The Parable of the Field Trip

Maybe it's some left-over thoughts from live-streaming the ONE Project earlier this week combine with today's interesting experience, but I think I saw a parable.  I'll call it: "The Parable of the Field Trip."

All the elementary students lined up on the edge of a field.  It was the beginning of, as one student put it, a "literal field trip."  The goal was to march across the field in a line and pick up small pieces of debris still left in the field from the tornado, so that it could continue to be used for growing hay and pasturing cows. (Cows apparently don't like eating shingles and insulation.)  So they lined up, trash bags in their work-gloved hands.  They were instructed, and at the signal, the march began.  After about 30 seconds, the line disintegrated into smaller groups, but still moving toward the same goal, still picking up shingles and plastic in their own little areas.  At about 10 minutes...all over the field.  There were the fast ones, checking the big picture, getting the big pieces with their eyes on their goal--the end of the field.  Behind them were the majority--who looked a little closer and picked up what was missed by the pace-setters, but were still having a good time.  And then, there were the painstakingly slow ones, far behind the rest.  They meticulously combed every blade of grass for anything that might gleam in the sunlight.  They often yelled up to the others, "How could you miss this?!" while holding up a trophy 2-inch piece of shingle.  There were two of those in particular that I noticed (because they were the furthest behind). At the beginning, they talked a little about how those ahead were not doing a very good job, but mostly they joyfully found their bits and pieces, and congratulated themselves on being so thorough.  But toward the end, I noticed that each had ended up in very different places. The girl had found a group of friends, who moved at a more normal pace, and laughed and exclaimed all her finds.  She was just as meticulous and thorough, and still had an eye for detail. But she could still enjoy the company of her friends at the same time.  The boy, however, seemed to get more and more frustrated by the others.  He complained loudly at what a poor job the others were doing.  Finally, he stood at a distance from the others, watching them with a scowl on his face.  As everyone was finishing up and about to gather for a picture, he sat on the bottom step of the bus, obviously angry at the world.

The moral?  I can think of a lot, but here are just two:
1. Work gets done better and faster when we work together, sharing our unique gifts.
2. The trophy of spiritual arrogance is a lonely soul.