"No wonder I couldn't find it," Adam Figg feigned aha moment, plucked favorite coffee mug from cupboard. "Since when did we start putting things where they belong?" He teased.
"If snide boy wants breakfast, he should not criticize the cook." Eva Figg arched left eyebrow in direction of pestering husband.
Pestering husband smiled, slinked up behind Eva as she flipped eggs in mid scramble. Round her rounding tummy went gentle hand, with other he caressed her long brunette hair to side, exposing freckled nape of neck, and he kissed, and he whispered, "How do you smell so good in the morning?" So began the usual Figg family dance, that had led to a whole lot a little Figgs.
The full lips of Eva Figg slightly parted, sighed familiar sigh...
"Daddy," little Ruthie tugged his pant leg, "Daddy leave mommy alone, so she can cook me breakfast. I'm hungry!" Came the all too usual Figg family dance interruption...
...Not long after, Daddy at breakfast table had just, "Amened," the morning prayer, and platters passed around...
Did little Ruthie ask, "Daddy can you please jelly my biscuit?"
Daddy looked down the table. Eva had not the jar of fig preserves. Neither did Matt, Mark, Luke, nor John, nor did Moses, nor Elijah, nor Isaiah, nor Jeremiah at end of ta... "Jeremiah, what is that hiding behind your glass of milk?"
Jeremiah answered with oops wide eyed look, then matter-of-facted, "Well, it used to be a jar of fig preserves." He held empty jar up for Dad's inspection. He smiled, offered, "But for Little Sis, I'll sure fetch another jar from the pantry."
In moments, slathering fig preserves on Ruthie's biscuit, Daddy Adam stirred reflection, "In the Bible, what were the contents of the two baskets, that the LORD set before the prophet Jeremiah at the temple?"
And Jeremiah, the youngest of the brothers stands again, thrusts forth index finger and recites as if it were written on the wall, "Jeremiah 24:2 KJ, 'One basket had very good figs, even like figs that are first ripe: and the other basket had very naughty figs, which could not be eaten, they were so bad.'"
Dad asks, "What does that mean?"
The children grew quiet.
Eva cued, "Could it be that the naughty figs represent folks who hide from the washing and refining of our Creator?"
"They reject and avoid fulfilling God's purpose for them," Moses shook head.
"They fall to the ground and rot." Elijah sighed.
"But the good figs," little Ruthie took delicious bite of fig preserve laden biscuit, "the good figs," she chewed, swallowed, took gulp of cool milk, "the good figs are gathered, washed, cooked in Mommy's pot, get lots a sugar on 'em, and are sealed in jars, so I can eat 'em now!"
Good figs... have God purpose." Luke smiled.
God refines us to be good figs... because he loves us," John added joy.
"But no matter how good figs are," Eva enlightened, "they are never washed clean enough nor refined pure enough for God in heaven, until washed and purified by his son, Jesus. For by believing in Jesus or rejecting Jesus, figs are either... preserved forever... or wither away..."
"And who are the Jesus washed and refined good figs?" Daddy Adam asked.
"Children of God!" All the little Figgs sang out.
"Believing is... be-living..." Little Ruthie squealed.
John 3:16-18; Romans 3:23; 6:23; 5:8; 10:9
Post Script: If any naughty figs have fallen to the ground in your back yard, please direct them to the B-I-B-L-E and nearest Christian Church. (For a fuller explanation of the washing and refining process, please read "The Fullers Soap," https://pawpawcorner.blogspot.com/2013/03/the-fullers-soap.html
