THE REST OF THE “VINEYARD” STORY

Vineyard, Internet Domain

Our pastor used the parable of the Workers Paid Equally as this morning’s breakfast devotional.  Jesus tells a story of a vineyard landowner who went into the morning marketplace and hired workers for the day who agreed to one denarius in exchange for their toil and sweat.  He went out again during the third, sixth, ninth and eleventh hours and hired more workers promising to “pay whatever is right”.

When evening came the landowner had his foreman gather the workers and began paying them in reverse order of their hiring.  Each of them received a denarius.  Predictably, the workers that were hired first began grumbling that they should have received more pay.  But the owner rightly said that he wasn’t being unfair and had paid them exactly what they had agreed to that morning.  After all, didn’t he have a right to do what he wanted to do with his own money?

This lesson really isn’t about monetary rewards, but if we peel back the onion skin to the next layer, we learn that Jesus was teaching about salvation.  We shouldn’t begrudge anyone who repents very late in life since in actuality none of us earns eternal life.  Its all about grace and forgetting about the other guy so that we can focus on those blessings in our lives that we tend to take all too casually.  One of the criminals being crucified with Jesus later on asked for salvation from the One securing it for all of us and was granted it immediately.

Before the true meaning of this parable could be discussed, however, one of our senior members who had successfully retired from his thriving business, interjected “And that’s how unions were created!”   

It took a while before we could get on with our devotional.  

THE SANCTUARY OF A MOUNTAIN STREAM

Vail, Colorado

Gore Creek

STREAM SONG

Shakespeare was a man of incredible insight and observation of human behavior and the world around him.  So, it was no surprise to stumble across his observation that “The earth has music for those who listen.”  Of course, there’s a great distinction between music and noise for the most part.  I’ve observed that there doesn’t appear to be any distinction for some bands, but that’s for another post.

All of us need quiet time to sort out life and clear the cobwebs of the mind so that we can carry on with the business of living.  One ideal place to be still and meditate on life is in the sanctuary of a consecrated place where sacred worship is held, but in my view that can either be inside a building or out in nature.  A wildlife sanctuary provides protection from predators.  And I’ve always found sanctuary beside a cold, gurgling mountain stream rushing over polished glacier stones and calling out to me as they plunge headlong toward their origin in the vast oceans.

These tranquil waters need no interpretation, as God sings universal songs in nature that stirs our soul.  The moving waters of a summer mountain stream have slowed now that the initial wild rush of the spring snow melt has passed.  The soothing sound of Aspen leaves rustling in the cool breezes coupled with the stream song tranquilizes the senses and leaves one at peace within the consciousness of the universe we inhabit.

We consciously and subconsciously find comfort and solace in all of these sounds as they complete the unique playlist for the soundtrack of a life.  A sage native American Indian proverb still provides relevant wisdom from the people that spent their entire lives out in nature:

“Listen to the wind, it talks.

Listen to the silence, it speaks.

Listen to your heart, it knows.”

HIGH-COUNTRY SUMMER’S DAY

Mountain Sun, Vail, CO.

Mountain Rain, Vail, CO.

Gentle breezes move in a Bernoulli fashion through the valley.  The light green aspen leaves shimmer in dappled sunlight contrasted by the pastel white branches.  The slow but relentless waters of fresh snowmelt runoff gurgles over the boulders that have been “tumble polished” by centuries of wear.  Swift swallows dart in and out over the water which is moving along in the deeper side of the creek.  A trio of black crows soar into the pine trees as the wind slices through the green needles.  Then they glide down to the smoothly ground rocks on the shallower dry side of the summer stream to sort out their next move.  After much agitation and arguing, they seem to make peace with one another and elect to fly away up into the aspens as a golden eagle catches a thermal updraft and soars high above them.  

  

Cyclists silently roll over the designated paved paths near the water’s edge regaled in full gear.  The knobby tired rental bikes are designed for mountain trails that beckon downhill racers and uphill enthusiasts.  Gondolas are constantly migrating in silent procession up and down the mountain side on invisible cables in the distance.  The silence is only broken when they pass over the stalwart iron posts that support them. 

The soothing sound of Gore Creek never ends, unlike the repeating sound of ocean waves rhythmically washing onto sandy beaches.  The song of the mountain stream is punctuated by the innocent voices of small children playing in the crisp air over a swimming pool.  They shout and giggle as they tread the water’s surface on tubes and arm floats. 

A large stand of aspen trees with their straight white narrow trunks lines the mountain side near the creek, as higher elevation green pine trees receive the baton and transition on up the slopes.  Swaths of green meadows laced with red Indian Paintbrush belie the rapid activity of skiers in the wintertime.  The slate and green metal roofs of mountain homes can be seen jutting through the aspen and pines between the mountain stream and the ski slopes.  Mankind has imposed his will on these pristine highlands as well, but the natives have embraced the notion of living in harmony with nature and designing homes that harmonize with their environment.

John Denver’s high-country anthem, Rocky Mountain High, bemoans the sight of “more scars across the land”, but responsible developers can also attract people who grow to know and love this mountain life and thus live in concert with the land while working to preserve it.  I’ve always embraced the revelation that John experienced upon coming to this place on earth and realizing that he was “coming home to a place he’d never been before.”  Some folks say that also applies to heaven.  This is a place where “you can talk to God and listen to the casual reply.”

The late afternoon winds suddenly begin to gust as the aspen leaves shimmer even faster.  A rain shower swiftly moves through the valley as native Indian fire spears strike the higher elevations and booming thunder drums resonate off the opposing mountain sides.  Then as the showers pass, sunbeams from the lowering sun are split in the prisms of a legion of rain drops to reveal a brightly colored rainbow drifting away across the valley.  And as daylight recedes a starry, starry night high above the pollution of city lights appears and “the shadow from the starlight is softer than a lullaby.”  

THE GOOSE SWEATER AND TIBETAN PRAYER FLAGS

It has been about thirty summers since my wife Karen and I boarded a gondola in Vail, Colorado with our young daughter.  We had crossed the continental divide the day before and stopped by a high-country meadow where we photographed her sitting on a fallen log amid colorful alpine flowers in a hand-crafted sweater with a goose neck extending down the sleeve.

This morning I, my daughter, son-in-law and grandson of almost two years boarded another gondola to the top of Vail Mountain in the Rockies.  My wife who succumbed to breast cancer exactly ten years ago had saved that goose sweater for a future grandchild and he was wearing it this morning.  We walked a looping trail in anticipation of duplicating the image taken those thirty years ago in Colorado at the top of the world.

The morning’s atmosphere was a perfect sunlit temperature in the low seventies with gentle cool breezes passing over the mountain.  As we completed our mission and strolled back to the hiking trail, small colorful flags strung between two pine trees caught my attention.  Further investigation revealed traditional Tibetan Prayer Flags gently waving in the breeze.

My son-in-law was aware of their significance, being placed where one desires to bring harmony to the surroundings.  Tibetans believe that as the flags are blown by the wind, prayers and mantras on them will spread goodwill and compassion into all pervading space.  Even the colors of the flags have symbolic meaning for this harmony and the earth’s elements such as blue for peace and sky, yellow for knowledge and earth, white for purification and air, green for prosperity and water, and red for compassion and fire.

As the wind blows through the flags and moves them, the vibration of the prayers and the spiritual intention permeates the area.  The wind slicing through pine needles and whistling around the mountain always moves my soul to the consciousness of a divine creator.  Perhaps the colorful flags waving for our attention in this special place today may have been acknowledging that the sweater was symbolic of our combined destinies and an indication that we were walking the right path.  And they were reminding us that we were not alone in this sacred place that reaches to the heavens.