Commercial Break
Stories
56 Stories For Preaching
Like the product it advertised, the commercial seemed to keep
going, and going. He wished he had such endless energy. As it
was, he wasn't sure how much longer he could continue. He knew he
shouldn't be watching television with so many other things
demanding his time. That was why he was doing it, to escape. For
this one hour he wouldn't have to make any decisions, settle any
arguments or concern himself with how they were going to pay for
the kids' braces if he couldn't continue to keep up with the
demands made by two jobs and a growing family.
He always did this when things got overwhelming. The
television offered a few moments of mindless escape -- except
during the commercials, and this one seemed endless. Commercials
tended to jerk him back to the very reality he was trying to
avoid: Consumerism! It was consuming him.
He had really believed in the fairytale, the one in which a
man grew up, took a wife, had children and supported the family
on an adequate income from an enjoyable job with regular hours
which left him plenty of time for recreation. What a joke!
He worked nonstop and came home exhausted to find the children
ready to tear each other limb from limb for no apparent reason
beyond sibling rivalry, in the midst of which his wife, exhausted
from work herself, was trying to get dinner on the table so they
could all sit down to "a nice family meal."
As the commercial droned on he felt the all-too-familiar
shortness of breath and racing pulse that preceded panic. "No,"
he told himself. "Not this time. I'm not going to live like this
anymore."
The sudden sound of his own words startled him. He was too
surprised to notice the commercial had finally ended. Lost in
thought, he considered the possibilities. For too many years he
had been functioning automatically, avoiding thinking, filling
his days and nights with too much work, trying to make ends meet.
But did braces for the kids really matter? Did the family
really need a house this large? He began to look around the room,
seeing its furnishings from a new perspective. A familiar book on
the end table caught his eye. He hadn't bothered to open it in a
long time.
As he picked up the Bible he realized thinking was not the
only thing he had been avoiding in his life. When he'd taken the
second job, church attendance had been one of the first things to
go. He couldn't remember the last time he had bothered to pray.
Somehow his priorities had gotten confused, and his family was
paying a high price. He knew it wouldn't be easy to change. He
had become used to a certain standard of living. But he was dying
in the process of maintaining it and hardly knew his family
because he didn't have time or energy to spend with them.
Tonight he realized with a degree of certainty he'd not
experienced in years that there was more to life than these
material things he had been so intent upon possessing. "God," he
thought tentatively, "It's me, Sam. We haven't talked in too long
..."
going, and going. He wished he had such endless energy. As it
was, he wasn't sure how much longer he could continue. He knew he
shouldn't be watching television with so many other things
demanding his time. That was why he was doing it, to escape. For
this one hour he wouldn't have to make any decisions, settle any
arguments or concern himself with how they were going to pay for
the kids' braces if he couldn't continue to keep up with the
demands made by two jobs and a growing family.
He always did this when things got overwhelming. The
television offered a few moments of mindless escape -- except
during the commercials, and this one seemed endless. Commercials
tended to jerk him back to the very reality he was trying to
avoid: Consumerism! It was consuming him.
He had really believed in the fairytale, the one in which a
man grew up, took a wife, had children and supported the family
on an adequate income from an enjoyable job with regular hours
which left him plenty of time for recreation. What a joke!
He worked nonstop and came home exhausted to find the children
ready to tear each other limb from limb for no apparent reason
beyond sibling rivalry, in the midst of which his wife, exhausted
from work herself, was trying to get dinner on the table so they
could all sit down to "a nice family meal."
As the commercial droned on he felt the all-too-familiar
shortness of breath and racing pulse that preceded panic. "No,"
he told himself. "Not this time. I'm not going to live like this
anymore."
The sudden sound of his own words startled him. He was too
surprised to notice the commercial had finally ended. Lost in
thought, he considered the possibilities. For too many years he
had been functioning automatically, avoiding thinking, filling
his days and nights with too much work, trying to make ends meet.
But did braces for the kids really matter? Did the family
really need a house this large? He began to look around the room,
seeing its furnishings from a new perspective. A familiar book on
the end table caught his eye. He hadn't bothered to open it in a
long time.
As he picked up the Bible he realized thinking was not the
only thing he had been avoiding in his life. When he'd taken the
second job, church attendance had been one of the first things to
go. He couldn't remember the last time he had bothered to pray.
Somehow his priorities had gotten confused, and his family was
paying a high price. He knew it wouldn't be easy to change. He
had become used to a certain standard of living. But he was dying
in the process of maintaining it and hardly knew his family
because he didn't have time or energy to spend with them.
Tonight he realized with a degree of certainty he'd not
experienced in years that there was more to life than these
material things he had been so intent upon possessing. "God," he
thought tentatively, "It's me, Sam. We haven't talked in too long
..."
