Please see the latest podcast and poem on Charity below
The Greatest Gift of All
Eric Smith – April 29, 2018
One morning as I searched the meadow of my mind;
I gazed across its vistas hoping I would find,
Wisdom to end dark patterns, and cycles that confound;
from self-made weapons forged in life that often hold me bound.
Then a voice of softness, wise and firmly spake;
“Not those who seek will find here, but those who come and make”.
I then created scenes from near and distant past;
Scenes depicting choices made, and consequence amassed.
The voice then said to look around, and see what I could see.
My mind created paths I’ve traveled, which then became the key;
Above each path a word appeared, describing my desires;
Thoughts and motives of my past and all that had transpired.
The natural man and tendency from deep within then came;
And looking past the source of pain, sought someone else to blame.
“Surely someone mean and vile hath brought to me this shame!”
But reason spoke in piercing voice, declaring just my name.
Then humbled and on fallen knee, with soul about to burst,
I sought to find a trend, a theme, of why I’d been my worst.
The paths that led to quick delights were short and never steep;
No sweat or pain, just smooth terrain, their motive was always me.
Then recognizing self to be the source of all my pain,
I asked the voice to please make known a path of nobler gain.
And to the side of where I spent the vastness of my life
A path emerged, with sticks and stones, and steepness, and of strife.
Throngs of souls just then emerged, encompassing where I’d trod.
I watched them seek for pleasures there, while they themselves applaud.
Yet on the nobler path I saw but few souls climbing there;
Each had left the path below without the need of fanfare.
Curious and concerned I asked, “To what, seek these souls abroad?”
Further ahead I looked and beheld a Grove called The Gifts of God.
And in that grove stood many a vial, of different shapes and size;
With different appeal, and some were concealed, but each stood tall in my eyes.
When those who had left the valley below arrived at the sacred grove
Covered were they, in blood sweat and tears, as long, they each had strove.
I watched as they opened the vials, and drank what they contained
Their joy became full, their bodies were healed and they shared their gifts unrestrained.
From one vial was given the gift of sight, to know the mysteries of God,
Another held the gift of faith, and one to know true from fraud.
To some was given to speak in tongues and others the gift to heal,
To others the spirit of prophesy, and to me all those gifts were real.
I watched in delight as those souls took their peace, and rested from their cares
While others persisted in taking them in until each of the gifts became theirs.
Then marveling in the scene which I saw, and feeling I’d seen the end
My thoughts were dispelled, and hunches were quelled, as I heard the voice of my friend:
“To those who sought gifts, and used them to bless the souls of those in need,
They’ll come to find one vial more, but only when absent of greed;
Who seek, and ask, and pray in faith, and seek God in pure clarity,
The last gift, though modest, is greatest of all, and is known as charity.”
It stood apart from other vials, and was housed at the top of the trail;
Through thistles and thorns, and snares to forlorn all those who would there travail.
Its outward appearance left nothing to desire; its size was rather small
It wasn’t the gift that most pursued, nor sought to possess at all.
For those who persisted, arrived at long last, finally to obtain
Looked within and took a drink, and were never the same again.
The voice then said “And what hast thou learned?”, as I looked back on my life
I searched my heart as I paused to reflect on past grief, turmoil, and strife,
“In pursuit of pleasure and selfishness and to all of those cares did I cling;
Though a man has God’s gifts, and knoweth all things, without divine love he is nothing.”