Show Don't Tell: Matthew 7:6

Imagine a sun-drenched morning in a small village, where the air is rich with the aroma of freshly baked bread and the laughter of children playing in the streets. Among the village’s simpler joys is a local marketplace bustling with farmers, artisans, and families sharing their lives. In the middle of this vibrant scene stands an old woman named Miriam. She is known for her wisdom and the radiant pearls she lovingly wears around her neck—gifts from her late husband, each one a story of love, faith, and dreams.

One day, Miriam, moved by the spirit, decides to share her pearls with those who are lost and seeking. She walks toward the outskirts of the village where a group of rough-looking men, known for their reckless ways like dogs sniffing for scraps, gather around a muddy pigpen. They jeer and laugh, their eyes clouded with disdain for anything pure. Miriam approaches, her heart pounding, pearls glimmering in the sunlight. She holds them out, envisioning their awe, the way they would admire their beauty and perhaps be inspired to change.

But as she tosses the pearls into the pigpen, the men merely grunt, distracted by their hunger. The pigs, snorting and grubbing for food, trample the pearls into the muck, oblivious to their worth. The men turn back to her, eyes narrowing, no longer shrouded in laughter but filled with irritation. In an instant, the treasure she offered has become a reason for their contempt.

This vivid moment illustrates a profound truth: some sacred treasures demand a readiness to receive them. Just as Miriam learned the hard way, discernment is not a matter of elitism but rather a reflection of wisdom, understanding that certain truths must be shared only when hearts are prepared to receive them. In our walk of faith, let us be mindful of the pearls we hold and the hearts we approach.