Doing A New Thing
Stories
Contents
What's Up This Week
"Doing a New Thing" by Frank Fisher
"Agnes and the Church Kitchen" by Ron Lavin
"Mary, Dorothy, and Meals with Meaning" by Ron Lavin
What's Up This Week
In this week's Old Testament reading from Isaiah, God challenges us to be open to his work in the world when he tells us: "I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?" In our featured story, Frank Fisher highlights the difference between congregations who are frozen by an inability to break out of their traditional ways and those with the vision to see the path through the wilderness that God has laid before them. Ron Lavin also contributes a pair of pieces offering insight into the contrast between the sisters Mary and Martha, one intriguing facet of this week's Gospel passage.
* * * * * * * * *
Doing a New Thing
Frank Fisher
Isaiah 43:16-21
Snnnoooaarrrr! Snnnoooaarrrr!
It was a fine, hot spring Sunday morning in the depressed, desert-like community where the Church of the Inner Spring found its home. And the dulcet sound of Mr. Yoder's snoring loudly punctuated Pastor Smith's sermon.
"Thank God," she thought to herself as she raised her voice just a bit to compensate for the snoring. "For a moment I wasn't sure there was anyone out there at all!"
Looking out at the motionless congregation, one could easily understand the pastor's thoughts. And in truth, the community doubted whether Inner Spring's building had really been inhabited for a long, long time.
There had been a time when the congregation was vibrantly alive. Members, both young and old, had filled their sanctuary with vibrant worship. Fellowship and study groups abounded. But perhaps most importantly, the members dedicated themselves to the transformation of their community. And under their working hands and praying hearts, their community blossomed as God's love shone out to everyone they met.
But over time things changed. The habits of their hearts became simply habits. Their work and study slowed until it came to a complete stop. Eventually the community began to consider the congregation a spiritual desert, one that closely resembled the desert sands surrounding their town.
Today, however, Pastor Smith's sermon and Mr. Yoder's snoring were suddenly interrupted. The members jerked upright as a sound like a rushing river filled the sanctuary, and from all around them the words rang out: "I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?"
And suddenly, perceive it they did. Visions of the wonder of following Christ filled their heads, and dreams of how they could once again transform their community filled their minds. The members' hearts were beginning to burn with excitement.
And then, one member's voice was heard above the din. "This is much too risky," he shouted out.
"Yes," a woman's voice echoed, "there's no way in the world we can afford to do this!"
Suddenly the sound of the roaring river died away. The members found themselves back in their seats. They became motionless again as Pastor Smith's sermon and Mr. Yoder's snoring continued -- as if there had been no interruption.
Within a few years the Church of the Inner Spring closed its doors, and the desert sands reclaimed their building forever.
Screech! Screech!
It was a fine, hot spring Sunday morning in the depressed community where the Church of St. Mattress found its home. And the piercing feedback from Mrs. Zonderbuck's hearing aid loudly punctuated Pastor Brown's sermon.
"Thank God," he thought to himself as he raised his voice just a bit to compensate for the feedback. "For a moment I wasn't sure there was anyone out there to hear me!"
Looking out at the sparsely populated congregation, one could easily understand the pastor's thoughts. And in truth, the community doubted whether St. Mattress' building had truly been occupied for a long, long time. "There's a light on in the window," they told each other, "but I don't think anyone's really home."
There had been a time when the congregation was vibrantly alive. Members, both young and old, had filled their sanctuary with vibrant worship. Fellowship and study groups abounded. But perhaps most importantly, the members dedicated themselves to the transformation of their depressed community from an urban desert into a place where all could live in peace and safety. And under their working hands and praying hearts, their community blossomed as God's love impacted everyone they met.
But over time things changed. The habits of their hearts became simply habits. Their work and study slowed until it came to a complete stop. Eventually the community began to consider the congregation just as barren as the community in which they lived.
Today, however, Pastor Brown's sermon and Mrs. Zonderbuck's screeching hearing aid were suddenly interrupted. The members jerked upright as a sound like a rushing river filled the sanctuary, and from all around them the words rang out: "Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?"
And suddenly, for an incredible shining moment, they did perceive it. Visions of the wonder of following Christ filled their heads, and dreams of how they could once again transform their community filled their minds. The members' hearts were beginning to burn with excitement.
And then, one member's voice was heard above the din. "We need to study this for a while," he shouted out.
"Yes," a woman's voice echoed, "we have to be sure we won't make anyone angry!"
Suddenly the sound of the roaring river was gone. The few members present found themselves back in their seats. They became motionless again as Pastor Brown's sermon continued to drone and Mrs. Zonderbuck's hearing aid continued to screech -- as if there had been no interruption.
Within a few years St. Mattress closed its doors. The urban desert surrounding it reclaimed the building, until it burned down after becoming transformed into a meth lab.
Squawk! Squawk!
It was a fine, hot spring Sunday morning in the depressed, desert-like community where the Church of Peace found its home. And the loud, off-key noise of yet another broken organ stop loudly punctuated Pastor Baker's sermon.
"Thank God," she thought to herself as she raised her voice just a bit to compensate for the noise. "Maybe the organ can inspire them, since it sure seems like I can't!"
Looking out at the dozing congregation, one could easily understand the pastor's thoughts. And in truth, the community thought the congregation had been a bit too peaceful for a long, long time.
There had been a time when the congregation was vibrantly alive. Members, both young and old, had filled their sanctuary with vibrant worship. Fellowship and study groups abounded. But perhaps most importantly, the members dedicated themselves to the transformation of their community. And under their working hands and praying hearts, God's love had turned their desert-like surroundings into a thriving community where people not only lived in peace and safety, they also lived as walking demonstrations of Christ's teachings and Christ's living presence.
But over time things changed. The habits of their hearts became simply habits. Their work and study slowed until it came to a complete stop. Eventually the community began to consider the congregation a spiritual desert, one that closely resembled the depressed small town surrounding their building.
Today, however, Pastor Baker's sermon and the organ's screeching were suddenly interrupted. The members jerked upright as a sound like a rushing river filled the sanctuary, and from all around them the words rang out: "Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert."
And suddenly, the congregation did perceive what the voice told them. Visions of the wonder of following Christ filled their heads, and dreams of how they could once again transform their community filled their minds. The members' hearts were beginning to burn with excitement.
And then, one member's voice was heard above the din. "This is much too risky," he shouted out.
Then, from out of the last pew, the oldest member arose. "But God wills it," he shouted in reply.
"We can't do it," a woman's voice declared. "There's no way in the world we can afford to do this!"
"But God wills it," the oldest member again replied.
"We might make someone angry," several voices shouted in unison.
"But God wills it," again came the oldest member's answer.
Then one by one, two by two, and three by three, the members rose to their feet and echoed the oldest member's answer. "God wills this, God wills it!"
It was on that day the Church of Peace was reborn, and with it its community. They reached out to the people they'd once considered too wild for church. Even those they saw as jackal-like criminals were shown God's love and were eventually transformed by it.
It was funny, though, for from that very day people swore they heard the sound of a roaring river whenever they entered the church. It seemed to come from the baptismal font, and when they closed their eyes they could see that it flowed from there throughout all the town.
The members never forgot the day God did a new thing among them -- and they continually looked for all the new things God would do in their future.
Frank R. Fisher is a second-career interim/transitional pastor in the Presbyterian Church (USA). He currently serves as the interim pastor of First Presbyterian Church in Bushnell, Illinois. A former paramedic and administrator for the Chicago Fire Department, Fisher is an Oblate of the ecumenical Abbey of John the Baptist and Saint Benedict in Bartonville, Illinois.
Agnes and the Church Kitchen
Ron Lavin
John 12:1-8
"Martha served" (John 12:2). This is the same Martha who was distracted by serving and resentful of her sister Mary for not doing her kitchen duties (Luke 10:38-42). Martha had a problem in the kitchen -- but the problem wasn't really in the kitchen, the problem was in her heart. We aren't told if Martha had overcome the resentment and criticism she expressed in the earlier serving. Here in John 12:2 we are just told that she served the meal at Bethany, just before the week we call holy. Martha's problem of resentment exists in churches today, especially in the war zone called the church kitchen.
* * *
Molly joined First Lutheran Church with the expectation that she might contribute more than her tithe on Sunday mornings. She was a multi-gifted Christian who had worked as a Christian education director in her former church. After she worshiped at First Lutheran for a few months, she asked how she might help with the ministry. With her background in education, she was placed on the Christian education committee. Soon thereafter she was named director for the church's Vacation Bible School. She recruited teachers and helpers, and got many people involved in the VBS at First Lutheran. Everyone was thrilled that VBS attendance doubled over the previous year -- everyone, that is, but Marion.
Marion had run the VBS program for years. No one could remember who preceded her. When asked, she said, "I'd be glad to give it up if you can get anyone to take it." She was confident nobody wanted the job... but along came Molly.
Molly was a great success. When people praised her for the good work she was doing, she gave credit to those who worked with her and turned the spotlight on all who helped in the VBS. The education committee members all raved that Molly was sent by God -- everyone but Marion.
Marion felt taken for granted and unappreciated. She was no longer in the spotlight. She resented Molly, and she started to gossip about her. "She's too bossy," Marion told her friends at First Lutheran. "She's 'uppity' and doesn't know how we do things here," she told her friend Agnes, the longtime altar guild chairperson who also ran the church kitchen.
One day as Molly was working in the church kitchen, Agnes yelled at her for not putting the utensils in the right drawer. She was livid about this newcomer. She told Marion, "She acts like she owns the place." The problem was that Agnes, like her friend Marion, refused to make room for the newcomer. Both of these otherwise faithful and good ladies had a problem with internalized anger. Both often burst out with criticism at other people.
The incident in the kitchen was reported to the pastor. Unlike some pastors, Pastor Jim was not inhibited by conflict avoidance. He knew that if he didn't do something, the negativity about Molly would spread like a plague. Pastor Jim took Molly aside and said, "Agnes means well, but she can be too critical. Some say she thinks she owns the church kitchen. I hope you will forgive her and keep up your good work in Christian education. I'll talk to Agnes and ask her to apologize to you."
Molly said, "I've seen this kind of thing in church work before. I'll try to get to know Agnes better. Maybe that'll help." It didn't.
Neither did the pastor's talk with Agnes. Pastor Jim laid it on the line with Agnes: "You just can't be judgmental about newcomers in the kitchen. You've got to be patient and help orient them to our practices." Agnes was defensive at first.
It took about a month, but one day when she and Molly were alone in the church kitchen, Agnes said, "Molly, about a month ago I was out of line in the way I told you about the utensils and the various places we keep them. I should have oriented you to our practices here. I hope I didn't offend you."
"I should have asked you about where things go," Molly said diplomatically and gracefully. "As you know, I'm a newcomer here. I don't know how you do things. Here, let me help you with those dishes." As the two women washed the dishes together, hostility moved toward hospitality.
The next Sunday, as the two women knelt side by side at the communion rail, Molly noticed that there was a tear in Agnes' eye. After church, Molly asked her if she was all right. "Yes," she replied. "I just realized for the hundredth time that I am sometimes too judgmental toward other people. I try not to be, but sometimes the words come out of my mouth before they go through my mind. I hope God will forgive me and that you will help me."
"Of course," Molly replied. "We all have our problems. You can help me, too. Sometimes I overreact when people say negative things to me or about me."
Molly was black. She had dealt with criticism and prejudice all her life. She was one of only a handful of black members at First Lutheran. She knew she would need to show patience with the mostly German and Scandinavian members of the church, some of whom were reluctant to accept her as an equal and a leader. The members agreed in principle that people of color were welcome at their church, but at a practical level they struggled with prejudice and resentments. With the help of her new friend Agnes, Molly was integrated into the life of First Lutheran. These two friends shared meals together, sometimes went to the movies together, and sang together in the church choir. They even worked harmoniously in the church kitchen.
When Molly was hospitalized with breast cancer, Agnes was the first visitor in the hospital room. "How can I help?" she asked. "Until you get back on your feet, I can have your kids stay at my house, feed them, and make sure they get to and from school and their activities. Your relatives all live far away. You've done so much to help me, it's time for me to help you. When you get out of the hospital, you can come and live with me for the time of your recovery."
"Thanks," Molly said. "You know, friend, you are a lot like Martha in the New Testament. You are an efficient, hard-working servant of God. But you are also like Mary. You have a wonderful listening ear toward the Lord."
"That's the best compliment I've ever gotten," Agnes replied.
Mary, Dorothy, and Meals with Meaning
Ron Lavin
John 12:1-8
Psalm 119:9-16
There are meals, and there are meals with special meaning. Most meals include not only the eating of food, but conversation about the events of the day, looking back on what happened in the past and looking forward to what will happen in the future. Family and friends gather at meals like this.
The story of the meal at Bethany (John 12:1-8) included all these factors. But there was something more -- this meal had an added meaning. Martha served this meal. Lazarus, whom Jesus had just brought back to life from the grave, was there, adding a preview of the resurrection of the Lord. This meal with special meaning included intimacy, intrigue, and a reversal.
The intimacy came when Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus, used costly perfume to anoint the feet of Jesus. The intrigue entered when Judas criticized Mary's action, saying that the money should have been used for the poor, adding tension to the meal. The reversal came when Jesus shocked everyone present by saying, "Leave her alone. She brought it [the perfume made of pure nard] so that she might keep it for the day of my burial." This meal with meaning pointed beyond itself. It was a sign of the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus. At this meal we are close to the ultimate Valley of Shadows and the bright sunlight of resurrection of the Lord.
In order to understand this story we need to go back to the story of Mary, Martha, and Jesus in Luke 10:38-42. When Martha was critical and resentful about Mary not doing her duty in serving, Jesus insisted that Mary had chosen the best part by listening to him as he shared something of great importance. Could it be that in the Luke story Jesus was telling Mary that he was going to die on the cross and then be resurrected? Quite possibly. If so, Mary listened, remembered the prediction, and acted by buying the pure nard to anoint Jesus for his burial (John 12:3). In other words, she believed what he had told her about death and resurrection.
What difference does all this make for us today? Another story about meals with meaning may help to drive home the application of this text to our lives today.
* * *
Dorothy, or Dody as her family called her, was like Martha in many ways. She was an excellent cook, often serving delicious meals to family and friends. She frequently worked in the church kitchen, serving congregational dinners. Like Martha, she loved to serve. Unlike Martha, Dody had no hidden resentments about other Christians who did not show up in the church kitchen.
Dody was an excellent listener to God's word. In this way she was like Mary. She was an excellent example of what the psalmist says in Psalm 119:10 and 15: "With my whole heart I seek you; do not let me stray from your commandments.... I will meditate on your precepts, and fix my eyes on your ways."
When Dody's husband Harry came down with cancer, Dody was deeply wounded. They had been married for over 50 years. They had many ups and downs with their children. They had suffered and rejoiced together. Wounded? Yes. Filled with sorrow? Yes. Devastated? Yes. But not destroyed by despair. Dody remembered God's word. She and Harry had centered their lives around the word of God. They believed the Lord's promise of life after death.
When their pastor came for a visit, he read the Bible to this couple. They all prayed together. They shared memories of their church work and their friendship together. Then Harry, who was in a lot of pain, rose up on the couch where he was lying and said to the pastor, "I have a story for you." The story was about a man who was dying of cancer. This man was in bed on the second story of the couple's townhouse when he smelled the sweet aroma of chocolate chip cookies -- his favorites. He crawled down the stairs and over to the kitchen table, and he reached up to get one of the cookies. Just then his wife came into the kitchen, saw what was happening, and slapped his hand with a spatula.
"Why did you do that?" the dying man asked.
"Those cookies are for your funeral reception," his wife replied.
After the pastor stopped laughing for what seemed like five minutes, Harry delivered the clincher. "That's just the kind of thing Dody would do." After another five minutes of laughter, the three good friends shared coffee and cookies together. Harry couldn't eat much because of his pain, but the three of them sat there and shared what the Bible says about death and resurrection. It was a meal with special meaning, just like the one in Bethany.
Harry and Dody could laugh at death. Why? Because they centered their lives on Jesus' words and actions... because they believed that death is just a brief stopover on the way to freedom... because they believed that God has prepared a special place for those who love Him.
At Harry's funeral, the pastor told the story of his last visit to Harry's home and the joke Harry and Dody had told him. He looked out at the family. Dody was smiling the smile of one who knows the secret of life over death.
Ron Lavin is the award-winning author of more than 20 books, including Turning Griping into Gratitude, Way to Grow! and the popular Another Look series (CSS). He is the former Pastor-Director of Evangelical Outreach for the Lutheran Church in America, and pastored five thriving congregations, all of which grew substantially under his leadership. Lavin is a popular speaker and church consultant on the dynamics of small groups and evangelism.
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StoryShare, March 25, 2007, issue.
Copyright 2007 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
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What's Up This Week
"Doing a New Thing" by Frank Fisher
"Agnes and the Church Kitchen" by Ron Lavin
"Mary, Dorothy, and Meals with Meaning" by Ron Lavin
What's Up This Week
In this week's Old Testament reading from Isaiah, God challenges us to be open to his work in the world when he tells us: "I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?" In our featured story, Frank Fisher highlights the difference between congregations who are frozen by an inability to break out of their traditional ways and those with the vision to see the path through the wilderness that God has laid before them. Ron Lavin also contributes a pair of pieces offering insight into the contrast between the sisters Mary and Martha, one intriguing facet of this week's Gospel passage.
* * * * * * * * *
Doing a New Thing
Frank Fisher
Isaiah 43:16-21
Snnnoooaarrrr! Snnnoooaarrrr!
It was a fine, hot spring Sunday morning in the depressed, desert-like community where the Church of the Inner Spring found its home. And the dulcet sound of Mr. Yoder's snoring loudly punctuated Pastor Smith's sermon.
"Thank God," she thought to herself as she raised her voice just a bit to compensate for the snoring. "For a moment I wasn't sure there was anyone out there at all!"
Looking out at the motionless congregation, one could easily understand the pastor's thoughts. And in truth, the community doubted whether Inner Spring's building had really been inhabited for a long, long time.
There had been a time when the congregation was vibrantly alive. Members, both young and old, had filled their sanctuary with vibrant worship. Fellowship and study groups abounded. But perhaps most importantly, the members dedicated themselves to the transformation of their community. And under their working hands and praying hearts, their community blossomed as God's love shone out to everyone they met.
But over time things changed. The habits of their hearts became simply habits. Their work and study slowed until it came to a complete stop. Eventually the community began to consider the congregation a spiritual desert, one that closely resembled the desert sands surrounding their town.
Today, however, Pastor Smith's sermon and Mr. Yoder's snoring were suddenly interrupted. The members jerked upright as a sound like a rushing river filled the sanctuary, and from all around them the words rang out: "I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?"
And suddenly, perceive it they did. Visions of the wonder of following Christ filled their heads, and dreams of how they could once again transform their community filled their minds. The members' hearts were beginning to burn with excitement.
And then, one member's voice was heard above the din. "This is much too risky," he shouted out.
"Yes," a woman's voice echoed, "there's no way in the world we can afford to do this!"
Suddenly the sound of the roaring river died away. The members found themselves back in their seats. They became motionless again as Pastor Smith's sermon and Mr. Yoder's snoring continued -- as if there had been no interruption.
Within a few years the Church of the Inner Spring closed its doors, and the desert sands reclaimed their building forever.
Screech! Screech!
It was a fine, hot spring Sunday morning in the depressed community where the Church of St. Mattress found its home. And the piercing feedback from Mrs. Zonderbuck's hearing aid loudly punctuated Pastor Brown's sermon.
"Thank God," he thought to himself as he raised his voice just a bit to compensate for the feedback. "For a moment I wasn't sure there was anyone out there to hear me!"
Looking out at the sparsely populated congregation, one could easily understand the pastor's thoughts. And in truth, the community doubted whether St. Mattress' building had truly been occupied for a long, long time. "There's a light on in the window," they told each other, "but I don't think anyone's really home."
There had been a time when the congregation was vibrantly alive. Members, both young and old, had filled their sanctuary with vibrant worship. Fellowship and study groups abounded. But perhaps most importantly, the members dedicated themselves to the transformation of their depressed community from an urban desert into a place where all could live in peace and safety. And under their working hands and praying hearts, their community blossomed as God's love impacted everyone they met.
But over time things changed. The habits of their hearts became simply habits. Their work and study slowed until it came to a complete stop. Eventually the community began to consider the congregation just as barren as the community in which they lived.
Today, however, Pastor Brown's sermon and Mrs. Zonderbuck's screeching hearing aid were suddenly interrupted. The members jerked upright as a sound like a rushing river filled the sanctuary, and from all around them the words rang out: "Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?"
And suddenly, for an incredible shining moment, they did perceive it. Visions of the wonder of following Christ filled their heads, and dreams of how they could once again transform their community filled their minds. The members' hearts were beginning to burn with excitement.
And then, one member's voice was heard above the din. "We need to study this for a while," he shouted out.
"Yes," a woman's voice echoed, "we have to be sure we won't make anyone angry!"
Suddenly the sound of the roaring river was gone. The few members present found themselves back in their seats. They became motionless again as Pastor Brown's sermon continued to drone and Mrs. Zonderbuck's hearing aid continued to screech -- as if there had been no interruption.
Within a few years St. Mattress closed its doors. The urban desert surrounding it reclaimed the building, until it burned down after becoming transformed into a meth lab.
Squawk! Squawk!
It was a fine, hot spring Sunday morning in the depressed, desert-like community where the Church of Peace found its home. And the loud, off-key noise of yet another broken organ stop loudly punctuated Pastor Baker's sermon.
"Thank God," she thought to herself as she raised her voice just a bit to compensate for the noise. "Maybe the organ can inspire them, since it sure seems like I can't!"
Looking out at the dozing congregation, one could easily understand the pastor's thoughts. And in truth, the community thought the congregation had been a bit too peaceful for a long, long time.
There had been a time when the congregation was vibrantly alive. Members, both young and old, had filled their sanctuary with vibrant worship. Fellowship and study groups abounded. But perhaps most importantly, the members dedicated themselves to the transformation of their community. And under their working hands and praying hearts, God's love had turned their desert-like surroundings into a thriving community where people not only lived in peace and safety, they also lived as walking demonstrations of Christ's teachings and Christ's living presence.
But over time things changed. The habits of their hearts became simply habits. Their work and study slowed until it came to a complete stop. Eventually the community began to consider the congregation a spiritual desert, one that closely resembled the depressed small town surrounding their building.
Today, however, Pastor Baker's sermon and the organ's screeching were suddenly interrupted. The members jerked upright as a sound like a rushing river filled the sanctuary, and from all around them the words rang out: "Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert."
And suddenly, the congregation did perceive what the voice told them. Visions of the wonder of following Christ filled their heads, and dreams of how they could once again transform their community filled their minds. The members' hearts were beginning to burn with excitement.
And then, one member's voice was heard above the din. "This is much too risky," he shouted out.
Then, from out of the last pew, the oldest member arose. "But God wills it," he shouted in reply.
"We can't do it," a woman's voice declared. "There's no way in the world we can afford to do this!"
"But God wills it," the oldest member again replied.
"We might make someone angry," several voices shouted in unison.
"But God wills it," again came the oldest member's answer.
Then one by one, two by two, and three by three, the members rose to their feet and echoed the oldest member's answer. "God wills this, God wills it!"
It was on that day the Church of Peace was reborn, and with it its community. They reached out to the people they'd once considered too wild for church. Even those they saw as jackal-like criminals were shown God's love and were eventually transformed by it.
It was funny, though, for from that very day people swore they heard the sound of a roaring river whenever they entered the church. It seemed to come from the baptismal font, and when they closed their eyes they could see that it flowed from there throughout all the town.
The members never forgot the day God did a new thing among them -- and they continually looked for all the new things God would do in their future.
Frank R. Fisher is a second-career interim/transitional pastor in the Presbyterian Church (USA). He currently serves as the interim pastor of First Presbyterian Church in Bushnell, Illinois. A former paramedic and administrator for the Chicago Fire Department, Fisher is an Oblate of the ecumenical Abbey of John the Baptist and Saint Benedict in Bartonville, Illinois.
Agnes and the Church Kitchen
Ron Lavin
John 12:1-8
"Martha served" (John 12:2). This is the same Martha who was distracted by serving and resentful of her sister Mary for not doing her kitchen duties (Luke 10:38-42). Martha had a problem in the kitchen -- but the problem wasn't really in the kitchen, the problem was in her heart. We aren't told if Martha had overcome the resentment and criticism she expressed in the earlier serving. Here in John 12:2 we are just told that she served the meal at Bethany, just before the week we call holy. Martha's problem of resentment exists in churches today, especially in the war zone called the church kitchen.
* * *
Molly joined First Lutheran Church with the expectation that she might contribute more than her tithe on Sunday mornings. She was a multi-gifted Christian who had worked as a Christian education director in her former church. After she worshiped at First Lutheran for a few months, she asked how she might help with the ministry. With her background in education, she was placed on the Christian education committee. Soon thereafter she was named director for the church's Vacation Bible School. She recruited teachers and helpers, and got many people involved in the VBS at First Lutheran. Everyone was thrilled that VBS attendance doubled over the previous year -- everyone, that is, but Marion.
Marion had run the VBS program for years. No one could remember who preceded her. When asked, she said, "I'd be glad to give it up if you can get anyone to take it." She was confident nobody wanted the job... but along came Molly.
Molly was a great success. When people praised her for the good work she was doing, she gave credit to those who worked with her and turned the spotlight on all who helped in the VBS. The education committee members all raved that Molly was sent by God -- everyone but Marion.
Marion felt taken for granted and unappreciated. She was no longer in the spotlight. She resented Molly, and she started to gossip about her. "She's too bossy," Marion told her friends at First Lutheran. "She's 'uppity' and doesn't know how we do things here," she told her friend Agnes, the longtime altar guild chairperson who also ran the church kitchen.
One day as Molly was working in the church kitchen, Agnes yelled at her for not putting the utensils in the right drawer. She was livid about this newcomer. She told Marion, "She acts like she owns the place." The problem was that Agnes, like her friend Marion, refused to make room for the newcomer. Both of these otherwise faithful and good ladies had a problem with internalized anger. Both often burst out with criticism at other people.
The incident in the kitchen was reported to the pastor. Unlike some pastors, Pastor Jim was not inhibited by conflict avoidance. He knew that if he didn't do something, the negativity about Molly would spread like a plague. Pastor Jim took Molly aside and said, "Agnes means well, but she can be too critical. Some say she thinks she owns the church kitchen. I hope you will forgive her and keep up your good work in Christian education. I'll talk to Agnes and ask her to apologize to you."
Molly said, "I've seen this kind of thing in church work before. I'll try to get to know Agnes better. Maybe that'll help." It didn't.
Neither did the pastor's talk with Agnes. Pastor Jim laid it on the line with Agnes: "You just can't be judgmental about newcomers in the kitchen. You've got to be patient and help orient them to our practices." Agnes was defensive at first.
It took about a month, but one day when she and Molly were alone in the church kitchen, Agnes said, "Molly, about a month ago I was out of line in the way I told you about the utensils and the various places we keep them. I should have oriented you to our practices here. I hope I didn't offend you."
"I should have asked you about where things go," Molly said diplomatically and gracefully. "As you know, I'm a newcomer here. I don't know how you do things. Here, let me help you with those dishes." As the two women washed the dishes together, hostility moved toward hospitality.
The next Sunday, as the two women knelt side by side at the communion rail, Molly noticed that there was a tear in Agnes' eye. After church, Molly asked her if she was all right. "Yes," she replied. "I just realized for the hundredth time that I am sometimes too judgmental toward other people. I try not to be, but sometimes the words come out of my mouth before they go through my mind. I hope God will forgive me and that you will help me."
"Of course," Molly replied. "We all have our problems. You can help me, too. Sometimes I overreact when people say negative things to me or about me."
Molly was black. She had dealt with criticism and prejudice all her life. She was one of only a handful of black members at First Lutheran. She knew she would need to show patience with the mostly German and Scandinavian members of the church, some of whom were reluctant to accept her as an equal and a leader. The members agreed in principle that people of color were welcome at their church, but at a practical level they struggled with prejudice and resentments. With the help of her new friend Agnes, Molly was integrated into the life of First Lutheran. These two friends shared meals together, sometimes went to the movies together, and sang together in the church choir. They even worked harmoniously in the church kitchen.
When Molly was hospitalized with breast cancer, Agnes was the first visitor in the hospital room. "How can I help?" she asked. "Until you get back on your feet, I can have your kids stay at my house, feed them, and make sure they get to and from school and their activities. Your relatives all live far away. You've done so much to help me, it's time for me to help you. When you get out of the hospital, you can come and live with me for the time of your recovery."
"Thanks," Molly said. "You know, friend, you are a lot like Martha in the New Testament. You are an efficient, hard-working servant of God. But you are also like Mary. You have a wonderful listening ear toward the Lord."
"That's the best compliment I've ever gotten," Agnes replied.
Mary, Dorothy, and Meals with Meaning
Ron Lavin
John 12:1-8
Psalm 119:9-16
There are meals, and there are meals with special meaning. Most meals include not only the eating of food, but conversation about the events of the day, looking back on what happened in the past and looking forward to what will happen in the future. Family and friends gather at meals like this.
The story of the meal at Bethany (John 12:1-8) included all these factors. But there was something more -- this meal had an added meaning. Martha served this meal. Lazarus, whom Jesus had just brought back to life from the grave, was there, adding a preview of the resurrection of the Lord. This meal with special meaning included intimacy, intrigue, and a reversal.
The intimacy came when Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus, used costly perfume to anoint the feet of Jesus. The intrigue entered when Judas criticized Mary's action, saying that the money should have been used for the poor, adding tension to the meal. The reversal came when Jesus shocked everyone present by saying, "Leave her alone. She brought it [the perfume made of pure nard] so that she might keep it for the day of my burial." This meal with meaning pointed beyond itself. It was a sign of the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus. At this meal we are close to the ultimate Valley of Shadows and the bright sunlight of resurrection of the Lord.
In order to understand this story we need to go back to the story of Mary, Martha, and Jesus in Luke 10:38-42. When Martha was critical and resentful about Mary not doing her duty in serving, Jesus insisted that Mary had chosen the best part by listening to him as he shared something of great importance. Could it be that in the Luke story Jesus was telling Mary that he was going to die on the cross and then be resurrected? Quite possibly. If so, Mary listened, remembered the prediction, and acted by buying the pure nard to anoint Jesus for his burial (John 12:3). In other words, she believed what he had told her about death and resurrection.
What difference does all this make for us today? Another story about meals with meaning may help to drive home the application of this text to our lives today.
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Dorothy, or Dody as her family called her, was like Martha in many ways. She was an excellent cook, often serving delicious meals to family and friends. She frequently worked in the church kitchen, serving congregational dinners. Like Martha, she loved to serve. Unlike Martha, Dody had no hidden resentments about other Christians who did not show up in the church kitchen.
Dody was an excellent listener to God's word. In this way she was like Mary. She was an excellent example of what the psalmist says in Psalm 119:10 and 15: "With my whole heart I seek you; do not let me stray from your commandments.... I will meditate on your precepts, and fix my eyes on your ways."
When Dody's husband Harry came down with cancer, Dody was deeply wounded. They had been married for over 50 years. They had many ups and downs with their children. They had suffered and rejoiced together. Wounded? Yes. Filled with sorrow? Yes. Devastated? Yes. But not destroyed by despair. Dody remembered God's word. She and Harry had centered their lives around the word of God. They believed the Lord's promise of life after death.
When their pastor came for a visit, he read the Bible to this couple. They all prayed together. They shared memories of their church work and their friendship together. Then Harry, who was in a lot of pain, rose up on the couch where he was lying and said to the pastor, "I have a story for you." The story was about a man who was dying of cancer. This man was in bed on the second story of the couple's townhouse when he smelled the sweet aroma of chocolate chip cookies -- his favorites. He crawled down the stairs and over to the kitchen table, and he reached up to get one of the cookies. Just then his wife came into the kitchen, saw what was happening, and slapped his hand with a spatula.
"Why did you do that?" the dying man asked.
"Those cookies are for your funeral reception," his wife replied.
After the pastor stopped laughing for what seemed like five minutes, Harry delivered the clincher. "That's just the kind of thing Dody would do." After another five minutes of laughter, the three good friends shared coffee and cookies together. Harry couldn't eat much because of his pain, but the three of them sat there and shared what the Bible says about death and resurrection. It was a meal with special meaning, just like the one in Bethany.
Harry and Dody could laugh at death. Why? Because they centered their lives on Jesus' words and actions... because they believed that death is just a brief stopover on the way to freedom... because they believed that God has prepared a special place for those who love Him.
At Harry's funeral, the pastor told the story of his last visit to Harry's home and the joke Harry and Dody had told him. He looked out at the family. Dody was smiling the smile of one who knows the secret of life over death.
Ron Lavin is the award-winning author of more than 20 books, including Turning Griping into Gratitude, Way to Grow! and the popular Another Look series (CSS). He is the former Pastor-Director of Evangelical Outreach for the Lutheran Church in America, and pastored five thriving congregations, all of which grew substantially under his leadership. Lavin is a popular speaker and church consultant on the dynamics of small groups and evangelism.
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StoryShare, March 25, 2007, issue.
Copyright 2007 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 517 South Main Street, Lima, Ohio 45804.
