The parables are so rich, and always conjure up many thoughts, images, and memories. In addition to the great truths Randy taught us, I had a few things rattling around in my head as I lay in bed last night that I wanted to share with you. I'll post Part 1 today, then Part 2 a little later in the week.
As Randy was teaching, I couldn't help being captivated by the idea of a treasure. He taught us that this could simply be valuables or some kind of money, wrapped up and buried in the dirt. I'm confident that is an accurate description.
However, even though I can grasp this intellectually, I still, in my imagination, have a completely different image in my head when I hear the word "treasure". A treasure, to me, is definitely a jewel-encrusted wooden chest with a rusty latch and an old lock, probably buried long ago by pirates. Is that what you think of when you hear the word "treasure"?
It reminds me of an funny incident that happened many years ago when I was re-landscaping our home in Orange. Living next to us was a wonderful family, the Clarks, and their two very curious and very active boys, Kenneth and Andrew, who would inevitably find their way over to our house whenever I was working outside and would offer to help me on my projects.
Whether they actually helped or not is open to debate, but on this particular day I offered to let them help by digging holes for plants on the side of my house. Even though I had no intention of planting plants in that area, it was a shady spot on a hot day and like all little boys, they got a lot of pleasure by digging in the dirt.
Soon Mom called them home to lunch, and they promised to be back as soon as they could to finish their assigned hole. As they ran off, I had an idea. What would be better for a young boy to find then buried treasure? I had, in my garage, an old plastic "treasure chest" ordered years before by tearing box tops off of Captain Crunch cereal and mailing them in to Kelloggs.
I had kept this toy all those years because it held a collection of old keys I had collected as a kid. As the boys were eating lunch, I found the chest, dug the hole a bit deeper, buried it, then tamped the dirt down so they wouldn't notice the change.
Before long they returned to their task and within a few minutes,to their joy and amazement, they discovered this incredible bit of buried treasure. To them, nothing could be more exciting then finding an old plastic treasure chest filled with useless and worn out keys. They ran home screaming to show their parents, never suspecting that I had placed it there only minutes before.
I thought of that story yesterday as I pondered Randy's message and the parable he explained to us. I thought of buried treasure chests, and I thought of what it would actually be like to accidentally stumble on one buried in a field. If that happened, what would I be hoping to find when I cracked open the lid?
That's the question isn't it? Picture yourself crouched down before a treasure chest, the top just starting to rise, the light just beginning to reveal what is hidden, your eyes anxiously searching to see if the contents hold any meaning and value, your breath catching in your chest as you realize what you are about to see could change your life forever...
What is it that you picture in your imagination? What are the contents that would make you respond like Kenneth and Andrew, or like the man in Jesus' parable?
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To me, the pearl of great price, or the treasure in the field are the stories of why the gospel means so much to me.
I stood, convicted before God,a sinner. I could no longer deny it, nor run from it, nor hold God accountable for my lousy life. I couldn't stand the thought of living like that anymore, and I begged Him to forgive me, even though I didn't expect it of Him. It was the first time I came to Him needy and not expecting Him to respond. To my utter surprise, He crossed me up and forgave ALL of my sins, forever. I felt clean before Him, and slowly came to know that I could stand before anyone I had previously sinned with or sinned against, and take anything they decided to dish out to me. I figuratively "sold off everything I owned", all the emotional scars and mental torment I had earned from my sinful ways, for the Gospel as I had experienced it. Nothing mattered anymore except God's forgiveness and love He had for everyone.
I still believe and feel that way today. When someone teaches on these verses, I'm still in awe at the meaning of the treasure and pearl. I hope others have had this experience with the gospel as life-changing.
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