The Summons Silenced

 

Don't expect to bring back to the lodge

those who have fled for good reasons...

 

A member of a certain Lodge, who previously attended meetings regularly, had stopped going. After a few months, the Worshipful Master decided to visit him. It was a chilly evening, and the Worshipful Master found his brother at home alone, sitting before a blazing fire.

Guessing the reason for the Worshipful Master’s visit, the brother welcomed him, led him to a comfortable chair near the fireplace and waited. The Worshipful Master made himself comfortable, but said nothing.

In the grave silence, he contemplated the dance of the flames around the burning logs. After several minutes, the Worshipful Master took the fire tongs, carefully picked up a brightly burning ember and placed it to one side of the hearth, all alone. Then he sat back in his chair, still silent.

His host watched all of this in quiet contemplation. As the one, lone ember’s flame flickered and diminished, there was a momentary glow, and its fire was all but gone. The host Brother soon reached out and put the ember back into the flue’s draft.  He then scooped up the other embers with the ash shovel and put them in an ash bucket, closed its heavy lid down upon it, and sealed them off from the natural draft.  He sat back and enjoyed the warm glow of the remaining ember, now flared up in brilliant glow brought about by the swift flow of the flue draft.

The Worshipful Master raised his eyebrows but remained silent.  After a while he glanced at his watch and chose this time to leave. He slowly stood up, removed the lid to expose the cold dead embers that were sealed away, and placed them back in the flue draft with the one remaining glowing ember. As they were exposed to its warm heat, they sprung to life and began to glow once more and with all the light and warmth of the one burning ember that had remained in the flue’s draft.

The Worshipful Master turned to leave, and as he reached the door, he turned back toward  the host Brother and said with a tear running down his cheek, “Thank you so much for your fiery response, my brother. I’ll make sure we make the necessary changes before I visit with you again.”

-- Brother John S. Nagy
(with sincere appreciation to both the original and the unknown authors*)

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* The Silent Summons (Based upon "The Lonely Ember**")

   A member of a certain Lodge, who previously attended meetings regularly, had stopped going. After a few months, the Worshipful Master decided to visit him. It was a chilly evening, and the Worshipful Master found his brother at home alone, sitting before a blazing fire.
   Guessing the reason for the Worshipful Master’s visit, the brother welcomed him, led him to a comfortable chair near the fireplace and waited. The Worshipful Master made himself comfortable, but said nothing.
  In the grave silence, he contemplated the dance of the flames around the burning logs. After several minutes, the Worshipful Master took the fire tongs, carefully picked up a brightly burning ember and placed it to one side of the hearth, all alone. Then he sat back in his chair, still silent.
   His host watched all of this in quiet contemplation. As the one, lone ember’s flame flickered and diminished, there was a momentary glow, and its fire was no more. Soon, it was cold and dead.
   Not a word had been spoken since the initial greeting. The Worshipful Master glanced at his watch and chose this time to leave. He slowly stood up, picked up the cold, dead ember, and placed it back in the middle of the fire. Immediately, it began to glow once more, with all the light and warmth of the burning coals around it.
   As the Worshipful Master reached the door to leave, his host said, with a tear running down his cheek, “Thank you so much for your fiery summons, my brother. I’ll be back in our Lodge next meeting.”

-- Author Unknown

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The Lonely Ember by Dr. John MacArthur

  A member of a certain church, who previously had been attending services regularly, stopped going.
  After a few weeks, the pastor decided to visit him. It was a chilly evening. The pastor found the man at home alone, sitting before a blazing fire.
  Guessing the reason for his pastor's visit, the man welcomed him, led him to a big chair near the fireplace and waited. The pastor made himself comfortable but said nothing. In the grave silence, he contemplated the play of the flames around the burning logs.
  After some minutes, the pastor took the fire tongs, carefully picked up a brightly burning ember and placed it to one side of the hearth all alone. Then he sat back in his chair, still silent. The host watched all this in quiet fascination.
  As the one lone ember's flame diminished, there was a momentary glow and then its fire was no more. Soon it was cold and "dead as a doornail."
  Not a word had been spoken since the initial greeting.
  Just before the pastor was ready to leave, he picked up the cold, dead ember and placed it back in the middle of the fire. Immediately it began to glow once more with the light and warmth of the burning coals around it.
  As the pastor reached the door to leave, his host said, "Thank you so much for your visit and especially for the fiery sermon. I shall be back in church next Sunday."
 

The Coaches Coach: Stepping Into the Light

 

So often we live believing everyone clearly sees us, and mistakenly judge others from that point of view.  Every once in a while we may be blessed by situations that provide startling shifts, conflicting insights and unanticipated reflections that may humble the proudest among us.

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It was like any other spring day in Florida.  The sun was shining, the heat was unbearable and the humidity was disturbingly drenching.  I had just finished mailing a few packages at the local post office when I exited the building, stepped out from under the awning and into the bright Florida sun.  It was about half past eleven when, with the sun to my back, I came out from those shadows and into the crosswalk area leading toward the parking lot.

I’m typically a very brisk walker and usually cover the ground from the exit to my parked car in no time at all.  This day though felt different and it was as I was in midstride and half way through my path that I noticed a huge white utility truck pulling out into the crosswalk path and right toward me.  Alarmed, I stopped and backed up quickly, waving my raised arms wildly trying to get the driver’s attention as I did. 

It was where I was planning to step that the driver finally saw he was about to hit me and slammed on his breaks.  His widened eyes took a while to come out of that shocked look you get when you realize what you could have done.  On the other hand, I was dealing with my own racing heart and uncomfortably indignant thoughts all presupposing that I had the right of way coupled with an assumption that he was just a rude and inconsiderate trucker. 

The startled driver looked out his dirty sun-glared windshield and expressed what looked to be an exaggerated shoulder shrug as he hit the gas and continued on his way.

I worked my way back to my car, still nursing a fast paced heart and troubled mind.  The heat from the car blanketed me as I open the door and slid into its hot seat.  The sweat poured from my brow even though the blasting air conditioner blanketed me.  Engaging reverse, I backed out of my spot, put my car into drive and pulled forward into the crosswalk area that I had just walked through moments before.

And in that moment I found myself slamming on my breaks; just as I was about to hit a woman coming out of the post office shadows and into the crosswalk area light. 

She quickly walked past my stopped car, earnestly apologized for walking so fast and for skirting the crosswalk lines.  Still reeling from the jolt, I nervously smiled and just waved.  I was having a very difficult time forgiving myself all my previous crosswalk thoughts.

When I finally reviewed how those two minutes unfolded, I fell quiet.  I wondered… How many times have I been troubled by those who could not see me?  How often could I have caused trouble because I could not see others?  How does the Light in each of our lives blind us to those who are right before us? 

I wonder still.

F&S,

Brother John S. Nagy