Mall Meeting
Sermon
Gospel Subplots
Story Sermons Of God's Grace
Joan Detlef slammed the screen door behind her. If the door were real glass instead of plexiglass, it would have shattered all over the front porch. Joan wished it had. She said out loud, "This time it's for good. This time I leave for good." She threw her suitcase in the back seat, slammed the big sedan into reverse, and roared away. She and Bill had stopped yelling half an hour before, but she was still fuming, raging, never so angry in her life. Never so hurt in her life. Never. Bill had retreated from their argument, and simply walked out the back door to the garden to pull weeds. Joan tossed a few clothes into her suitcase. Scribbled on a piece of paper and put it on his pillow, "I'm leaving you."
She drove slapping her right hand hard upon the seat and swearing, then took turns driving with one hand, smashing her other fist into the dashboard and against the steering wheel. She was weeping and screaming as she heard tires screech and a horn honk, and she glanced up to realize that she was running a red light. With one vigorous yank on the wheel she steered her car away from the braking truck on her right. She drove to the curb and parked. She was either hyperventilating or not breathing at all. She was not sure -- but she had nearly fainted. She should not be driving, she told herself. Just as bad as driving drunk. Yet she could not go home, and she did not want to go to any of her friends' houses, and she certainly was not comfortable sitting in the car next to an intersection. It made no difference that she had packed her bag. She had left her house being certain only of her departure, not of her destination.
Southgate Mall was three blocks away. Sometimes in the winter when the sidewalks were too dangerous for walking, she and Bill went into the mall "to hoof around," Bill said. So in desperation she drove to the mall's lot, parked, and walked into the building to try to calm her anger by walking. It did not work.
Joan walked as angrily as she drove. Her mind was still back at the house with Bill, arguing with him. They argued over money, always did. For five years they had lived in their new home -- new to them, anyway. Built in 1971, it had a beautiful view from the highest hill in town. But that was when and why the arguing began. The house still had its original carpets. The carpets were very good quality, but they were worn now, with the frayed spots and holes covered with a series of throw rugs. Joan wanted new carpets; but Bill had held out for a four-wheel drive pick-up to be able to get up the hill in the icy winters. They never agreed.
Today Bill drove in with a four-wheel drive pick-up. All he said to Joan as she stood open-mouthed was, "We needed it, and Harry offered me his for eleven thousand. It's a better price than I'd get in winter when prices go up for four-wheel drives."
"You what?" Joan had screamed. "My carpet ... " And it went downhill from there. Joan remembered every word: he about practicality instead of beauty, she about home instead of transportation. Joan tramped around the mall, eyes fixed, jaw tight, heels hitting hard every step. "If I ever talk to him again, I'll start by calling him a spoiled child who always wants his own way. That's what I should have said, 'You're a child who wants his toy instead of a husband who cares about his wife.' "
Joan continued her rapid pace, with a fixed stare, noticing no one, only moving mechanically around people in her way, as though everyone was an opposite pole to her magnet.
"Joan." Just ahead of her and to the left was Ann Betteford. Ann grabbed her arm, "Joan, are you all right?"
Joan focused her eyes. She had come to the mall deciding to talk to no one, but here was Ann who had a ghastly look on her face, asking if she was all right. Did Joan look so obviously upset? Ann and Joan were in a discussion class at church, but they did not know one another well. Yet Ann looked so upset by Joan's appearance that she blurted right out, "I'm leaving Bill. I've got my suitcase in the car, but I'm too mad to drive."
She started to cry. Ann looked around. They were standing in front of a coffee shop. She said, "Let's go in and order a cappuccino."
Joan did not answer, just turned and submissively followed the suggestion. As near as either could tell they talked close to two hours with very little coffee drunk. Ann did not say much, merely listened as Joan retold the argument again and again, and explained the five years' recurring disagreements. Ann said, "Uh huh," or "I understand," or "I know what you mean." But that was about it. After an hour Joan began to calm down, partly because anger took so much energy and partly because Ann was so attentive. Ann offered little advice until finally she said, "If I were you, Joan, I'd pray and try talking to Bill again." By that time, Joan had already decided that that was what she would do. And so they parted with a hug and Ann promising to pray for her.
When Joan arrived home she walked through the house and saw Bill still weeding in the garden. Joan did not know what she would say, how to start, how to explain her feelings without attacking Bill. She looked out the window at her husband of thirty years and told herself that yes, she was going to try again.
This was certainly not the end of the problem. But she had a quiet assurance that this would be the beginning toward an end. Before she walked outside to the garden, she went to the bedroom, took from Bill's pillow the paper upon which she'd written, "I'm leaving you," crumpled it, and threw it in the garbage can.
* * *
Twenty-three blocks away Ann Batteford drove into her garage and pressed the remote to close the door behind her. She turned off the engine and sat with her head on her hands on the steering wheel. She was weeping. She had left the house three hours before, shrieking at Jim. She had raced the car down their street with her arms flailing, screaming to the heavens. She had nearly scared herself out of her skin when she had seen that she was driving 45 miles an hour in a residential zone. She was too angry to drive and knew it. Almost disabled by rage she had driven to the mall. Sometimes in the past she had considered shopping as therapy, and maybe now she could walk around and cool down. But she had not. All she could do was replay the fight with Jim, think of the things she should have said, and rehearse what she was going to say, given the chance again.
It came to her that she should pray about her anger, but she frankly admitted to herself that she was too angry to pray. Yet even getting near a prayer is getting near God. That slight thought was a crack through which the breath of God's Spirit blew freshness into her soul. And then she spotted Joan walking towards her, staring off to nowhere, eyes red from crying. Ann had been overcome with Joan's need. No matter what she herself was going through, Ann's heart went out to Joan, all because something had happened in Ann with that small admission that she should pray. The Spirit of the risen Lord Jesus made a frontal assault with love. So Ann found herself responding to the need of another person and forgetting about her own difficulties. Within her was the Spirit of Jesus; and thus, no matter the circumstances, she now lived as he lived, putting the needs of others above her own.
Jesus did it naturally; it was his nature, every day, as predictable as law. Maybe he could not have stopped himself if he had tried. He would love and care for others and trust God to care for him no matter how bad the circumstances. It was so much who Jesus was that on the cross he did the same thing -- cared for others more than himself. It is what his entire life and death were about.
Therefore, Ann, walking in the mall or sitting in her car in the garage, was overcome by someone whose love was so strong it can change us from being concerned only about ourselves to being concerned about others, whose love helps us trust God to take care of us no matter how difficult the situation.
Ann prayed for Joan and Bill as she promised she would, then finally and fully prayed for Jim and herself. She retrieved her suitcase from the back seat, got out of the car, and entered the house to look for Jim and try again. She had practiced, and been changed for having done so, what Paul the apostle told the Galatian churches about the Christian lifestyle: "Bear one another's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ."
Discussion Questions
Text: Galatians 6:1-2
1. What immediate responses do you have to the story?
2. If you could have a conversation with one of the characters in this story, which would you speak with and what would you ask or say?
3. Do you identify with any character in the story?
4. Have you been incapacitated by anger? Are you normally angry? What do you usually do to release your anger in a constructive way?
5. How do you feel in the company of angry people? Can you listen to other people's anger without excusing or condemning it?
6. Have you been helped by someone who needed as much help as you did?
7. Have you helped when you believed your resources for helping were depleted?
8. In that Christ rewrites our lives, what from this story would you like to have happen in your life?
She drove slapping her right hand hard upon the seat and swearing, then took turns driving with one hand, smashing her other fist into the dashboard and against the steering wheel. She was weeping and screaming as she heard tires screech and a horn honk, and she glanced up to realize that she was running a red light. With one vigorous yank on the wheel she steered her car away from the braking truck on her right. She drove to the curb and parked. She was either hyperventilating or not breathing at all. She was not sure -- but she had nearly fainted. She should not be driving, she told herself. Just as bad as driving drunk. Yet she could not go home, and she did not want to go to any of her friends' houses, and she certainly was not comfortable sitting in the car next to an intersection. It made no difference that she had packed her bag. She had left her house being certain only of her departure, not of her destination.
Southgate Mall was three blocks away. Sometimes in the winter when the sidewalks were too dangerous for walking, she and Bill went into the mall "to hoof around," Bill said. So in desperation she drove to the mall's lot, parked, and walked into the building to try to calm her anger by walking. It did not work.
Joan walked as angrily as she drove. Her mind was still back at the house with Bill, arguing with him. They argued over money, always did. For five years they had lived in their new home -- new to them, anyway. Built in 1971, it had a beautiful view from the highest hill in town. But that was when and why the arguing began. The house still had its original carpets. The carpets were very good quality, but they were worn now, with the frayed spots and holes covered with a series of throw rugs. Joan wanted new carpets; but Bill had held out for a four-wheel drive pick-up to be able to get up the hill in the icy winters. They never agreed.
Today Bill drove in with a four-wheel drive pick-up. All he said to Joan as she stood open-mouthed was, "We needed it, and Harry offered me his for eleven thousand. It's a better price than I'd get in winter when prices go up for four-wheel drives."
"You what?" Joan had screamed. "My carpet ... " And it went downhill from there. Joan remembered every word: he about practicality instead of beauty, she about home instead of transportation. Joan tramped around the mall, eyes fixed, jaw tight, heels hitting hard every step. "If I ever talk to him again, I'll start by calling him a spoiled child who always wants his own way. That's what I should have said, 'You're a child who wants his toy instead of a husband who cares about his wife.' "
Joan continued her rapid pace, with a fixed stare, noticing no one, only moving mechanically around people in her way, as though everyone was an opposite pole to her magnet.
"Joan." Just ahead of her and to the left was Ann Betteford. Ann grabbed her arm, "Joan, are you all right?"
Joan focused her eyes. She had come to the mall deciding to talk to no one, but here was Ann who had a ghastly look on her face, asking if she was all right. Did Joan look so obviously upset? Ann and Joan were in a discussion class at church, but they did not know one another well. Yet Ann looked so upset by Joan's appearance that she blurted right out, "I'm leaving Bill. I've got my suitcase in the car, but I'm too mad to drive."
She started to cry. Ann looked around. They were standing in front of a coffee shop. She said, "Let's go in and order a cappuccino."
Joan did not answer, just turned and submissively followed the suggestion. As near as either could tell they talked close to two hours with very little coffee drunk. Ann did not say much, merely listened as Joan retold the argument again and again, and explained the five years' recurring disagreements. Ann said, "Uh huh," or "I understand," or "I know what you mean." But that was about it. After an hour Joan began to calm down, partly because anger took so much energy and partly because Ann was so attentive. Ann offered little advice until finally she said, "If I were you, Joan, I'd pray and try talking to Bill again." By that time, Joan had already decided that that was what she would do. And so they parted with a hug and Ann promising to pray for her.
When Joan arrived home she walked through the house and saw Bill still weeding in the garden. Joan did not know what she would say, how to start, how to explain her feelings without attacking Bill. She looked out the window at her husband of thirty years and told herself that yes, she was going to try again.
This was certainly not the end of the problem. But she had a quiet assurance that this would be the beginning toward an end. Before she walked outside to the garden, she went to the bedroom, took from Bill's pillow the paper upon which she'd written, "I'm leaving you," crumpled it, and threw it in the garbage can.
* * *
Twenty-three blocks away Ann Batteford drove into her garage and pressed the remote to close the door behind her. She turned off the engine and sat with her head on her hands on the steering wheel. She was weeping. She had left the house three hours before, shrieking at Jim. She had raced the car down their street with her arms flailing, screaming to the heavens. She had nearly scared herself out of her skin when she had seen that she was driving 45 miles an hour in a residential zone. She was too angry to drive and knew it. Almost disabled by rage she had driven to the mall. Sometimes in the past she had considered shopping as therapy, and maybe now she could walk around and cool down. But she had not. All she could do was replay the fight with Jim, think of the things she should have said, and rehearse what she was going to say, given the chance again.
It came to her that she should pray about her anger, but she frankly admitted to herself that she was too angry to pray. Yet even getting near a prayer is getting near God. That slight thought was a crack through which the breath of God's Spirit blew freshness into her soul. And then she spotted Joan walking towards her, staring off to nowhere, eyes red from crying. Ann had been overcome with Joan's need. No matter what she herself was going through, Ann's heart went out to Joan, all because something had happened in Ann with that small admission that she should pray. The Spirit of the risen Lord Jesus made a frontal assault with love. So Ann found herself responding to the need of another person and forgetting about her own difficulties. Within her was the Spirit of Jesus; and thus, no matter the circumstances, she now lived as he lived, putting the needs of others above her own.
Jesus did it naturally; it was his nature, every day, as predictable as law. Maybe he could not have stopped himself if he had tried. He would love and care for others and trust God to care for him no matter how bad the circumstances. It was so much who Jesus was that on the cross he did the same thing -- cared for others more than himself. It is what his entire life and death were about.
Therefore, Ann, walking in the mall or sitting in her car in the garage, was overcome by someone whose love was so strong it can change us from being concerned only about ourselves to being concerned about others, whose love helps us trust God to take care of us no matter how difficult the situation.
Ann prayed for Joan and Bill as she promised she would, then finally and fully prayed for Jim and herself. She retrieved her suitcase from the back seat, got out of the car, and entered the house to look for Jim and try again. She had practiced, and been changed for having done so, what Paul the apostle told the Galatian churches about the Christian lifestyle: "Bear one another's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ."
Discussion Questions
Text: Galatians 6:1-2
1. What immediate responses do you have to the story?
2. If you could have a conversation with one of the characters in this story, which would you speak with and what would you ask or say?
3. Do you identify with any character in the story?
4. Have you been incapacitated by anger? Are you normally angry? What do you usually do to release your anger in a constructive way?
5. How do you feel in the company of angry people? Can you listen to other people's anger without excusing or condemning it?
6. Have you been helped by someone who needed as much help as you did?
7. Have you helped when you believed your resources for helping were depleted?
8. In that Christ rewrites our lives, what from this story would you like to have happen in your life?
