Metaphorically Speaking

 

Metaphorically Speaking

     My biz is my biz.  Talked with my son recently.  He said everything was free game for his coworkers.  Knee deep in hedonism threatening to fall headlong into pig mire, their slithery tongues lick dung and smile.  Nothing private about their private lives.  Contrary to us who are confidants, revealing little that would damage trust.

     I admire my son.  He stands upright in a profession that has bent many a man.  “Being one of the guys” means dipping into the flesh pot and smoking a bowl to deaden sensitivity.  He faces this every day of employment.  It is his battlefield.  Straining to reason with chemically addicted ones given to selfish desires. Stick it to the man and grab for home anything of worth they can sneak under the company’s wire.  Tools gone?  Check Jimmy’s truck.

     My son is no whinner. He simply tells it as it is.  His tales are not exaggerated limelight versions just to get him the “Wow!” factor with a “Oh, I feel sorry for you.”

Ephesians 6:13 “Wherefore take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.”

      My concern for him as a dad calls me to remember him as I look up.  Is he standing today?  Has he given to substance abuse like his counterparts?  A high calling he has reached for.  Eldership in overseeing requires sobriety while dizzy men about him cannot pee straight.  They fail the chemical test while he is clean.  I fear for the temptation we both share.

     Resentment gives way to bitterness.  It’s easier to contract the fist after the fingers have been bruised.  Looking out for numeral uno narrows the sights.  Hunting with a rifle concentrates the shot.  Influence is constrained to a small, targeted hole.  Shot gunning, however, spreads the pattern wide.  BB’s fly everywhere and catch the prey in midair.  Two for one if someone is lucky.

     Warfare in the trenches.  We do not have to fight in Gaul historically following a Maginot line.  The enemy is right here.  He shows his face at the time clock.  Bastard children foolishly bragging upon their exploits.  So injures our holy souls.  God is not like this.  Heaven is far.

Ephesians 5:12 “For it is a shame even to speak of those things which are done of them in secret.”

Matthew 1:19  “Then Joseph her husband, being a just man, and not willing to make her a public example, was minded to put her away privily.”

     Hear the heart of Joseph.  Surely God’s spirit was upon him.  True disciples do not make a big hype about another’s misfortunes.  Drama is quenched when we drop the curtain.  Keeping private parts covered with delicate trust marks a mature man.  We do not grab the megaphone to the call embarrassment as a shower down hammering a fallen spirit.

     So I trust you today son.  Metaphorically speaking.  We often times describe situations without naming names.  Even meditations can drive our heads down.  He said whatever is lovely and so on.  Wrapping our brains about we cannot control burns the grease needed to keep other gears turning.  Work is best left at work.  Home life is a bigger box.  More torque, more output.  Honey in time maximizes horsepower to the driven shafts.

     Carry on brother.  A diesel Cat you are.  Generation you have known for quite some time.  Maybe I will visit and enjoy your light!

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