Grace is a Gritty Principle

Someone told me this analogy about grace in short once. I hope they will forgive the artistic liberties.

Two gentlemen were hiking in a trail across the foundation of the Himalayas. It was brisk and easy. As the trek progressed it became obvious one of the men was in better physical condition than the other and periodically had to stop to help him along.

Then the unthinkable happened.

The trail extened over an uncomfortably serrated crag of rocks and the two were climbing over it when the weaker of the two gentlemen spotted a serpent flagellating through the rotten leaves below the rocks. Its colour was beautiful to look at and its motion was more a dance than a slither.

"Hey, would you look at that snake?" the weaker of the two instructed.

"I dare not, the venom in those will rot your flesh and liquidate your innards."

"I'm going to have a look."

"Don't do that!"

But his warnings were in vain, the weaker of the two went to it, puzzled over it, prodded it, before finally picking it up. Gracefully, without any inkling of offense it wrapped its lips around the mans wrist. The man let loose a sort of giggle.

"It's playful," he smiled.

"Put that down!"

Too late. The serpent's eyes bulged and his colour sobered and his head convulsed just before the final crunch of skin; like pushing a pointed dowel through the flesh of a fruit.

The weak man's face paled and his nerves drooled before he collapsed. Then his nerves began to vomit instead and his body echoed with pain. Every spasm resonated. He screamed in the most unnerving of ways.

"Oh help! Don't just stand there! Do some--"

He trailed off in unbearable pain. The stronger man was filled with love and compassion for his friend. But also with dread. He knew the only way to save his friend was a treacherous trip of the mountain. The antidote was found in a rare herb at the top.

After making his friend as comfortable as possible he began his ascent. With every handhold the maniacal swarm of cold bit through his gloves like locusts and wiped out the warming crops on his hands. The wind was incessantly strong threatening to relieve him of his footing every second. Oxygen was naturally low and getting lower as he progressed. The only thing that kept him on was the thought of saving his friend. Food was scarce and water that wasn't frozen was out of the question. He tried to drink once by melting it in his hands but when he sucked the moisture from his gloves it solidified almost immediately in his mouth tearing the skin from the inside of his cheeks. A violent violet became the normal colour of his rotting skin as frostbite took hold. Incidents of terror gave little time for rest in between. The slightest sound was more than enough coaxing for a rockslide or avalanche. He once found himself wedged between rubble for days trying to remove it all from his permanently damaged legs. Though he found the circumstances unbearable many other wild animals did not. They constantly harassed him to where he would not stop for sleep. He was attacked on several occasions, they mauled his face and torso. Wolves, wildcats, large predator birds. All the time he thought of his friend and kept on. When he finally arrived to the top he remembered that only certain types of the herb contained the cure. The sort that had a white center. He needed a good bit to provide enough substance to heal the man, but he had to sift through thousands of specimin before finding them. He searched each plant one by one keeping the ones with white centers. At one point, upon nearing the appropriate amount, his collection blew away down the mountain in the sack which he had been storing them in. He began again. When he finally collected enough he began the descent.

Going down proved nearly as difficult as going up. He fell multiple times dropping anywhere between ten and twenty feet. His hands were raw, his ribs were ahead of his stomach. Blizzards came into season and he could not see ahead.

Eventually he felt the foreign warmth and his eyesight returned. He ran as he saw his friend below lying there. He screamed with joy. His friend was ill and he had the solution. He prepared it over a beautiful fire and poured it over his lips. Almost immediately the colour returned to his friends face and his limbs became animate. He smiled and embraced the stronger friend. Both were full of such joy. The weak man apologized for not listening and asked how he could ever repay him.

"You owe me nothing friend, I am only glad you are back with me again. Shall we go on and finish our journey?"

"Of course."

As the two readied their equipment and started on the weak man faltered, took a look over his shoulder and walked back. He went to the serpent, puzzled over it, prodded it, before finally picking it up. Gracefully, without any inkling of offense it wrapped its lips around the mans wrist. He let loose a sort of giggle.

*crunch*

The man lost the colour in his face, screamed and collapsed.

"Help! God! Oh help me! Don't just--"

The stronger of the two ran over to him and was filled with sorrow. He let out a soaking sob only for a moment. He was overcome with love and pity for his friend.

He started the climb up the mountain.