Post details: Trent's parable of the Kingdom.


Permalink 01:53:58 pm, Categories: By Trent, GraceHead thinking deeply, 1544 words   English (US)

Trent's parable of the Kingdom.

Two days before Thanksgiving, as I tried to fall asleep in a guest bed. I was compelled to meditate on the Kingdom.

What was God working into me at 1:30 AM, while I was staying at my in-laws in Memphis?

Not all of it came to me that night, but it was the start of my contemplation upon a story/parable. I am now ready to share this insight of the Kingdom, for the edification of the few, and the bewilderment of the many.

The Kingdom of God is like ...

An individual with great means wants to share something about himself that his servants couldn't understand.

He told them to gather every sponge that they could find, throughout all of the master's properties and warehouses. When they gathered enough to fill a closet, he said to go out again, asking around beyond his properties/assets and making sure that they had every sponge possible; no price is to high to pay. Then he instructed them to bundle all of the various sponges together in a giant clear-plastic sheet and hold them in the his great empty warehouse.

When they gathered them all they could see all of the master's sponges and those that did not initially belong to him bagged in the warehouse in clear plastic.

The head servant reported back, "Some of the servants were revealed as bitter and envious, during this task. They gathered grime and mud and mixed the filth in some of the sponges so that every sponge was soiled and disgusting. Every sponge soaked up the grime."

"The evil workers think that they have ruined something, but all they have done is helped." The master was calm, "Tell me what you see here?"

The servants noticed an ordinary sponge, and the master bleeding into it.

"We see your blood only in this sponge, and we will cherish it as consecrated from the filth and anointed by your blood." The obedient head-servant answered for the others.

The master explained that the sponge was not special, but the blood was. The blood has an invisible connection to the master and can even communicate what it is like to be apart from him, and even what it is like to be inside a sponge. Furthermore, when the master tells the blood something it is as though the sponge can see and understand what the master sees and understands, even though the sponge has no brain nor eyes. The blood shares the master's perspective and thought, and the infused sponge is now imparted with the master's full wisdom and understanding. "Quickly, go and wrap the blood-sponge in the same plastic that confines every other sponge and drop it in with the sponges that are without my blood. This is where things will get interesting!"

Things DID get interesting.

Sponges are not discerning, they can barely tell each other apart, but still they work hard at emphasizing small differences and comparing each other, to themselves. The pathetic hope of this comparing is that one might be confused to see one sponge as cleaner then the rest. When this clean wrapped sponge came among them, they quickly tried to get it to fall in line.

However, the blood-sponge shared the master's perspective and honesty. It never accepted a false label. This infuriated the others, and they wanted to crush it rather then understand that it was from above, and was anointed with the master's blood. They turned they hardened/dry side to it and even showed violence towards the membrane that wrapped the blood sponge.

"Is this the time to retrieve your sponge? Shouldn't we burn those sponges that are violent towards it?" the servants urgently asked, "Any more exposure and the membrane will be cut through spilling grime upon your sponge, and your blood among all the others, even the violent ones."

"Don't be surprised. This was my secret plan all along," the master explained, "They can't reduce my blood this way, they can only increase it, and demonstrate its potency. The blood was not for this sponge alone, but for as many sponges that would would soak up the blood. They will break the barrier, but their grime will not dilute the blood. My blood will dilute the filth, and turn make many sponges whole again, and alive to my wisdom and understanding. I use their deception that there is nothing special about that sponge to prove just the opposite. The more violent they get, the better ... for I want an explosion like a busted water balloon. I want my blood to be shrapnel in a great blood bomb, that will reach out to the most remote sponge in the bag. My blood's experience is my own ... we share in all things, so where the blood spills out, I gain experience. When it turns a soiled sponge into a brand new sponge, then I remember it as something that I am accomplishing as it happens. My thoughts are never separate from the blood, and my blood never is without my perspective on all these things, nor are the sponges that I touch ever without all of me."

Soon the hardest sponges dog piled the blood-sponge and ruptured the membrane, spilling forth the master's blood from the unique blood-sponge. The rupture was accomplished by the dry hardened filth of the dirty sponges, but by this they were immersed in the healing / purifying blood of the master. By the blood-sponge's wounds many other sponges were healed.

"I used to know what it is like to be only in one sponge," said the master to the servants, "but now I know thousands and thousands of them, as many of them as there are stars in the night sky."

"One thing bothers us," the servant replied, "few of the sponges exposed to your blood are taking it in. Some are shedding it like water shed by a duck's feathers, or rain on a waxed automobile. Say the word, and we will take these out and burn those that do not drink you into them."

"No!" The master settled the argument, "Remove them now, and surely some of the receptive sponges won't get full exposure. Wait until I know that I have been in them all, my unique blood-sponge is seeing to it right now. The unique blood-sponge is alive and in charge of ministering that blood in the bag even today."

"Don't think them worthy of disdain that many shed my blood, nor think that those that soak it up are meritorious. I choose which would shed and which would soak. This shedding and soaking only reveals my choosing. The ones that soak, instead of shed the blood, were selected and treated by me in secret to be inclined to soak. They are receptive, because I made them that way using a wetting agent, and the others got no treatment at all."

"Every sponge that belonged to me at the beginning will take my blood within, and be cleaned from the inside out. Every sponge that was acquired apart from my assets, are the ones that brought the dirt of my enemies to the inside and they still spew filth. Because of them, I get to realize more and more cleaning and purification. The worse their grime; the far better demonstration of the detergent attributes of my blood, and my blood sings with me in jubilation as takes on worse and worse stains. I remember the purification that I share, but not the stain, nor the dryness that came before. I can only experience wherever I go, and wherever I go is damp, and clean by my blood."

Continuing, "I am keeping watch for the day, that every receptive sponge has a portion of me, cleansing more and more of them every day that I spread throughout. I trust that the blood-sponge will not miss a single receptive sponge. Every sponge that carries ONLY filth is sour and spoiled with festering infectious grime seeping from their insides. From my vantage, I can see all these things and observe when to act."

"Soon, I will command my servants to empty the bag, and slice open every sponge. Then servants can see inside, where I am, or where I am not. Take those that have no blood to be burned and destroyed. I don't even know them and will not feel any loss. Take the sponges that are soaked in my blood to be pulverized, so that my blood can be reclaimed and mingled with the blood that stayed on this side of the bag, ... here in myself. For every drop of myself that I offered, gallons will be returned ... You will need giant tanks to hold it all."

"This is sowing a seed, and harvesting bushels of grain. This is loaning a pave-stone and being repaid with a city. The reunion will be a great celebration of increase ... an increase of myself."

This is not "low hanging fruit."
This is not to compete with the parables of Jesus.

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