Selected Writings |
| What Is Really Important? Some things in life are bigger than reality. When the eight-foot wooden step ladder came to be mine, it became one of my most prized possessions. It was well preserved, despite being at least 30 years old. My grandfather had owned that ladder as long as I had known him. Before I was born, he used the ladder in his work as a painter. It was tall and straight, and carried an almost surrealistic quality, because it was one of his tools. You see, there is something about an old man's tools. To a man who has worked hard all his life, earning his living with his hands and the sweat of his brow, tools are almost revered. It was covered with spatters of paint from years gone by, but every bolt was tight, every rung was straight and true. To me, that ladder seemed bigger than life, because of whose it had been. Maybe what made it seem so special to me was that old ladder was one of the few things Papaw absolutely refused to let any of his seven grandsons near. Some hidden protective instinct would not allow him to let us play with anything that might hurt us. After my grandfather died, my grandmother moved into an apartment, and there was no room to store an old ladder, so she gave it to me. Now it was mine. I used it, once. I needed to climb to the roof to tighten the TV antenna. And that old step-ladder was just the right height to allow me to reach the eaves of the house. For over a year, that ladder stood in the back yard, right next to the house, in the very spot I had used it. My grandfather owned that ladder all my life, and it looked just as good as the new ones in the weekly Lowe's circular. I owned it for a year, and left it out in the weather. When I finally moved that old ladder from behind the house to the storage shed, one step dangled loose, like a broken arm. Mildew turned the many colored paint spatters from a coat of many colors to a dull grayish green. Rust made each bolt indistinguishable from the rest. The strong and straight fir wood was so softened by the rain and the sun that it flaked off in my hands. What caused the metamorphosis? Simply put, neglect. My grandfather owned that ladder for over thirty years, and it looked like new. A year after it became mine, it was ruined. Could it be that we tend to do the same things in our spiritual lives? Could it be that rather than spend time with God and His family, we choose to spend time in other activities. Eventually our choices lead to emptiness. Because of neglect, we grow old and useless, not physically, but on the inside, where it really matters. When you think about it, how much time do you spend in leisure activities? How much time do you spend in family fun? How much time do you spend at work, or at rest. And how much time do you spend nurturing the spiritual side of your life? Billy Beacham once said "If you have filled your schedule with activities that exhaust your time with God, then your activity schedule needs to be altered to spend time with God." Christian people believe that serving God, and spreading His message of love, should be first priority in the lives of His children. Far too often, through neglect of our own spiritual lives, we allow God's work, and even God Himself, to be shoved aside. Somehow, amidst the hustle and bustle of trying to keep life going in the fast lane, there just doesn't seem to be time for personal spirituality. All I needed to do to preserve that old ladder was take care of it. A little oil once a year, and a warm dry place for storage would have kept that ladder as good as new. It just needed a little effort, a little initiative. And that is what the spiritual side of our lives needs as well. We need to spend a few hours each week with God's people. We need to spend a few minutes each day with God Himself. We need to spend time with our children, and grandchildren, sharing with them what is really important in life. Somehow I believe that continuous, daily provision for the spiritual adds a much needed balance in life. The story has a happy ending; not for the ladder, but for the lesson I learned. The old ladder was eventually thrown away, but I have one more tool of my grandfather's that means even more to me. As a boy, my grandfather and I spent hours on his screened porch. There we shared some of the most precious memories of my life. As we talked, he constantly worked with his old Barlow pocketknife, whittling whistles and water guns and all kinds of treasures. A few years ago, that old Barlow pocketknife became mine as well. It stays safe and warm. And it reminds me of all that is good, and true, and pure in life. It will never be neglected. And once in a while, when I am going to visit family, I put that old knife in my pocket. And somehow that makes me feel like Papaw is there, too. |