Doing The Good Things That Don't Really Matter At The Expense Of What Certainly Does

Once upon an epiphany, a mother awoke to the bright dawn of morning and encouraged her daughters to be diligent this day, for this was to be a very special day--they were expecting visitors for dinner. And with that, she gave a list of the day's tasks to each girl, and they embarked on their chores with giddy anticipation.

It was decided that a menu of orzo with olives, broccoli and pine nuts would join baked sweet potato to lay beside herb chicken on the family's best dishware. It wasn't fancy, but it was white and understated to allow the beautiful colors of the food to show forth. And taking into careful consideration the dietary restrictions of the guests, a sugar-free creme pie was planned for dessert. The shopping was accomplished, and the cooking could begin.

Later that day, the mother endeavored to clear the table of the long-term project that had taken up residence for so many weeks, and her eldest daughter was close behind with the shiny flatware which had been bestowed upon the couple by the children's grandmother only a few years earlier.

Fancy napkins were folded. Spotless goblets were readied for ice and water.

The younger daughters had spent this time washing the windows and doors, inside and out--working as a team and singing the morning's hymn tunes to one another,

"Bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves!
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves."

There were slipcovers to remove and launder, floors to vacuum and mop, toys to tidy, commodes to brush and flush, animal beds to hide, fan blades to wipe, front steps to sweep, kitchen counters to clear and sinks to scour.

The mother and her daughters were each so busy all day long that the hours flew by as the anticipation built. All were so very excited!

And finally, the dinner hour arrived. Lights were lit. Pleasant music was played. The father returned home and the family waited.

And waited.

And no one came. And no one called. It was a lonely evening.

Despite the grand preparations,
the attention to aesthetics
and the diligence displayed in doing the work,
it soon became obvious that it had all been in vain.

It was realized that all of the grand preparations,
the attention to aesthetics
and the diligence displayed in doing the work
had been superfluous to the heart of the matter:

No one had bothered to invite the guests to dinner.

This story was inspired by my reading of Ezekiel 3 this week, in which the prophet is commanded to tell Israel the Lord's message. It is explained to him that they may listen, or they may not--but that if they die in their sin without being warned of their doom, their blood will be on the prophet's hands! So, the question becomes...why aren't we being bolder for the Gospel? What do we fear? What are we busy about doing in working out our salvation that keeps us from sharing His love with the lost of this dark, doomed world?

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