“Do Unto Others as You Would Have Them Do to you.”

The Golden Rule is easier said than done.

Cereal, Milk, and Aesop’s Fables

We’ve all hear Aesop’s “The Mouse and the Lion.”

In the story, a mouse awakens a lion from his slumber, and the lion, annoyed, prepares to kill the terrified animal.

“Please, spare me!” the mouse pleads, “And I’ll repay you!”

The lion laughs, inwardly wondering how such a tiny animal could ever repay him, but lets the mouse go.

A few days later, he finds himself hopelessly entangled in a hunter’s net. Despite his sharp claws and teeth, he is unable to break free. But just as he is about to give up hope, the mouse arrives, and using its tiny size and scissor-like teeth, is able to free the mighty beast from the net.

The moral of the story is clear. If you help others, they will help you.

But when we put ourselves into the story, suddenly it’s not so simple.

Though we aren’t actual lions, we sometimes find ourselves in the lion’s position.

Someone hurts us, wrongs us, or treats us unjustly. We’re the injured party, and we’re mad.

A time I found myself being the lion was a time my younger brother spilled a bowl of milk and cheerios all over the kitchen floor.

Like the lion, I was upset.

Like the lion, I had the mouse in my grasp.

The mouse in my case being my brother, who was staring in shock at the mess he had made.

Sometimes the mice will plead verbally, just like the story.

“I’m sorry I ripped your homework.”

“It was an accident! I didn’t mean to break your trophy.”

But some times, they won’t. My little brother stared at the floor, and then at his wet, dripping clothes.

Then he looked at me.

“My pants are wet,” he complained.

Now, as the lion, I had a choice to make. The mouse sat in my claws, awaiting his verdict.

I could eat him alive, demand that he clean the mess up and scold him for his clumsiness.

That option was the most enticing. After all, it was his fault for spilling the cereal.

I was justified in my annoyance.

But there was something lurking in my mind. A sermon, a principle buried deep inside me.

The mouse’s unspoken plea, “I will repay you.”

The Golden Rule, “Do unto others as you would have them do to you.”

Like the lion, we usually don’t believe that the mouse will ever repay us.

I didn’t believe that my brother would repay me.

However, I did know what I would have wanted if our roles had been reversed.

I had a choice to make.

All That Glitters Isn’t Gold

Have you ever looked into a stream filled with small bits of rock and gravel?

Many stones catch the sunlight and glitter.

But most of them aren’t gold.

The stream of life is also full of shiny rocks.

As we bend over it, “Anger” glitters temptingly. “Condemnation” shines seductively. “Sarcasm” beckons invitingly.

None of them are gold.

When the lion holds the mouse in his paws, he looks down into the stream of life.

When I surveyed the mess made by my little brother, I reached out my hand to pick up a stone.

Most of the time, our first reaction is to lash out, to smirk, to make a rude comment. Those rocks are the first to move aside.

James 1:19 states, “My dear brothers, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry.”

So the first layer is moved aside.

The lion loosens his grip on the mouse.

I take a deep breath and swallow the sarcastic, “way to go,” embedded in my throat.

Our second reaction is condemnation. Self-righteousness. Justification.

He made the mess, so he should clean it up. She made the mistake, so she should suffer for it.

We want the mice to be punished, to be repaid, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

But despite how brightly these rocks glow, they aren’t gold.

Romans 5:8 says, “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

If God operated only on justice, we’d all be scorch marks in the ground.

Another layer of rocks is discarded.

The lion sets the mouse on the ground, keeping a firm paw on its tail.

I close my eyes and push away the picture of my brother mopping up the floor.

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Few people ever make it to the final layer of rocks. They are the rarest, the hardest to find. Buried under the other stones and countless loads of sand, they glitter only faintly, and are easy to ignore.

As I look into the stream, I see “Forgiveness,” “Kindness,” and “Love,” sitting there. They don’t shine, they don’t look beautiful, and for a moment I contemplate going back to the other layers of rock.

But then, my hand reaches out and I pluck the three stones from the stream.

As they leave the water, the grime falls off and suddenly they wink and sparkle like the gems they are.

The true gold of the stream of life.

The lion hesitates, and then lets the mouse go.

I hesitate, and then, looking at the three stones in my hand, I make my decision.

I pocket the ruby of forgiveness, the color of Christ’s blood as he hung on the cross and prayed for his Father to forgive those who put him there.

“It’s ok, go upstairs and change.”

The emerald of kindness is the next. Green stands for healing, and Christ never turned away a broken body or spirit, no matter how tired he was.

“I’ll clean it up.”

Lastly, I finger and tuck the nugget of love into my pocket. “For God so loved the world---” As God loved us, as Jesus Christ loved us, so we should love others.

Smiling, I add, “When you’re changed, come down, and I’ll get another bowl ready. Be careful this time.”

All that glitters isn’t gold.

But the gold is worth getting rid of all the glittering rocks above and beside it.