I'm Coming Down There Myself!

In the play Green Pastures, which ran for many years on Broadway, playwright Marc Connelly has a moving and memorable scene. The Lord is anxiously looking out over the parapets of heaven, trying to decide what to do with the sinful situation on earth. Gabriel enters with his horn tucked under his arm. Sensing the Lord's dilemma, he brushes his lips across the trumpet to keep the feel of it and asks, "Lord, has the time come for me to blow the trumpet?" "No, no," said the Lord, "don't touch the trumpet, not yet." God continues to worry with the problem. Gabriel asks the Lord again what he plans to do. Will he send someone to tend to the situation? Who will it be? Gabriel makes some suggestions. "How about another David or Moses? You could send one of the prophets: Isaiah or Jeremiah. There are lots of great prophets up here. What do you think, Lord?" Without looking back at Gabriel, God said, "I am not going to send anyone. This time I am going myself!!" The Rev. Dr. Thomas Lane Butts, in his sermon, "A Permanent Glimpse of God"

The Lanyard (Mother's Day)

Billy Collins was Poet Laureate of the United States from 2001 to 2005. The Lanyard BY BILLY COLLINS The other day I was ricocheting slowly off the blue walls of this room, moving as if underwater from typewriter to piano, from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor, when I found myself in the L section of the dictionary where my eyes fell upon the word lanyard. No cookie nibbled by a French novelist could send one into the past more suddenly— a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp by a deep Adirondack lake learning how to braid long thin plastic strips into a lanyard, a gift for my mother. I had never seen anyone use a lanyard or wear one, if that’s what you did with them, but that did not keep me from crossing strand over strand again and again until I had made a boxy red and white lanyard for my mother. She gave me life and milk from her breasts, and I gave her a lanyard. She nursed me in many a sick room, lifted spoons of medicine to my lips, laid cold face-cloths on my forehead, and then led me out into the airy light and taught me to walk and swim, and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard. Here are thousands of meals, she said, and here is clothing and a good education. And here is your lanyard, I replied, which I made with a little help from a counselor. Here is a breathing body and a beating heart, strong legs, bones and teeth, and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered, and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp. And here, I wish to say to her now, is a smaller gift—not the worn truth that you can never repay your mother, but the rueful admission that when she took the two-tone lanyard from my hand, I was as sure as a boy could be that this useless, worthless thing I wove out of boredom would be enough to make us even.

The Milkmaid and the Holy Man

In the July-September, 2002 edition of Pulpit Resource, Carole Noren relates the story Linda Hutton of Disciples of Christ in Community tells about a milkmaid and a holy man. 

The holy man lived in such a remote place that he relied on her to bring him his daily food and milk. The milkmaid, however, often arrived later than the holy man wanted. One day after he chewed her out for this, she explained why she was perpetually tardy. The milkmaid explained that she had to walk a long way along a river’s bank before she could reach a bridge that would carry her to the river’s other side. So the holy man suggested that she, instead of crossing the bridge, walk across the water. That would save the milkmaid time and perhaps keep her from being late every day. 

From then on the milkmaid was never late. That, however, piqued the holy man’s curiosity. So he asked her how she now consistently managed to arrive so early. “Why, sir,” she answered, “I did as you told me. I walk across the waters of the river.” At this the holy man said, “This I must see. Let me go with you, child, as you return to the village. I believe I can surely walk on water, if someone like you can.” 

When they reached the river, the milkmaid boldly stepped into the water and walked to it other side. When she turned to watch the holy man, he hiked up his robe and stepped into the river. However, after the man took a few hesitant steps he began to sink. So the milkmaid ran back across the waters to help him to shore. 

“What happened?” the shaken holy man asked her. “Well, sir,” she answered, “you said you believed you could walk across the waters, but you gathered up your robes so as not to get the hem wet.”

Presents of God

PRESENTS FILL THE TEMPLE

A dear elderly lady was teaching the four and five year old Sunday School class at her church. During one of the lessons, they were learning about he building of the temple. She explained to the students that when the temple was finished, the presence of the Lord filled the temple. 

Instantly the eyes of each child got wide and full of excitement. Soon she discovered, however, that the source of their excitement was not joy that God had come to dwell in the temple, but rather, delight in the imagining that huge building filled with the presents of God! 

Aren’t we often much like those children? We are easily more excited about our presents from God that being in the presence of God.

Radical Hospitality

His name was Bill. He had wild hair, wore a T-shirt with holes in it, jeans, and shoes with no socks. This was his wardrobe during four years of college. Though mildly eccentric, he was a brilliant person. He became a Christian while attending college.

Across from the campus was a traditional church. They wanted to develop a ministry to students, but weren't sure how to go about it. One day Bill decided to go worship there. He walked in with his wild hair, T-shirt with holes in it, jeans, and shoes with no socks. The service had started. Bill started down the aisle looking for a seat but the church was full.

By now people were looking a bit uncomfortable, but no one said anything. Bill got closer and closer to the front, when he realized there were no seats. He just sat down right on the floor. Although perfectly acceptable behavior at a college fellowship, this had never happened in this church! By now the people were really uptight, and the tension in the air was thick.

A deacon slowly made his way toward Bill. This deacon was in his eighties, a distinguished man with silver-gray hair and a three-piece suit. He walked with a cane. Everyone thought, "You can't blame him for what he's going to do. How could you expect a man of his age and background to understand some college kid, thinking he can worship sitting on the floor?"

It took time for the man to reach the boy. The church became utterly silent, except for the clicking of the man's cane on the tiled floor. All eyes focused on him. When the elderly deacon got next to the boy, he dropped his cane to the floor. With great difficulty he lowered himself and asked Bill, "May I sit with you?" The man sat down next to Bill and worshiped with him, so he wouldn't be alone.

That's what the birth of Jesus means.

• Radical action.
• Radical behavior.
• Radical gospel.
• Radical Savior.
• Radical God.

Trouble Tree

I hired a plumber to help me restore an old farmhouse, and after he had just finished a rough first day on the job: a flat tire made him lose an hour of work, his electric drill quit and his ancient one ton truck refused to start.

While I drove him home, he sat in stony silence. On arriving, he invited me in to meet his family. As we walked toward the front door, he paused briefly at a small tree, touching the tips of the branches with both hands.

When opening the door he underwent an amazing transformation.. His face was wreathed in smiles and he hugged his two small children and gave his wife a kiss.

Afterward he walked me to the car. We passed the tree and my curiosity got the better of me. I asked him about what I had seen him do earlier.

'Oh, that's my trouble tree,' he replied 'I know I can't help having troubles on the job, but one thing's for sure, those troubles don't belong in the house with my wife and the children.. So I just hang them up on the tree every night when I come home and ask God to take care of them. Then in the morning I pick them up again.' 'Funny thing is,' he smiled,' when I come out in the morning to pick 'em up, there aren't nearly as many as I remember hanging up the night before.

Revival - Who's the Winner?

A young Methodist pastor was ready for his first appointment. As is often the case, his DS gave him an enthusiastic pep talk before he moved to the small rural town that boasted one Methodist church, one Presbyterian church and one Baptist church.

"This church has a lot of potential!" his DS said. "But they've been under-performing. They haven't had any new members in three years. I want you to go and help this congregation become the congregation that God is calling them to be!"

The young man moved to the town, got settled in the parsonage, and "got his feet under him" with his new appointment. A few months after his move, he called the pastors of the other two churches and asked them to meet him for lunch.

"I've got a great idea that is going to help all of our churches," he said. "Let's have a revival! We can bring in a dynamic preacher, organize our churches to do mission work in the community, and have lots of delicious meals together. There are a lot of unchurched people in our town - let's show them what our churches have to offer!"

The other pastors agreed; and the revival was held. It was glorious! The preaching was inspired, the mission work made an impression on the community; and the food was, indeed, delicious.

A month after the revival, the young pastor again called a lunch meeting, so the pastors could evaluate the revival.

"I am so excited to meet with you!" he said. "I can't wait to tell you that our church - which hasn't had a new member in three years - welcomed four new families to our congregation after the revival!"

The Presbyterian pastor shared his enthusiasm: "That's great!" he said. And I want to tell you that we had six new families join our church after the revival. God is good!

The two men looked at the Baptist pastor, who said, simply: "Well, I have to confess, we did not have any new families join our church after the revival."

The other two pastors didn't know what to say.

But then a slow smile spread across the face of the Baptist pastor. "But we had ten of the most negative, meanest, most stubborn and least welcoming families leave our church, and our church has never been healthier or happier!"

Room at the Inn

John Simmons tells about a grade school class that was putting on a Christmas play which included the story of Mary and Joseph coming to the inn. In that class was one little boy who wanted so very much to be Joseph. But when the parts were handed out, his biggest rival was given that part, and he was assigned to be the inn keeper instead. 
He was really bitter about this, so during all the rehearsals he began to plot how to get even with his rival.
Finally, the night of the performance, Mary and Joseph came walking across the stage. They knocked on the door of the inn, and the inn-keeper opened the door and asked them gruffly what they wanted. 
Joseph answered, "We’d like to have a room for the night."
Suddenly the inn-keeper threw the door wide open and said, "Great, come on in and I’ll give you the best room in the house."
Now, that wasn’t in the script and for a few seconds poor little kid didn’t know what to do. 
But finally the young Joseph had an idea. He stepped up to the innkeeper, and looked beyond him through the door that represented the inn. He made a big production of looking right and left. He stepped back out beside his “wife” and said, "No wife of mine is going to stay in dump like this. Come on, Mary, let’s go to the barn." 

Found online at: http://www.sermoncentral.com/sermons/a-blue-christmas-jeff-strite-sermon-on-christmas-142077.asp

Heaven, Hell...and Getting Our Lunch

One day a man said to God, “God, I would like to know what Heaven and Hell are like.”

God showed the man two doors. Inside the first one, in the middle of the room, was a large round table with a large pot of stew. It smelled delicious and made the man’s mouth water, but the people sitting around the table were thin and sickly. They appeared to be famished. They were holding spoons with very long handles and each found it possible to reach into the pot of stew and take a spoonful, but because the handle was longer than their arms, they could not get the spoons back into their mouths.

The man shuddered at the sight of their misery and suffering. God said, “You have seen Hell.”

Behind the second door, the room appeared exactly the same. There was the large round table with the large pot of wonderful stew that made the man’s mouth water. The people had the same long-handled spoons, but they were well nourished and plump, laughing and talking.

The man said, “I don’t understand.”

God smiled. It is simple, he said, Love only requires one skill. These people learned early on to share and feed one another. While the greedy only think of themselves… [Author unknown]

A Collection of Story Ideas/Metaphors from SermonCraft 2015

Forgiveness: Oshea Israel and Mary Johnson - http://theforgivenessproject.com/stories/mary-johnson-oshea-israel-usa/

Coaching 3 & 4 year-old soccer as a metaphor for life: "herd ball" - might go in the right goal, might go in the wrong goal - might fall flat on our face - might leave with no notice to use the bathroom....mob mentality: the direction you are going isn't a direction....sin...Directives from the Y to coaches: 1) this is the ball; 2) this is the goal; 3) the ball goes in the goal; 4) don't touch it with your hands...a little older: trying to get 4 year olds to learn position: "stand here". Ball goes by because they have been told to "stand here"...It's okay for little kids to be really bad at soccer - they're having fun! But we expect they will mature in their ability to grasp the purpose...Do we have church members who are not willing to mature beyond 4-year-old soccer?

Losing a child in Wal-Mart...how the community worked together to bring her back to me...before Mom could see her, calling out her name....child's face when she found her mother...could tie into personal story of a time you were lost and what you felt...different story of being lost and worried and having a strange adult yell at you: "You need to be with your mother!" Opposite experience to having community come together...another story of a lost child seeking an adult who looked trusting (grandmotherly)..."If you're lost, who do you go to?" (a mom with children, etc.)...Can we equip our church members with "where do you go when you are lost?"...so easy to shut down when we are lost; can't imagine forward momentum...Joseph & Mary leaving Jesus behind in Jerusalem..."People of Wal-Mart" came to help - this website disses people who shop in Wal-Mart; but these are the people who worked together for good. How do we judge others? "Aren't there churches for people like that?" Film people in the congregation telling their own "lost" stories...Shouldn't churches have a plan for people who are "lost" (been gone for 6 months?)

Only do 52 children's sermons - repeat them every year, so children (adults), over time, internalize these messages.

Doubt: Woman climbs into trunk of car and shuts it to see if light goes out (WHY????). Brings keys in with her....Police have to come to get her out. "It seemed like a good idea at the time..." There was a witness to this!  Mob mentality, we condone this..and then, someone is locked in...perspective of doubt: if we let doubt overwhelm us, it can take us to places we don't want to go....Woman took a home pregnancy test, came out positive, she didn't believe it, took 3 more of different brands, husband comes home, doesn't believe, he pees on the stick to prove that this test can work...Driving back home, habitually, to see if the garage door is down....old SNL skit, family imagining what could go wrong, then drive off a cliff...parents tell you "don't ever touch the cigarette lighter," but you do...when doubt overrides common sense....we know better than Jesus...Do we have to be burned to believe?...another part of the spectrum: people sometimes do "dumb" things because they believe Jesus wants them to (unexamined spirituality)...How do you know about the faith if you don't step into it.

Purpose of the camera...from taking pictures of treasured moments/loved ones...evolution to selfie...focal point has moved to self...Focus as Christians varies: God, Others, Self...camera works both ways...Emmy Awards - Julia Louis-Dreyfus and producers of Veep, she is trying to take selfie with veteran presenter, he turns phone around as if to say: no, this is the future, take pictures of them...Kid President: We need to live in a world with fewer selfies and more "other people-ies"...perspective: story of family taking a long time to get pictorial directory picture made, parishioners behind them thought they were very rude; but really, they didn't have any idea that people were waiting, they didn't know how many rooms there were, how many salespeople, etc. Had to communicate with angry people to explain the difference in perspective...Wendell Berry poem: Once there was a man who filmed his vacation..."Screen Time" from Ted Radio Hour..Ted Talk by Monica Lewinsky on shame...

Follower, or Admirer?

Brian Stoffregen shares this story:

There were two brothers in Georgia during the 1950's. One decided that in opposition to the dominant culture of the day, he was going to support and participate in the formation of a multi-ethnic community. The other worked as an attorney for a prominent law firm. Both were Christians and attended church regularly. As the multi-ethnic community formed and social pressure forced them into court proceedings, the one brother asked his attorney brother to help them with the legal work. The brother refused, saying that he could lose his job. The pressure increased to help with a reminder that he was a Christian. The lawyer responded, "I will follow Jesus to his cross, but it is his cross. I have no need to be crucified." To this his brother replied, "Then you are an admirer of Jesus, but not his disciple."

[Original post can be found here.]

Do I Have to Forgive?

They say lightening never strikes twice.  John Rogers knew better.  Everyone said how amazingly he had coped with redundancy.  It is no easy task to begin again, aged 55, after a lifetime working for the same company.  With a lightness of heart he sank all his redundancy money into his new enterprise.  If his wife thought it foolhardy, she didn’t say so.  Just a few said, “What an idiot to blow it all, he’ll be bankrupt in a year;” though never to his face.

He rented a unit at the new Craft Park; one of those out of town shopping sites with a large car park, a café, and a play area for the kids.  The unit was really an elaborate shed, one of about thirty on the sight.  Equipping it with tools, buying in wood, and creating a display and sales area took all his cash, but it didn’t matter.  What was important was that he could now make things.  His speciality: wooden toys.  Sometimes very traditional things—rocking horses, the grain of the wood dictated the racing shape of the animal.  Sometimes new things that seemed strange as wooden toys—alien space creatures that came apart, and docking satellite stations with flashing lights.

The business advice woman at the bank said his margins weren’t large enough.  He was covering his costs and making enough to live on - just, but he’d never be able to expand, and if supplies and sales got too out of kilter he’d have cash flow problems.  He nodded and made some encouraging noises, but in his heart he didn’t care.  He was making things.  He was happy, perhaps the happiest he’d been in his whole life.

The arson attack was so mindless.  A teenager fooling about, oblivious to just how paint, and wood, and varnish, would blaze.  He was a lad newly come to the area, in a foster home to prepare him for life on his own.  John knew nothing of him.  He was pleased that the magistrate thought the matter so serious; pleased that the sullen youth got a custodial sentence.  But that didn’t make up for what he’d lost; somehow all his motivation had gone up in flames.

The insurance company paid out.  The site manager was efficient in the rebuilding of the unit.  Customers urged him on.  But as the smell of the burning lingered about the place, so did the dead weight of John’s wounding.  It was as if the fire had burnt from him all the enjoyment he’d once had.  He was a victim, and he couldn’t shake it off.

And sure enough the business began to fail.  His toys didn’t have the same originality about them anymore.  The first Christmas after the fire John just got-by.  The second Christmas was a disaster.  “It’ll not survive,” they said, “It was obvious from the first that it wasn’t a sensible thing to do with his redundancy money.”

The last thing people expected was that he would take on staff: a young fella called Andy with a beard and a pony tail, a ring in his nose and in one of his ears.  No one knew where John found him.  It was all so unlikely; another indication that John had really lost it.

How surprised the scoffers were when the business started to turn around.  Andy had a talent for working wood, and John was soon able to build on it.  Teaching Andy rekindled his enthusiasm.  For the first time for two years he had ideas for new toys.

And Andy brought something new to the business as well.  Computers were his thing.  Before joining John he’d been on an intensive course and he put his learning to good use.  When their work featured in a Sunday supplement orders started to come thick and fast.  They started selling from their own website.  The woman at the bank was impressed.  “The business has turned a corner,” she said.  When people asked John, “Are you thinking of retiring?”  “Never,” was the reply.

But lightening can strike twice.  The lad who broke into the workshop was after the computer.  Why then did he smash the rest of the place up?  Wrecking the stock, smashing the lathe, throwing customer files everywhere, and pouring varnish over the lot.  The police seemed to know who he was, but there wasn’t enough proof to arrest him.  “We’ll start again.  There’s nothing here that a few weeks’ effort won’t put to rights.”  But John’s optimism found no echo in Andy.  The younger man burned with anger.

John had no idea how Andy knew who the suspect was.  He had no idea either of the revenge he intended.  It wasn’t until the police came to tell him that Andy was charged and in the cells that he knew anything was going on.  Andy had followed the suspect to a local pub, cornered him in the toilets, and beaten him until an arm and a nose were broken.

Minutes after the police left, John put the notice on the door.  It simply said, “Closed Down.”  With a heavy heart he turned off the lights, and locked his workshop for the last time.

A few days later the site manager came to see him.  “Don’t you realise how much money you’re going to lose giving up the lease without notice?  The business has got such prospects, why end it now?  You recovered after the fire, you can recover now.”  And sensing the real cause of John’s hurt, he added, “Surely the court will take into account why Andy did it?  They’ll be lenient on him.  After all it was his first offence.”

“No, not his first,” said John, “he’s already served time for arson.”

Jesus ended his story, “The Lord was angry. So he handed his servant over to the courts until he had paid all his debt.”  And he added, “So will my heavenly Father do with you unless each of you sincerely forgives those who wrong you.”

[Found at: http://www.preacherrhetorica.com/proper-19a.html]

Oppressor and Oppressed

This story comes from a sermon on Jeremiah 29:11 by Nathan Colquhoun (1/11/10):

Here is an example of someone who tried to do what Jeremiah was telling Israel to do.

Mike Pfotenhauer is a man who started a backpack company called Osprey.  You have probably heard of them because they make great backpacks.  If you are serious into hiking, mountain climbing, then you would most likely be using an Osprey backpack.  Eventually they got pretty good that they moved to Colorado and bought an old factory outside a Najavo Native reserve.  They did their best to hire almost all local people for their workforce from the reserve.  They even got profiled in Fortune Magazine for being one of America’s best companies.  They keep growing bigger an bigger.  They were one of the first companies to start integrating recyclable materials into their packs and they kept innovating and coming up with new ideas.

The hard part is that other companies started coming in and offering backpacks for really cheap because they were making stuff cheaper overseas and the competition started getting really tough to actually sell backpacks so they had to start making layoffs and it was hard to keep up.  So eventually they made the decision to shift some of their production overseas to Vietnam.  Now we all know about overseas production and the types of conditions that the workers go through a lot of times just so we can get low prices on all of our stupid stuff we buy.  They have to work very long hours, under harsh conditions and for very little pay.  So Mike and his wife decide that if they are going to do this, they want to do it right.  So they move overseas so that they can be with the people who will be building their product.  They packed up their family, and moved to Vietnam so that they themselves could experience first hand the conditions in which they were asking people to work.

Where the average wage in Vietnam is $40, they pay an average of $80 a month.  Where the average work week is 63 hours, Osprey’s average is 48 hours.  Osprey pays time and half for overtime and double time for holidays.  This is all going on where their top boss is working alongside of them in the same community and living in the same conditions.  Mike was unwilling to exploit people just to increase his bottom line and keep his business in tact.  Mike chose to understand and be with the people he would typically be oppressing.  Not only that, he chose to pick up everything he knew and was comfortable with and built a house and planted gardens in and amongst them.

[http://www.nathancolquhoun.com/2010/01/11/building-houses-and-planting-gardens-a-sermon-on-jeremiah-29]

From the Inside Out

Pastor Anthony Evans tells about the night that darkness descended on New York City during the blackout of 2003. It was a chaotic night, you may remember. Evans happened to be there that night. Manhattan, including Wall Street and the United Nations, was completely shut down, as were all area airports and all rail transportation including the subway.

There was one exception to that darkness. Evans happened on a restaurant where people were lined up to get hot food. He reports that in this dark situation there was this one place with all this light and joy and music and laughter and excitement. He went over to the assistant manager and said, “Mister, I don’t understand. It’s dark everywhere. The airport is right over there and it’s dark. My hotel is right over yonder and it’s dark too. Everything is dark, and yet you are lit up like a Christmas tree. How can this be?”

The manager said, “It’s really fairly simple. When we built this [place], we built it with a gas generator. We’ve got power on the inside that is not determined by circumstances on the outside. Even though there’s nothing happening out there, there’s plenty happening in here.”

Anthony Evans goes on to say, “When you accepted Jesus Christ, He came into the inside. So what’s happening on the outside shouldn’t determine whether or not you’ve got a lighthouse on the inside. What’s happening out there shouldn’t determine your joy. God has given us a generator of life and liberty in our souls – through our relationship with Jesus Christ. We don’t have to live our lives determined by life’s circumstances.”

I Want to be God

    "Once upon a time there lived a fisherman and his wife.  Their
       home was a humble two roomed cottage with a tiny garden and a
       well.  Every day the fisherman would go out in his little boat
       and in the evening bring home his catch, sometimes good,
       sometimes poor.  This was their livelihood.

       But the fisherman's wife was discontented.  "Why should I have to
       live in this hovel?  Is it too much to expect a decent home with
       water and electricity and a kitchen?   I wish I was a lady."  
       Her continual grousing made the fisherman quite miserable.

       One day, something happened which changed their lives.  The man
       caught a strange and beautiful fish which startled him by
       speaking.  "Please thrown me back into the sea and I'll grant
       whatever you wish."

       The fisherman thought a bit and then replied, "So be it.  I wish
       my wife was a lady and lived in a proper house with water,
       electricity and a kitchen."

       When he returned that evening he found that his wish had been
       granted, and his wife was very pleased.  But as the months passed
       she began to grumble again, "Is it too much to expect something
       better than this pokey house?  I wish I was a Duchess, with a
       mansion and servants and a carriage.  Why did you ask for so
       little?  I'm sure the fish meant us to do better than this."

       Driven by her complaints nagging, the fisherman tried to contact
       the fish again and rowed his boat to the spot.  No sooner had he
       called than the fish appeared and agreed to his request.

       But the duchess was still not satisfied.  Within a month she was
       grumbling and complaining again.  "I wish I was a queen, go and
       see your fish again".  And so he did.

       Life in the palace was luxurious, but the fisherman's wife, now a
       queen, wasn't content for long.  "What I would really like" she
       said, "would be to be God.  I'm sure your fish will understand
       that this is what I wanted all along."

       When the man returned from his last visit to his fishy friend, he
       found no palace on the shore, no mansion, not a  house.  Not even
       his little old cottage was there.  But then he heard crying, and
       noticing a cave in the cliff face, he went closer.  Inside it was
       fashioned into a rough stable.  There were 2 oxen and a donkey. 
       And in the manger a little baby lay crying."

       The fisherman's wife had her wish.

The wife in our rewrite of the story had, of course, forgotten what God is
like in this world, in human flesh.

She'd forgotten about Christmas and Passiontide.  
       She'd forgotten about the manger and the cross.  
            She'd forgotten that our God is a God who comes and who
identifies with his people, and especially with the poorest and the most
humble of people

It is so easy to forget what it cost Jesus to come to earth as one of us.

[from Rev. Richard J. Fairfield: http://www.rockies.net/~spirit/sermons/a-ad04su.php]

Patience is a Virtue

A young woman was shopping at the grocery store with her precious 2-year-old daughter. Predictably, the moment they turned down the cereal aisle, the little girl started clamoring for the sugary cereals that were located right at cart-eye level. “No, no,” her mother said. “We’re not buying those today.” Naturally, the little girl began to plead and whine. The mother took a deep breath and said, “Now, Monica, don’t get upset. We only have ten more items on our list and then you can go home and take a nice nap.” 

As any of you who have ever been shopping with a small child knows, once a child gets settled into a good temper tantrum, particularly when that child is strapped into a shopping cart where everything she passes is attractive but out of reach, well...things tend to go from bad to worse. A few minutes later, the small child lunged out of the cart and managed to snag a bag of Chip’s Ahoy cookies. Her mother deftly removed them from her hands, and the shrieking began. The mother took another deep breath: “Monica, calm down. We’re almost done with the shopping list, and you can go home and have a nice long nap.”

Finally, the woman brought her cart to the check-out line. The little girl’s lungs were going full strength, and her face was a deep shade of red. And as her mother put her items on the checkout counter, the little girl saw the candy bars that are so thoughtfully placed right where a child can reach them. After wrestling a bag of Skittles out of the hand of her distraught daughter, the woman repeated her mantra: “Monica, settle down. There’s no need to get upset. We’re all done shopping now, and you can go home and have a nice, long nap.”

As the woman pushed her cart toward her car, a man came up to her. “Excuse me,” he said. “I know we haven’t met; but I heard you and your daughter in the store, and I just have to commend you on your patience with young Monica.” The woman looked blankly at the man, then smiled. She held out her hand: “I’m sorry, there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding. My daughter’s name is Julia. My name is Monica, and it’s nice to meet you.”

Cutting Through the Chaos

We conducted a three-phase experiment at Rockford College, and used over 100 college graduates who were preparing for youth ministry.

In the first phase, we took a young volunteer from the room and blindfolded him. We simply told him that when he returned, he could do anything he wished. He remained outside the room while we instructed each audience member to think of a simple task for the volunteer to do. When the volunteer returned, they were to shout their individual instructions at him from where they sat. Prior to this, we privately instructed another person to shout a very specific task at the blindfolded volunteer as though it were a matter of life and death. This person was to attempt to persuade the blindfolded volunteer to climb the steps at the back of the auditorium and embrace an instructor who was standing at the door; he had to shout this vital message from where he sat in the audience. The volunteer was oblivious to all instructions and previous arrangements. The volunteer represented our young people, the audience represented the world of voices screaming for their attention, and the person with the vital message represented those of us who bring the message of the Gospel to youth. The blindfolded student was led back into the room. The lecture room exploded in a din of shouting. Each person tried to get the volunteer to follow his or her unique instructions. In the midst of the crowd, the voice of the person with the vital message was lost; no single message stood out. The blindfolded student stood paralyzed by confusion and indecision. He moved randomly and without purpose as he sought to discern a clear and unmistakable voice in the crowd.

The second phase: we told the audience about the person attempting to get the volunteer to accomplish the vital task. At this point we chose another person from the audience to add a new dimension. This person’s goal was to, at all costs, keep the volunteer from doing the vital task. While the rest of the audience was to remain in their seats, these two people were allowed to stand next to the volunteer and shout their opposing messages. They could get as close as they wished; however, they were not allowed to touch the volunteer. As the blindfolded volunteer was led back into the room, the shouting began again. This time, because the two messengers were standing so close, the volunteer could hear both messages; but because the messages were opposed to each other, he vacillated. He followed one for a bit, then was convinced by the other to go the opposite direction. In order for young people to hear our message we must get close to them. Even then, there are others with opposing messages who also are close enough to make their messages clear. Sometimes they are peers, relatives .The main lesson: only the close voices could be heard. Even though the volunteer took no decisive action, at least he heard the message.

The response to the third phase was startling. In this phase everything remained the same except the one with the vital message was allowed to touch the volunteer. He could not pull, push or in any way force the volunteer to do his bidding; but he could touch him, and in that way encourage him to follow. The blindfolded volunteer was led into the room. When he appeared, the silence erupted into an earsplitting roar. The two messengers stood close, shouting their opposing words. Then, the one with the vital message put his arm gently around the volunteer’s shoulder and leaned very close to speak directly into his ear. Almost without hesitation, the volunteer began to yield to his instruction. Occasionally he paused to listen as the opposition frantically tried to convince him to turn around. But then, by the gentle guidance of touch, the one with the vital message led him on. A moment of frightening realism occurred spontaneously as the one with the vital message drew close to the goal. All those in the audience, who up to this point had been shouting their own individual instruction, suddenly joined in unison to keep the volunteer from taking those final steps.

Goose bumps appeared all over my body as students began to chant together, “Don’t go!” “Don’t go!” “Don’t go!” So many times I’ve seen the forces that pull our youth in different directions join together to dissuade them from a serious commitment to Christ. The chant grew to a pulsing crescendo, “Don’t go!” “Don’t go!” But the guiding arm of the one with the vital message never left the volunteer’s shoulder. At the top of the stairs in the back of the lecture hall, the one with the vital message leaned one last time to whisper in the ear of the volunteer. There was a moment of hesitation, then the volunteer threw his arms around the instructor and the auditorium erupted in cheers and applause.

When the volunteer revealed how he felt as he went through each phase, it became apparent that if our message is to be heard, we cannot shout it from the cavernous confines of our church buildings. We must venture out and draw close to those with whom we wish to communicate. If we really seek a life-changing commitment from our young people, we also must reach out where they are and in love, gently touch them and lead them to that commitment. We asked the volunteer why he followed the one with the vital message, the one who touched him. After a few moments he said, “Because it felt like he was the only one who really cared.”

[from Ken Davis, How To Speak To Youth, pp. 19-23]

The Great Cake Deception

It was time for the annual cake sale at a Presbyterian church. Mrs. Billings always made 

the most beautiful cakes and she was expected to make another one this year. However, 

Ms. Billings was a very busy woman with the time she spent with her family and the time 

she gave to her community. She put off making the cake this year, thinking she could 

put it all together at the last minute.

When the cake came out of the oven, Mrs. Billings was horrified to see that the cake had 

fallen. She didn’t have the time or the ingredients to make another one and she panicked. 

Frantically, she devised an ingenious plan. She would find a way to "fix" the 

cake...then she would be the first one to the sale and buy her own cake back. 

Mrs. Billings looked around the room, trying to find something that she could use to 

"prop" the cake back up, and then she found it. A roll of toilet paper was the perfect 

size. So, she put it under the center of the cake and the cake looked perfect. She decorated 

it bright yellow and took it to the bake sale. Then she stuck around until the bake sale 

started. 

She was the first in line when the doors opened.   She smiled to herself about how clever 

she was. But then there was a terrifying horror crawling up from within her. She looked 

at every single table there was no yellow cake! Someone had snuck in before the sale and 

purchased it. The helpers couldn’t remember who had purchased it either because there 

was so much going on. 

She went home and felt absolutely horrible. That was it.   They would find the toilet 

paper in the cake, trace it back to her, and ban her from ever cooking ever again. 

Mrs. Billings didn’t have a whole lot of time to dwell on her problem. She was going to a 

reception that the Mayor’s wife was holding, and she was already a little late. 

When she got there, Mrs. Billings almost died right where she stood, because there, at the 

center of a brilliantly decorated table, was her bright, yellow cake. She debated all of her 

options: grab the cake and run, change her name and move to Tahiti, call in a bomb 

threat, or tell the hostess. It was a dead tie between calling in a bomb threat and telling 

the hostess, when she decided to muster up the courage to tell the Mayor’s wife of the 

horrors that awaited her inside the yellow cake. 

As Mrs. Billings got up to tell the hostess about the cake, she overheard someone 

complimenting the mayor’s wife. "That is simply the most beautiful cake I have ever 

seen!" To which the Mayor’s wife replied, "Thank you, I made it myself." Mrs. 

Billings then sat down and enjoyed her fruit salad. 

Am I Awake Yet?

Last night when I was reading my grandson to sleep, he couldn't bear to part with his big jeep. I promised that as soon as he was awake again, he would get to play with it. I was there when he woke up this mornng, and he scrambled joyfully to a sitting position, as he does most mornings. He said, "I get to play with my jeep when I wake up?" I said yeah. He looked around and said, "Did I wake up yet?" and it struck me that this is the most important question we need to ask ourselves every day.


-Anne Lamott

Back to Basics

Arguably, Bill Russell of Boston was the greatest basketball player of all time. Certainly, leading his Celtics to eleven world championships in thirteen seasons is a record that will never be equaled.
Once in the deciding game of the NBA Championship Series, the Boston big man stepped to the line for a pair of crucial free throws. The crowd hushed. If Russell made the two shots, the Celtics would again be on their way to another championship.

As he was about to shoot, one of his teammates came over and whispered something to the giant center. Russell grinned, then sank both free throws, and again the Boston Celtics were champions of the world. After the game, a reporter asked Larry Siegfried what he had said to Russell at the free throw line. The Celtic guard replied, "Well, sometimes Russ forgets to bend his knees. I just reminded him that he needed to do that." Forgets to bend his knees!

There is nothing more basic to shooting free throws than the bending of one's knees. The greatest basketball player who ever lived had to be reminded of one of the elementary basics of his game?
Amazing! Back to basics! Not a bad strategy!
 
[Gary L. Carver - http://www.sermonsuite.com/free.php?i=788016270&key=Tuxs3xzacxv2eYqs]