A Pearl of Great Price: Part V

Well, I will not bore you with the unimportant details of my day-to-day survival in the desert.  I will, however, say this:  the longer I traveled, the more I realized my utter dependence on the Benevolent Wanderer--or Shiloh, if I am to believe that was indeed him.  He had provided light and nourishment; and more than that, he had taught me that giving is receiving, that to truly find joy and companionship in the harshest of circumstances is to give freely of oneself and think not of the consequences.  What I learned out in the waste was more than any elder could teach me or what a lifetime of study could possibly afford.  Truly he taught me that greater love no man has than he who gives all he has for another, even to the point of giving his own life.  

...Perhaps you feel I am getting ahead of myself.  Let me relate one final tale from my wandering in the desert. 

Long after the experiences of home had become personal legend and the nights of the sandstorm and the jackals had become hazily distant memories, I saw, far in the distance, the glimmering outline of what appeared to be a city!  I stopped dead in my tracks.  Had I come to the end of my journey?  Was I within a day's travel of that blessed abode?  I checked and rechecked the details outlined in my now-tattered and falling-apart records of the ancients.  By all accounts, the sheen of the pearly alabaster walls and domes of gold that adorned the buildings, the sudden reappearance of the rivers and sparse greenery that had been absent for so long--as far as I could tell it all added up to one thing:  my journey was nearing its end!  I fell down on my knees and prayed to God, "Is this all real?  Am I hallucinating?  or have I finally wandered far enough from my home to that sacred and safe haven--the Land of Promise?  Please, Father--give me strength to at least make it that far!"  Deep within my heart, I felt a surge of joy; it was as if time stood still, or as if all the cares of the world were lifted off my shoulders.  I knew it was the place of my desiring.  I just knew it.


 I gathered my belongings, and, almost automatically, started into a quick jog, my eyes unblinkingly fixed on the dazzlingly white and beautiful city that lay beyond me.  My mind was aflutter with thoughts of what was in store for me there--peace, rest from my cares, a fountain of pure and clean water (a bath!), the fruit of the tree, that beautiful pearl of great price--Oh, it was almost more than I could stand!  How I longed to be there!  Yes!  Yes!  It was coming ever nearer!
 
As my mind continued to focus on the blessings surely awaiting me just inside those pearly gates, my euphoria was shattered by a faint whizzzz punctuated by an excruciating pain in my leg.  I was knocked off my feet, falling face-first into the sand, totally bewildered and unable to comprehend fully what was happening.  I clutched my leg, crying out in pain--I looked through watery eyes and discovered a black arrow protruding from my right calf.  I began to hyperventilate--I could not pull the barb out.  I looked at the staunch, seemingly disaffected city that was no longer drawing nearer; indeed, the distance seemed to expand endlessly in front of me.  I cried.  I heard laughing.  My heart sunk as I looked around and saw several dark figures wearing rough leather garb forming a circle around me--bandits.

Talents--Gifts from the Master

I was just talking to my good friend Kiersten from Santa Rosa over facebook chat about our mutual love for writing and the way we both get the creative juices flowing.  We were talking about how things end up coming out on the page in a little different way than we would usually say it (mostly because thoughts usually come to me as images or scenes rather than in strings of words--luckily I've had enough opportunities to write that I have been trained to make that conversion).  Kiersten then said the following:

It's interesting too, to have people be touched by the way you worded it, then you really know that it came from God.

I thought about that and replied thus:

Indeed. It's like I'm a trumpet or a cello or something... people aren't there to hear the instrument, they're there to hear the Master play the instrument. "Our" talents are just ways God gives us to be manifested in others' lives.

I truly believe that.  You don't go to a concert to hear instruments--they don't make a lot of noise in and of themselves.  You go to hear the beautiful music made when finely crafted instruments find their way into the hands of master musicians (or your 6th grade son who is just learning how not to make his clarinet squeak).

Our talents are given to us so we can bless others.  Once again my mind turns to the Savior, our greatest example in everything good and worthwhile.  He had talents for listening, teaching, loving, and serving.  He was also a master story-teller!  Have you ever read the Parables?  They're genius!  Thank Heaven He shared His talents with us, so we all could know the Way (oddly enough, He even told a story about not burying your talents...).

So keep sharing your talents!  Bake a cake for your mom!  write a poem to your wife!  teach your kids to play ball or dance or tell jokes or ride a bike!  Our talents are not our own; we are simply instruments in the Hands of our Master.

Much Love,

Elder Spendlove

PS I wrote a series about this not long ago.  Here's the link if you missed it (or if you just want to reread it)

Image from: http://dkpresents.wordpress.com/2008/08/10/a-dozen-trumpet-masters/