Pipraskó

What might the Pearl ask of me, now that I have found It?

Is there anything it would not ask of me?

Is there anything it does not have a right to ask?
It rests before me like a beacon, like living Light that pierces my threadbare sack of worldly possessions and renders them worthless.

But it doesn't stop with my possessions. It shows me that my life is worthless unless utterly devoted to the Pearl, and that I find life only in taking hold of Its glory.

A current of protest might rise within, stammering about how surely the Pearl wouldn't ask for that thing, or this thing. Surely it is a decent Pearl, too polite to make such demands. Surely it doesn't care if I hide a little of myself away, just in case things go wrong. Just in case the Pearl is too frightening.

"the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls, who, on finding one pearl of great value, went and sold all that he had and bought it."

That Greek expression, "sold all he had," is a bit weightier than our language makes it out to be. It means to be utterly devoted. To be sold into slavery. To hold nothing back.  Pipraskó.

There is nothing more frightening, nothing more utterly devastating.  I am invited to give up all that I have, even the things I thought the Pearl could never ask for, in exchange for one Treasure Who claims to be worth it all.

You have seen my threadbare life for what it is.  Now take it.  I'm not holding anything back.  It seems like it should be easy to part with my rags to take hold of Your riches, but it's not.  It usually feels like I'm parting with the little I have in order to buy an alien trinket riddled with myths and legends.  It usually feels like leaving my responsible, comfortable lifestyle in order to become a slave.  It feels like Pipraskó.  But You are the Pearl I want.  If You left Heavenly riches to buy me, clay feet and all, then I can leave my fortress in the Shadowlands to dwell with the Pearl of Greatest Price.