E-Mails To Home: What If Paul Had An E-Mail Account?
Stories
Contents
What's Up This Week
"E-Mails to Home: What If Paul Had an E-Mail Account?" by Rick McCracken-Bennett
"Oh, God... Please Don't Make Me Go!" by Rick McCracken-Bennett
"I Say to You, Rise!" by John S. Smylie
What's Up This Week
The theme of this edition of StoryShare is aptly summed up by the Ringo Kid, John Wayne's character in the classic western Stagecoach, when he says: "There are some things a man just can't walk away from." The apostle Paul couldn't just walk away from his experience on the Damascus Road, and in our featured story Rick McCracken-Bennett describes Paul's evolution through the imaginative device of a series of e-mails Paul sends to his parents. Rick also shares the tale of a minister who couldn't walk away from the feeling that God was calling him to serve in a place that wasn't on the approved career track -- yet despite his nagging doubts, a tiny community church is revitalized. And John Smylie recounts how he couldn't walk away from a child's gravesite when there was a problem with the casket and the burial vault -- and how his experience gave him a better understanding of why Jesus might have brought the widow's son back to life.
* * * * * * * * *
E-mails to Home: What If Paul Had an E-mail Account?
Rick McCracken-Bennett
Galatians 1:11-24
TO: Saulsmomanddad@tarsusweb.com
FROM: Saul@phariseenet.com
Dear Mom and Dad:
It was nice of you to tell me the other day how proud you are of me. You know that I wanted to be a Pharisee ever since I was little and worked so hard toward that goal. Remember how I was mentioned in the '07 yearbook? -- "the most likely to succeed" and "most likely to change the world." I try to forget about the people who wrote "most likely to get an ulcer" and "a little too tightly wound for me." They just didn't understand how important it was for me to advance in my religion. One thing that really helped was the Torah on CD that you gave me for graduation. Thanks again!
As you know, I have been very zealous at ridding our synagogues of those heretics. They are a plague on our religion and I am doing everything in my power to destroy them. It shouldn't be too difficult since there aren't that many of them. They'll probably die out on their own, but I don't mind giving them a little help.
I'm going to be on the road the next few days so you probably won't hear from me for a while. I don't think that there are any cyber-cafÈs on the road to Damascus. I'll let you know when I get there.
Love,
Your son Saul (most likely to change the world) of Tarsus
***
TO: Saulsmomanddad@tarsusweb.com
FROM: Ananias316@damascusnet.com
Mom and Dad,
I hope that you opened this e-mail since it came from someone else's account. His name is Ananias and I'm staying with him for a couple of days. I don't know if words can explain what has happened to me. I was coming near to Damascus when a bright light, brighter than the sun at noon, suddenly shined. I fell to the ground and heard a voice, "Saul, why are you persecuting me?" Those who were with me saw the light but didn't hear the voice. I thought that maybe I was having a nervous breakdown from all the stress of persecuting those heretics. I asked who was speaking and he said he was Jesus of Nazareth who I was persecuting. I thought it was a joke at first since, except for those zealous followers of his, everyone else knew that Jesus died long ago. But it sure seemed real. I asked him what I should do and he told me to go on to Damascus. I couldn't see because of the light and someone led me to Ananias. I regained my sight and he told me the most amazing thing: that God had chosen me to see Jesus and hear his voice and be his witness in the world.
Then he asked me what I was waiting for and I arose, was baptized, cleansed from my sins, and stood there praising the name of Jesus whom, to that moment, I had hated with all my heart. I went to the temple in Jerusalem but Jesus told me to leave and go far away. After all, I stood by while their beloved Stephen was killed and I wasn't safe from those I persecuted or even those who I used to work with.
Please don't be mad at me. I know I'm doing the right thing now. And as zealous as I was as a Pharisee, I will be as an apostle.
Your loving son,
Paul (on fire with Jesus) of Tarsus
***
TO: Saulsmomanddad@tarsusweb.com
FROM: Saul@theway.com
Dear Mom and Dad,
Boy, was Arabia a different place! I wasn't there very long and am now back in Damascus. I think I'm going to be here a while. I am studying the scriptures and praying to Jesus and trying to understand this new calling that he has for me. I think he wants me to preach the good news to the Gentiles. Now that's a switch! If there were any people I loathed more than the Christians and the Samaritans, it was those Gentiles. God sure does have a strange sense of humor.
Love,
Paul (something or other to the Gentiles) of Tarsus
***
TO: Saulsmomanddad@tarsusweb.com
FROM: Saul@theway.com
Dear Mom and Dad,
I know it's been a long time since I've written. I went up to Jerusalem last month to talk with Cephas and spent a little over two weeks with him. I also saw the brother of Jesus, James. I'm getting ready to take my new vocation to the next level; I'm headed for the regions of Syria and Cilicia. Even though they wouldn't know me from Adam (or Abraham for that matter), I have to go there to proclaim the good news. After all, none of the other disciples are paying much attention to the Gentiles and I'm certain that Jesus wants me to go there.
Love,
Paul (on the road again) of Tarsus
***
TO: Saulsmomanddad@tarsusweb.com
FROM: Saul@theway.com
Mom and Dad,
Just a quick note since I'm spending an awful lot of time writing to these churches all over the place. It seems that my reputation has preceded me. I am now known as "the one who formerly was persecuting them is now proclaiming the faith he once tried to destroy." That's a mouthful, but it sure is better than other things I've been called like "most likely to get an ulcer" and "a little too tightly wound for me." Well, I must be off.
With all my love I am,
Paul (the one who formerly was persecuting them is now proclaiming the faith he once tried to destroy) of Tarsus
Oh God... Please Don't Make Me Go!
1 Kings 17:8-16
John was reluctantly beginning to sense that his time at First Church was drawing to a close. Reluctantly, because he loved the church, he loved the people, he loved the work they did in the community in Christ's name -- and because, he had to admit, he could do his work in his sleep.
And that was probably it... that he realized that he hadn't done anything new there, preached any new word, or led the church into a new vision of God's call to them in a very long time. He had told others facing the same situation that churches need different gifts at different parts of their life cycle. He really believed that, but only when it applied to others. Certainly he had the gifts necessary for the next phase of life at First Church. Or if he didn't, he could learn them.
Still, it was bothering him enough that he took Bill, a lay leader in the congregation, to breakfast to tell him what was on his mind. "So you're thinking you might be called to go somewhere else -- probably some bigger, better place in your mind," said Bill. "You know, I would believe in this 'calling' business a little more if just one of you took a 'call' that paid you less than the place you were leaving!"
Maybe it was Bill's criticism or maybe it was really the call of God -- but John took a call to a little, dying church in a little, dying community. The pay cut was one thing, the loss of other benefits still another, but the biggest loss of all was the loss of prestige.
Being the pastor of First Church came with many perks -- Rotary Club membership, a golf membership at the country club, a seat on the United Way board. Now the most he received was a clergy discount at the mom and pop restaurant in town. It was also quite a blow to be used to preaching to 850 people and now to be preaching to 45 or 50 on a good Sunday.
The village of his new little church was soul-sick and very, very tired. The closing of the wheel bearing plant drove many out of town, and the drought that had lasted for several years now threatened to bankrupt just about everybody else.
Every night John would pray that God would reveal to him why he was sent to this God-forsaken place. Was he only here to officiate over the burial of the church and maybe even the town? Was he being tested? And even though he knew better, he asked God what he had done to offend God and deserve this.
The only thing he thought he heard back was "love them." That was it, just "love them."
The folks there were generous and asked him over to dinner just about every night of the week. Certainly they didn't have enough money to put on such a meal, but each and every one was a meal fit for a king. And the collection -- it was not what you would expect. Nothing like First Church, mind you, but generous. You might call it the "widow's mite." And John did love them and plead to God for them, and asked them to sacrifice for those less fortunate.
Before his first year was out, the church had stocked a pantry for those in need, served breakfast each weekday for the elderly, and begun an after-school tutoring program. All John kept saying was, "We need to do the work God has given us to do. God will provide. God will take care of us." He said it even when he himself had a hard time believing it.
The funny thing is, John's new church didn't die. As they sacrificed so dearly so that others would not have to suffer as much, God richly blessed them.
On Rogation Day, John and 30 or so of his parishioners went around the village and their part of the county blessing the fields, praying for seasonable weather. Specifically, they were praying for rain. Farmers would get off their tractors and join in the prayers. They had to believe that their God would save them. If he didn't... well, if God didn't, the outcome would be worse than most could bear.
In June, after all the crops had been planted, the rain began; a slow, soaking, wonderful rain that lasted for several days and then returned every few days or so. People declared that it was a miracle. Perhaps it was. But the bigger miracle was that John's faith was strengthened each and every day as he remembered the great works God had done in the lives of those people.
Oh yes... the church grew, too. It never became huge in size, but it became large enough for them to double their efforts to serve those in need with what they themselves had been given. The drought was truly over.
Rick McCracken-Bennett is an avid storyteller, an Episcopal priest and church planter, and the founding pastor of All Saints Episcopal Church in New Albany, Ohio. Rick began his ministry as a Roman Catholic priest, and he has also served as an alcohol and drug treatment counselor and as the director of an outpatient treatment center for adults and children.
I Say to You, Rise!
John S. Smylie
Luke 7:11-17
If only I had the power at all times to do what Jesus did. Most of us who have served in ministry somewhere along the way have been confronted with the death of the child. The tension around such funerals feels to me much greater than the tension around those who die in a more timely fashion. There is usually an intensity of grief that is felt by all who gather -- from family and friends to those conducting the worship service as well as those who are there simply to support the living.
When I was serving in Hamburg, New York, a young child, a girl no more than five years old, had died a tragic death due to a fierce cancer. I did not have the power within me nor did the community have the power within it to stop this death, nor did we have the ability to bring her back. What we could do was comfort the family, commend her to God, grieve with one another, offer hospitality, and simply seek to be faithful without saying thoughtless platitudes to those who were most intensely experiencing this deep loss.
As is often the case with the death of a child, the church was packed for the service. The emotion of the service was almost overwhelming, as we sang together children's hymns like "Jesus Loves Me" and read the Gospel text about Jesus welcoming little children. We had faith that this little one was with the Lord, and yet at the same time we grieved that she was not with us.
It was a cold winter day, and when the service concluded all of us bundled up and went out to our cars so we could travel together in a lengthy procession to the rural cemetery where she would be buried. After the committal service, the family and friends went on to gather for a reception in the child's honor -- a time designed to care for one another. After the cars drove off, the men who lower the casket into the vault and later cover it with dirt came to the graveside. I was moved to stay behind until the child would be lowered into the ground, and I was glad that I did.
The vault (into which the casket is lowered) that had been ordered was just a bit too small for the casket to fit into. The men at the graveyard began discussing with one another what they would and could do. They began talking about removing some of the fixtures from the ends of the casket. They also thought they could chip away at the cover and force the casket inside the vault. When they got their tools out (including a hacksaw), I told them that this was not acceptable -- they needed to order another vault, and I would stay with the body until the vault arrived and they could lower the unblemished casket to its resting place. They were not pleased with me, and yet I think they knew that this was the right thing to do.
Most of us have not been gifted with the ability to raise the dead. There is one who has that ability, and we put our trust in Him. Nevertheless, each of us does have the ability to do the right thing. Even if we've gotten off on the wrong track, even if we choose convenience over righteousness, we can always turn around. The gentlemen at the gravesite turned around when they were confronted with their own selfishness.
I wonder what was going on inside of Jesus the day that he called the young man back to life. No doubt this could have been a full-time vocation for him had he decided to make raising the dead the sole purpose of his ministry while on earth. The good news for us is that through his death and resurrection we too are raised to eternal life with Him.
It wasn't my plan to stand out in the bitter cold wind next to a little child's coffin for several hours as I waited for the vault to arrive, but I can't think of a way that I could have been more faithful -- and I find myself thankful that God put the thought in me to stay with the casket until it was lowered in the ground. I think in that way our Lord himself was watching over that child, and it was in that experience that I learned a deep and important lesson as a minister of His. Through that experience I learned to always stay with the one who has died until the body is buried. I remember wondering if it would be all right to be a mere 15 yards away from the casket and warm myself up in the car, turning it on for a few minutes. I knew I felt better outside in the bitter wind next to the casket than I did inside my car with the heater blasting.
I don't believe Jesus performed the miracle of raising the young man to life so that those around him would recognize him as a great prophet. Rather, I think he did this miracle because something in him was moved by the intensity of grief in a mother who lost her only son. Perhaps we see in this story a foretaste of our Lord's own compassion toward his own mother, who would be broken and deeply wounded by the brutal death of her own son.
It's likely that all of us will struggle whenever a child dies, yet in this text we can find hope -- for though we may not see the results of resurrection in our time, we can continue to trust that our Lord says to all of the children who die untimely deaths, in fact, to all who believe in Him, "I say to you, rise!"
John S. Smylie is the rector of St. Mark's Episcopal Church in Casper, Wyoming. Previously he served as the dean of the Cathedral of St. John the Evangelist in Spokane, Washington. He is a published author and storyteller as well as a singer-songwriter. Smylie recently completed Grace for Today, a collection of 25 stories that explores how grace, loss, and restoration are part of the same fabric.
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StoryShare, June 10, 2007, issue.
Copyright 2007 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
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What's Up This Week
"E-Mails to Home: What If Paul Had an E-Mail Account?" by Rick McCracken-Bennett
"Oh, God... Please Don't Make Me Go!" by Rick McCracken-Bennett
"I Say to You, Rise!" by John S. Smylie
What's Up This Week
The theme of this edition of StoryShare is aptly summed up by the Ringo Kid, John Wayne's character in the classic western Stagecoach, when he says: "There are some things a man just can't walk away from." The apostle Paul couldn't just walk away from his experience on the Damascus Road, and in our featured story Rick McCracken-Bennett describes Paul's evolution through the imaginative device of a series of e-mails Paul sends to his parents. Rick also shares the tale of a minister who couldn't walk away from the feeling that God was calling him to serve in a place that wasn't on the approved career track -- yet despite his nagging doubts, a tiny community church is revitalized. And John Smylie recounts how he couldn't walk away from a child's gravesite when there was a problem with the casket and the burial vault -- and how his experience gave him a better understanding of why Jesus might have brought the widow's son back to life.
* * * * * * * * *
E-mails to Home: What If Paul Had an E-mail Account?
Rick McCracken-Bennett
Galatians 1:11-24
TO: Saulsmomanddad@tarsusweb.com
FROM: Saul@phariseenet.com
Dear Mom and Dad:
It was nice of you to tell me the other day how proud you are of me. You know that I wanted to be a Pharisee ever since I was little and worked so hard toward that goal. Remember how I was mentioned in the '07 yearbook? -- "the most likely to succeed" and "most likely to change the world." I try to forget about the people who wrote "most likely to get an ulcer" and "a little too tightly wound for me." They just didn't understand how important it was for me to advance in my religion. One thing that really helped was the Torah on CD that you gave me for graduation. Thanks again!
As you know, I have been very zealous at ridding our synagogues of those heretics. They are a plague on our religion and I am doing everything in my power to destroy them. It shouldn't be too difficult since there aren't that many of them. They'll probably die out on their own, but I don't mind giving them a little help.
I'm going to be on the road the next few days so you probably won't hear from me for a while. I don't think that there are any cyber-cafÈs on the road to Damascus. I'll let you know when I get there.
Love,
Your son Saul (most likely to change the world) of Tarsus
***
TO: Saulsmomanddad@tarsusweb.com
FROM: Ananias316@damascusnet.com
Mom and Dad,
I hope that you opened this e-mail since it came from someone else's account. His name is Ananias and I'm staying with him for a couple of days. I don't know if words can explain what has happened to me. I was coming near to Damascus when a bright light, brighter than the sun at noon, suddenly shined. I fell to the ground and heard a voice, "Saul, why are you persecuting me?" Those who were with me saw the light but didn't hear the voice. I thought that maybe I was having a nervous breakdown from all the stress of persecuting those heretics. I asked who was speaking and he said he was Jesus of Nazareth who I was persecuting. I thought it was a joke at first since, except for those zealous followers of his, everyone else knew that Jesus died long ago. But it sure seemed real. I asked him what I should do and he told me to go on to Damascus. I couldn't see because of the light and someone led me to Ananias. I regained my sight and he told me the most amazing thing: that God had chosen me to see Jesus and hear his voice and be his witness in the world.
Then he asked me what I was waiting for and I arose, was baptized, cleansed from my sins, and stood there praising the name of Jesus whom, to that moment, I had hated with all my heart. I went to the temple in Jerusalem but Jesus told me to leave and go far away. After all, I stood by while their beloved Stephen was killed and I wasn't safe from those I persecuted or even those who I used to work with.
Please don't be mad at me. I know I'm doing the right thing now. And as zealous as I was as a Pharisee, I will be as an apostle.
Your loving son,
Paul (on fire with Jesus) of Tarsus
***
TO: Saulsmomanddad@tarsusweb.com
FROM: Saul@theway.com
Dear Mom and Dad,
Boy, was Arabia a different place! I wasn't there very long and am now back in Damascus. I think I'm going to be here a while. I am studying the scriptures and praying to Jesus and trying to understand this new calling that he has for me. I think he wants me to preach the good news to the Gentiles. Now that's a switch! If there were any people I loathed more than the Christians and the Samaritans, it was those Gentiles. God sure does have a strange sense of humor.
Love,
Paul (something or other to the Gentiles) of Tarsus
***
TO: Saulsmomanddad@tarsusweb.com
FROM: Saul@theway.com
Dear Mom and Dad,
I know it's been a long time since I've written. I went up to Jerusalem last month to talk with Cephas and spent a little over two weeks with him. I also saw the brother of Jesus, James. I'm getting ready to take my new vocation to the next level; I'm headed for the regions of Syria and Cilicia. Even though they wouldn't know me from Adam (or Abraham for that matter), I have to go there to proclaim the good news. After all, none of the other disciples are paying much attention to the Gentiles and I'm certain that Jesus wants me to go there.
Love,
Paul (on the road again) of Tarsus
***
TO: Saulsmomanddad@tarsusweb.com
FROM: Saul@theway.com
Mom and Dad,
Just a quick note since I'm spending an awful lot of time writing to these churches all over the place. It seems that my reputation has preceded me. I am now known as "the one who formerly was persecuting them is now proclaiming the faith he once tried to destroy." That's a mouthful, but it sure is better than other things I've been called like "most likely to get an ulcer" and "a little too tightly wound for me." Well, I must be off.
With all my love I am,
Paul (the one who formerly was persecuting them is now proclaiming the faith he once tried to destroy) of Tarsus
Oh God... Please Don't Make Me Go!
1 Kings 17:8-16
John was reluctantly beginning to sense that his time at First Church was drawing to a close. Reluctantly, because he loved the church, he loved the people, he loved the work they did in the community in Christ's name -- and because, he had to admit, he could do his work in his sleep.
And that was probably it... that he realized that he hadn't done anything new there, preached any new word, or led the church into a new vision of God's call to them in a very long time. He had told others facing the same situation that churches need different gifts at different parts of their life cycle. He really believed that, but only when it applied to others. Certainly he had the gifts necessary for the next phase of life at First Church. Or if he didn't, he could learn them.
Still, it was bothering him enough that he took Bill, a lay leader in the congregation, to breakfast to tell him what was on his mind. "So you're thinking you might be called to go somewhere else -- probably some bigger, better place in your mind," said Bill. "You know, I would believe in this 'calling' business a little more if just one of you took a 'call' that paid you less than the place you were leaving!"
Maybe it was Bill's criticism or maybe it was really the call of God -- but John took a call to a little, dying church in a little, dying community. The pay cut was one thing, the loss of other benefits still another, but the biggest loss of all was the loss of prestige.
Being the pastor of First Church came with many perks -- Rotary Club membership, a golf membership at the country club, a seat on the United Way board. Now the most he received was a clergy discount at the mom and pop restaurant in town. It was also quite a blow to be used to preaching to 850 people and now to be preaching to 45 or 50 on a good Sunday.
The village of his new little church was soul-sick and very, very tired. The closing of the wheel bearing plant drove many out of town, and the drought that had lasted for several years now threatened to bankrupt just about everybody else.
Every night John would pray that God would reveal to him why he was sent to this God-forsaken place. Was he only here to officiate over the burial of the church and maybe even the town? Was he being tested? And even though he knew better, he asked God what he had done to offend God and deserve this.
The only thing he thought he heard back was "love them." That was it, just "love them."
The folks there were generous and asked him over to dinner just about every night of the week. Certainly they didn't have enough money to put on such a meal, but each and every one was a meal fit for a king. And the collection -- it was not what you would expect. Nothing like First Church, mind you, but generous. You might call it the "widow's mite." And John did love them and plead to God for them, and asked them to sacrifice for those less fortunate.
Before his first year was out, the church had stocked a pantry for those in need, served breakfast each weekday for the elderly, and begun an after-school tutoring program. All John kept saying was, "We need to do the work God has given us to do. God will provide. God will take care of us." He said it even when he himself had a hard time believing it.
The funny thing is, John's new church didn't die. As they sacrificed so dearly so that others would not have to suffer as much, God richly blessed them.
On Rogation Day, John and 30 or so of his parishioners went around the village and their part of the county blessing the fields, praying for seasonable weather. Specifically, they were praying for rain. Farmers would get off their tractors and join in the prayers. They had to believe that their God would save them. If he didn't... well, if God didn't, the outcome would be worse than most could bear.
In June, after all the crops had been planted, the rain began; a slow, soaking, wonderful rain that lasted for several days and then returned every few days or so. People declared that it was a miracle. Perhaps it was. But the bigger miracle was that John's faith was strengthened each and every day as he remembered the great works God had done in the lives of those people.
Oh yes... the church grew, too. It never became huge in size, but it became large enough for them to double their efforts to serve those in need with what they themselves had been given. The drought was truly over.
Rick McCracken-Bennett is an avid storyteller, an Episcopal priest and church planter, and the founding pastor of All Saints Episcopal Church in New Albany, Ohio. Rick began his ministry as a Roman Catholic priest, and he has also served as an alcohol and drug treatment counselor and as the director of an outpatient treatment center for adults and children.
I Say to You, Rise!
John S. Smylie
Luke 7:11-17
If only I had the power at all times to do what Jesus did. Most of us who have served in ministry somewhere along the way have been confronted with the death of the child. The tension around such funerals feels to me much greater than the tension around those who die in a more timely fashion. There is usually an intensity of grief that is felt by all who gather -- from family and friends to those conducting the worship service as well as those who are there simply to support the living.
When I was serving in Hamburg, New York, a young child, a girl no more than five years old, had died a tragic death due to a fierce cancer. I did not have the power within me nor did the community have the power within it to stop this death, nor did we have the ability to bring her back. What we could do was comfort the family, commend her to God, grieve with one another, offer hospitality, and simply seek to be faithful without saying thoughtless platitudes to those who were most intensely experiencing this deep loss.
As is often the case with the death of a child, the church was packed for the service. The emotion of the service was almost overwhelming, as we sang together children's hymns like "Jesus Loves Me" and read the Gospel text about Jesus welcoming little children. We had faith that this little one was with the Lord, and yet at the same time we grieved that she was not with us.
It was a cold winter day, and when the service concluded all of us bundled up and went out to our cars so we could travel together in a lengthy procession to the rural cemetery where she would be buried. After the committal service, the family and friends went on to gather for a reception in the child's honor -- a time designed to care for one another. After the cars drove off, the men who lower the casket into the vault and later cover it with dirt came to the graveside. I was moved to stay behind until the child would be lowered into the ground, and I was glad that I did.
The vault (into which the casket is lowered) that had been ordered was just a bit too small for the casket to fit into. The men at the graveyard began discussing with one another what they would and could do. They began talking about removing some of the fixtures from the ends of the casket. They also thought they could chip away at the cover and force the casket inside the vault. When they got their tools out (including a hacksaw), I told them that this was not acceptable -- they needed to order another vault, and I would stay with the body until the vault arrived and they could lower the unblemished casket to its resting place. They were not pleased with me, and yet I think they knew that this was the right thing to do.
Most of us have not been gifted with the ability to raise the dead. There is one who has that ability, and we put our trust in Him. Nevertheless, each of us does have the ability to do the right thing. Even if we've gotten off on the wrong track, even if we choose convenience over righteousness, we can always turn around. The gentlemen at the gravesite turned around when they were confronted with their own selfishness.
I wonder what was going on inside of Jesus the day that he called the young man back to life. No doubt this could have been a full-time vocation for him had he decided to make raising the dead the sole purpose of his ministry while on earth. The good news for us is that through his death and resurrection we too are raised to eternal life with Him.
It wasn't my plan to stand out in the bitter cold wind next to a little child's coffin for several hours as I waited for the vault to arrive, but I can't think of a way that I could have been more faithful -- and I find myself thankful that God put the thought in me to stay with the casket until it was lowered in the ground. I think in that way our Lord himself was watching over that child, and it was in that experience that I learned a deep and important lesson as a minister of His. Through that experience I learned to always stay with the one who has died until the body is buried. I remember wondering if it would be all right to be a mere 15 yards away from the casket and warm myself up in the car, turning it on for a few minutes. I knew I felt better outside in the bitter wind next to the casket than I did inside my car with the heater blasting.
I don't believe Jesus performed the miracle of raising the young man to life so that those around him would recognize him as a great prophet. Rather, I think he did this miracle because something in him was moved by the intensity of grief in a mother who lost her only son. Perhaps we see in this story a foretaste of our Lord's own compassion toward his own mother, who would be broken and deeply wounded by the brutal death of her own son.
It's likely that all of us will struggle whenever a child dies, yet in this text we can find hope -- for though we may not see the results of resurrection in our time, we can continue to trust that our Lord says to all of the children who die untimely deaths, in fact, to all who believe in Him, "I say to you, rise!"
John S. Smylie is the rector of St. Mark's Episcopal Church in Casper, Wyoming. Previously he served as the dean of the Cathedral of St. John the Evangelist in Spokane, Washington. He is a published author and storyteller as well as a singer-songwriter. Smylie recently completed Grace for Today, a collection of 25 stories that explores how grace, loss, and restoration are part of the same fabric.
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StoryShare, June 10, 2007, issue.
Copyright 2007 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
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