Short Stories

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One Thing

In the middle-of-the-night quietness, he sat in his spacious home and thought about those words again.

"One thing you lack. Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me."

He had spent a lifetime amassing the "everything" the preacher mentioned. It would take another lifetime to sell it all. How could he do it?

How his face had burned in shame and anger at that simple statement. He had to push his way through the crowd to get away from that gaze, that directness.

Why couldn't the Man have asked for half my possessions? Half would still have been a considerable amount, and many people would have benefited.

Why "everything I have"?

Why must I become poor myself to have treasure in heaven?

He tried to reason with the empty space across the table from him that he simply couldn't sell everything, just like that, because of all the people who depended on his business for their income.

Yet he knew that they would simply find other avenues, other business partners.

And what about my family? I truly do support them.

But that look. He loves me; I know it, just from that one moment of eye contact. He knows I have a family, and He loves them, too, I'm sure of it.

How can I do this? How can I obey? Why couldn't He have asked for anything else?

"One thing you lack."

Before this moment, he would have stated with assurance that there was nothing he lacked, not even one tiny thing.

With a heavy sigh, he said aloud, "One thing."

And he surrendered.

He took off his gold ring and set it on the table, wondering how much it would fetch when he sold it in the morning--the first thing he would sell in obedience to the Man's command.

"One thing," he mumbled to himself as he trudged off to bed.

Tomorrow would be a long and unusual day.
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Brenda Kern
October 31, 2004

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