The Dream of God

The Dream of God

(“God’s kingdom is like a treasure hidden in a field. One day a man found the treasure. He hid it again and was so happy that he went and sold everything he owned and bought the field.” Matthew 13:44)

It was a normal day, and by normal, I mean he took the same route by foot
that he always took, walking five blocks west, crossing across the park and
lingering briefly at the fountain (it always seemed to know his name), then
continuing north the building where he worked for 25 years. He still hadn’t
quite figured out what his job was. Or better put, how what he did intertwined
with what everyone else did. They had departmental meetings, but only one
department at a time.

He was not bored, he was hypnotized. The same walk, the same pace, the
same project, the same people, the same “how are yous” and “hope you’re fine”
every day had cut a highway through his mind that all the electrons followed;
a racing oval without knowing the perfect ending. All that was missing was
the checkered flag.

One Tuesday (he knew it was Tuesday because that’s the day he bought a
coffee and croissant from the vendor at the park. One Tuesday, croissant in hand
and the coffee warming his mouth, he traversed the park one more time,
the itinerary well remembered and rutted through his brain. Just as he was about
to move from the grass to the concrete of the roadway something caught his attention.

He thought it a toy. Maybe a dime-store keepsake. It might be from a child’s
Halloween costume or a young salesman’s sample case. He picked it up and
held it in his palm.
Blue like a stellar jay, more blue than his grandson’s eyes, darker than the sky,
but brighter than the water’s flow; its weight told him it was more than glass.
He had started the day like every other Tuesday. The sky was the same as yesterday,
the stoplights blinked the same time as they always did. The same doors
opened to the office buildings that never changed, not just day to day, but
year to year.

He set the jewel down, and with his well-groomed fingers scratched a hole
in the dirt deep enough where it wouldn’t be discovered. He marked the spot
with gps location and continued on to work.

But the sapphire, that precious treasure, stayed hidden within his churching mind.
He had never seen a thing like it before. He must have it. He must make it his own.
Leaving work he walked back to the spot where the gem was buried. He wrote down
the coordinates and the next day went to the bank, asking about that spot of land.

Though surrounded by a public park, this bit of land, this mini-acre, was private
land and the owner had long ago wished it sold. The man, gathering all he had,
made an offer, and, accepted, he sighed the papers and rushed to the site again.

He was apprehensive. What if someone had come across his treasure while
he was gone? He gently moved the dirt away from the treasure, and there it was,
gleaming as the late afternoon sun danced on its facets.

He laughed. He danced. He held a party. He left his job. He fed the homeless
man who sat outside his building. He stopped by the hospital to see his
adversary and wish him the best. He took his wife to the club, and bought
his children the biggest, brightest books they had ever seen.

This is the kingdom. This is the joy. This is the beauty of God’s dream
for the world. Lean over. Pick it up. See its beauty and dance…simply dance
at your good fortune. God’s dream of peace not war is upon us.

God’s dream of light not dense is here.

God’s dream of sense taking the place of lies has begun.

God’s love that heals the sick and the sorrowful is fully formed before us.

God’s dream of circles of people owning nothing but the need to share
everything one on one to each other.

Nations dissolved their boundaries; missiles were decommissioned and
turned to playground equipment.

Churches closed because the celebrations just never ended and spilled
out on the streets. This is the kingdom that no empire of the world can defeat.

Thoughts on Boxes and Treasures

“But we have this treasure in clay pots, so that the surpassing power belongs to God and does not come from us.” 2 Corinthians 4:7

My father was an amateur magician. He delighted in using various sleight of hand tricks to illustrate sermons for children, and sometimes for adults. In one he showed the audience a red velvet bag with a handle on one end. He would hold it up, turn it inside out and back again, to show it was an “ordinary” bag.

Like Treasure

Like Treasure

("The kingdom of heaven is like treasure that was hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again. He was very happy. So he went and sold everything he had. And he bought that field.” Matthew 13:44)

Never expecting a muddy day; sun across every field
burned the fog and left the dirt crusty above the tangle of roots below.
I wore my black loafers and navy dockers,
walking sidewalk straight, hearing the crazy blackbirds
pretend to threaten, the faint frogs attempting their songs,
and the wide river a slow bass legato run.

Across the field, one third of the way in, was a mound,
just an emergence of soil, not enough to cast a shadow,
not enough to catch my eye, except today.
For sounds and sights, time and place, this day,
without reason other than my meandered pace,
I noticed what I would not, what anyone would not,
notice any other day.

I kicked off the cracked mud opening from the top
that spidered down from middle to bottom, not suspecting
a find,
just a lump to kick the time away.

So as I scraped my second foot over the late-day clay,
a wink from the dark caught my eye. I had been fooled before,
a child of 7 or 10, when the same reflection revealed only
a broken neck of a dr. pepper bottle.

I reached inside the dark, careful not to slice my fingers on
someone’s busted drink, and blue! Or violet! Or jade or emerald!
Oh joy; the colors would not be defined! Within my hand it was
cold and warm to my eyes.

The sun stopped shining, the field disappeared, and the afternoon
once lively now existed no more! There was only a moment full of all,
a day pregnant with every, and a gem too heavy to have weight or any.

Within a week I sold all I could see, rented the rest and bought that field
in spite of myself. My slices of five out of seven flew beyond the dawn

And the price I paid, in spite of myself, never matched the radiance,
the laser, the fluorescent, the flame and the spray of the never-changing
gem, though it seems, the colors are clearer with the day. And lately

After decades of wander, full knowing my foolish transaction,
there is nothing more precious, even on days of hunger,
than the beauty I found caked with earth’s transitions.