Parable of the Garden

In an incautious moment I found myself deep in thought. It seemed as if I were speaking to my Lord. I said: "Master, show me myself. An­alyze the inner workings, the strengths and weaknesses, the subtle, hidden motives. Lay bare my heart and with the piercing light of the Spirit search out the corners of my soul."

The Master smiled sadly. Methought His face turned austere for a moment so that a chill wind played briefly in the far reaches of my mind. "My child," He said softly and with a certain significance, "do you think you can bear the sight?"

"Oh, yes," I replied with naïve confidence. "I'm not so bad actually. I pay tithe faithfully, keep the Sabbath better than a lot of people I know, and work for the mission program when­ever I can. As for people, I like almost every­one; there are only a very few right at the mo­ment that I can't stand the sight of. Isn't that a pretty good average?"

"Come," He said, quite ignoring my protesta­tion of virtue, "let us take a walk in My garden. It has some blooms of the choicest variety. When the wickedness of the world becomes a weari­ness to Me, it is My pleasure to walk up and down in this unique and luxuriant place admir­ing a flower here, trimming an errant twig there, and digging about a fruit tree to help it bear better."

He guided me through the well-trimmed box­wood hedge, and we entered a garden of such surpassing beauty that the loveliest spots on earth seemed drab in my memory. I thought of the marvelous gardens I had seen in Victoria where bushes of Peace roses reigned in their purity and beauty. They were nothing compared with this. The springtime array of the Sherwood Gardens in Baltimore or the pink-and-white clouds of Japanese cherry blossoms in the parks of Tokyo were quite forgotten. Exquisite as they were, the display in the Master's garden was far lovelier.

"Now here," said the divine Gardener, "is one of My most promising orchids. This is the soul of Mr. Duncan. Do you not admire its texture? I cherish this, for it was not always so."

"What," I exclaimed in much surprise, "that man? What talents has he? What position, what power? He doesn't have a sparkling personality or even pleasing manners. How can he look like that to You?"

This time the Master's smile was tender. He said, "You see, My child, he loves Me much. And all his neighbors are blest by the overflow of that love."

We moved on. "Do you not admire this ex­quisite lily of the valley heavy with perfume? That is the soul of your cleaning woman," the Saviour said. "Daily her petitions ascend to Ale in the fragrance of her devoted spirit." I could see the small figure quietly and efficiently doing her tasks, but it was difficult to see why the ce­lestial rating should differ so markedly from that which I would have given her.

I noted as we moved about that the sense of values was different in this garden of hallowed peace and security. Appearance and possessions seemed to have no weight. The value was placed on the inner motive. Those whom I had ad­mired and regarded as being sure of a prominent place were not always in as flourishing a condi­tion as I had believed. Again and again we paused before flowers in varying conditions. Some of the bushes were scraggly; some lux­uriant. Some plants were heavy laden with blos­soms; others barren.

Finally, when my education in values was al­most complete, we approached a neglected spot where existed a thin, dried-up, unlovely stalk. The sense of apprehension became reality, "Can this be I?" I inquired in a shaking voice. "Surely not! Is this the way I look to You? Are there no leaves at all? Not even one flower?"

The reply was sadly given. "Can flowers bloom in the atmosphere of suspicion and bit­terness? You have displayed little trust, little love, too much self-interest, and too much self-confidence lately. They have choked this plant until it has almost died. My child, when are you going to learn to water it with the tears of re­pentance, and cultivate it with prayer, and enrich it with deeds of disinterest in behalf of others?"

Then it was that I would have turned and gone off, weeping bitterly, into the night, be­yond the confines of the dream garden, but for the restraining hand of the Master and His smile so heart-warming and full of hope. "Will you allow Me to help you transform this plant into a living, vibrant stalk with blossoms of rar­est color and perfume?" He asked. Eagerly I cried, "Yes, oh, yes." And then I awoke.

It was only a dream but its lesson was so real. It seemed that the darkness had passed and a glorious new day had dawned. I saw what even I could be under the Master's touch.