The scriptures are replete with the language of rich metaphor. From the celestial to the terrestrial, examples are almost beyond enumeration. Christ is the Light of the World, the Bright and Morning Star, the great pillar of fire that led the Israelites by night, a cloud that preceded them by day. Then, touching earth, the Savior becomes the Cornerstone, a stumbling block to some, the stone rejected by the builders, the solid rock upon which a house withstands the storm.
The Cedars of Lebanon bear reference to massive size and strength, the mustard seed to the tiny becoming the mighty. The Rose of Sharon shares its beauty and delightful aroma while the Balm of Gilead provides healing. Our senses are challenged as we are asked to “taste and see” the Bread of Life, to partake of his body and blood, to touch the hem of his garment, feel the scars of his crucifixion, and drink living water from his overflowing well.
He is light where there is darkness, ever-quenching water in parched places, the only gate by which we approach the Father, the caring Shepherd rescuing a solitary, lost and trapped lamb. His kingdom is as precious as a pearl redeemed from a common field, seed having fallen and thrived on nutrient-rich soil, a net having gathered a multitude of fish, yeast as the expanding leaven of eternal life.
And we--his followers--are limbs grafted onto the True Vine, wheat surrounded by noxious weeds, sheep who know his voice and follow. We are asked to join him, the great husbandman, to bear and gather fruit. We are to cast our nets as fellow fishers of men.
I wish to entice the believer to remain at the plow, the lost to find the narrow path, the weary to bear His lightened yoke. The harvest remains scarcely gathered. The crop is abundant, but the harvesters are few. GW Yeatman
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