Hidden Gold

Sometimes, no matter how well things are going, you can feel a little empty.

This often happens to me after a good, full summer.  I recently spent a month with a great community of people where God was continuously, obviously at work.  I knew that coming back to a place away from that community, and away from my family, and away from some vocational dreams I’ve pursued would be hard.  And it is.

Yet God has reminded me that there is gold.

I’m not talking about the gold of the Olympic games.  (Although, winning an Olympic gold would be sweet.)   Michael Phelps has won his fair share (21 as I write this), and he admitted that outside of the pool he had wondered his own worth. (Phelps article)

I’m talking about hidden gold.

Ravi Zacharias, in his book, Walking from East to West, describes it:

“There is a beautiful story by F.W. Boreham that reflects this.  He tells of a woman who was sitting beside him on a bus.  As the journey progressed and the conductor came around to check the tickets, the woman was dismayed to realize that somewhere during the ride someone must have dipped into her purse and stolen two gold coins, along with her ticket.  Boreham reacts by saying how embarrassed he was because he happened to be sitting next to her and she kept giving him a look of suspicion.  But thankfully, he said, the problem was resolved quickly when, digging her hands deeper into the purse, she found the coins.  Promptly and with a red face she apologized, saying that it was her birthday and this was a new purse her daughter had given her.  ‘The compartments of the purse were more elaborate and ingenious than she had noticed,’ he said.

"Boreham, in his inimitable way, titled his essay ‘Hidden Gold,’ reminding the reader in the following words:  ‘Now this sort of thing is very common.  We are continually fancying that we have been robbed of the precious things we still possess.  The old lady who searches everywhere for the spectacles that adorn her temples; the clerk who ransacks the office for the pen behind his ear; and the boy who charges his brother with the theft of the pen knife that lurks in the mysterious depths of his own fearful and wonderful pocket.’  Often we are not aware of how close we are to that which we need but we think we do not have.  In His grace, God has placed some hidden gold somewhere in all of us that meets our need at a desperate moment.”  (p. 46)

Wherever God takes me, He has provided.  And He often places delightful things – like hidden gold – everywhere if I only look for them.  But I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the most precious thing that no matter where I go, I possess.

In the fictional (yet enlightening) book by C.S. Lewis called The Screwtape Letters, the demon Screwtape makes this statement:  “And all the time the joke is that the word ‘Mine’ in its fully possessive sense cannot be uttered by a human being about anything” (p. 247).

But is that true?  Can a human really not say “Mine” about anything?

Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine;
Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine!
Heir of salvation, purchase of God,
Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.

-          Fanny Crosby

I have become convinced that the only thing I can truly claim to be mine in this life is Jesus.  And that’s just plain hard to believe.  The Creator, the Sustainer, the One who died on the cross to take my punishment…that Jesus is Mine!  (And I gratefully share him with anyone else who has accepted His gift of salvation :).) 

That, my friends, is gold enough to fill any purse.  Or any soul.

Heav’n above is softer blue,
Earth around is sweeter green!
Something lives in every hue
Christless eyes have never seen;
Birds with gladder songs o’erflow,
Flowers with deeper beauties shine,
Since I know, as now I know,
I am His, and He is mine.
- George W. Robinson