Springboards: The Pig, Rhubarb

Springboards for Christian Parents is a two-part series I began back in 2008 for the purpose of providing stories for parents to help them illustrate biblical truths. The Pig, Rhubarb is a story written for the purpose of illustrating the doctrine of regeneration.

________________________

 

In the land of Sorie Ayah was a village with no name.

They were a very simple folk who did not aspire to fame.

Men like Farmers, Bakers, Bankers, Barbers and the like,

With names like Joe and Josh and Sarah. Perhaps, even a Mike.

 

On the outskirts of this town there lived a farmer, name of Jones.

He had a sty of piglets with a couple that were grown.

The most stubborn one was Rhubarb. He was never looking up.

With much determination, his nose was always in the mud.

 

He’d root and root for hours, hoping that he’d find a gem.

A corn cob or a brussel sprout. It didn’t concern him.

He didn’t even care that all the children standing by

Had scowls on their faces when he ate a moldy pie.

He snorted with delight. With joy, he’d wag his little tail.

He ate and ate for hours, and his stomach never failed.

 

Now, one day, as the farmer was out tending to the pigs,

A thought happened upon him, and it happened on his lips,

“I wonder if this pig could be a money-making prize.

I bet I’d get more bounty for his stomach than his hide.”

 

He threw some cobs and celery in the back of his old truck,

And with a pulley system that he’d built, Rhubarb went up.

He darted down the highway to the fair outside of town.

While in the back, old Rhubarb was still steadily chowing down.

 

Arriving at the fair, that day, the farmer bought a booth.

He stood out front and shouted to the people walking through,

“O Baker, Banker, Barber, all you business men alike.

Please listen to my wager, for your treasure lies inside.”

 

“A dollar wager gets you in, and you can be approved,

To feed this pig whatever you please. He’s certainly no prude.

He’ll eat just what you feed to him, and it doesn’t matter what,

But if you find what he won’t eat, we’ll split the pot twixt us.”

 

The baker was the first to pay his dollar at the door.

He had an old and moldy loaf with gravy all abhorred.

He’d whipped it up a week before, and tossed it in the bin,

His shop was just a block away, so his son fetched it in.

 

“We’ll see if Rhubarb eats this bread. It’s stale and from the trash.

It’s been in there for four days all mixed up with corned beef hash.

All the people can attest that it’s rotten from its smell.

I doubt your pig can stomach it, as time will surely tell.”

 

The farmer took the bin of trash and heaped it in the booth.

It only took a moment for the pig to start to root.

He sifted through the garbage like it were a birthday cake.

Within ‘bout seven minutes it was like he’d licked his plate

 

Now nothing lay before the pig, as the baker walked away.

The farmer lifted up his chin and carried on this way,

“O Banker, Barber, gents, and all you business men alike.

Please listen to my wager, for your treasure lies inside.”

 

“A dollar wager gets you in, and you can be approved,

To feed this pig whatever you please. He’s certainly no prude.

He’ll eat just what you feed to him, it doesn’t matter what,

But if you find what he won’t eat, we’ll split the pot twixt us.”

 

The Banker was a greedy man, and never backing down,

He answered to the challenge with some worms he’d fetched from town.

He laid them down before the pig, and soon they were not there.

He gobbled up the last of them with time enough to spare.

 

Now nothing lay before the pig, as the banker walked away.

The farmer lifted up his chin and carried on this way,

“O Barber, ladies, gents, and all you business men alike.

Please listen to my wager, for your treasure lies inside.”

“A dollar wager gets you in, and you can be approved,

To feed this pig whatever you please. He’s certainly no prude.

He’ll eat just what you feed to him, it doesn’t matter what,

But if you find what he won’t eat, we’ll split the pot twixt us.”

 

The barber, not a betting man, just watched as people came.

They brought their garbage, brought their waste and all that was profane.

The pig was eating it all up, much to the farmer’s glee.

But then the barber had a thought, and so away he sneaked.

 

He went a ways back to his home, and met up with his wife.

“O dearest, sweet, melodious woman. Have you food inside?”

His wife enraptured by his words took out of the stove,

A baked lasagna she had made just for his return home.

 

He kissed her on the forehead, saying, “Tonight, I will explain.”

He rushed off in his carriage, and back to the fair again.

The pot was up to ninety dollars. Hordes were bringing food.

He shot up to the front of the crowd and offered up his, too.

 

The farmer, overcome with joy, welcomed the barber’s pan.

The barber offered up his dollar, then addressed the man,

“O farmer would you eat the rubbish this pig has swallowed down?

Would you sift through garbage with your snout and eat off the ground?”

 

The farmer gave a chuckle, “Well, of course not. I’m a man.”

The barber gave a gentle nod and laid down his wife’s pan.

Rhubarb moved his nose along the ground searching for slop.

He paid no mind to the lasagna still so piping hot.

 

The crowd whipped up in conversations. Rhubarb was all the buzz.

The barber was the victor, and the story’s moral was…

 

A man should not consume the things befitting filthy swine.

A pig does not have appetites that mirror yours or mine.

Just One can change the appetites of sinful girls and boys.

Jesus Christ transforms our appetites and turns our griefs to joys.

Advertisements

One thought on “Springboards: The Pig, Rhubarb

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s