Storyz: Golden Nuggets and Angry Lions

Roxanne “Roxi” Brentwood wasn’t a bad kid.
Really, she wasn’t.

At home, she didn’t hog the T.V. (at least not often.)
At school, she took the extra time to pick up the trash littered around her desk. (Hey, once a week was better than nothing, right?)
At church, she took her job as an usher seriously. (Sometimes, a bit too seriously—which was why she was currently in deep dog doo.)

“You did what?!”
Roxi shifted uncomfortably. If “passive Patty,” the head of the ushering team, was raising her voice, then things were worse than she thought.
As if reading her mind, the older girl lowered her voice, her face contorting as she struggled to keep her frustration under control. Roxi waited, feeling her cheeks flush as people walked by and shot the two knowing glances.

Finally, Patty opened her eyes. “Now,” she said, voice calm, “Why don’t you explain what happened.”
Roxi didn’t protest, despite this being the second time she’d repeated the tale. Hey, the more times Patty heard her side of the story, the better.

“I was just training the newbie, Pat!” she said, pounding a chair for emphasis, “Wendy’s been with us a month, and she still doesn’t realize that, unless everyone pulls their weight, things won’t run smoothly! I told her at least a thousand times last week to remember that this week was her turn to print out the bulletins. I called her three times this week! I even texted her before service---”
“So that’s what you were doing. I was wondering.” Patty’s (now calm) interjection stopped Roxi’s rant. She scowled.

Patty pushed up her glasses and massaged the side of her head with her other hand, watching Roxi with affectionate exasperation. “Listen, Roxi, I appreciate your—zealousness—in training Wendy, but it wasn’t really necessary to send her home crying. What, exactly, did you say to her?”

Roxi’s scowl deepened. “It wasn’t anything that wasn’t true,” she hedged.
“Roxi—”
“Allright, allright! I called her an irresponsible, untrustworthy, newbie, and told her most people entrusted with the job of making copies did it early in the week. Then, I told her off for procrastinating and said that unless she did better, and applied herself, she’d get kicked off the team in a week.”

Patty’s eyebrows shot up, and Roxi felt a pang of guilt. “You said all that?” the bespectacled girl asked incredulously, “Why?”
“Like I said, it wasn’t anything that wasn’t true. She should know that if she won’t pull her weight, then she doesn’t deserve to be on the ushering team. We all work hard to make sure things run smoothly, and if she can’t accept that—”

Patty sighed, effectively cutting off rant number two. “Like I said, I’m glad you’re so enthusiastic towards your job, but maybe you should think of showing some compassion. Wendy was really hurt by what you said. You know, she’s only been coming to our church for a few months. Couldn’t you have been a little less—”
“Honest?” Roxi suggested.
“Very funny. I was going to say ‘rude.’” Patty looked at Roxi’s stubborn green eyes and shook her head in defeat. “Just—put yourself in her shoes, ok? Try imagining what she must have felt.” A thought struck her, and she added, almost as an afterthought, “Remember the Golden Rule?”
Roxi shrugged. “You mean, the one I learned in pre-school?”
Patty ignored the sarcasm, nodding. “Yeah, that one. Maybe you should look it up again.”

************


“Do Unto Others as You Would Have Them Do to you.”
As Roxi knows, the Golden Rule is easier said than done.


Cereal, Milk, and Aesop’s Fables

We’ve all heard Aesop’s “The Mouse and the Lion.”
In the story, a mouse awakens a lion from his slumber, and the lion, annoyed, prepares to kill the terrified animal.
“Please, spare me!” the mouse pleads, “And I’ll repay you!”
The lion laughs, inwardly wondering how such a tiny animal could ever repay him, but lets the mouse go.
A few days later, he finds himself hopelessly entangled in a hunter’s net. Despite his sharp claws and teeth, he is unable to break free. But just as he is about to give up hope, the mouse arrives, and using its tiny size and scissor-like teeth, is able to free the mighty beast from the net.

The moral of the story is clear. If you help others, they will help you.
But when we put ourselves into the story, suddenly it’s not so simple.

Though we aren’t actual lions, we sometimes find ourselves in the lion’s position.
Someone hurts us, wrongs us, or treats us unjustly. We’re the injured party, and we’re mad.

A time I found myself being the lion was a time my younger brother spilled a bowl of milk and cheerios all over the kitchen floor.
Like the lion, I was upset.
Like the lion, I had the mouse in my grasp.
The mouse in my case being my brother, who was staring in shock at the mess he had made.

Sometimes the mice will plead verbally, just like the story.
“I’m sorry I ripped your homework.”
“It was an accident! I didn’t mean to break your trophy.”

But some times, they won’t. My little brother stared at the floor, and then at his wet, dripping clothes.
Then he looked at me.
“My pants are wet,” he complained.

Now, as the lion, I had a choice to make. The mouse sat in my claws, awaiting his verdict.
I could eat him alive, demand that he clean the mess up and scold him for his clumsiness.
That option was the most enticing. After all, it was his fault for spilling the cereal.
I was justified in my annoyance.

But there was something lurking in my mind. A sermon, a principle buried deep inside me.
The mouse’s unspoken plea, “I will repay you.”
The Golden Rule, “Do unto others as you would have them do to you.”

Like the lion, we usually don’t believe that the mouse will ever repay us.
I didn’t believe that my brother would repay me.
However, I did know what I would have wanted if our roles had been reversed.

I had a choice to make.


All That Glitters Isn’t Gold

Have you ever looked into a stream filled with small bits of rock and gravel?
Many stones catch the sunlight and glitter.
But most of them aren’t gold.

The stream of life is also full of shiny rocks.
As we bend over it, “Anger” glitters temptingly. “Condemnation” shines seductively. “Sarcasm” beckons invitingly.
None of them are gold.

When the lion holds the mouse in his paws, he looks down into the stream of life.
When I surveyed the mess made by my little brother, I reached out my hand to pick up a stone.

Most of the time, our first reaction is to lash out, to smirk, to make a rude comment. Those rocks are the first to move aside.
James 1:19 states, “My dear brothers, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry.”
So the first layer is moved aside.

The lion loosens his grip on the mouse.
I take a deep breath and swallow the sarcastic, “way to go,” embedded in my throat.

Our second reaction is condemnation. Self-righteousness. Justification.
He made the mess, so he should clean it up. She made the mistake, so she should suffer for it.
We want the mice to be punished, to be repaid, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

But despite how brightly these rocks glow, they aren’t gold.
Romans 5:8 says, “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”
If God operated only on justice, we’d all be scorch marks in the ground.
Another layer of rocks is discarded.

The lion sets the mouse on the ground, keeping a firm paw on its tail.
I close my eyes and push away the picture of my brother mopping up the floor.

Few people ever make it to the final layer of rocks. They are the rarest, the hardest to find. Buried under the other stones and countless loads of sand, they glitter only faintly, and are easy to ignore.
As I look into the stream, I see “Forgiveness,” “Kindness,” and “Love,” sitting there. They don’t shine, they don’t look beautiful, and for a moment I contemplate going back to the other layers of rock.

But then, my hand reaches out and I pluck the three stones from the stream.
As they leave the water, the grime falls off and suddenly they wink and sparkle like the gems they are.
The true gold of the stream of life.

The lion hesitates, and then lets the mouse go.
I hesitate, and then, looking at the three stones in my hand, I make my decision.

I pocket the ruby of forgiveness, the color of Christ’s blood as he hung on the cross and prayed for his Father to forgive those who put him there.
“It’s ok, go upstairs and change.”

The emerald of kindness is the next. Green stands for healing, and Christ never turned away a broken body or spirit, no matter how tired he was.
“I’ll clean it up.”

Lastly, I finger and tuck the nugget of love into my pocket. “For God so loved the world---” As God loved us, as Jesus Christ loved us, so we should love others.
Smiling, I add, “When you’re changed, come down, and I’ll get another bowl ready. Be careful this time.”

All that glitters isn’t gold.
But the gold is worth getting rid of all the glittering rocks above and beside it.

************

Roxi shuffled her feet, glaring at the CLOSED sign in front of her, as the irony of the situation imprinted itself onto her soaked, unamused head. What had Patty said the week before? Something about putting herself in Wendy’s place—

A drop of rain hit her cheek and she scowled again, tucking the bulletins (which were no doubt getting soaked) tighter against her body. Well, there was no way she could be closer to the girl’s situation than she was right now.

Roxi racked her brain, trying to remember how, exactly, she’d forgotten that the glorious job of printing out bulletins was hers that week? It’d been late Friday night when she finally checked her e-mail and received Patty’s weekly reminder, and by then it’d been too late to get to Staples.

She’d woken Saturday morning with a huge headache and an overwhelming urge to sleep in. Somehow, she’d managed to drag herself outside and onto her bike, Sunday’s bulletin tucked under one arm. The journey to Staples had been excruciating, as her tired legs pumped and her exhausted mind tried to keep herself from falling off or getting run over.

Staples had been closed.

Roxi remembered the frustration that had filled her at the realization, and how she’d had to beg a ride from her mom to get her to the tiny convenience store on the outskirts of town. The rain had started on the way there and Roxi had hoped to spend a maximum of fifteen minutes making the copies before rushing home and straight to bed. Only to be met with the six lettered sign that stared her in the face.

The horn to her mom’s minivan honked impatiently, and Roxi turned dejectedly around, ready to admit defeat and go home.
Then, a jingle met her ears as the door to the store was pulled open. “Hey, are you here to make copies---” A familiar female voice trailed off as Roxi turned around, coming face-to-face with Wendy.

The two girls stared at each other; Roxi, eyes wide in disbelief, Wendy, her mouth still open. Then, another honk shook them both back to life. Roxi looked down, unable to meet the other girl’s eyes, feeling her face heat up despite the chilling rain. She’d lectured Wendy, a newbie, on the importance of making copies of the bulletin early in the week, and now she, a seasoned veteran, was caught doing the exact same thing. She prepared herself for mocking laughter, for insults, for the humiliation—

“Are you coming in?”
Roxi’s head shot up as she met Wendy’s gaze. The dark-haired girl smiled sympathetically, jerking her head at the bulletin still grasped in Roxi’s hands. “You’re here to make copies, right? We have one in the back. Come on in.”

Roxi, struck dumb, was unable to do anything but follow the other girl into the shop. Wendy led her to the copy machine, typed in the code, and watched as Roxi slid in the bulletin mechanically before punching in the correct number.
“You’re lucky I’m here,” she said conversationally, not seeming to notice Roxi’s mute state, “Our washing machine broke down, and Mr. Smirt—he’s the owner of the shop—agreed to let me work extra hours this month. That’s why I forgot to make the copies. I know, silly right? The machine’s right there, but I was so tired, I guess it slipped my mind. My phone’s been dead for awhile too, so that’s why I didn’t receive your calls. You were right, though, I was being irresponsible. I never realized how serious being an usher really was until you—”

Roxi shook herself out of her paralysis then. Grabbing Wendy’s arm to stop her, she turned the girl until they were face to face. “No, I was wrong. Listen, Wendy—that day, I was way too harsh. I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t mention it.” Wendy’s voice was cheerful. She turned off the copy machine, handing the finished copies to Roxi. “Do you mind seeing yourself out? I have to clean up before I leave.”

Roxi took the copies, started to go, and then hesitated, watching as Wendy bent down to start picking up the trash that littered the floor. Then, there was a jingle as she ran out.

Wendy continued cleaning, mind busily cataloguing all the things she had to get done before she could go home. Preoccupied, she bumped her head on a table and dropped some of the papers she’d been picking up.
“Hey, you ok?”
Wendy almost dropped the rest of the papers in surprise as Roxi bent down next to her and picked the trash up. Meeting her gaze squarely, the girl said frankly, “My mom’s going to pick me up in an hour. With both of us working, we should be able to get this place clean by then.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Wendy protested, “I can do it.”

Roxi smiled, and helped the other girl up. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, “I want to do it.”