There’s a thing in my closet, and to tell the truth, I’m usually at odds with myself on the best way to deal with it. I certainly can’t get rid of it, nor do I wish to. It was passed down to me by my dad, and he told me he got it from his dad and his dad from his grandpa, and so forth from many generations ago. It’s not really anything very impressive, maybe just a thing made out of some kind of unknown material, but if it’s as old as I’ve been told it is, I’m pretty sure they didn’t have man-made materials that can do what this thing does that long ago, so it’s anyone’s guess. Whatever it is, it has held up well over the years. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear it gets in better and better shape as the years pass. Old stories have been passed down of years gone by during which the object got twisted around and distorted, but it always seemed to get back to its original shape, especially when the owners really studied it and wielded it, and tried to learn as much about it as they could.
Dad told me this thing is of utmost importance and to take care of it with my life. Each of my forebears was told the same thing by their fathers, and that although we only have a relatively miniscule understanding of the significance of it, and may not see what it portends in our lifetimes, there will come a time when its true value will be revealed, and we should hope that we are the ones alive and in proper care of it when that happens.
I’ve talked to people about this thing, the care of which I am currently entrusted, and doing so has taught me that there are folks who listen to the tale of this thing, but most think I’m some kind of nut and change the subject when I mention it. For some reason I’m still compelled to tell people about it, and when someone actually listens and hears the story of it, I seem to get a lift and so the listeners, I don’t know why, but it’s as if I’m obligated to inform people about it.
When the story of this thing began, as has been passed down through the years, there was some kind of itinerant preacher who came to some villages in another part of the world and spent some time there speaking to anyone who would listen about another life that folks would arrive at when this one is over. He wasn’t a wealthy man, a fact which didn’t allow him much regard form the better-off townsfolk, so most of that kind of people didn’t pay him much attention. There were some, though, who came to him and listened attentively as he spoke words of profound wisdom – those who listened to him received a gift of being able to perceive his messages to be of ageless importance, they all seemed to feel blessed when he spoke, and no one could explain or understand why.
Throughout my life I have pondered the stories about this fellow and have been amazed that the people I try to talk to about this thing have the very same reactions to the stories as those guys back when he spoke to them. Some want to hear more but most others turn away. Anyways, the story goes that a select few men were chosen (by him) to hear him out and learn of his message. He gave instructions such as how they should behave towards each other, but outside his group not very many seemed to want to hear that part of his message – they certainly didn’t take it to heart, and to this day they still haven’t. He also told them how to care for this thing he left behind, this thing of which I find myself in possession.
He left the object of which in my time I have been entrusted with very specific instructions as to how to care for it, in fact it was his own idea that whoever would be in possession of it was obligated, as part of his or her stewardship, to tell as many folks as were willing to listen about the thing. Even though it’s an old story shrouded in the supernatural, I believe it with all my heart and that is why I feel compelled to speak out about this object of which I have come to know is of special magnificence, this thing of which I speak. I often wonder though if the guy who left it in the first place already knew I would end up with it in my lifetime thousands of years later, but then deep in my heart I realize that of course he did. He spoke words long ago most of which I fully understand today. He must have been the greatest of prophets.
My dad also told me that there are others – and have been through the ages – who rightfully lay claim to this same object – they have it too and keep it in their own personal places, and the ones who can legitimately claim it are under the exact same obligation to tell people about it. Don’t ask me how several people can be able to claim the same thing, but I’m sure this thing transcends any physical constraints of which humankind is aware. Somehow, I understand that the others who own it are not only co-owners of the same inheritance but are also beloved brethren and instead of being jealous or envious of someone else claiming something that I know is rightfully mine, the original fellow who left us this thing taught his followers to help each other to share it boundlessly and heartfully support its equal ownership by their brethren.
There’s an interesting thing about this object of which I speak, and this is perhaps the biggest reason there are so many detractors of the truth of it – it’s invisible – to know it’s real you have to believe it exists, but you can feel it if you try to hear and learn about it. One can hear it with the heart, so to speak, but not everyone can – only those who are willing to stop their worldly pursuits long enough to listen. It’s like someone knocking at your door, you hear the rapping, but unless you open the door you never have to admit anyone was there, much less listen to what he might have had to say. Now even though you can argue that no one was there and there was no message delivered, you can’t honestly argue that you didn’t hear the knocking.
The closet I mentioned earlier is actually the vault of my own heart, and there are many things in there – some if not most of which I really, really need to get rid of, but I’m afraid I’m stricken with the remembrance of them, at least until that time comes. But even though its invisible to the human eye, the valuable object is in a prominent place there. A valuable lesson I’ve learned is that the more time I spend studying and meditating on that blessed thing, the less time I spend regretting the bad things – things that someday will be gone forever. Which brings this story around to the object again, if you can really call it an object – I don’t think there are words in the languages of men to do it justice. The story that has been passed down also relates to that time I mentioned earlier when the one who left the object said he’d return. I believe He will return; He will want to see His blessed object on earth and how well I (we) have cared for it. He will already know how or if we listened to the part of His message about caring for each other, and at that time we will realize just how well He knows. If things stay the way they are going there will be plenty of rubble and debris around to testify as to how mankind listened.
He spoke of a wonderful reward for those who shared the object with their neighbors, He spoke of the new life to come, and of the joy and wonder of a place we have yet to see, in which the owners of His beloved gift who nurtured it will spend in eternal paradise.
If you enjoyed this, by all means share it with someone, by doing so you will show your desire to assume your share of ownership of our inheritance.
May the blessings of the Almighty Father find and keep us.
MK
