A Parable of Castles and Servants
(not far from my ancestral home in Germany)
“The castle was just over the hill off the main highway leading to the city. I lived on its outskirts but I could see its tallest spire. Weekly celebrations were the norm there.
We could see the throngs going in and coming out every first day of the week but my kin were never invited. Too rough a crowd I guess for the castle’s joyful citizens whose secrets and fellowship were reserved for those born to her privilege.
Their king, who some said was good, never seemed to leave his castle’s vaulted interiors.
Nor did he seem willing to share his bounty with those outside its beautiful exterior.
As for my family and the other outsiders in my village–we wondered both if he was good and even if he WAS. Surely a good king would send help to us?
Our lives were so . . . there really isn’t a word for our lives—a hundred thousand words wouldn’t be enough.
We were the lost, …
the forgotten, …
the last thought of.
But one day, finally, an emissary of the king came.
Everything changed after that.
“Let the citizens of castles and the vassals of the King have ears to hear what the parable says to the Church.”
© 2013, Marty Schoenleber, Jr.
Related: Parables for a Sleeping Church