The Red Velvet Chair

I once went to visit a family who had just returned from out of town. John's dad had died. His father was quite elderly and death was not a surprise. As I stepped inside their home into a spacious foyer, there in the middle of the floor sat a red velvet chair and a few small boxes of keepsakes.

As John took my coat he said, "We just got home and I unloaded the car. This was dad's favorite chair."

John's dad was a man I knew and had the opportunity to visit with on several occasions. He was a man of faith. He worked hard his whole life and was a great husband and father. He had owned a large home and a business. His wife had died ten years earlier and he had spent the last few years in an assisted-living setting and finally, in a nursing home.

As I sat visiting with John and his wife, I thought about the red velvet chair and the few boxes in the foyer. That was what was left. That was all. But, of course, I was wrong; there was so much more. There were the memories. There was faith shared with his family and lived out by being a businessman of integrity. There was the living example of fifty years of faithful marriage and being a great dad to his children.

The size of the pile in the foyer did not matter. It would have made no difference if John would have had to use a semi to haul all of his dad's belongings. It would not have mattered if there had been a house, a cabin and a winter place in a warm climate. When death comes, possessions are not what is important.

I can see John's dad sitting in the red velvet chair. I can see the gentle smile on his face. I can hear the kind and affirming words coming from his mouth.

He knew there was more to life than possessions. He knew the good news of Jesus. He lived the good news. I will remember that and so will John. The red velvet chair might be around for several more years and the contents of a few boxes might be treasured by future generations, but the life lived in Christ is what really matters.

As we prayed it was in thankfulness for a life lived, a life shared and healing for those that would grieve. The red velvet chair was not included.

[Told by Rev. Gary L. Langness]

Descent into the Maelstrom

The fishing between the islands offshore of one particular spot on the Norwegian coastline was especially good, but of all the fisherman in the area, only two brothers ever dared to fish there. For twice every day between the islands and the shore, a horrendous whirlpool some half-mile in diameter would form and suck down every object or living thing that came within several miles of it. People called it “The Great Maelstrom.”

One day these two brothers, sure of perfect weather, set sail to the islands, enjoyed a marvelous catch, and then headed home well before the pool was to form. Suddenly, however, the winds changed, standing them. Before they could row back to the islands a hurricane wind was upon them, tossing them wildly about and snapping their mainsail’s mast.

The younger brother clung to a ring bolt at the front of the boat and the elder brother grabbed an empty barrel that was lashed to the back. They rode this way for some time. Suddenly, as they crested a wave, they saw that their tiny boat was heading straight toward the forming pool. In his terror the elder brother at the back lunged and forced the ring bolt from his brother’s hand. This brother did not contest the other’s fear but went to the back and held on to the water cask.

Finally the inevitable moment came and the tiny ship careened into the whirlpool. The younger brother closed his eyes, said a prayer, and waited for certain death. After a moment however, when death hadn’t come, he opened his eyes to find that the boat had not fallen into the abyss but was hanging on the edge of the pool, riding around and around, going slowly down.

Looking up at the sides of the pool and knowing now that death was inevitable, his fear all but left him. He began to notice with fascination that there were many other objects in the pool - trees, boats, furniture. He began to take interest in the differing speeds with which the objects fell and finally plunged into the swirl. As he watched, a stunning realization was forming in his mind: the lighter, cylindrical objects fell more slowly, while the heavier objects dropped more quickly into the abyss.

This realization set his heart pounding and his mind to racing. He knew that their only hope of surviving was to lash themselves to the empty water cask and throw themselves out of the boat. He motioned to his brother and, using hand signals, explained his plan. But his brother dropped his head and gripped the ring ever harder, choosing the familiarity of his boat over the uncertainty of the waters. At last, resigning him to his fate, the younger brother cut free the water cask, lashed himself to it, and jumped into the cold black wall of the pool.

It was just as he had hoped. His barrel sank but little more while the small boat went steadily down and finally hurtled his poor brother to his death. Soon the pool began to change. The whirl began to slow and the bottom to rise up. It wasn’t long before he found himself again on the surface of the water with the shores of his home in sight.

He was picked up early the next morning by fishermen from his own village. But the fishermen knew him not. For when he had left that morning, his hair had been as black as a raven. When they hauled him in, it was as white as snow.

[from Doorways to the Soul: 52 Wisdom Tales from Around the World, ed. by Elisa Davy Pearman. ISBN: 0-8298-1286-5, p. 77. This story is adapted from “Descent into the Maelstrom” by Edgar Allan Poe. I have enjoyed this book and recommend it for those seeking preaching stories. You can visit the author's website here: http://www.wisdomtales.com/]

Parable of the Blacksmith

Once upon a time there was a blacksmith who worked hard at his trade. The day came for him to die. The angel was sent to him, and much to the angel's surprise he refused to go. He pleaded with the angel to make his case before God, that he was the only blacksmith in the area and it was time for all his neighbors to begin their planting and sowing. He was needed. So the angel pleaded his case before God. he said that the man didn't want to appear ungrateful, and that he was glad to have a place in the kingdom, but could he put off going for a while? And he was left.

About a year or two later the angel came back again with the same message: the Lord was ready to share the fullness of the kingdom with him. Again the man had reservations and said: "A neighbor of mine is seriously ill, and it's time for the harvest. A number of us are trying to save his crops so that his family won't become destitute. Please come back later." And off the angel went again.

Well, it got to be a pattern. Every time the angel came, the blacksmith had one excuse or another. The blacksmith would just shake his head and tell the angel where he was needed and decline. Finally, the blacksmith grew very old, weary and tired. He decided it was time, and so he prayed: "God, if you'd like to send your angel again, I'd be glad to come home now." Immediately the angel appeared, as if from around the corner of the bed. The blacksmith said: "If you still want to take me home, I'm ready to live forever in the kingdom of heaven." And the angel laughed and looked at the blacksmith in delight and surprise and said: "Where do you think you've been all these years?" He was home.

(As told by Megan McKenna in her book, Parables: the Arrows of God.)