There were three men walking on a dusty road in late summer. One man pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and wiped his face. Another shielded his eyes from the glare coming off a tin roof. The third man groaned heavily as he placed one weary leg in front of the other.
“Look”, said the first man as he pointed to a group of trees a short distance from the road. “Aren’t those orange trees?”
Every man’s step quickened. Their breath no longer weighed heavily on their chest but came in quick successions of gasps as they finally reached the shade trees. One man picked up an orange off the ground, biting into the rind, he sat down under the first tree. The second man quickly peeled away a portion of the rind, then as he bit into the pulp, juice ran down his chin. The third man sat down in the grass and peeled the entire orange before quenching his thirst.
A sharp cry startled all three men as a man in a white shirt and black work boots stomped toward them from the door of the church with the tall steeple that sat across the way. “Stop! Thieves! Those oranges belong to God!
“That’s a relief,” said the man with the handkerchief. “I thought at first they belonged to you.” (Mathew 12:1-8)
