I loved reading your interpretations of the parable I posted a couple days ago. There’s no right meaning I guess. But there is a meaning I had in mind.
The little girl is me. I come to Christ and he tells me I can be more – I can be like him. He sees something of himself in me like the maestro stroking the little girl’s slender fingers with his own also-thin thumb. The “seed” of Christ is in me, Paul says, waiting to be developed.
Now there are many practices God uses to develop Christ in me, or, as Paul put it, “conform” me to the “image of the Son.” I can become more and more like the maestro. I will.
(Every metaphor breaks down and this one does here, because while I do participate in my own becoming more like Christ, I have no real power in it. That is supplied by God alone. I could not save myself from the penalty of sin and I sure can’t save myself from the power of sin.)
As I listen to Christ I hear him say I should “pray.” So I do. I practice practice practice prayer.
And neglect rest, service, submission.
John Wesley prayed for four hours every morning, and more throughout his day, and his wife left him after fifteen years of marriage. Some guess that sexual dysfunction was to blame, or Wesley’s workaholic tendencies, or his famously fierce temper. Wesley and his wife needed more than prayer.
I read that Jesus cared for the poor. I practice practice practice simplicity and generosity.
And I sometimes find that I lose patience with my kids, I become defensive with my wife, I hurt a stranger with hastily written words.
This is practicing one thing while neglecting others. Prayer, but not rest. Compassion, but not peace.
The development of the maestro in us is stunted. We get stuck.
Cathy says:
So very convicting. Thank you for sharing your heart and for putting yourself out there like you do. I hate it when people read your words and miss your heart, but you bless me every time!
Cathy says:
And ohmyword did I actually get the first comment? That’s a first for me!
Katie Axelson says:
So, Shaun, you paint yourself as a little girl and then wonder why people google “Singer songwriter mom blogger” and end up here. 😉
Katie
Christine says:
We found this very moving. Thank you.
(Dear God, We’re sorry for thinking the maestro was a creepy Satan.)
Stephanie Spencer says:
I was just thinking about this idea yesterday. I often pray, but I can’t think of the last time I’ve fasted. Etc. Etc.
I have a 18 month old, and was thinking about how much stronger my left arm is than my right- because I spend hours a day holding a 25 pound child. That muscle is stronger because I use it.
I am training some of my spiritual muscles, but neglecting others. Will I be ready if God gives me an opportunity to use the muscles that have been lying dormant?
I love the example of the pianist. We all have so much potential.
Melody Joy King says:
So I guess it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing that I found the Maestro in your previous post inspiring then huh? Phew. I feared I may have missed the boat entirely on what you were trying to say. It’s nice to know that I at least picked up part of what you were putting down, albeit a small part. :0P Thanks for explaining. :0)
Jerry says:
Wow, this is so spot on. Simply be choosing one virtue it is to the turning away from another. Practice heads toward perfect one virtue at a time might be one angle.
To me it seems that this would turn out to be a form of purgatory if not the voice of the Maestro didn’t encourage us or touch us. I’m thinkin’ still small voice…voice of the Good Shepherd…the leading of the Holy Spirit in the cool of the day.
Maybe without the relationship all the practice in this world will be as dung(Like Wesley, even though his practice was essentially relational.).
Thanks for stirring my tanks!
MJ says:
practice, practice, practice…..isn’t that also how to get to Carnegie Hall?
You might want to read “Outliers”, something to do with the 10,000 hrs of “practice” it takes to be one of the successful folks we read about and wonder…how did they do it?
10,000hrs….if we spent that kind of time praying, practicing our faith, what a wonderful world it would be: heaven on earth maybe…
Zoë says:
We live not far from John Wesley’s birthplace. I have stood in the same spot from which he preached the message of love. So inspirational.
But flawed. All the saints are flawed. When we reach heaven, we will be made perfect, and whole. Despite our failings and flounderings, we are used to God’s glory. Here is grace, revealed.
Shaun Groves says:
Beautifully said. Thanks, Zoe.
Jenn says:
I got the message when I read it, but I think I missed the word “parable” in the title. 🙂 I was reading it like an O’Henry story.
I do think your parable was/is (unfortunately) very on point. It’s like when people take those spiritual gift quizzes and then only focus on their “gift,” as if the result of their answers magically frees them from ever sharing the gospel, or serving the poor, or serving the children at church, etc…
Not that I have ever been that person. {Ahem.}