Why Not?
You would have to travel way back in the woods to find this little cottage. The gravel road was very long and full of ruts. Carl, the owner, was quite the carpenter. Little details of his craftsmanship plastered the exterior of the home. His little window boxes blended in with the design of the shutters he made. The dollhouse type of trim was everywhere. Each little picket on the fence that surrounded the yard, was carved with different farm animals. The lattice tunnel, on the side of the house, was covered with ivy and lead to the most beautiful rose garden. Even the shed in back was covered with gingerbread trim. The shed also had a window with shutters and a window box that matched the house. Yes, when you stepped out of your vehicle and put your foot on the stone walkway, it was like you were stepping into a fairy tale.
Carl would visit town once a week. He would stock up on groceries and other odds and ends. He rarely talked to anyone in great depth, but he was quite friendly to all who crossed his path. I’m not even sure if there were too many people in town who actually even knew where he lived. There were fewer still who had any idea of what a beautiful home he lived in. I’m not even sure if anyone in town really knew the first thing about him.
One day a tall, young, handsome stranger wandered into town. He disembarked from the train which unloaded at the station downtown. He was well dressed and he was wearing a top hat. There was a crumpled up piece of paper in his hand that he kept looking at. Since this was a very small town, the gossip started as soon as his first foot touched the streets of the town. Who was this young man? Why had he come to their small little town?
The young lad noticed a diner close to the train station and after peering into the window he decided to go inside to get a bite to eat. He removed his top hat from his head and carried it freely by the brim. As he walked down the aisle to find a seat, most of the diners had their eyes transfixed on him. His manner of dress was very stylish, much more than the town had seen before. He asked the waitress, named Greta, what type of gravy was on the sirloin. With a strong southern drawl she told him it was a white gravy. With a little disappointment on his face, he said that would be fine.
Greta went all out to make his dining experience one to remember. Greta wasn’t just doing it to get a big tip from the well-dressed diner. She had a great big heart. Sometimes, in this poor little town, a diner could barely pay for the meal, much less leave a tip. Greta would treat one of those guests the exact same way she treated the man with the top hat. No one outworked her either. She didn’t let up when no one was watching. She always believed in giving it her all. When the stranger finished his dinner, he slipped out without Greta even noticing. The stranger left enough money on the table to pay for ten meals. It was the biggest tip Greta had ever received.
The stranger then headed down the street. He noticed that the sole on his shoe was starting to separate from the rest of his shoe. Carl just happened to be walking by at the time. The stranger turned toward Carl and asked if he might know where he could find a cobbler. Carl, rather quickly, pointed down the street and said, “Go down two blocks. Turn right for half a block and there it is.” Never one who was too fond of conservation, as quickly as Carl answered, he was back on his journey home.
The stranger found the cobbler’s shop exactly where Carl said it was. The door to the shop had one of those bells on top of the door that rings when you enter. The stranger walked into the shop and didn’t notice anyone at the counter. A voice from the back yelled out, “I’ll be up there in a minute.” The stranger waited with patience. After several minutes, Alexander came out from the back. “What can I help you with?” he huffed. “Unfortunately my shoe has come apart and I have just come to town and I did not bring an extra pair. Do you think you could help me?” asked the stranger politely. A little put out by the experience, Alexander took in a deep breath and said, “I am so busy today, this is really inconvenient.” With a shrug of his shoulders he continued, “Give me a few minutes and I will take care of it for you.” After about an hour Alexander had completed the task and the shoe was better than new. “That will be twelve dollars,” Alexander said. The stranger handed Alexander a fifty dollar bill. As Alexander went to the register to get the gentleman his change, he heard the bell ring and in the corner of his eye he caught the stranger leaving. “Wow! What a tip,” Alexander thought.
As quickly as the stranger entered the small town, he left. Without so much as a hint of why he was there, he was gone.
I was once told that sometimes the best students in college are those who struggle in high school. The person telling me this cited the reason as those struggling students have to learn to study. I think there might be a little bit of truth in that. Personally, I think that held true with me. I didn’t have a very hard time in high school, other than when I waited until the last minute to do an assignment. I really didn’t have to study much to get by with pretty good grades. When I got to college, I really did struggle and not knowing how to properly study caused most of my suffering.
Two other things can motivate someone to do well in high school or college. Both seemed to work for him. First, no one in his family had ever graduated from high school. He was going to make sure he was the first and he was. The second reason is one of the reasons most educators credit with success in school. It is a love of reading and boy did he love to read.
Eventually he would do so well that he would end up at the Naval Academy. Here he would graduate in the top ten percent of his Naval Academy class. He was very proud of his performance. He was all ready for a job interview with Admiral Rickover and his nuclear submarine program.
It was twenty to thirty years later that our stranger returned to the little small town. Somewhat older, he still was quite the dashing figure for his age. No one remembered his passage through town many years ago, though he carried the same crumpled up piece of paper with him. Carl passed away a couple of years after his previous visit. No one moved into his beautiful house. The stranger walked the long gravel driveway that lead to Carl’s house and the poor little house looked more like something out of a slum than the dream house it used to be. The window boxes had fallen to the ground and rotted. The few shutters that still hung were crooked and broken. The trim was pushed in all directions by the wild vines that grew up all along the outside of the house. The house that use to be a work of art was now not worthy of anything but a bulldozer.
Next the stranger walked downtown. He noticed that the restaurant Greta use to work in was now something else, but down the street there was a bright diner with lots of parking. It was beautifully landscaped. The parking lot was crowded. In bright neon lights blared: Greta’s Diner. He walked in to get a table.
Greta was no longer a waitress, but the owner. She ran a tight ship, but all the employees and patrons loved her. She would walk out to each table to greet the guests. She stopped by the stranger’s table. The stranger told her he was walking by what used to be the cobbler’s shop and noticed that it was now a barber shop. He asked if she might have known what happened to the cobbler. “Oh, he retired. Shoes are so cheap these days and he just couldn’t compete with them. You know, it is now cheaper just to buy a new pair rather than getting the old ones fixed,” she reflected. “How is he doing?” the stranger asked. “He is doing okay. Alexander didn’t really save a lot of money, so he really has to watch his expenses,” she continued. Greta then left the table and headed to the next patron. The stranger once again slipped out of the diner and out of town.
As Jimmy Carter sat in his interview with Admiral Rickover he was greatly relieved when he was told to pick any topic he wished to talk about. He chose the subjects he knew the most about: current events, seamanship, music, literature, naval tactics, electronics and gunnery. The Admiral started asking him questions about each of the topics. The more questions Rickover asked, the more Carter realized how very little he actually knew about each of the topics he chose. He began sweating a little under the collar.
Then Admiral Rickover asked him a question he was sure he could redeem himself with. He asked him, “How do you stand in your class at the Naval Academy?” Carter proudly boasted, “Sir, I stood fifty-ninth in a class of 820!” With the big grin he was known for, he waited for congratulations from the Admiral. Instead, Rickover asked, “Did you do your best?” Carter was first tempted to say yes he had, but as he thought it over the truth tore at his soul. Carter replied, “No sir, I didn’t always do my best.” The Admiral turned around his chair to end the interview, but before he did he asked one final question. He asked, “Why not?”
Jesus once told a parable of a rich man who had three people working for him. It is called the parable of the talents. One, just like Carl, kept the money safe and to himself. No one benefitted from it. The second one, like Alexander, did pretty well with his, but he never went out of his way to really use his to the best of his abilities. Probably a little like Jimmy Carter’s Naval Academy experience, too. The third one, like Greta, went to work with all his might to make sure he used his talents to get the maximum return. The boss then turned to this worker and said, “Because you have used your talents so well, I will take what I have given the first servant and give them to you.”
God has given each of us a life to live. It is up to us to decide how we will invest what He has given us. I just hope I use my talents as wisely as He has them listed on His crumpled up piece of paper and in the manner He wants them used. If I didn’t use them to their full potential it would be terrifying to be asked: “Why not?”
Prayer: Dear Mighty Father, Thank you for trusting me with all You have given me. Please let me always look for ways to use Your gifts to their fullest potential. Amen!
