
The years passed and the woman grew
restless. Whether it was the treasure, the room, or the town,
something displeased her, and she decided to go. As she made to
leave, the man grabbed her hand. “Stay with me.” He said. But she
would not be convinced. She pulled and pushed, slapped and fought to
be released, until at last, the man let her go. As he released her
hand, he snatched the key to the treasure room. Startled, she
considered trying to get it back, but then turned abruptly and
disappeared into the blackness that is beyond our story.
The man turned, gazing wistfully at the
treasure in the room. Then he gently closed the door and locked it
tight. The key, he hung on a chain over his heart.
For the man, the years went by as if he
were in exile. He had made something of himself, but it was as if it
were a dream, or an unfinished project that he couldn't complete. The
treasure he had invested produced returns, but it never grew. The man
gave what he could from what he had to people who needed it more than
he.
Time passed.
As he spent his days he began looking
for another woman. “This one must be different,” He said. For he
didn't need the door to be unlocked anymore, he already had the key.
He waited and watched for the one who would make the unlocking worthwhile.
"But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us." - 2 Corinthians 4:7
This is eye opening and I really enjoyed it!
ReplyDeleteThanks Laura :)
ReplyDeleteIt was one of those revelations that let itself to a little allegory thingie, and so I wrote it.
Glad you like it!
Peter