Cybercolumn By John Duncan: Parables
Posted: 6/26/06
CYBER COLUMN:
Parables
By John Duncan
I’m sitting here under the old oak tree, pondering the parables of Jesus. Jesus had a way of giving the good news in ways his hearers could understand.
Parables might be found in everyday life.
The Dallas Mavericks’ playoff run serves as a parable that not all dreams come true, so you have to rebuild your dreams.
My flower bed in front of my house serves as a parable that in spite of the flowers planted and the hard work I give to the flower bed, weeds still have a way of sneaking in and trying to choke the flowers. Weeds show up in life in the prettiest places and have to be rooted out.
John Duncan |
My closet serves as a parable. It possesses clothes, shoes, ties and all my diplomas stored in a bag on the top shelf. Life, no matter how hard or wonderful, with new clothes of shining apparel and loaded with framed diplomas educational success, life requires constant refreshment and renewing, and there is always more to learn.
Jesus spoke parables. He spoke of seeds being planted in the ground. He spoke of tares growing among the wheat, stuff that looked like wheat but was really not wheat. Fake, if you will. He spoke of a servant who unmercifully choked his debtor in spite of the fact the servant had himself been forgiven a vast debt. He spoke of a Samaritan who stopped beside the road and cared for a Jew who had been mugged near Jericho. He spoke of using and investing the gifts God gives while not burying the gifts. He spoke of wineskins and lamps and vineyards and the blind leading the blind, which happens every day, and of fruit and mustard seeds and the great supper and weddings and treasure and lost coins, lost sheep and lost sons. Life happens in the day-to-day, in the hour-to-hour, and the gospel shows up minute-by-minute as God speaks in mysterious ways. Are we alert to his voice?
Jesus spoke the parable of the laborers in the vineyard who received pay at the end of the day, regardless of how long they worked.
In 1982, I graduated from college with diploma in hand, the same diploma that is now in the top of my closet in a brown bag. I searched for a job. I knew of God’s call to preach and surrendered to it. I knew that seminary started for me in September. I knew that on that May day as I turned my tassel, tossed my graduation cap in the air, received my college degree, that I needed a job to make a living. I called Forrest, a man for whom I had worked before and a gruff man with a no-nonsense attitude toward work.
“Boy, you do what I tell ya, and you’ll be just fine,” clanged as his motto. He owned a fence business, and that summer of 1982 I learned to use a rock bar to bust the rock, to dig post holes, to use an auger to drill, to set fence posts, to carry eight-foot wooden panels on my back, to mix concrete and to nail the fence to the post. I also learned about chain-link fence and a come-along and twist ties that twist on chain-link posts to hold the fence like twist ties that help keep the bread fresh in your cupboard.
Forrest told stories, took a nap every day after lunch—including the short nap that he once took when he laid down under a tree in a pile of giant red ants, then screamed—and he also yelled at high pitch at any dear soul who did not do exactly what he wanted when he wanted it just the way he wanted it. After all, time was money, and there was no time to waste, and wasting time wasted money, or something like that.
Forrest knew I was a preacher-in-training, but that did not keep him from telling preacher jokes and off-color jokes and from laughing his guts to glory even when he shared a story that did not make me laugh.
I well remember Forrest and his overalls and his red truck and the whole nine yards, if you will, of the fence business. I recall the summer of 1982 as one of the hottest on record in the state of Texas. Hot enough, as they say, whoever “they” is, that you could fry an egg on the sidewalk in the 100-plus-degree heat. Forest helped me understand some things about life, some I wish to forget and some I wish to remember.
Occasionally, on those hot summer days, work would pile up, and we would need an extra laborer for the day. Forrest would drive his red truck to downtown Fort Worth to Taylor Street and the Texas Employment Commission. I do not know if it is still there, but in 1982 a line formed, even around the corner of the building, as people waited to see a clerk to fill out paperwork in hopes of finding a job. I guess jobs were scarce. Anyway, Forrest would pull up in front of the building and holler through the window, “Any of you boys want to work today?” I should tell you women were in the line, too, but Forrest chose his words carefully. Fencing was a man’s job, and a woman had her place, if you know what I mean. I am not saying that is true, but that’s just the way Forrest thought. When Forrest hollered, some times a man would come over to the truck and sometimes there was no movement. Some days no dear soul wanted to work, I guess. I never understood it.
When a man came over to the truck, though, Forrest explained the job, and I scooted over to the middle of the seat in the truck, and off we went to work. We worked our tails off, and some of the extras worked, but some did not. Forrest paid us on Fridays, and I must tell you, I worked for Forrest for a long time, but when payday came, I always wondered, “Did those extras, those laborers, receive the same pay as I did?” After all, I worked from 6 a.m. until about 7 p.m. every day, and some of those guys did not start work until after 8 a.m., and some did not work nearly as hard as I worked. At least that’s the way I saw it.
Jesus told a parable of laborers in the vineyard (Matthew 20:1-16). An owner of a vineyard employed laborers. He employed most of his laborers for 12 hours. He employed other laborers for nine hours, six hours, three hours and one hour. The owner promised each a wage. He gave to each more than they deserved. Scholar Joachim Jeremias says the parables of Jesus use “dramatic machinery” for the telling of one truth about a central idea of the kingdom of God and his gospel. In the parable about the laborers in the vineyard, the owner, like God, shares his goodness and it overflows. Still, we must welcome God’s goodness with joy.
The parable that Jesus tells of the laborers in the vineyard ends with payday. Never mind that the brash disciple Peter, before the telling of the parable, had asked Jesus, in essence, “What will our reward be in the end since we have sacrificed all to follow you?” Peter’s mind was never far from the gold of glory, a glittering crown, a chief seat, purple robes, golden chariots, and a host of servants at his every call in the kingdom. Peter’s mind was never far from a big haul of rewards for service to Christ. Peter’s mind was never far from a big payday at the end of the day because he worked so hard for Jesus, so much harder than the average guy. I run into a lot of guys like Peter in the church, dare I say.
And so Jesus ended the parable and answers the question: Every one in the parable received the same pay at the end of the day. Each received one day’s wage in spite of the fact some worked a 12-hour days and others nine, six, three and even one hour. They all got paid the same. Even the one-hour laborer received a day’s wage! That’s the answer to Peter’s question and the end of the story.
The 12-hour laborer was hot to trot. As one guy who quit working for Forrest in anger because he did not like his yelling once said about Forrest, “I ain’t never workin’ fo’ him again!” I can imagine the angry laborer in Jesus’s parable angrily stomping off, saying the same thing. Forrest was bound to give guys like that a piece of his mind! “That boy’s gonna have to learn that life ain’t always fair!” And it’s not.
So summer is here under the old oak tree, hot and dry and stuffy like 1982. The sun forms sweat beads on my forehead, and the old story lingers: Life is not always fair. But I am still wondering, “Did Forrest pay those other laborers the same as me?” After all, he once told me I was one of his best workers who stuck with it, whatever that meant. When I read Jesus’s parable, life makes sense. It’s not what you get paid in the end but Who pays you. It’s not how much you make but how much you have to give. And that God’s greatest good is the gift he gives to all who serve him in his vineyard, a gift the same for all who serve—grace. I am sitting here thinking that’s all I need in the end—and even now that I think about it, grace and more grace.
I preached this parable once, and an angry lady said to me at the door, “That ain’t right! That just ain’t right! That’s just not fair.” I wanted to say, “Lady, I don’t write it; I just report it!” But I smiled, and gave her what God has given me for years—grace. I sure miss old Forrest. And right now, all I can say, is that I am getting ready for payday.
John Duncan is pastor of Lakeside Baptist Church in Granbury, Texas, and the writer of numerous articles in various journals and magazines. You can respond to his column by e-mailing him at jduncan@lakesidebc.org.
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