If there was a rich woman in pearls and furs riding along slowly in chaperoned Rolls Royce along the proverbial road of life, handing out leaflets of what she felt was important, and the way she felt we should live, and those who saw these leaflets mostly disregarded them… Would it come as a big surprise to anyone that those who disregarded her writings and her person, then came to her car and asked for her help one day… if she didn’t lift her head to listen to their request, and they went away complaining that the rich woman “never listens to them”?
For sake of contrast and a story, let us say there was a poor girl somewhere, during one of that millionaire’s slow drives, who stopped and stared at the paper handed her through the window of that car.
“Thank you, ma’am, but I can’t read. Ain’t been to school none. Wish I could make sense of this chicken scratch, but with no larnin’…”
Nothing more need be said. Before she knew it, the girl was cleaned, fed, clothed, and sent off to the best boarding school in the land, where she received the “larnin’” she needed to “make sense” of that millionaire’s “chicken scratch”.
And read it he did. That girl not only read through that leaflet countless times, but sometimes she read portions out loud to the millionaire just to show her now she could, as well as to thank her.
She came back to the car one day—of course, showered, wearing clothes of good taste, and glowing with appreciation…and what’s this? She told the woman she was so much happier; her life was fuller now doing what was written in that leaflet; and she had swallowed—learned by heart—the first section, the first four pages of it!
But she needed a little tape because some of the pamphlet was coming apart; could the lady buy her some? Of course, the millionaire bought her more rolls than she’d ever need.
Later on, when she came back not needing tape to mend the leaflet but glasses so she could read it better—her eyes were getting weak—the millionaire quickly got her reading glasses; then rethought her actions and took her not only to the optician but also the optometrist, then to the medical doctor to take care of all her physical needs.
Of course, she footed the bill for all of this; she just wanted the girl to be happy, healthy, and able to go on reading the booklet. And they were friends now.
But happy? One day, the girl came back looking as miserable as a person could be. Her father had died. Nothing could console her, not even the rich treasures of that leaflet. The millionaire didn’t try to cheer her up tho’; just told her how very sorry she was and gave her a long hug—she remembered the sparkle in the girl’s eyes through the years whenever she was enabled to buy a gift for her father—but he was gone now.
The daughter ended up living with the rich woman. “Everything I have is yours,” the millionaire said as she moved in.
Is there someone thinking, “God never answers my prayer”? When did he last pick up His leaflet—it’s called the Bible—and simply heed what He had to say? God will be quick to supply mending aid necessary for those seeking to read His heart in His Word; and no doubt, life will become richer when we put to practice all He’s written there. Then at times of unthinkable heartbreak and loss—there is no guarantee His own do not experience these--we will find all belonging to our prayer-answering God at our disposal.
What are you doing with the leaflet handed you?
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