Parables can drive me crazy because they make me think. This became apparent to me, for the zillionth time, while writing the upcoming Lent devotions. Over and over Jesus speaks in parables.
I don’t really want to think; thinking is hard. Sometimes I wanted to grab Jesus by the shirt collar and yell, “Just tell me what you want me to know, damnit!”
And I’m not the only one. The disciples were often clueless. Same with the Pharisees, legal experts, and everyone else. Look, I’m being a bit flippant here, but everyone talks about what a brilliant teacher Jesus was . . . yet it seems like his audience never quite understood what the hell he was talking about.
Which is sort of the point, isn’t it? Because parables make us think. They don’t offer a clean and simple bit of instruction, like the Proverbs do. They don’t wrap truths in the beauty and poetry of a Psalm. They certainly don’t bore us like a sermon.
They tell us a story. Often about people Jesus makes up. We are pulled into the narrative because we can’t resist a good story, and then it ends in an unexpected way, and we ask, “Wait, what? I ask you what the Kingdom of Heaven is like and you start talking about mustard seeds?”
Parables make me think, but sometimes I don’t want to think. I want someone to just give me a checklist of things to do and then I can get on with life.
But in my calmer moments, I realize the wisdom in using parables. The story sticks with me even when the meaning is elusive. This leads to wrestling with the story, trying to make sense of it, and letting it take root in my soul.
Okay, so maybe I don’t dislike parables as much as I thought. But they still drive me crazy.
I will open my mouth with a parable; I will utter things, things from of old…” Psalm 78:2