Brother Ray and the
Pearls
I know that last week I said I would tell you all about
“Turkey Breast, not Turkey Roll,” but I’ve changed my mind. That is just going
to have to wait; for some reason I feel the need to tell you a different story.
A few years back, our family had started selling “Sandy
Candy” to make some extra money and teach the kids about running a business.
The tag line was “Art you can eat!” So, it was like sand art, except it was
colorful, powdered candy. We traveled around to different kind of events,
festivals and such to raise money to go on mission trips to Honduras with our
family.
While doing this, we met a lot of interesting people and had
some crazy experiences, and well, why not? We’re the Hunter Clan, right?
One time we booked ourselves at an alternative Christian
music festival called Cornerstone. We actually tent camped all week while we
worked. The kids got to go hear some great music and meet some great people.
Side Note: This is the event at which Silas, age of 9,
managed to crowd surf during a rocking Hawk Nelson concert. One of the band
members got scared for him and pulled him up on stage! Here is my parental disclaimer:
His mother and I had no idea what was happening. Silas was “being chaperoned” by his oldest
brother, Ben, and the rest of the kids. But that is another story for another
time, though it was pretty cool!
Anyway, the best part for this mature 80’s Christian rock
fan was that our booth was set up right next to the retro band tent. The retro
band tent that featured such artists as oh, Degarmo and Key, The Lost Dogs, The
77’s and more. Some of you older people might recognize these names.
It was great! We discovered some cool bands we’d never heard
of, like The Glen Clark Family, which played cool blues-rock, folk music. It‘s
a great jam. Chrissy and I obviously fell in love with their music. At some
time during the week, we made our way to their merchandise booth.
As we walked up to
their table, we were greeted by an older man. Looking at him you could tell he
had lived some hard years. I remember looking into his well-tanned, worn face,
as he smiled a partially toothless smile that gave way to soft wrinkles across
his face. I was drawn to the sparkle in his caring, icy blue eyes. His
shoulder-length, unkempt hair and his clothes reminded me of pictures I had
seen of the hippie Jesus people of the 6o’s.
He introduced himself as Brother Ray. He asked how our day was,
and without missing a beat, he asked if he could tell us a story? He said, “I
love to tell stories, and I have one just for you.
Not knowing what we were getting into, my wife quickly
replied that we would love to hear a story as she thoughtfully smiled back at
him. We leaned in a bit to hear his words as he began his tale of a little girl
and her treasure. It went like this.
There was a little girl who loved her daddy with all her
heart. This little girl’s daddy’s work would take him away from time to time,
and when he returned he would often have gifts for his precious little girl.
One such time, the father gave his daughter a set of faux
pearls that she loved. She wore these pearls everywhere she went; she didn’t
even take them off at bedtime. She didn’t allow anyone to touch her special
pearls. They were her prize possession. If anyone tried to remove them or even
touch them she gripped them tightly saying, “No, no, no!” With resolve in her little-girl
voice, she would proclaim, “These are my pearls!” This went on for months.
Another tradition the Father had with his little girl was
when he was home, he would spend time cuddling with her as he tucked her into
bed. Saying prayers with her, ending with a goodnight kiss, telling her that he
loved her more than anything.
One night the little girl’s father came back from a trip,
and he had started their bedtime ritual.
He tucked her into bed, looking into her little eyes, he
asked, “Honey, can daddy have those pearls? Quickly sitting up, gripping her necklace, the
little girl exclaimed “Oh, no daddy, not my pearls! I can’t give you my most
special pearls!”
The father smiled and comforted her by saying, “Okay honey.
Settle down, it’s okay.” He tucked her in and prayed with her, told her “I love
you more than anything,” and left the room.
The next night, bedtime arrived. Again, the father tucked
her in and looked at her with loving eyes asking her,
“Sweetheart, won’t you give daddy those old pearls?” With tears welling up in her eyes, she tightly
clenched her eyes shut and shook her head, holding tightly to the treasure
around her neck. With her voice quivering, she said “Oh daddy no! Please don’t
ask me for my pearls. You can have anything else. Take my teddy or my dolly, but
please don’t take my pearls”
The father smiled, and calmly said, “Okay, baby, don’t worry,
I won’t take your pearls.” He tucked her into bed, prayed with her, told her “I
love you more than anything,” and left the room.
This went on for what seemed like weeks. Over and over again,
the father was met with resistance from his precious child. Night after night,
the father would graciously accept her refusal to his request.
Then one night when the father entered his daughters’ room
to tuck her into bed, he found his darling girl sitting knees to chest on her
bed.
With one glance at her daddy, the tears burst forth like
water from a dam, spilling down her face. Her arm flung out to her daddy with a
tightly gripped fist holding her treasured necklace; through sobs he heard her
trembling little voice as she mustered.
“Take them, daddy, please take them! I can’t take it any
more! Please take my pearls, they’re yours!” The father sat down slowly next to
his little bundle of joy.
He took his thick finger, placed it under her quivering chin,
and he slowly lifted her face till their eyes met. Looking deeply into her
eyes, he said, “oh sweet child, thank you.”
Wiping away the tears rolling down her soft cheeks, he spoke
again, softly with love and compassion in his voice. “Honey, because you gave me your treasure, I
want to give you something that is more valuable and precious than those old, worn
out, fake pearls that you have been so tightly holding on to.
As he said this, he reached into his pocket and revealed a
long string of the most beautiful real authentic pearls. He carefully placed them around his child’s
neck and said, “You make them look so beautiful!” She leapt from her bed into
her daddy’s arms, kissing his face and squeezing his neck, saying over and over
again, “Thank you, daddy, I absolutely love them!”
It seemed like time had stood still as Chrissy and I were
intently listening to the old man’s story. Brother Ray looked into my wife’s
face and smiled and said, “That is the way our Heavenly Father is, you know? He
loves you so deeply; you are His precious child, a child that He loves more
than you will ever know. Reaching out
and touching both of our hands, looking intently into each of our eyes, he said
with a big smile that lit up his entire face, “He has amazing things in store
for you, but you must hand over the old pearls.”
I’m really not sure what took place after this; I can’t
remember, but I have never forgotten the story and the lesson that Brother Ray
shared with us. I thank God for this brief life-changing experience.
I hope this story has blessed you this week. Lastly, please
give up whatever cheap fake pearls you’re holding onto so tightly. Willingly
hand them over to the Savior, and let the Father pour His unconditional love
out on you.
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