Boiling Pot

Matt 21:28-31 28 But what think ye? A certain man had two sons; and he came to the first, and said, Son, go work to day in my vineyard. 29 He answered and said, I will not: but afterward he repented, and went. 30 And he came to the second, and said likewise. And he answered and said, I go, sir: and went not. 31 Whether of them twain did the will of his father? They say unto him, The first. Jesus saith unto them, Verily I say unto you, That the publicans and the harlots go into the kingdom of God before you.

There was a son brought up in all the fineries of the Christian faith. In his earliest of days he was expected to buck up to the system and he seldom disappointed. When he was very young, his parents delighted in him for he was the picture of prompt, if not somewhat timid, obedience. As he grew older they began to recognize a distinct tendency of a creeping bad attitude. It was never quite bad enough, in their mind, to require quick and firm discipline but they often wondered what their son was thinking. He never told them and they didn’t ask.

The son’s sour attitude grew with his height and the parents got accustomed to it. His resistance to their will was growing but so was his ability to manipulate the situation. After major outbursts of anger, he often told them he was sorry and occasionally even asked for their forgiveness. However, his bad behavior became persistent and consistent. He withdrew from family fellowship, he was mean to his brothers and sisters and though they didn’t know it, often said very disrespectful things behind his mother’s and father’s backs.

One day the mother was boiling hard-boiled eggs. The water had just come to a fast boil when she received a phone call. She asked the son to turn off the heat and let the eggs sit. He was looking at a magazine but irritably agreed to do so. A few minutes later, the mother returned and promptly opened the lid to retrieve the eggs. Unbenounced to her, the water was in a furious boil and the steam rushed out and burnt her hand and fingers quite severely.

“Son," she yelled in extreme pain, “didn’t I tell you to turn off the heat? How could I know the water was still boiling?”

“Why, yes mother,” the defiant and unrepentant son, replied. “You did. But you should have known the water inside the pot was boiling and you should have done something about it.” He stomped off to his room and left the mother to bandage her own wounds without so much as an “I’m sorry.”