Editorial February 15, 1993 Issue

Faith in man's integrity: a treasure

Barbara M. Vining

In preparation for our recent move, my husband and I decided it was time to let go of some of our belongings. Among them were a few family treasures which we just would not have a place for in our new home, but which our children said they would be delighted to have. The little round table in my office, made for me many years ago by a family member who is no longer with us, would go to one of our sons in a distant state.

I needed to take the table home for my husband to pack for shipment, so I brought it out on the loading dock in back of our building and left it under the purview of the security guard while I went after my car. When I got back a minute or two later, the table was gone. The security guard had been distracted for a moment and had not seen anyone take it. While he searched the grounds and the building, I went back to my office to pray.

Without realizing it, I had put the table down beside a huge trash bin, and it seemed possible to me that someone assumed the table had been discarded and simply took it—an honest mistake in judgment. So I made a sign: "The table taken from the dock on Tuesday is not trash. It is a family treasure." Then I taped the sign to the trash bin by the loading dock. But the thought that the table could have been stolen kept trying to intrude itself into my thinking. This still needed to be dealt with. It was contrary to my understanding of man as the spiritual image and likeness of God, divine Truth and Love, to think that dishonesty could be part of anyone's true identity. But I felt violated, betrayed. It was then I realized my faith in man's spiritual purity and integrity was of greater value to me than any material possession, and that I must not let it be stolen from me.

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