Slipping through the narrow street, the young man scampered over the things in the alleyway until he reached an old, broken-down shack that lie at the end. He carefully walked up, turned around to see if anyone had followed, and then opened the creaky old door. It squeaked as it opened, and he looked to see if anyone had heard. No one was there. Not a sound. He carefully walked into the shack, and closed the door slightly behind.

A cat jumped off it’s perch, and nearly scared the boy to death as he swerved away from it. Panting, he held his hand to his chest, feeling his heart pounding inside. A few minutes later and the boy caught his breath and continued inside. Like he was the builder of the shack, he made his way to the back and to an old trunk. Being careful that no one was watching, he lifted the latch and lifted the lid. A smile warmed over his face as he gazed at the trunk’s contents. Inside, laying in a bed of sawdust, was a rock. Not just any rock, but the most precious treasure to this young man for in the corner of the rock shined a sparkling gem, of which he was sure was the prettiest diamond he’d ever seen. He dared not tell anyone about it, for they would surely want his gem.

After a little while gazing at his treasure, he closed the lid, put back the latch, and walked back outside, once again making sure that no one had seen or heard a thing, for no one must have his treasure.

Back at his house, his family all gathered around the table for dinner. The father, a farmer by trade from many generations of farmers, sat at the head of the table, as the mother, arms resting on the counter, seemed like she was going to break into tears. “I don’t understand it Charles,” his mother said.

“It’s just that way, May. This has been a bad season, and old Joe Crane down at the bank said that if we didn’t get the money for the latest loan I took out for the feed, that they were going to come out and have to take some of the livestock or something of value from the farm. I can’t think of what we can give him,” replied the father.

But Dad,” the boy said, “If you sell your animals won’t that make it harder for you to make money to pay it off?”

“It would, son, but I don’t see any other choice.” The son had never disclosed any information about his treasure. Any time he was asked about it, the response was that he was off doing something personal or doing something that he thought was fun. No one ever pressed him to find out what took so much of his time, and he never volunteered that information.

It was about a month later, the father had sold some of the livestock, and the family was still in financial trouble. To make matters worse, his little sister caught a dreadful disease, and the father was forced to sell some more of the animals to
cover the fee of the doctor. “It’s all I have, do you understand that?” The father told the banker. “I have nothing but the farm left.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I just cannot give you a loan. You have no collateral or any previous credit rating. I’m afraid that there is nothing that I can do for you.” Disappointed and disheartened, the father turned around and headed for the door. He
walked out, and back to the house.

That day, the boy visited his treasure again, thinking of how he would never have to face the problems that his dad was facing. A twinge of guilt sprung up inside him as he viewed the gem. Maybe I should let my father know about the gem, he thought. He felt for his sister, and knew how the family was in trouble, yet, at the same time, wondered if the gem were enough or whether his treasure would be worth anything. Even if it was, his dad would probably never listen to him tell of a diamond he had– he would think it was a dream or that he was just a child.

Another month passes. The farm has been sold to a wealthy city man.  The family is allowed to stay on it, with pay, out of the rich man’s generosity. The daughter is getting better, though still not out of the hospital. The rent on the place is coming due, and the young boy decides to tell his father about the treasure.

“Dad. I need to tell you something.”

“Not now, son. I’m kinda busy.”

“But Dad, it is important.”

“So is what I am doing.”

“But Dad–”

“No buts. Now, run along and check to see if your mother has anything for you to do.” The boy hangs his head and walks away. After he is done helping his mother, he walks back to his treasure, takes it out of the box, and works his way to a jeweler. “Let’s see what you have here, son.” The man said. He eyed the rock and the gem in the top. “It’s a diamond all right, but let’s see just how big it is.” The jeweler carried the rock into the back, where he had a hammer and chisel. Carefully, the jeweler banged at the rock to reveal a whole lot bigger diamond than he had ever imagined.

“I’m sorry son, but I don’t have enough money to pay for this diamond. There is a jeweler in the city that could buy it from you.” He gave the young man the address, and with that, the young man headed out to his farm house with the diamond in a bag for safe keeping. But, it was too late. His father had already taken matters into his own hands and had stolen from the city man and was thrown into prison. His mother, desperate for money or work, had left the house to who knows where.

So, the young man went to his sister, showing her the diamond, and telling her all about how an old man had showed him the trunk and gave him the diamond– a real treasure to him. And how he kept it, and never thought that it was as big as it really was, and how much it was worth. How he thought that no one would believe him, and so, he kept it hidden. The sister, tears in her eyes, asked, “But why? Why didn’t you tell us sooner? Why did you wait all this time to share with us
something so valuable?”

“I don’t know.”

Christian, your salvation, your very life from God, is a treasure given to you freely from Christ Jesus Himself. Precious beyond measure was the blood that was shed for you. He gave His life, and commands us to go share the message, give the witness, spread the faith! Why is it that this most precious treasure, far greater than anything we could ever imagine, lies locked up inside ourselves or in our churches. Why isn’t it everywhere– on our tongue continuously?

The story is told of a time, long ago, when two young farm boys, each helping their father, saw the King’s royal procession coming walking by for the first time. The lads, both younger than twelve, stood and peered through the fence as the knights on horseback were followed by footmen, and the train seem to go on forever until, near the center, a lavishly decorated coach came by. Around it walked heavily armored guards, in all their splendor with their big swords and shields at their sides.

“When I grow up, I want to be just like one of them,” Jacob said. Acting out each part, he continued, “I could fight of the evil black knight, rescue the fair damsel, and be king of the mountain!” Losing his balance, he tumbled down the small pile of dirt that he had mounted.

“Some knight you’d be,” his friend, Lance snickered. “I think you’ve heard too many stories. My dad says that there is no damsel, or anything like that, and all these knight guys get to do is stand around and sweat, and then they end up dying for some guy they never see, unless they get some reward for being injured or something.”

“Oh yeah? Well, my dad has told me stories of valiant knights, and glorious battles, and–”

“And that’s all they are, stories,” Lance finished. As they were going back and forth, Lance’s mother called him home, and the discussion ceased.

Many years later, there was a war in the land. A king from many miles away had attacked a weak position in the outskirts of the kingdom. Many brave souls fought hard and long, and
as such, new people were called in to serve their king and kingdom. Among them, two men, who long ago had formed their opinions of service for the king.

“I can’t believe this! I have a farm to work, a wife to take care of– I don’t have time to be off fighting battles,” an older Lance complains to a group of men called into service.

“But it is our duty, our service to one that has guided and protected all of us for so long. It is the least that we can do,” replied a voice in the shadow. Getting up, it was Jacob. “I would most gladly give my life for the king.”

“For what? A medal? A pat on the back?” Lance questioned.

“Yeah, I mean, he never comes by my house!” Another states.

“And where is he now? Not even here to help us in training, he’s off somewhere guarded and protected!” Still another replied. “While we’re dying on his battlefield, he’s drinking wine in his castle.”

“And none of us will be able to enjoy anything if the enemy makes us his slaves,” replied Jacob.

“You know, he’s right,” another one voiced, “We at least have to try.”

“Not I. I’m only here because I have to be,” finished Lance. The conversation ended, as training picked up again.

Days passed before they were ready, and when they were, they were suited and armored and ready for battle. They each got a horse and road out to the place that they had last heard of the enemy being, and found their own camp. Settling down that night, they awaited what would happen the next day.

It came bright and early, and with it the enemy. It was too late to mount horses, for there was a sneak attack. The men that had come to fight only because they had to ran, and were chased down by horses. Lance fell at the sword of the leader, as he was making what he thought was an unobserved getaway. The man who realized his duty fell fighting many men on foot, and took many with him. And Jacob, as he was fighting, took many of the enemies, and fought valiantly.

More of the kings men came in behind, and overtook the enemy which was defeated. Jacob, wounded and mangled, was taken back to see his king before passing on into eternity himself. As the king looked into the eyes of the man that willingly gave of his life to him, Jacob smiled, knowing that he had done his best, and had served with all of his heart.

A question for you, Christian. Which category of knights do you fall into? Are you the kind that’s there because it’s a free ticket to heaven– to escape eternal destruction? Are you the kind that has to be convinced of its benefits for you individually, that it makes sense to you before you serve? Or, are you the kind that is out there trying to please the King with all of your heart, soul, and mind and wanting to give your all at His feet just for a simple “Well done, good and faithful servant?” What is your primary motivation? What is it that really counts in your life? Where is your focus, love and adoration?

“Mommy, can I have this?” the cute little blonde girl asked her mother, who was busy talking to the clerk looking for directions. The little girl had grabbed a a doll off one of the shelves, and was showing it to her mother.

“No sweetheart,” came the reply. “Now come with me.” The mother had gotten the directions and grabbed her little daughter’s hand and walked to the next aisle, and started looking at products on the shelves.

The little girl, still enamored by the doll, looked back to see another little girl, and her mommy. As she watched, the girl started to point at that particular doll. The other girl’s mother, picked it up off the shelf and put it into her shopping cart. The other girl was all smiles, and jumped up and down for joy behind the mother.

The little girl turns back to her mother, “Mom, look.” She pulls on her mom’s hand and points at the other little girl.

“What did I say?” Her mom replied.

“No,” came the pitiful reply. “But–”

“No buts. You cannot have that doll.” The corners of the little girl’s mouth seemed like they would fall off their face and hit the ground. As her bottom lip came out, tears started to come into her eyes. The mother seemed oblivious.

The two continued on through the store, looking at different things, the little girl still wanting the doll, and the mother ignoring it.

They finally made it to the check out counter. There, in front of them a few customers was another little girl with the same doll. This was all that the little girl could take. “Mom–” she whined, pointing at the doll. “Why can all these other little girls have dolls and I can’t?”

The mother pulled the little girl out of line, and brought her over to a corner. “Listen to me. I told you know twice. Now that is enough. I don’t want to hear it come out of you again, you understand me?” The girl broke out into tears.

“Yes mom,” sniffed the girl, through her tears.

“Now, run out to the car, and sit there until I get there.” The little girl, tears trickling down her face, headed toward the door, and started outside. She avoided people, though a few asked what was wrong. She got out to the car, and sat there and cried for a little while.

Time passed, which seemed like forever, before her mom came out. She had finished her crying, though her eyes were still red, and her sleeves a little wet. They silently rode all the way home, and the little girl went to her room. Once she got there, she found a doll sitting on her bed. The silence broke, and her mom was standing in the door way. The girl turned around and looked at her mom, this time with tears of joy in her eyes and a smile on her face.

The Lord promises to provide all our needs, if we will just wait upon Him in His Way, His Will and His Timing. Why do we rush Him? He has the best plan. Why settle for anything less than the best? Why try to guess the future now?