Murals (2008) by PHANTAST - Graffiti - Cultural Music & Art Association inc. - 98 Milne St. Benleigh
THE LONG WAY FROM A SPIT-FIRE ("son of thunder") TO AN APOSTLE OF LOVE.
John and James were sons of Zebedee the fisherman and Salome the daughter of Joseph, the betrothed of the Holy Mother of God.
The little man loses his temper; the big man takes a firm hold. It was late in the afternoon; the dozen men who had walked all day over the dusty roads were hot and tired, and the sight of a village was very cheering, as they looked down on it from the top of a little hill. Jesus sent two disciples to arrange for accomodations, but the people in the village had refused to received them. When the disciples James and John saw this, they asked, "Lord, do you want us to call fire down from heaven to destroy them?" (Luke 9:54). The others joined in with enthusiasm. Fire from Heaven - that was the idea! Show them that they can't affront us with impunity! Come, Lord, the fire ... Jesus had been working with them for 3 years... would they never catch a true vision of what He was about? He had come to save mankind, and they wanted Him to gratify his personal resentment by burning up a village! "But Jesus turned and rebuked them, and they went to another village"... Jesus knew that pettiness brings its own punishment. The man who is mean is mean only to himself.
1800 years later an important man left the White House in Washington for the War Office, with a letter from the President Abraham Lincoln to the Secretary of War. In a few minutes he was back in the White House bursting with indignation. The President looked up in mild surprise: "Did you give the massage to Stanton?" he asked. The other man nodded, too angry for words. "What did he do?". "He tore it up", exclamed the outraged citizen, " and what's more, sir, he said you are a fool". The President rose slowly from the desk, stretching his long frame to its full height, and regarding the wrath of the other with a quizzical glance. "Did Stanton call me that?" he asked. "He did, sir, and repeated it". "Well, said the President with a dry laugh, I reckon it must be true then, because Stanton is generally right".
The angry gentlemen waited for the storm to break, but nothing happened. Abraham Linkoln turned quietly to his desk and went on with his work. It was not the first time that he had been rebuffed. In the early months of the war when every messenger brought bad news, and no one in Washington knew at what hour the soldiers of Lee might appear at the outskirts, he had gone to call on General McClellan, taking a member of the Cabinet with him. The General was out, and for an hour they waited in the deserted parlor. They heard his voice at last in the hall and supposed of course that he would come in at once. But the "Young Napoleon" was too filled with his own importance; without so much as a word of greeting he brushed by, and proceeded on his haughty way upstairs. Ten minutes passed - fiteen - half on hour - they sent a servant to remaid him that the President was still waiting. Obviously shocked and embarrased the man returned. The General was too tired for a comference, he said; he had undressed and gone to bed! The Cabinet member restrained himself until the servants were on the sidewalk. Then he burst forth, demanding that this conceited upstart be removed instantly from command. Lincoln laid a soothing hand on the other's shoulder. "There, there", he said with a deep, sad smile, "I will hold McClellan's horse if only he will bring us victories".
Leaders in history have had that superiority to personal resentment and small annoyances which is one of the surest signs of greatness.
St. John the Apostle, Theologian and Evanghelist is " the apostle of love", according to his letters. He was imprisoned for years on the stony island of Patmos and suffered martyrdom amidst frightful torture. Love means putting others first and being unselfish. Love is action - showing others we care - not just saying it. To show love we must give sacrificially of our time and money to meet the needs of others. (Bruce Barton, The man nobody knows).