There are lots of rings. In fact, I recently learned how to do a ring tone on my phone. Haven’t actually used it…but I did learn how to do it.
Rings today…don’t mean the same as they did thousands of years ago. The earliest known rings were found in Egyptian tombs. These were called signet rings. It was like a power of attorney in some ways. The wearer of the ring was entitled to all the rights and responsibilities of whatever the ring represented.
Should I wear the ring of the Trump family I might be entitled to have a yacht and really really bad hair. Should I wear the ring of the British Royal Family I might be entitled to a chauffeur and 24 hour guards. Should I wear the ring of the Johnson family next door I might be entitled to have a dog that is out of control.
It all depends on the seal or crest on the ring as to what you would be entitled to.
That reminds me of a movie. A Few Good Men.
“You want answers?”
“I think I’m entitled”
“You want answers??!!”
“I want the truth!!”
“You can’t handle the truth! I have neither the time nor inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of freedom I provide and then questions the manner in which I provide it! I’d rather you just said thank you, or pick up a weapon and stand a post…either way…I don’t give a damn what you think you are entitled to!”
I love that movie…
So what ring do I wear? Sometimes I wear the ring of my earthly father. I’m entitled to respect because he was as hard a working man as there was on this earth. Sometimes I wear the ring of shame because of some things I’ve done and some things done to me. Sometimes I wear the ring of accomplishment. (That ring tarnishes QUICKLY over time)
There’s a story in the Bible. About a son who took advantage of his father’s generosity and wealth. He ran off and spent it all on earthly pleasures. Ended up poor and homeless. Decided to go back and beg to work on his father’s farm as a slave. While he was a long way off his father saw him…ran to him…and put a ring on his finger.
What a story. While he was a long way off…the father ran. He didn’t wait with crossed arms and an appropriate apology and plan to get his shit together. He ran to his son and put his family ring on his finger. His son immediately had all the rights of being a son of the father. And he did nothing to deserve it. In fact, did a lot to not deserve it.
Every day my heavenly father runs to me to put a ring on my finger. And most days…I take it off and don’t put it back on until I deserve it. Until I’ve earned it. Which…is never.
I want to wear my heavenly father’s ring. The one that reminds me that I’m the son of the King and this place is not my home.
Next…
I’m getting family rings made for my daughters…don’t tell them! 🙂
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