Two Sons
Text: Matthew 21:23-32 I have to have at least some sympathy for my parents. Raising children, as I am soon to find out, is never an easy task. My parents had two sons. Two sons who are quite close in age, being little more than a year apart. My parents had two sons with overactive imaginations, very creative when it came to our playtime, and yet very poor cleaning habits when it came to cleaning up the messes that we would make. It’s a wonder my parents can still walk after spending many years accidentally stepping on wayward Lego™ pieces in our basement. It was far too easy though, having a brother nearby made a convenient scapegoat. “John, who’s mess is this?” they would ask. Without looking up, I said, “David’s.” David, on the other hand, would also return the favour. Needless to say, my parents learned not to ask who the mess belonged to… because it belonged to us. The trouble is, they still had to ask us to clean it up. I would like to think of myself as the agreeable type. I’m t...