Safe Deposit Boxes

Before the days of ATM machines and debit cards, people went to the bank.
You knew the bank tellers and they knew you.
If you were a regular customer, cashing a check was relatively easy.

Friday afternoons were especially busy in the bank since many people were paid that day.
Before the days of direct deposit, people stood in line to get their check cashed.
Some money was deposited into your savings account; the rest was given to you in cash.

People tended to use the same bank branch and everyone knew each other.
People stood in line, bankbook in hand, waiting with everyone else.
There were many bank tellers, each at a window, so the line moved quickly.

A small distance away was a high table with little slots underneath.
Each slot had rectangular papers of different colors.
I watched people go up to the table, take a piece of paper, and begin to write.

They often had an envelope that contained money.
They would stand there and count the money right in front of everyone else.
They would write on the paper, put the money in the envelope and get in line.

What are they doing?
They are filling out a deposit slip, my mother would explain.
As she talked to the person in front of her, I filled out a deposit slip, too.

It seemed as if other children had the same idea.
Many unfinished deposit slips remained on the table.
Some had drawings, some had scribbles; some had exorbitant amounts written on them.

The future customers left their pretend deposit slips behind.
I imagine the janitor laughed at some of the things he must have seen.
Please come back over here was enough to jolt me out of my reverie.

I returned to the line and continued to wait, knowing a lollipop would be given.
Many of the older customers had white envelopes in their hand.
After their check was cashed, they separated their money into the various envelopes.

My own grandmother did that same thing.
She had a envelope for her electric bill, her food money, her paper boy, and her church.
Her pocketbook was a veritable bank in and of itself.

Depression era people did not trust banks.
Money was kept nearby, under mattresses, or tucked away in closets.
Closer meant more secure; they could take care of their own money better than any bank.

My mother approached the tiered counter.
The upper level was way above my field of vision.
The lower level was used to write your deposit or withdrawal slip, if necessary.

There were desks along the perimeter of the room for more important banking.
There was usually an office enclosed in glass with a door that could be closed for privacy.
Important things I did not understand happened there.

Occasionally, my mother would need to get into her safe deposit box.
That was an adventure.
Stories of jewel thieves and bank robbers filled my head.

My mother would go to one of the desks on the perimeter and ask to get into her box.
She would have to sign an index-sized card that was retrieved from a file.
She would follow a bank manager into the vault with me close behind her.

I still remember the smell; a mixture of metal, new carpets, and furniture polish.
The manager would escort us to a wall that was covered with tiny doors.
Each door had a number and a keyhole.

The manager brought us to the correct door and used his key to open it.
He would slide the rectangular box out; my mother’s key would unlock the top.
He would direct us to a small adjoining room to give us privacy.

My mother waited until he left and opened the box.
I expected jewels and treasures but only saw papers and documents.
I never understood why the bank was holding her papers in a little box.

She would insert or take out what she needed, close and lock the box.
When I got bigger, she gave me the job of telling the manager that we were finished.
He would return and repeat the process in reverse.

Now people rarely go into banks.
Everything is done online; debit and ATM cards have replaced the need for check cashing.
Tables with deposit slips are fading from bank branches, as everything is paperless.

Personal safes and fireproof strong boxes are taking the place of safe deposit boxes.
An end of an era; less face-to-face contact.
Banking done in the privacy of your own home in front of your own computer.

Sometimes, I miss it.

A place where everybody knows your name.
A place where lollipops were given.
A place where pretend deposit slips had exorbitant amounts of money written on it.

Yet I am not ashamed, because I know whom I have believed and am convinced that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him for that day. What you heard from me, keep as the pattern of sound teaching, with faith and love in Christ Jesus. Guard the good deposit that was entrusted to you – guard it with the help of the Holy Spirit who lives in us. (2 Timothy 1:12-14)

We have a treasure to guard; a deposit has been made.
More precious than any jewel or more extravagant than any exorbitant amount of money.
We have the Gospel.

The Good News about what Jesus has done to save us from our sin.
We guard this treasure; trusting in Jesus alone for our salvation.
We are God’s safe deposit boxes.

We can trust Him until that day when all will be revealed.
Only One has the key; through Jesus we have access to the Father.
How can we feel inadequate or inferior when He has trusted us with so great a treasure?

We are safe deposit boxes for His Glory.