THE GREY POWDER

 An allegory

“This is for you. It will do the work for you.”

The landscape gardener watches as the visitor takes from his pocket a small packet. He squints at the writing and listens as the man launches into a detailed explanation of the benefits of the contents. He listens for a long time; he believes every word.

The visitor eventually hands over the packet, along with a small gadget and leaves as mysteriously as he has arrived.

The gardener scratches his head and tries to recall all the information he has received. According to the visitor, this substance has an extra-ordinary transforming power. It will do the work for him. He will not have to do anything, except depend totally on its power. No, it is too good to be true. Carefully he lays the mysterious packet and the detonator on a high shelf in his tool shed. Some day he will experiment.

Shrugging his shoulders he goes back to the arduous task of building terraces on the steep hillside. Gigantic boulders stud the area and make the work almost impossible. He wishes he had the strength to split them into smaller, more attractive rocks. 

Now and again he thinks about the grey powder and its transforming power, the powder that will do the work for him. That is the bit he is unsure about. Somehow he feels more satisfied when the perspiration trickles down his face. There is something gratifying about the way his muscles ache after he has hauled the huge tree trunks back from the forest. He is proud of the blisters and calluses that form on his hands as he tries to make some impression on the lichen covered boulders.

The packet of powder and the detonator wait, covered with dust and cobwebs on the shelf in the tool shed.

The gardener works long hours but the area is far from looking attractive. Will the landscaped gardens ever be a reality, he wonders, a monument to the perseverance of a hard working person? From time to time he straightens his aching back and looks across at the boulders on the far hillside. He frowns.

*** *** ***

Winter arrives bringing depressing rain. The gardener hates to admit to himself that at times he feels exhausted. It is only his pride that spurs him on as he maneuvers heavy, sodden logs to build the terraces.  Oh, how those ugly boulders on the far hillside annoy him.

One day the gardener picks up the detonator. He looks at it inquisitively and his tired eyes light up. Suddenly he chooses to believe in its capacity. He reaches for the packet of powder. Yes, he will let it do the work for him.

Thoughtfully he makes his way to the boulders on the hillside; he remembers the name of the powder. Dynamite. He also recalls the strict instructions he was given. The visitor had emphasized that in order for the operation to be a success he had to believe and obey.

He believes, although his hands shake a little as he lights the fuse. Why, he wonders, does he find it so hard to relinquish his own efforts and trust that grey powder?

His breath comes in short gasps as he runs for shelter. The explosion deafens him.

Minutes later he peeps out from his hiding place. He blinks involuntarily. Where are those ugly, unresisting boulders? He stands up and his legs tremble as he walks cautiously over to the split rocks. Simply and powerfully, the grey powder has done the work for him.

***   ***   ***

I’ve been thinking a lot about dynamite.

The word ‘dynamite’ comes from the Greek word ‘dunamis’ and means power.  I find it is used dozens of times in the New Testament and refers to the miraculous life-changing power of God. Paul in his letter to the Ephesians shares some amazing information. This power is for us who believe. In the words of the Amplified New Testament: “So that you can know and understand what is the immeasurable and unlimited and surpassing greatness of His power in and for us who believe, as demonstrated in the working of His mighty strength, which He exerted in Christ when He raised him from the dead. .”  ¹    

It’s the ‘resurrection Dynamite’ that is in me.

I have not the slightest doubt that I am a carrier of this divine Dynamite. So if it is there, why don’t I see the effect of it in my life? Is it suffocated? Is it damp? I acknowledge that heaps of hay and stacks of stubble are piled on top of it. Like the landscape gardener, I feel more satisfied when I exert my energy, when I collapse exhausted after my efforts. I get pleasure from doing. My works suffocate and dampen the divine Dynamite.

In order for the divine Dynamite in me to manifest its power I must relinquish my own efforts and use the detonator. Faith. I must believe that the Power is there and that simply and powerfully, He will do the work for me.

Next time I ride in an elevator, queue in the bank or mingle with the shoppers in the supermarket, I’ll whisper this phrase to myself: “I’m carrying Dynamite”. If I do this often enough, I may just begin to believe it and let Christ live His resurrection life in me.²

  ¹Eph 1: 19, 20 Amplified New Testament, ²Gal 2:20