A Modern Day Parable

Parables. Jesus used them to teach during His ministry on earth. We find many of them recorded in Scripture. And, I believe, we can find them in the world around us today.

For instance, I arose this morning, ready to celebrate the Lord with my church family. I'd gotten to bed nice and early; woke up with little to no pain. It was gonna be a great day. Until I heard it. Someone had thrown up in the wee hours of the morning. I rushed to the room, cleaned up the offender, and hauled the sheets to the basement. "I'll wash them when we get back from church," I thought. The dog barked; she wanted out. Multiple pairs of feet followed me back up the steps. My entourage -- always close, always looking for food, or entertainment, or instruction. As I was closing the door to the backyard, I heard Mom. She was standing in the hall, hair a mess, comb in hand, and every light still burning in her room. I looked past her to the mermaid blanket on the living room floor. The dog barked; she wanted in. Time to get breakfast on the table. I tripped over one, bumped into another. "Please, everyone, go sit in your spots." Graham crackers with peanut butter, bananas, and string cheese. Not exactly a cover shot for Bon Apetit, but nutritionally sound, all things considered. The dog barked; she wanted out. Mom was especially agitated today, like a drunk girl from Delco. She sat there in mismatched pajamas and the cheap "SEXY" necklace one of the children had picked up from a doctor's office treasure box. She didn't like the coffee, didn't like the oatmeal, pleaded to run the vacuum, and was mystified by the embellishment on the cover of my devotional. The melodies of Crowder, Lauren Daigle, and Zach Williams drifted through the kitchen, adding to the chaos or bringing a calming presence, I wasn't sure which. The dog barked; she wanted in.

Once upon a time, however, things were very different. I'd wake up on a Sunday morning, not at all eager to sit in any pew. Chances are, I'd caught a buzz the night before and the greatest pain I felt lay deep within my soul. Another day, another failed attempt to make everything look flawless and effortless. I'd grind some beans and brew myself the perfect cup of coffee, look around at my immaculate living room and impeccably positioned blinds. No toys lying about; they were all stowed safely, for the most part, within the boxes in which they'd come. Not one block had been lost, not one broken wheel survived the trip back into its proper place. "Nothing lost. Nothing broken," I thought. I'd pat myself on the back for the fine job I was doing as a wife and mother; but inside I felt like such a failure. The house would remain still until the children would rise, bickering and sniping at one another. I'd snap, refusing to spend another minute listening to their animosity; but I did nothing to change it, and it never changed. Breakfast was homemade waffles and jam, bacon, fruit compote, and milk. Just like all good mothers made their perfect little families. The kids would slather greasy butter over it all, pouring syrup and sticking jam everywhere. "Can't you all just act right?!" I'd sit there in my silky robe wondering when I would just get it right. "Nothing lost. Nothing broken," I'd wish. The pain deep within would throb, and the bickering and sniping would start once again.

Two very different times in my life, but in them I see a parable. A parable of life receiving and showing grace, versus a life of trying to get it all right in my own strength. A life in which my focus remains on a God who, everyday, is bringing us through the valleys, over the mountaintops, and through the valleys as they appear again on the landscape of our life. No longer the life in which I focused solely on my wanderings in the flat, dry desert of a self-centered soul. The life I lived many years ago was a life of emptiness, unforgiveness, legalism, fear, and foolishness. I was kidding myself to think I could even know how it should look, much less have the ability to make it look that way. But the life I have been given, the life in which I am surrounded by people at all different stages of their destinies -- some walking out their steps as God has ordered them, or just discovering what God has purposed for them, or even rejecting what He has said -- this is a full life. And this life is not a life in which I see myself as the principle player. Others are surrounded as well by me and thousands of  "mes" all in different stages of our destinies. The parable of a house built on sand, and a house built on a rock -- The Rock. Perhaps it's not such a modern day parable after all.