On occasion someone asks me what church was about earlier in the week, and my mind goes blank. But there was a talk seventeen years ago that still ignites me. It was in October, and pumpkins were ripe in the fields. Our twins were three at the time, so we had bought a pair, with plans to give them primitive faces in preparation for Halloween. 

 

The speaker told a story about a little pumpkin who longed to be as bright as the older pumpkins who had been changed into jack o'lanterns. They had images carved from the inside, in such a way that their skin was intact. Then when a light was brought inside them, it illuminated an image. One was a lamb, another a sun, and the third was a dove. The little pumpkin asked how they had become so beautiful, and they explained that the process depends on being emptied. 

 

"It is painful, but the slimy stuff inside blocks the way for any light to shine. It has to come out."

 

The young pumpkin was worried, yet the draw to look like them was strong. He bravely gave himself into the hands of the carver. 

 

When the process was only partially done, the little pumpkin became frightened. 

 

"Isn't there another way?" he cried. 

 

"There really isn't," they reassured him. "But we would never go back. It is worth it to be able to shine with great light."

 

The little pumpkin sighed, and asked the carver to continue. The process was longer than he expected or preferred, but when it was over the little pumpkin felt amazingly open. The carver had cut away the shape of a crescent moon, to represent the pumpkin's growing faith. When she placed a light inside him he felt wonderful. 

 

Life has a way of chipping away at us from the inside. Those tendencies to find fault are impediments to letting love emanate from within us. When I am a witness to the brightness of people who are courageous, and generous, forgiving and kind, it gives me a reason to let God pull out the slimy shreds. In the end, it will be worth it.