Running for Treasure

 “O God, you declare your almighty power chiefly in showing mercy and pity: Grant us the fullness of your grace, that we, running to obtain your promises, may become partakers of your heavenly treasure …” Book of Common Prayer

I am told running is good for people. I see folks jog past my house every day and, to be completely honest, most look like they’re in misery. Frankly, I know I would be. My body has never produced a run-induced endorphin scientists or lab techs could ever hope to detect!

I don’t like to run. Not now, anyway, but neither did I enjoy it as a child or teen. If I needed to go somewhere, I went by bicycle. Wheels were where it was at. Running? Heck no (with one exception I will now confess for probably the first time ever, so gird your loins and prepare yourself for the shock of a lifetime):

As a young lad, it did not matter where I was or what I was doing; there was one thing that would get my legs to churching as if the hounds of perdition were hot on my heels – the sound of the ice cream truck coming up the street. I would hear it a block or two away and I would immediately drop everything, scramble at something nearing light speed for home and/or the living room and I’d scream at the top o’ my lungs (even if Mom was standing inches away): “The Ice Cream Truck’s a-comin’ – can I have a dime???!!!???”

Now, money was tight in our home and there was a lot we went without; there was a lot we couldn’t afford, but somehow Mom seemed able to plumb the depths of her purse and find a dime or two for ice cream. Not always, but often enough to encourage me to run for a few seconds most days of the summer. Occasionally she would only have one coin, in which case we got one of those ice creams or popsicles with two sticks so my brother and I could share.

I hated running, but oh was the reward worth the effort on those hot, dry summer days.

That’s the image that comes to mind with the Collect (a short community prayer) excerpted above. “Grant us the fullness of your grace, that we, RUNNING to obtain your promises may become partakers of your heavenly treasures …” 

That’s another childhood word that leaps to mind. Treasure! Who doesn’t yearn to win the lottery. I never play the lottery, but I still dream of winning it (silly me). I’d never go deep sea diving looking for gold doubloons around Caribbean shipwrecks, either, but boy would I love to walk along a Gulf-coast beach after a hurricane and accidentally stub my toe on an ancient wooden box tangled in seaweed and wrapped with a black flag emblazoned with Long John Silver’s skull and cross-bones! Treasure! Aargh, matie!!!

I love prayers that take me back to my childhood and child-like sense of wonder. Sometimes I think I have gotten all old and crusty and just a bit crotchety. I’ll admit I was all of that this week. I had an attitude that really stunk, but I just couldn’t hang on to the ol’ stinkin’ thinkin’ when thoughts of running for ice cream and treasure took me over the threshold and into God’s presence. My spirit rejoiced; my heart freshened up; and I got off my derriere long enough to realize God has made me a “partaker.” 

A group of Pharisees asked Jesus one time by what authority he said and did the things he said and did. The poor dolts didn’t realize that Jesus was playing ice cream music in his life and ministry while they were listening for dirges to go along with their theological pickles and conundrums. They’d forgotten what it was to have mums, with dimes hidden deep in the inner recesses of their purses – treasures waiting to be found. Chained to millstones, they’d forgotten the joy of running free and screaming for undeserved, unmerited treasures! Such was their loss.

Life is a popsicle with many sticks. We each get a part. That’s why we are part-takers, and for that, I am ever thankful here in this, our Valley. Thanks be to God. Amen.