When I was very, very young and my family’s residence was in the fair land of Illinois, my father would sometimes ride the bus around Champaign-Urbana. At the time, I was enraptured with anything that was metal, round, and gold colored, and I came to be quite taken with bus tokens. Anytime I learned Papa’s pockets contained tokens, they would somehow—whether directly bestowed or by some more mysterious means—make their way into my hands. To keep nefarious characters from using these tokens as money, each had a star printed on one side and NO CASH VALUE written on the other. If you had approached me and said, ‘nice bus tokens,’ my response would have been: ‘huh?’ for instead of using their proper name, I childishly took that simple statement on the back of the token and turned it into a noun. Thus, the bus tokens earned their notoriety as “No-Cash-Values” (this habit of naming things was common in our household... ask me about the tonsil-poker sometime).

Each No-Cash-Value upon reception was immediately deposited into a somewhat nauseatingly pink leather purse, another prized possession of mine. While my father was buying coffee at the gas station or my mother purchasing her groceries, I would gain the attention of the cashier and, producing a gold coin from my beloved pink purse, solemnly inform them:

‘These are my No-Cash-Values.’

I’m sure there were many suppressed smirks and weird looks at my little act, but I always thought they looked mighty impressed.

Years went by. I had important things to study, tests to pass, dollars to earn. The No-Cash-Values were thrown hastily in with my coin collection and eventually most of them were discarded. I became interested in real money—in both earning it and (sometimes more so in) spending it. One day, I uncovered the pink leather purse, its handle completely worn through in one place. With a fond (if self-deprecating) smile, I threw that away too. I came to understand the worth of things with cash value; no longer was I waving around a pink purse of self-proclaimed worthless metal. I had grown up, or been enlightened, or whatever silly word I occasionally use to convince myself that I’m more mature. The pink leather purse was loved, but old and outgrown.

I found a No-Cash-Value in a box of old things the other day. It wasn’t so shiny anymore, rather dirty and rusted and dull. It made me wonder—not a “them good old days” sort of wonder. The idea of a chubby little girl walking up to a store clerk, proudly showing him her No-Cash-Values, and expecting him to be impressed is laughable. Cute (because she was such a little girl), but silly. She has grown up now. She has learned so well. The connection between ‘worthless’ and ‘no cash value’ was an important one that needed to be made, and I don’t regret learning the difference between what is profitable and unprofitable.

“Look at me, God. I’m so wonderful and smart now. Look how Enlightened I have become!”

At the same time, I realized, perhaps I hadn’t learned so very well. Perhaps I only exchanged no cash value for cash value—or perhaps more accurately, No-Cash-Value for No-Eternal-Value.

As I turned the No-Cash-Value over in my hand, I thought maybe I was still that little girl—not so cute or laughable anymore, but still toddling up to the Maker and Sustainer of the universe and holding out handfuls of dirty rags. Maybe I’ve managed to dress them up with a pink leather purse—disguise them, hide their dirtiness from myself, but rags are rags.

“Look, O Eternal and All-Powerful God. These are my No-Eternal-Values. Aren’t they pretty, God?”

To an unbeliever, maybe the important part of the story is the way I learned real-world facts about money and work and value. Maybe someday, someone will point back to that and say ‘Look how far she came!’ But that’s not the point.

The point is, I haven’t come far at all. I’m still that little girl, toddling around on unsteady feet with my hands full of worthless objects. I couldn't make those No-Cash-Values worth anything as a five-year old; these rags will never merit anything, try as I might in the flesh and old Self.

Yet even as I struggle with the Old Self, at the same time a New Self has been given to me—Jesus Christ. In Him, I strive each day for that which is eternal and will not perish. If I have been Enlightened, or if there is any value in me, it is only as 2 Corinthians 4:6-7 says: For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.

This clay pot is holding something far more precious than the little girl with a pink purse filled with No-Cash-Values ever could have imagined.

“Look, God. This is my Christ. Isn’t He beautiful?”

“So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.” (2 Cor. 4:16-18)

2 Missages

1. MJC on May 10, 2009 at 11:00 PM

   I disagree that the little girl has "no cash value" of her own, or that she is "merely" a jar of clay, as your memoir-ish implies, for Christ came and died just for her. She has incredible value, and her value is preserved forever in the love, mercy and "eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison" of her God. How wonderful is that?

    
2. Marigold on May 11, 2009 at 6:05 PM

   I'd never heard of your No-Cash-Values before. Either I have a bad memory or you didn't hold the No-Cash-Values on the same level as annual visits from friends---too much else to show perhaps? ;-)
   Thanks for sharing, though. It's all important to remember. :-)