03/17/2004: "The Lamp"

By Carol J. Warren

In a small house near Jerusalem was a small lamp. I say that it was a lamp but it did not know it was a lamp. It had sat many years on the highest shelf, well out of reach and long forgotten. It did not help the situation that the shelf was over the stove and years of grease and grime had accumulated until the lamp was a sticky blackened mess.

One day the lady of the house found a tall stool to clean the top shelf. She had been dreading and postponing this cleaning for a long time. She didn’t care for heights but with the marriage of her oldest daughter to the son of the village’s most respect and wealthy citizen she wanted everything to be perfect. She did not want to give his snoopy mother one spec of dust to gossip about. So up on the tall stool she went gathering items and cleaning quickly, for she really did have a fear of falling.

Then there it was, this old blackened greasy grimy lamp. “Oh my how awful.” The lady thought, “I’ll never be able to clean this. Just the kind of thing that old snoop would love to get her hands on so she would have something to gossip about. Well she’s not going to see this mess, it’s going out with the rest of the trash.”

So there the little lamp sat feeling ugly and useless. Sitting on a pile of disgusting rubbish, not even sure of who or what he was. Out of nowhere came these pointing fingers. “Look at this useless piece of trash.” They said pointing right at the lamp. “Look at it. What is it?” One asked still pointing. “I’m sure I don’t know.” Said another haughtily, “But what ever it may have once been it is certainly worthless now.” “No one wants a worthless piece of junk like you.” Another said directly to the lamp. “You are precisely where you belong, on the trash heap.”

The little lamp was sure they were right, so he just sat there and began to cry. “I am worthless,” he whined, “I do belong here. No one wants me and I can’t blame them. Why just look at me, I’m awful.”

Then he heard a voice and footsteps. Suddenly there was the Master standing right over the lamp and staring right at him. The lamp felt so ashamed. “My what a nice lamp,” said the Master. “why ever is it in the trash?”

“I’m a lamp?” the lamp asked, “well I guess I could be a lamp.”

Gently the Master reached down to pick him up. “Oh that will be the end of you now.” Said the pointing fingers. “You’ll get grime on His hands and He will throw you down and crush you.”

“Be silent!” the Master said sternly to the pointing fingers. He turned the lamp to the side to view it more carefully. “I thought so,” said the Master. “There is My mark, I made this lamp.”

“Oh nnnoo” said the lamp stuttering, “You must be mistaken, you couldn’t have made a worthless ugly piece of junk like me. I’m sure you would never make anything as disgusting as I am.”

“Are you telling Me that I don’t know how to make a lamp?” The Master asked, “and that My handiwork is trash?”

“Oh no,” said the lamp.

“Good!” said the Master, “and what a fine lamp you are. Look at this.” Said the Master and then with the hem of His garment and little moist breath the Master wiped a little round circle of the grime away. And there it was, who would have ever know that the little lamp was gold.

The pointing fingers returned, “That means nothing, you are still useless and always will be. You are just a dirty grimy piece of junk. A spot of gold makes little difference when you’re that far gone.” They agreed with each other. The little lamp cringed as they pointed in his face.

“Be silent.” Said the Master, “He just needs a good cleaning and he will be fine.” And with that He took the lamp home to His workshop and started the work of wiping and polishing all the grim away. It was very uncomfortable but oh to be the Master’s lamp. Just think of all the work and care the Master was putting in to him. That alone gave him value. “It was hard but wonderful to have the Master working so attentively on me.” Thought the little lamp.

After a while the lamp was bright and clean. Even the pointing finger folded back in amazement at the beauty and grace of the little lamp. As the Master polished He said, “I can see My reflection in you and if I can see My reflection in you others will see My reflection in you as well.”

Then carefully He poured in the oil, it was so refreshing. He put the wick through the opening and lit it with the fire. The glow of the lamp lit the whole room. The Master said, “I will put you to good use, to light the way before Me and for others to find their way to Me.” This was it, fulfilling his purpose, shinning and warm. Then the Master set the lamp on a fine table in the center of the room and went out to check the oil supply.

That’s when it happened. With a flicker and flutter and sickening stench of smoke the fire went out. “Oh no!” thought the lamp. “I finally had a chance to be something for the Master and I have failed.”

Then came the pointing fingers, “You sure fooled yourself but we knew all along, once a useless piece of trash always a useless piece of trash. Cleaning you up wasn’t enough because you are faulty, defective, and no good. The Master trusted you and cleaned you up and look how you have failed Him. Give up before you make a worse mess of things than you already have.”

The lamp heard the Master coming. This was it for sure. The pointing fingers were right, back to the trash heap for him and who could really blame the Master. That’s where he belonged. Oh no, now the Master was towering over him, looking intently at him. The poor lamp could take it no more. He just burst into tears, “Throw me away. I’ve failed you. I couldn’t stay lighted. That’s where I belong on the trash heap because I am defective.”

Then the Master began to… Laugh, a deep hearty laughter. It was a warm laugh from deep within. “All is well little lamp. You’ve been listening to those pointing fingers again haven’t you?” and with that the Master gave a menacing glance at the pointing fingers as they stole away from the Master’s displeasure.

“The inside of the lamp take a little longer to clean.” Said the Master, “A piece of grim was clinging to the wick and put it out. But that is good, for as the grime comes to the surface we can remove it. The little by little your insides will be as bright and clean as the outside. As for the fire going out, I can always relight it.” He said lighting the lamp again.

It seemed so simple when He explained it. The warmth of the Master’s smile reflected in the lamp like a mirror. The warm glow of the lamplight showed the way for all who would come to visit the Master.

“My what a beautiful lamp,” said the woman still cleaning for the coming wedding. “The Master has really out done Himself this time. I wish I could afford such a lamp in my house for the wedding but the Master said that this lamp is not for sale. He said that He would keep it forever. I wonder why?”

THE END