This Parable Is Actually about Me

This Parable Is Actually about Me

How often do you read one of the Savior's parables and think that you're the righteous one, the Good Samaritan or the shepherd seeking out the lost sheep? Do you ever think in your mind that the foolish virgin or the prodigal son is someone else? Someone less active in the gospel. I know I've been guilty of that. A comment made in Sunday School helped me realize I've been looking at these parables completely wrong. They're about me.

I am the lost sheep

In Luke 15 the Savior shares a parable about a shepherd with 100 sheep, one of which is lost. The shepherd leaves the 99 and searches until he finds the lost sheep. Once found, he carries it on his shoulders rejoicing. How easy is it to assume the lost sheep is the neighbor or friend of yours who is not attending church?

The reality is that I am the lost sheep because I make mistakes, mistakes that distance myself from God. I'm in need of daily repentance. I need the Savior to find me, to carry me, to never give up on me. Don't we all?

I am the lost piece of silver

In the same chapter, Luke 15, the Savior shares another parable about something that is lost. This time a woman loses one of her ten pieces of silver. She lights a candle, sweeps the house, and searches diligently until she finds it, rejoicing that it has been found. Isn't it easy to think someone else is the lost piece of silver, waiting to be found, and that we're the woman who must go to the rescue?

We do have a responsibility as disciples of Christ to search out the lost sheep and the lost piece of silver. But there's more to this parable than just that. Sometimes I am the lost piece of silver. Sometimes I feel down, hopeless, lost. Don't we all have moments like that? Or days? Weeks? Months? It's so easy to hide, to quietly sit in the back of the room, to go through the motions, to smile like everything is OK when we're feeling empty and lost inside.

Sometimes we need to allow ourselves to be found, to be served, to be lifted. When the candlelight of a concerned family member, ward member, or friend shines on us, seeking us, we must be willing to be found. Why do we have chapels to gather together weekly if not to lift one another? There's a time to lift others and a time to allow others to lift us.

I am the prodigal son

In the Savior's parable of the prodigal son (also in Luke 15), I always figured I was the son who stayed home, who stayed faithful. I applied the parable from that perspective and truly have benefited from what I've learned. The prodigal son receives his inheritance and wastes it away "in riotous living." He hits rock bottom and humbly returns to his father, who receives him with open arms. The father was obviously awaiting the return of his son for "when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran [to him]."

I now realize that I am the prodigal son. I have been given such tremendous blessings in my life. Blessings that I don't feel I've earned but which the Father has entrusted me nonetheless (e.g., my beautiful, incredible, compassionate wife!). Yet I make so many mistakes. I lose my patience. I make selfish choices. I squander opportunities the Lord gives me to progress. I fall short. I'm the one who has to kneel at the end of each day, with humble head bowed, to beg for another chance, to plead for redemption. Through the grace He so fully proffers me, a grace I may never fully comprehend, my Father hears my prayers, and with knowing compassion and love, runs to my aid with open arms. 

I am the foolish virgin

In Matthew 25 the Savior taught a parable of ten virgins who awaited the arrival of the bridegroom. The five wise virgins brought sufficient oil for their lamps such that they would be prepared for his late hour arrival. The foolish had insufficient oil and were gone seeking a refill when the bridegroom arrives and shuts them out. I always assumed I was one of the wise virgins and pitied the foolish, but now I see it differently.

Oil in the lamp represents faith, testimony, and preparedness, all of which have a very short shelf life. If I'm not constantly refilling my lamp, I quickly begin to run on fumes and can easily run out completely. In this case I am unprepared for the bridegroom. Not just unprepared for the Second Coming, a great advent of which no man knows the timing, but prepared to receive the Savior daily in my life. I've covenanted to take His name upon me and to remember Him. That's a promise to receive Him. He stands at the door and knocks, but am I opening the door of my heart and letting him in? Am I prepared to do so?

I sometimes fail to dedicate the necessary time to refill my lamp. It impacts my day. It can impact my week. When I drop the ball on spiritual preparation or fail to make time to attend the temple, I am not prepared to receive the Savior. This parable is a reminder to me, the foolish one, to do better next time, to try harder, to constantly fill and trim my lamp, to always be prepared.

Conclusion 

The Savior's parables humble and instruct me.

I am the slothful servant who buries my talent.

My heart can be the stony ground, the thorny grown, or the wayside, unprepared for the seed.

I am the unforgiving debtor.

I am the prideful, hypocritical pharisee.

I hide my face as I pass by the wounded man on the road to Damascus.

The list goes on...

Please don't interpret my thoughts as self-loathing. I write in the spirit of self-reflection with a greater self-awareness. We can all do better, and there is so much to learn from the parables in the New Testament as we study them with eyes to see and ears to hear. When I put myself in the shoes of the sinner in these parables (aren't we all sinners?), my eyes are opened to the true dependence I have on the Savior, Jesus Christ. I recognize how critical His mercy is to my progression and my salvation. I feel closer to Him, more grateful for Him. I feel an urgency to do better, and because of Him, I can.