EXCERPTS
Parables for a Bride
by Emily D.
Once upon a time there was a young clown who dreamed of a fabulous career. He imagined dazzling performances before packed audiences and international fame as the world’s best. As he grew older and began making plans for the future, he realized that he could never join just any old circus; a very special clown required a very special circus. So he spent years making visits, writing letters, attending performances, and researching every detail of countless circuses from all over the country. More than once he felt an unmistakable thrill of expectation as he sat, lemonade and popcorn in hand, in the middle of an excited crowd and witnessed show after show of amazing acts and hilarious shows. But inevitably it happened that before the day was over, he discovered something in the circus that just wasn’t good enough. Often it was the size of the company—little ones wouldn’t attract enough publicity. Sometimes he felt there were already too many performers and that his act would not receive its share of attention. Static in the sound system, squashed cotton candy, boring magicians, and lazy elephants—he encountered nearly every kind of flaw and failure as, one by one, he scratched one name after another from his master list of possible circuses.
Finally, after a long search, the clown found the circus of his dreams. Everything was just as it should be, from the design of the big-top tent to the price of the tickets. Relieved and happy, he approached the owner of the circus after an especially grand performance and announced that he was ready to join the team.
“Well, I’m glad to hear that!” exclaimed the owner. “I’d be interested to see what you can do. Why don’t you step into the arena and give me your best act.”
The clown stared at the owner and could almost hear the whistling as all his confidence escaped the balloon of his heart, leaving it limp and deflated. While he had been so dreadfully busy finding the perfect circus, he had neglected to prepare himself for the job. Not a penny had he spent for training, nor a minute in practice. He should have been triumphant, but instead he could only hang his head in shame.
“I’m sorry,” the owner said, “but we need a clown who knows his work and is committed to excellence. You really don’t have what we’re looking for.”
How about you and me? Are we preparing now to be godly wives, the kind of women godly men will be looking for? Or are we like the clown, critically demanding only the best but forgetting that we must be equal to the task?
[End of excerpt]