The late Peter Marshall was an eloquent speaker and for several years
served as the chaplain of the US Senate. He used to love to tell the
story of
the "Keeper of the Spring," a quiet forest dweller who lived high above
an Austrian village along the eastern slope of the Alps.
The old gentleman had been hired many years earlier by a young town
councilman to clear away the debris from the pools of water up in the
mountain
crevices that fed the lovely spring flowing through their town. With
faithful, silent regularity, he patrolled the hills, removed the leaves
and
branches, and wiped away the silt that would otherwise have choked and
contaminated the fresh flow of water. The village soon became a popular
attraction for vacationers. Graceful swans floated along the crystal
clear spring, the mill wheels of various businesses located near the
water turned
day and night, farmlands were naturally irrigated, and the view from
restaurants was picturesque beyond description.
Years passed. One evening the town council met for its semiannual
meeting. As they reviewed the budget, one man's eye caught the salary
figure
being paid the obscure keeper of the spring. Said the keeper of the
purse, "Who is the old man? Why do we keep him on year after year? No
one ever
sees him. For all we know, the strange ranger of the hills is doing us
no good. He isn't necessary any longer." By a unanimous vote, they
dispensed
with the old man's services.
For several weeks, nothing changed.
By early autumn, the trees began to shed their leaves. Small branches
snapped off and fell into the pools, hindering the rushing flow of
sparkling
water. One afternoon someone noticed a slight yellowish-brown tint in
the spring. A few days later, the water was much darker. Within another
week, a
slimy film covered sections of the water along the banks, and a foul
odor was soon detected. The mill wheels moved more slowly, some finally
ground to
a halt. Swans left, as did the tourists. Clammy fingers of disease and
sickness reached deeply into the village.
Quickly, the embarrassed council called a special meeting. Realizing
their gross error in judgment, they rehired the old keeper of the
spring, and
within a few weeks, the veritable river of life began to clear up. The
wheels started to turn, and new life returned to the hamlet in the Alps.
Charles R. Swindoll
Are there leaves of anger, twigs of resentment, or silt of
unforgiveness clogging your spring of living water? Just as little by
little the stream
became clogged and contaminated by debris, so our spirits can become
obstructed by the *small sins* of day-to-day living. Let's keep the
water clean
and flowing.
