I’ve been thinking a lot lately about why we are here on this planet. If God wanted fellowship with us, why didn’t He just keep us up there in heaven with Him? What purpose does God have for us anyway? Is it to become theologians so we can expound upon the unsearchable mysteries of God? Why do we have Bible studies? Why do we go to church? Why do we memorize Scripture? Why do we do what we do in what we call “church?”
We live in a dark fallen world that desperately needs some light. We live in a world that is morally decaying by the minute and desperately needs a preservative to prevent it from rotting completely. Jesus called us to be light and salt. Light helps people see how to walk in a dark world without getting hurt or hurting others. Salt preserves, prevents decay, and makes you thirsty. How do we do that? I don’t think we do it sitting around talking about it. We do it by lighting one candle instead of cursing the darkness. We do it by not rubbing salt into the wounds of hurting people, but by making them thirsty for the love and peace we have in Jesus. In a word, we love people to life just like Jesus loved us. We do that by smiling instead of frowning… by encouraging rather than criticizing… by blessing instead of cursing… by doing good instead of doing nothing. I’m reminded of a story. I don’t know who wrote it, but it illustrates the point I’m trying to make.
During the waning years of the depression in a small southeastern Idaho community, I used to stop by Mr. Miller’s roadside stand for farm-fresh produce as the season made it available. Food and money were still extremely scarce and bartering was used extensively. One particular day, Mr. Miller was bagging some early potatoes for me. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily apprising a basket of freshly picked green peas. I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn’t help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller and the ragged boy next to me.
“Hello Barry, how are you today?”
“H’lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus’ admirin’ them peas… sure look good.”
“They are good, Barry. How’s your Ma?”
“Fine. Gittin’ stronger alla’ time.”
“Good. Anything I can help you with?”
“No, Sir. Jus’ admirin’ them peas.”
“Would you like to take some home?”
“No, Sir. Got nuthin’ to pay for ’em with.”
“Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?”
“All I got’s my prize marble here.”
“Is that right? Let me see it.”
“Here ’tis. She’s a dandy.”
“I can see that. Hmmmm, only thing is this one is blue, and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?”
“Not ’zackley … but, almost.”
“Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble.”
“Sure will. Thanks, Mr. Miller.”
Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me. With a smile she said: “There are two other boys like him in our community. All three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes or whatever. When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn’t like red after all. Then he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or perhaps an orange one.” Smiling to myself, I left the stand impressed with this man.
A short time later I moved to Colorado, but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys and their bartering. Several years went by each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community. While I was there, I learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his viewing that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them.
Upon our arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could. Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts all very professional looking. They approached Mrs. Miller standing smiling and composed by her husband’s casket. Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket. Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly wiping his eyes.
Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and mentioned the story she had told me about the marbles. Eyes glistening she took my hand and led me to the casket. “Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim ‘traded’ them. Now at last when Jim could not change his mind about color or size, they came to pay their debt. We’ve never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,” she confided, “but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho.” With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three, exquisitely shined red marbles.
Beloved, we will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds. Life is not measured by the breaths we take but by the moments that take our breath. God Loves You. Today, I pray for you to know that from the top of your head to the soles of your feet. I pray for you a day of ordinary miracles… a fresh pot of coffee you didn’t make yourself… an unexpected phone call from an old friend… green stoplights on your way to work or shop. I pray for you a day of little things to rejoice in… the fastest line at the grocery store… a good sing along song on the radio… your keys right where you look. I pray for you a day of happiness and perfection… little bite-size pieces of perfection that give you the funny feeling that the Lord is smiling on you, holding you so gently because you are someone special and rare. I pray for you a day of peace, happiness and joy.
They say it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them, but then an entire lifetime to forget them. Special people make all their marbles count. Trade yours wisely today.
“Heavenly Father, my life is too complicated. I’m tired of learning about You. Today, I just want to be with You. Please don’t let me run by life in my pursuit of what I think will make me happy. I’m learning that I’m happier when I’m making other people happy. Simplify my life this day. Make all my marbles count. Take my breath away… moment by moment. I love You, too. Amen.”
Blessings,
Kenny
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