You will recall, dear reader,
that a few posts ago, I discussed having read some Dr Seuss, and being
afflicted with a sudden fit of rhyming poetry, a sample of which I exposed you
to. At the time, I pointed out that the
poem I posted wasn’t the first one I wrote during that particular fit, and that
I would provide you with the first one in due course. That course is now due.
I was considering posting this
anyway, since I like to try and keep these posts at least semi-regular, and I
haven’t had anything more relevant particularly worth posting recently. However, I’ve also been drawn into a
theological discussion on Facebook; a continuation of the antiquated Protestant
grudge match of Calvinism
vs Arminianism. A
friend of mine posted a quotation by the 18th century (and
wonderfully named) theologian Augustus Toplady, who was a staunch Calvinist,
and therefore wrong. (Methodists are
Arminian, in case you were wondering). I
posted in response, and I have to say that we’ve been extremely courteous,
despite our theological differences.
The thing is, although I love
theology, and enjoy discussing it, I also believe that it is quite
unimportant. To quote the great George
MacDonald, “Theologians have done more to hide the Gospel of Christ than any of
its adversaries.” After all, we surely
all agree that God knows what He’s doing, and so as long as we obey His
instructions to the best of our abilities, and put our faith in Him, all will
be well?
Alas, sleeping dogs (and
theologians) are not allowed to lie, and so the arguments rattle on in various
corners of the internet, but here’s a (not very) little something for your
consideration:
The Two Ditch Diggers
There
once was a field in a low-lying land.
It was
poorly positioned, improperly planned.
This
field would swiftly and suddenly flood
Whenever
it rained, and would melt into mud.
And
when it was flooded, that poor barren field,
Not a
bean, not a carrot or lettuce would yield.
So the
farmer whose field was flooded so fast,
Said
“This is quite awful, it simply can't last!
Before
my poor farm is completed destroyed,
I’ll
find some ditch diggers and get them employed,
On
digging a ditch to make my field drier,
Now
all that I need is some workmen to hire.”
He
knew of two fellows who had what it takes,
A
worker called John and his colleague, called Jake.
His
promised rewards would have made them quite rich,
If
before it next rained they could dig him a ditch.
So
Jacob and John took poles and twine,
To
make sure that they dug in a perfect straight line.
They
planted the poles and tied up the string,
Then
took up their spades, but here is the thing,
Though
both were professionals, as good as can be,
On
digging a ditch, they just could not agree.
"The
best way to dig it, and make no mistake,
Is
first go across, and then down," declared Jake.
"My
friend, you are joking, but please don't go on.
We
must first tunnel down, then across," stated John.
“Piffle
and paffle!” Jake hotly replied,
“You
go down just a bit then you go to the side!
And
once you have got quite as far as you charted,
Down a
bit more and then back where you started!”
Said
John, “You go down, to the depth you decree,
Then
dig it all sideways, it’s obvious, you see!”
"Down
then across?" Jacob said with a snort.
"How
can you have had such a ludicrous thought?!
I am
laughing so hard that I'm getting a stitch!
What a
weird, wacky way to try digging a ditch!"
"If
you insist on initially digging across,
Then
that is your problem, your burden and loss,"
Said
John with a fierce and furious frown,
"But
for this field we will first go straight down!"
"Across
and then down, and make no mistake,
That's
how we will dig!" said the workman named Jake.
"Down
then across!" John was angry indeed,
"It's
the only way forward and how we'll proceed."
“Across
and then down!”
“Down
then to the side!”
“Your
brain has dissolved!”
“Yours
has shrivelled and died!”
It
might have been Jacob, or John, who first struck,
But
then they were at it and both run amuck,
Punching
and pinching and bashing and butting,
And
biting and fighting and knocking and nutting!
John
gave a bellow and Jake gave a cry,
and
both failed to notice the clouds in the sky.
The
wind started whooshing through whipple and willow
and
piled up the clouds in a billowing pillow.
"Down!"
shouted John, "Down, and that is all!"
"Across!"
bellowed Jake as rain started to fall.
Dropping
and dripping in drizzling drops,
It
pelted and pummelled in ponderous plops.
The
two battled on as the field started flooding,
Kicking
and flicking and thumping and thudding.
They
skirmished and scrummed not the least bit dishearted,
By the
big job that they'd not even started.
The
other was wrong and they knew they were right,
And
they bawled and they bellowed and brawled through the night
As the
rain it rained down and on flooded the flood,
The
seeds washed away and the soil became mud.
The
water sloshed upwards with splishing and splashes,
Up
past their navels and nostrils and lashes.
Their
yelling and tromping and tramping and troubles
Dissolved
in a series of babbling bubbles.
Their
shouting and stamping and vindictive violence,
Was
all of a sudden replaced with a silence.
At
last came the day with the dawning of morning,
And
thus came the farmer without the least warning,
To see
all the work of his ditch-digging team,
But
when he arrived they were not to be seen.
Where
there’d been a field he’d now got a lake,
And
there was no sign of a John or a Jake.
He
looked all around with the greatest dismay,
For
his workers were gone and his crops washed away.
Shoulders
all slumping, back homeward he slunk,
For
his hopes were all dashed and his livelihood sunk.
The
moral, if really it needs much explaining,
Is
ditches need digging before it starts raining,
And
methods don’t matter, beliefs are all one,
As
long as the task you are given gets done.
You
say my beliefs and my theories need righting,
But
let’s get the job done before we start fighting.
Later
there’s plenty of time for debate,
But
let’s dig the ditches before it’s too late.
Bickering’s
daft; so on with our calling,
For
you never know when the rain will start falling.
Copyright Thomas Jones 2016
