As the servant walked away, the showman saw the pack of precious gifts and immediately changed his tone. "My friend, do not go," he called. "Give me your pack of goods and I will let you in."
For a moment the servant stopped. He thought of the king, and how he had told all the servants to use their gifts wisely. He almost made up his mind to make his way back to the marketplace and trade for the king, cost him what it might, but at that moment a burst of sound came from the showman's trumpet, and he heard the shouts of excitement from inside the tent. Quickly he forgot the king's instructions, and as fast as he could slip the pack from his shoulders and hand it to the showman, the servant was inside.
Another of the king's servants stood at the corner of a street watching some jugglers. He was so captivated that he forgot all about trading for his master, and thought of nothing but the performers. As he watched so intently, some men crept up behind him and without his knowing they stole the gold from his pack. The servant continued to stare at the show. When he came to trade he would discover his loss, and when the trumpet sounded he would have nothing to take back for the king.
Other servants were treated even more badly. One of them followed the excited crowds from street to street until he came to the very edge of the city. Across some fields he fancied he saw even more exciting sights. No sooner did he set out, than the gang of men rushed from their hiding place and beat him up. With his goods gone, he hardly had the strength to get back to the city.
Another of these lazy servants became frightened as he watched the people entering the showman's tent. One of his friends asked him why he trembled. At first he could not answer, but after a while he explained that he had just heard the showman's trumpet, and it reminded him of his master's great trumpet sound that was yet to come. He had been frightened because much of the day had gone already, and he had not even begun to trade for the king.
"How can we stand before our king with our hands empty?" he asked his friends.
His companions jeered, but this servant knew his fears were wiser than their laughter. "You are in the same danger," he told them. "How then can you make fun of me?" He pointed at the sky and showed them how low the sun was getting. "The trumpet may sound at any moment, and we will have nothing to take back."
As this servant spoke, one of his friends listened in shame. "What can we do?" he asked. "Have we left it too late?"
"It is never too late -- until the trumpet sounds," the servant said. "Even though we have wasted much of the day, there must be something we can do. Come with me to the marketplace and we will see."
The second servant agreed. Off they set, pushing their way past old friends who shouted and laughed at them. This disturbance made the people of the city join in. The two servants looked at each other and wished once more that they had set out early to the market to trade their gifts. The people in the crowd were rude to them, and at times angry.
"Pushing through this crowd is like swimming against a swift river," said the servant who had been persuaded to come by his friend. "Do you think we will ever get there?"
"Yes, yes," his companion cried. "We will get there if we keep going."
The other was not so sure. "It is so hard. The streets seem to get more and more full. I feel very afraid."
Just as he spoke, a huge group of the townspeople met them like a mighty wave of the sea. There was music and trumpets and dancing, and all this seemed sure to drive the two servants back. They could even see one of their old friends dancing among the rest. He was the man who had given away his pack of treasures to go into the showman's tent. As soon as he saw the two servants, he called to them by their names and invited them to join with the crowd.
The servant who was leading the way shook his head. "No, we are going to the marketplace to trade for our king."
The man mocked him. "It is too late for that. You should have gone there in the morning. There is no point in going now!"
The first servant who had been so afraid earlier, turned pale, but still kept on his way. "You are right," he called. "We wasted the morning and much of the afternoon, and it makes me sad. But our good king will help us even now, and we will serve him."
Then the servant who was with the crowd turned to the servant's companion. "Your friend has gone mad. What is the use of going to the market when it is closed? Come on, join in our fun."
The second servant hung his head in shame. He would have joined with the crowd, if his friend had not seized him by the hand and told him not to listen.
With that, the second servant seemed to get stronger, and he held tightly to his friend as they pushed on.
Their former companion turned on them in hate. He shouted to the people to grab hold of the two and stop them. The noisy crowd would have done this if the two servants had not managed to push their way through, using a strength that seemed to come from beyond. Almost immediately they found themselves in another street.
There were fewer people here, and the two servants paused to recover their breath. But they could hear the crowd and its music in the distance.
"I could never have held on without your help," the second servant said.
"You must not thank me," his companion replied. "It was our king who gave us the strength."
"Then do you think he will accept what we can get, even though the day is nearly over? Oh, my friend, I wish I had your courage. I am so afraid that if I meet that crowd again they will tear us to pieces."
"Our king will never let that be," his friend insisted. "We must trust him."
Just then the crowd of singers, dancers and musicians came bursting round the corner. Leading them was their former companion who had urged them to join the crowd. When he saw this, the servant who had been so frightened before became even more anxious now.
Close by, the two servants could see a large shop. In the window shone what appeared to be precious stones, many of them set in metal the colour of gold. The second servant turned quickly to his friend.
"Look," he said. "Surely here is all we need. Let us go in and trade for our lord and master. We will also escape from the crowd."
"No, no!" his friend cried. "We must make our way to the marketplace, for that is where the king told us to trade. Being late has brought us troubles, but this shop has nothing good enough to take back for our master. Stay close and we will soon be there."
The second servant held back. "Look, the crowd is coming over. See how many people there are!" He turned to the shopkeeper.
"Come in, come in," the shopkeeper said, hurrying outside to greet him. "Hurry, before the crowd sweeps you away. Come in and buy my beautiful jewels. My rubies, my garnets, my emeralds. Rare jewels. Come in, come in."
While the second servant paused to hear what the shopkeeper had to offer, the crowd pushed past and the two servants became separated. The second servant realised his friend had gone, and without further thought he hurried into the shop, hoping to be safe.
The shopkeeper seemed to be an honest man, but his gleaming goods were worthless. If it had been earlier, the clear morning light would have shown the imitation jewellery for what it was. The brightness of the day was fading now, and the glow of the evening sun made the deception hard to detect.
So the shopkeeper persuaded the servant to part with his riches, and gave him nothing in return but bits of coloured glass. What a poor showing these would make when presented to the king.
The servant had no idea he had been cheated. Or if the thought crossed his mind that something might be wrong, he knew he must now take the blame for wasting his time and his gifts. As he left the shop, the servant stared down the road wishing he had stayed with his companion.
And what a hard struggle his companion faced before he finally got to the market. At times it seemed as if the words of his former friend were coming true, and he really would be torn to pieces as the crowd pressed fiercely against him from all directions.
Suddenly the angry crowd parted like a stream around a rock, and he w
ent through without the people even noticing him.
At last he reached the marketplace. How glad he was to find himself there, but even so his troubles were not over. Many of the stalls were empty, and at others there were only dealers in imitation jewellery and poor quality goods.
The servant looked around anxiously, afraid that the trumpet would sound before he had a chance to purchase anything for his king. Now he was more than sorry that he had wasted so much of the day. "What shall I do?" he said to himself. "How can I trade for my master when I've wasted my time so badly?"
Then he noticed a stall where there were no jewels, no gold or costly silk, no pearl of great price. All he could see were rough garments and coarse sackcloth, and behind these were ashes and loaves of sour bread. Some bottles containing tears rested on leaves of bitter herbs. As the servant gazed at the stall, something seemed to whisper to him, "Go and buy."
The servant knew deep inside that he was not good enough to trade for his master, but full of sorrow he stepped forward and with trembling hands bought the roughest sackcloth, the ashes and the saddest tears. It was his way of saying to the king that he was truly sorry. After trading his gifts for these, the servant stepped back into the marketplace to wait for the trumpet.
Then suddenly through the evening air came its clear voice, growing louder and louder. The sound pealed across the sky, and the great city with its shows and its noise and its excitement melted away to nothing. Immediately the servants found themselves gathered together, standing with their king. Everything had gone, except the servants and their belongings.
The king called them forward so he could see what they had brought. The servants who had risen early and traded their gifts wisely were given crowns of light and much gladness. Each servant had his own reward. The man who had the poor widow's tears and grateful thanks seemed to bring a gift that pleased the king more than many others.
Then the servant who had wasted the day but had bought the sackcloth and ashes and tears stepped forward slowly, and his offering was indeed poor to look at. The king placed it amongst the heaps of gold and jewels and precious cloth. The servant looked up at the king and said, almost silently, "I have read that you do not wish for anyone to perish, but for all to come to repentance. I am truly sorry."
And as he spoke, the king looked gently at his servant and smiled. "Well done, good and faithful servant."
As the king said this, the coarse sackcloth suddenly shone like cloth woven from threads of gold. The ashes sparkled like the finest jewels, and the tears of sadness turned to pearls more valuable than any the king already possessed.
Finally, the king turned to his careless servants, and as he spoke they ran to hide. The king ordered them away from his presence, away from the palace where there was peace and life. The servants who had loved the king, and traded their gifts wisely in the great city, were invited to live in the wonderful light of the palace, while those who had wasted everything were shut outside.
Epilogue
The Bible says we can never earn our way to Heaven by doing good things, but we all have different gifts and talents. If we belong to Jesus we have to serve him. Jesus told several stories about people buying and selling, and made it clear that we must not waste our time here on Earth. As this story shows, not everyone has the same talents. The tears were as valuable as the jewels. Don't forget, one day the trumpet will sound, and it will be too late to do all the things for the Lord God that we keep meaning to do.
Some Bible verses:
[Jesus said] "Be on the alert then, for you do not know the day nor the hour. For it is just like a man about to go on a journey, who called his own slaves and entrusted his possessions to them. To one he gave five talents, to another, two, and to another, one, each according to his own ability; and he went on his journey. Immediately the one who had received the five talents went and traded with them, and gained five more talents. In the same manner the one who had received the two talents gained two more." (Matthew 25:13-17, but read up to verse 30 for the whole parable on which this story is loosely based, and see what happens to the servant who wasted his one talent.)
[Jesus] has said, "I will never desert you, nor will I ever forsake you," so that we confidently say, "The Lord is my helper, I will not be afraid. What will man do to me?" (Hebrews 13:5b-6).
A LESSON OF FAITH
Original story by Margaret Gatty
"Let me hire you as a nurse for my poor children," a butterfly said to a large green caterpillar who was strolling along the leaf of a cabbage in her odd, lumbering way.
"See these little eggs?" the butterfly continued in a sad voice. "I do not know how long it will be before they come to life, and I feel very sick and poorly. If I should die, who will take care of my tiny butterflies when I am gone? Will you help them, kind caterpillar? You must be careful what you give them to eat. They cannot, of course, live on your rough food."
The poor butterfly wiped her eyes and continued to give the puzzled caterpillar her instructions. "You must give them early dew, and honey from flowers. And you must let them fly, but only a little way at first -- for, of course, one cannot expect them to use their wings properly all at once. Dear me, what a pity it is that you cannot fly yourself. But I have no time to look for another nurse now, so please do your best."
The caterpillar stared at the butterfly in dismay, wondering how she could possibly care for baby butterflies.
The butterfly shook her head. "Dear, dear, I cannot think what made me come and lay my eggs on a cabbage leaf. What a place for young butterflies to be born. And to think how many beautiful plants and blossoms I have visited this glorious summer. Still, you will be kind to my poor little ones, won't you? Take this glittering dust from my wings as a reward. Oh, how dizzy I am. You will remember about the food."
With these words the butterfly drooped her wings and died. The caterpillar, who had not been given the chance to say yes or no to the request, was left standing alone by the side of the butterfly's eggs.
"A pretty nurse she's chosen indeed, poor lady," the caterpillar exclaimed. "And a pretty business I have in hand. Why, that butterfly's senses must have left her, or she never would have asked a poor, crawling creature like me to bring up her dainty little ones. Much notice they'll take of me, truly, when they discover the wings on their backs, and fly away out of my sight whenever they choose. Ah, how silly some people are, in spite of their painted clothes and the beautiful dust on their wings."
However, the poor butterfly was dead, and there lay the eggs on the cabbage leaf. The green caterpillar had a kind heart, so she resolved to do her best. But she got no sleep that night, for she felt extremely anxious. She made her back ache from walking around the eggs, for fear any harm should come to them. In the morning she said to herself, "Two heads are better than one. I shall consult some wise animal on the matter and get advice."
But still there was a difficulty -- whom should she consult? There was the shaggy dog who sometimes came into the garden. But he was so rough. If she called him, he would most likely whisk the eggs off the cabbage with one brush of his tail, and then she would never forgive herself. There was the cat, to be sure, who sometimes sat at the foot of the apple tree warming his fur in the sunshine. But he was selfish, so there was no hope of his troubling himself to think about butterfly eggs.
"I wonder which is the wisest of all the animals I know," the caterpillar sighed in great distress. And she thought and thought, until at last she remembered the lark. Because he went from place to place and was very inquisitive, surely he must be extremely clever and know a great deal. To fly through the air -- which she could never do -- was the caterpillar's idea of perfect glory.
Now, in the neighbouring cornfield there lived a lark, and the caterpillar sent a message begging him to come and talk to her. When the lark came she told him her problem, and asked him how to feed and rear the little creatures so different from herself.
"Perhaps you will be able to inquire and hear
something about it next time you fly away," the caterpillar suggested timidly.
The lark said perhaps he might, and went singing away into the bright blue sky. His voice died away in the distance until the caterpillar could no longer hear a sound. Even when she reared herself up most carefully, which she did now, she could neither see nor hear the lark.
She dropped on her legs again, and resumed her walk around the eggs, nibbling at the cabbage leaf now and then as she moved along.
"What a long time the lark has been gone," she cried at last. "I wonder where he is now. How I'd like to know what he hears in that curious, blue sky."
Then the caterpillar took another turn around the butterfly eggs.
At last she heard the lark's voice again. She almost jumped for joy, and it was not long before she saw him descend to the ground beside the cabbages.
"News, news, glorious news, friend caterpillar," the lark sang. "But the worst of it is, you won't believe me."
"I believe everything I'm told," the caterpillar observed hastily.
"Well, then, first of all, I'll tell you what these little creatures need to eat." The lark nodded his beak towards the eggs. "What do you think it is? Guess."
"Early morning dew, and the honey out of flowers, I'm afraid," the caterpillar sighed.
"No such thing, young lady. Something simpler than that. Something you can get easily."
"I can get nothing easily -- except cabbage leaves," the caterpillar murmured in distress.
"Excellent, my good friend," the lark cried. "You have found it out. You are to feed them with the leaves of cabbages."
"Never!" the caterpillar replied indignantly. "It was their dying mother's last wish that I should do no such thing."
"Their dying mother knew nothing about the matter," the lark persisted. "But why do you ask me, and then disbelieve what I say? You have neither faith nor trust."
"Oh, I believe everything I'm told," the caterpillar insisted.
"No, you don't," the lark replied. "You won't believe me about the food, and yet that's only the beginning of what I have to tell you. Why, caterpillar, what do you think those little eggs will turn out to be?"