow. “Now,” the king said, “welcome to my ranks, dragon rider.” • Margaret Bellers • Like Freya in today’s allegorical story, sometimes we can feel like we’re hiding or running from things in the past, even if those things weren’t our fault. The good news is that God sees and knows all that haunts us, but He does not define us by our past. Have you ever hidden parts of your life, afraid of how people would treat you or look at you if they knew who you truly were? • God knows who we are, what’s happened to us, and what we’ve done. But He never looks away from us in disappointment or shame. Instead, He looks at us with pride as beloved sons and daughters. How can...
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Like Snow
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