I was picking raspberries this morning. Several years ago my husband gave the neighbors some starts. They planted them along the chain link fence so that our berries intertwined with theirs. I have noticed that since they planted them, they only picked them the first year. Each year buckets of berries fall to the ground as they ripen and drop on the other side of the fence. A couple years ago I started reaching across to get the ripe berries. To me berries are a treasure. A hint of summer when jam is spread on toast on a cold December morning. A cool refreshment dropped whole and frozen into my lemonade. Or my favorite, picked and eaten with no bucket needed. My husband and I tease each other about picking $30 of berries in a morning. I can't imagine paying $5 for a tiny container I could fill in less than a minute right here at home. To me a treasure. To my neighbors a privacy fence. Where I find value in the berries, they find value in the lush foliage.
I think religion is like that. We choose which parts we value, which are treasures.
“Again, the Kingdom of Heaven is like a merchant on the lookout for choice pearls. When he discovered a pearl of great value, he sold everything he owned and bought it!" Matthew 13:45-46
My pearl of great value, my treasure is the one who uttered those words.
