The Parable of the Shopper

The Parable of the Shopper
Author unknown

My feet were tired, my hands cold, my arms exhausted from the weight of the
packages, and it was beginning to snow. The bus was late. I kept rearranging
my packages, trying to hold them in a different way in order to give my poor
arms a rest. I still remember that day as if it were yesterday, and yet
fifteen
years have gone by. Nevertheless, when Christmas rolls around, I remember
that day on the bus.

I was tired. I had been Christmas shopping all day long. When the bus
finally arrived, it was packed with holiday shoppers in the same exhausted
mood as
I. I sank into the only vacant place, near the back, by a handsome
gentleman. He politely helped me to situate my packages and even held some
of them himself.

“My goodness," he said, "did you leave any merchandise still in the stores
for the rest of us?"

"I don’t think so," I moaned. "Worst of all, I still haven’t made all of my
purchases."

The woman in the seat behind us joined in my grief and added, "No, the worst
thing is that the day after Christmas we will be carrying this same armload
back to the store to exchange it."

Her comment brought a general chuckle from all those within earshot,
including my seat mate. As the laughter subsided, he began in a quiet,
melodious voice,
deepened with experience, to teach me a lesson that I have never forgotten:

"Hear now the parable of the shopper," he said, speaking gently and
indicating my packages. "A woman went forth to shop, and as she shopped, she
carefully
planned. Each child’s desires were considered. The hard-earned money was
divided, and the many purchases were made with the pure joy and delight that
is
known only to the giver. Then the gifts were wrapped and placed lovingly
under the tree. In eager anticipation she scanned each face as the gifts
were
opened."

"'What a lovely sweater,' said the eldest daughter, 'but I think I would
prefer blue. I suppose I can exchange it?'

"'Thank you for the cassette player, Mother. It’s just what I wanted,' said
her son. And then aside, secretly to his sister, he continued, 'I told her
I wanted the one with the automatic reverse and an extra speaker. I never
get what I want!'

"The youngest child spoke out with the spoiled honesty of her age, 'I hate
rag dolls! I wanted a china doll. I won't play with it!' And the doll, still
in the box, was kicked under the couch."

"One gift still lay under the tree. The woman pointed it out to her husband.
'Your gift is still there.'

"'I&# 39;ll open it when I have the time,' he stated. 'I want to get this bike
put together first.'

"How sad it is," continued his soft, beautiful voice. "When gifts are not
received in the same spirit they are given. To reject a thoughtful gift is
to
reject the loving sentiment of the giver himself. And yet, are we not all
sometimes guilty of rejecting?"

He was talking not only to me, but to all of those on the bus. They had all
gathered around. The bus was parked.

He took a present from my stack.

"This one," he said, holding it up and pretending to open the card, "could
be to you." He pointed to a rough-looking, teenage boy in a worn denim
jacket
and pretended to read the gift card. "To you I give My life, lived
perfectly, as an example so that you might see the pattern and live worthy
to return
and live with Me again. Merry Christmas from the Messiah."

"This one," he said, holding up a pure, white present, "is for you." He held
out the gift to a worn-looking woman, who in earlier years must have been
a real beauty. She read the card out loud and allowed her tears to slip
without shame down her painted face. "My gift to you is repentance. This
Christmas
I wish you to know for certain that though your sins be as scarlet, they
shall be white as snow. Signed, your Advocate with the Father."

"That isn’t all. No, here is a big, red package." he looked around the group
and brought a ragged, unkempt, little child forward. "This package would be
for you if He were here. The card would say, 'On this Christmas and always,
My gift to you is love. From your brother, Jesus.'"

"One final gift," said my seat mate. "The greatest of all the gifts of
God--Eternal life!"

He held our minds and our hearts. We were a hungry audience. Though our
shopping had left us drained, now we were being filled by his words.

"How we receive these gifts, these precious gifts from the Babe of
Bethlehem, is the telling point. Are we exchangers?" he asked. "Is there
really anything
else we would rather have? It is what we do with a gift long after we have
opened it that shows our true appreciation. "

With those words he was gone. That was fifteen years ago, only a wink in
time. But not even an eternity could erase the sermon, or the man.

Family Moment

We hear so often the phrase "Jesus died for me" that sometimes we forget the
purpose of salvation isn't just to be glad our souls are safe for eternity;
it's to follow Jesus’s example--give ourselves to others. That's what the
Scripture talks about in 2 Kings, and that’s what Christ did for us.

The truth is, we were saved from something for something.

As a family, you can create a giving experience by going to a homeless
shelter or making sandwiches to pass out, and this is a good thing to do.
But what
if this year you prayed for God to send a giving experience? God is more
than able to answer and would delight at your willingness to be a blessing
in
the life of another soul--or many souls--whom he loves.

An Advent Prayer

Our Father in heaven, thank you for being the gift that holds families
together, even over time and distance. Is there someone I know who needs the
present
and the presence of Jesus in their home this Christmas? Is there a stranger?
Please show me who. I want more than ever to give your love to those who
need
it. You gave yourself for me when I needed it. Help me to do the same. In
the name of Jesus, amen.