Finishing Together
Stories
Contents
What's Up This Week
A Story to Live By: "Finishing Together"
Good Stories: "Father and Son" by Betty Lynn Schwab
"Little Lola Marie's Baptism" by Constance Berg
Sermon Starters: "The Creative Power of God" by Chuck Cammarata
Scrap Pile: "A Different Celebration" by Constance Berg
"Tipping Etiquette" by Timothy Merrill
What's Up This Week
This Sunday we celebrate John's baptism of Jesus -- and God's acknowledgement of Jesus as his son, with whom he is well pleased. This week's StoryShare offers two stories about fathers who are immensely proud of their sons, including a recounting of an unforgettable scene from the Barcelona Olympics. This edition also includes a moving baptism story, as well as a diverse group of sermon starters on the theme in this week's texts of God's creative power. And for those of you who will be observing Epiphany Sunday, there are two stories on those texts in the Scrap Pile.
A Story to Live By
Finishing Together
And a voice came from heaven, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased."
Mark 1:11
Derek Redmond had dreamed all his life of winning an Olympic gold medal -- and at the 1992 Olympics in Barcelona his dream seemed to be in sight, as he was considered one of the favorites in the men's 400 meters event. His dream had already been deferred for four years; Redmond had been forced to withdraw from the 400 at the 1988 Seoul Olympics, just 10 minutes before the race, because of an Achilles tendon injury. He then underwent five surgeries over the next year.
Redmond was confident as the starter's gun sounded for his semifinal heat. He quickly broke from the pack and seized the lead. As he rounded the turn into the backstretch, Redmond was a shoo-in to make the finals. But about 175 meters away from the finish line, Derek Redmond felt a piercing pain in the back of his right leg. He pulled up lame, as if he had been shot. The next thing he knew, he was lying face down on the track, having experienced the runner's worst nightmare: a torn hamstring. Redmond realized his dream of an Olympic medal was gone.
What happened next is one of the most remarkable stories in sporting history. As first-aid personnel approached with a stretcher, Redmond somehow struggled to his feet. "It was animal instinct," he would say later. He began hopping on his uninjured leg in a crazed attempt to finish the race.
The crowd looked on in silent amazement as Redmond refused to hobble off to the side of the track. Instead he stubbornly continued to limp onward, his face twisted with pain and tears.
When Redmond reached the final curve, about 120 meters from the finish, a large man in a t-shirt leaped down from the stands, hurled aside a security guard, and ran over to him, embracing him. It was Derek's father.
"You don't have to do this," he told his son.
"Yes, I do," insisted the son, through bitter tears.
"Well, then," said his father, "we're going to finish this together." And there, before the eyes of the entire world, the son's head sometimes buried in his father's shoulder, the two men hobbled along in his lane all the way to the end, finishing the race.
The crowd went wild; 65,000 people cheered, clapped, and cried in an absolute frenzy. Derek Redmond did not leave Barcelona with the gold medal he had dreamed of. But he did return home with a precious memory of a father who looked down on his beloved son, with whom he was well pleased.
(Adapted from Lectionary Preaching Workbook [Series VIII, Cycle B] by Carlos Wilton)
Good Stories
Father and Son
by Betty Lynn Schwab
The little group of doctors and interns burst out laughing at their own joke. Slapping one another on the shoulder in good-natured camaraderie, they left the nursery and headed toward the hospital coffee shop. The nurse finished tucking in the last sleepy infant and briskly slipped out the nursery door.
"At last! Alone!" Bob breathed. "Alone. With you! Weren't they noisy?"
In the quiet, Bob's rhythmic pushing of the nursery rocking chair slowed somewhat. Yet his gaze never even for a second left the tiny swaddled bundle in his arms.
"At last! Alone with you!" he whispered. "How can this be? How can you be? Me! Sitting here alone holding you! Oh, I know what the experts would say. But that's not really the question, is it?" Bob breathed in deeply and smiled.
"Oh! I remember the day I met your mommy. Sitting two rows over from me in our very first class that fall. When she stood and answered the professor's question, I thought she was the most attractive woman in the whole world. So we got to talking with each other over coffee, then dating. Our engagement was on Christmas Eve. Her diamond sparkled in the candlelight! We got married and then you were on the way! Mommy told me you were coming Father's Day. I couldn't believe it! I watched her grow bigger every month. One evening she took my hand in hers and kissed it, then put my hand on her big tummy! We could feel you kicking and moving deep inside! I couldn't believe it. How could it be? When we went for the ultrasound -- that's just a fancy way of looking for you -- the man pointed to the screen and said, 'There! That's your little one!' And I looked and looked at the screen. I tried so hard to see you! All I could see were wiggly lines and blurry waves. How could that be you? And how could you be on that little screen? Last night your mommy said it was time to go. And we came here to the hospital. And your mommy worked so hard all night long. It seemed forever! Then suddenly you were here! You cried and cried! I cried too! They wiped you and suctioned you and weighed you and measured you and bundled you up. Then they put you in my arms! Imagine! In my arms! And the nurse brought us here to this chair. So here we are! And now you're one hour old! Ahh! You keep looking at me! Who am I?" Raising the bundle, Bob gently kissed the tiny forehead and ever so gently held him close to his chest, rocking, rocking... "Who am I? I am your daddy! I am your daddy! You are my son, my beloved one."
Betty Lynn Schwab is an ordained United Church of Canada minister presently serving Meewasin Valley United Church in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada. Her CSS publications include The Carpenter's Child and Visions of Lent, a three-volume set of worship resources based on Jewish holidays.
Little Lola Marie's Baptism
by Constance Berg
...they were baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus. When Paul had laid his hands on them, the Holy Spirit came upon them...
Acts 19:5-6
Lola was a young doctor: an obstetrician who loved what she did. She had recently moved to a small town, about 50 miles east of her parents. Oh, it was so good to be able to drive to their house every once in a while to get away from the pressure of the hospital! She had found a little house on the end of a quiet street, and she felt like she had hit the jackpot when she saw it. It had a big room out back where she promised herself she would set up a little art studio. Her first love was medicine, but painting was a close second.
She was going to practice general medicine, since usually only a few dozen babies were born in the town. Lola would appreciate all the babies she could deliver. But she wasn't prepared for her first emergency delivery on a cold, lonely highway.
It was about noon that day when she finished her rounds at the hospital. She was on her way to Thanksgiving dinner with her parents when she came upon an accident outside of town. It had snowed that morning and the roads were still slippery. A car had slid off the highway and landed in the ditch. Inside, Lola found a very pregnant young woman named Elizabeth. She was conscious. Elizabeth explained that although she wasn't due for another thirteen weeks, she thought perhaps her water had broken upon impact. And she was pinned in the car.
Lola checked Elizabeth and they started to talk -- at first about nothing in particular. Elizabeth lived in a town about 40 miles away to the north. She was a teacher who was going to be a stay-at-home mom once the baby arrived -- which was supposed to be in early March! Lola shared that she was new to the rural community but the people had captured her heart and the landscape had captured her artistic side. She couldn't wait to start painting the landscapes as the seasons changed! They each shared their love of their families and their close ties to their church. Together, they bowed their head in prayer as they waited for help to arrive.
Volunteer fire and rescue personnel came and they were able to free Elizabeth. While on the way to the hospital, Lola got busy and a tiny baby girl was delivered in the ambulance. Lola was overwhelmed with emotion and joked to Elizabeth that she never wanted to deliver another baby like this! The baby, whom Elizabeth named Lola Marie, looked so little next to Elizabeth. Both mother and daughter were whisked away as soon as the ambulance arrived at the hospital.
Lola sat in the family conference room, waiting for someone to bring her back to her car on the highway, when she heard "code blue, NICU, code blue, NICU." She knew in her heart that it was Lola Marie, and she ran through the double doors. Lola offered to help, praying that the baby would be saved for Elizabeth's sake. She heard the nurse say the chaplain was on the way. The doctors were able to revive little Lola Marie, and after a few hours the baby stabilized. Lola decided she could finally leave. She went to say good-bye to Elizabeth.
Three months later, Lola received an invitation to Lola Marie's dedication. Elizabeth had enclosed pictures of Lola Marie, and although she looked tiny, she looked beautiful! Elizabeth wanted Lola to sit with the family.
It was late February and crocuses were peaking through the snow. There was hope that the snow would finally go away after all! The church service was lovely, and when it came time for the dedication, the pastor explained why this was not a "baptism." See, tiny Lola Marie had already been baptized in the hospital by the chaplain while the doctors were frantically trying to revive her.
The pastor symbolically poured water from the baptismal font into a shell. "The baptismal waters have already been poured on Lola Marie when she was less than an hour old, but this water symbolizes what happened at her true baptism that first day of her life. Today we are reminded what happens at baptism. The words 'you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever' have already been uttered over Lola Marie. The Holy Spirit has already come upon Lola Marie."
Lola smiled -- there was not a dry eye in the congregation. Lola Marie indeed was baptized: Lola Marie was a child of God, and as tiny as she was, she was a fighter. God bless little Lola Marie!
Constance Berg is a former missionary to Chiapas, Mexico. She is currently based in Bakersfield, California, where she serves as the director of 18 nursing homes for handicapped individuals. Berg holds degrees from California State University and Lutheran Theological Southern Seminary, and she has done graduate work at Fuller Theological Seminary. She is the author of three volumes of the CSS series Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit.
Sermon Starters
The Creative Power of God
by Chuck Cammarata
The common theme in this week's texts is the creative power of God. In the beginning God creates. Psalm 29 celebrates the creative power of God's voice. In the gospel reading (Mark 1:4-11) and in the epistle lesson (Acts 19:1-7) we find the Spirit of God bringing about a new thing: the beginning of the public ministry of the Messiah, and a work of transformation in some new believers. This is the work of our God -- creation and re-creation. Light out of darkness! Order out of chaos! Power out of weakness! Victory out of defeat! Life out of death! The following stories and illustrations celebrate this power.
***
The great astronomer Kirchner had a friend who denied the existence of a God. One day he called on the astronomer. When he saw in the corner of Kirchner's room a very beautiful celestial globe, he inquired who had made it. "It's not mine," said Kirchner, "and I don't think anybody made it. It must have come there by chance, and of its own accord."
"Ridiculous!" said his friend.
"Why," rejoined Kirchner, "you cannot believe that this little, imperfect piece of workmanship sprang into existence of itself? How then can you imagine that the glorious heavens, which this merely represents, could have sprung into being of their own accord?"
***
How is it that people stand in awe before a Van Gogh or Monet or Rembrandt, the wonderful creative ability of the designer and painter of a masterpiece on their minds and in their hearts, and yet they can look at a hummingbird floating in mid-air, or at the intricacy of a rose blossom, or the complexity of a ladybug, and attribute it to blind forces working mindlessly without purpose?
***
William Jennings Bryan got more than refreshment from a piece of watermelon:
"I was eating a piece of watermelon some months ago when I was struck with its beauty. I took some of the seeds and dried them and weighed them, and found that it would require some 5,000 seeds to weigh a pound; and then I applied mathematics to that 40-pound melon.
"One of these seeds, put into the ground, when warmed by the sun and moistened by the rain, takes off its coat and goes to work; it gathers from somewhere 200,000 times its own weight, and forcing this raw material through a tiny stem, constructs a watermelon. It ornaments the outside with a covering of green; inside the green it puts a layer of white, and within the white a core of red, and all through the red it scatters seeds, each one capable of continuing the work of reproduction.
"Who drew the plan by which that little seed works? Where does it get its tremendous strength? Where does it find its coloring matter? How does it collect its flavoring extract? How does it develop a watermelon?
"Until you can explain a watermelon, do not be too sure that you can set limits to the power of the Almighty and say just what He would do or how He would do it."
***
Our family was recently in Boston, and one of the fascinating outings we undertook was to go whale watching. They are amazing creatures. Here is some of the information passed on by the captain of our whale watching tour.
Humpback whales are about 40 feet long at maturity and weigh about one ton per foot. They carry a thousand pounds of barnacles. When they breech, or jump out of the water, you can see the splash five miles away.
The whales migrate back and forth from north to south every year. Year after year, each family comes back to the very same place. When the calves are born (they weight about five tons), they are born breech -- or tail-first. If they were born head-first, these air-breathing mammals would drown during the birth process. As a baby whale is born, another humpback whale comes alongside and pushes it up to the surface to help the baby take his first breath of air.
The guide also said that the humpback whale sings a "song" that can be heard more than 50 miles away underwater. Every one of these whales sings the same song. Each year, the song changes slightly, and every humpback whale in the world will sing that year's song.
Come on, now -- tell me there is no "Intelligent Designer."
***
Imagine a family of mice who live all their lives in a large piano. To them in their piano-world came the music of the instrument, filling all the dark spaces with sound and harmony. At first the mice were impressed by it. They drew comfort and wonder from the thought that there was Someone who made the music -- invisible to them -- yet close to them. They loved to think of the Great Player whom they could not see.
Then one day a daring young mouse climbed up part of the piano and returned very thoughtful. He had found out how the music was made. Wires were the secret; tightly stretched wires of graduated lengths which trembled and vibrated. They must revise all their old beliefs: none but the most conservative could any longer believe in the Unseen Player. Later, another explorer carried the explanation further. Hammers were now the secret, numbers of hammers dancing and leaping on the wires. This was a more complicated theory, but it all went to show that they lived in a purely mechanical and mathematical world. The Unseen Player came to be thought of as a myth. But the Pianist continued to play.
***
Here are some words by Bishop Fulton J. Sheen (from an old issue of Christianity Today):
"Why did God create a world? God created the world for something like the same reason that we find it hard to keep a secret! Good things are hard to keep. The rose is good, and tells its secret in perfume. The sun is good, and tells its secret in light and heat.... But God is infinitely good, and therefore infinitely loving. Why therefore could not He by a free impulsion of His love let love overflow and bring new worlds into being? God could not keep, as it were, the secret of His love, and the telling of it was creation."
***
From the wonderful author and apologist Ravi Zacharias we have these words:
"On Christmas Day 1968, the three astronauts of Apollo 8 circled the dark side of the moon and headed for home. Suddenly, over the horizon of the moon rose the blue and white Earth garlanded by the glistening light of the sun against the black void of space. Those sophisticated men, trained in science and technology, did not utter Einstein's name. They did not even go to the poets, the lyricists, or the dramatists. Only one thing could capture the awe-inspiring thrill of this magnificent observation. Billions heard the voice from outer space as the astronaut read it: 'In the beginning God' -- the only concept worthy enough to describe that unspeakable awe, unutterable in any other way. 'In the beginning God created' -- the invasive, the inescapable sense of the infinite and the eternal."
***
And lastly -- this from Robert Farrar Capon in another Christianity Today article. (This is great stuff!!)
"[It] is not that the Trinity manufactures the first duck and then the ducks take over the duck business as a kind of cottage industry. It is that every duck, down at the roots of its being, at the level where what is needed is not the ability to fertilize duck eggs, but the moxie to stand outside of nothing -- to 'be' when there is no necessity of being -- every duck, at that level, is a response to the creative act of God....
"The world is not God's surplus inventory of artifacts; it is a whole barrelful of the apples of his eye, constantly juggled, relished, and exchanged by the persons of the Trinity. No wonder we love circuses, games, and magic: they prove we are in the image of God."
Chuck Cammarata is the pastor of Fairview Presbyterian Church in Fairview, Pennsylvania. He is the author of the CSS titles Lighting The Flame and Lectionary Worship Workbook, and he has regularly contributed worship resources for The Immediate Word. Cammarata is a graduate of Duquesne University and Pittsburgh Theological Seminary.
Scrap Pile
A Different Celebration
by Constance Berg
... and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts...
Matthew 2:11b
In Mexico, it's not Santa Claus who delivers gifts. And it's not December 25 that is so important. No, it's January 6 -- Epiphany -- that children wait for all year.
Epiphany in Mexico is called "Dia de los Santos Reyes" or "Three Kings Day." It's the day when the three wise men bring presents to deserving children. Mexican parents warn their children to behave in order to get candy. If they don't behave, a lump of coal might be found. If the child is very mischievous he or she may even get a pile of dung from the horse, elephant, and camel upon which the kings ride.
Three Kings Day really begins the night before when children parade through the town dressed as the three wise men: Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazar. Family and friends gather to eat a sweet bread in the shape of a wreath, called pan de rosca. In the bread is hidden a small clay doll to represent the baby Jesus. Whoever gets the doll in his or her slice has the honor of hosting next year's Candlemas party, which falls 40 days after Christmas and marks the end of the Christmas season. People are usually happy to get the doll in their slice.
The next morning, the children open little gifts as a reminder of the frankincense, gold, and myrrh given to baby Jesus. Gifts can often range from candy to new shoes or clothes. This is also the day when the mother of the family lifts the baby Jesus from the creche and takes it to the church to be blessed by the priest. After the blessing, the Christ Child is put away with the other creche figures and animals until next year. Only when the Christ Child is put away carefully can everyone begin feasting on tamales and atole (a milk and fruit drink).
Epiphany is the day children wait for in Mexico. It is the day when the Christ Child is blessed, the day when all children celebrate!
Tipping Etiquette
by Timothy Merrill
Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.
Matthew 2:11b
I don't frequent fine restaurants regularly, but occasionally I will visit an establishment that comes recommended with several stars, rather than greasy spoons.
Of course, I know that the final bill represents only part of the cost to me: there's the small matter of the tip.
I can recall the days when a 10 percent tip was considered standard for excellent service, but I know that nowadays tipping protocol suggests something closer to 15 percent. At least that's what I thought.
Then I ran across Hilka Klinkenberg (a real person -- not a made-up name), who is the founder of Etiquette International in New York City.She suggests a 15-20 percent tip at a diner, and if you're in a fine restaurant, 20-25 percent!
Fine. But if the service is bad, I reduce the tip, or depart without leaving a tip at all. Right?
Wrong. Hilka says that if the service is not satisfactory I should address the problem immediately before the tip enters the equation. Usually, the wait staff can sort things out.
The wine steward -- naturally -- should be tipped separately and in cash, up to 15 percent of the bottle's cost, or $2 to $5.
And we should never reduce a tip because of factors that are beyond a server's control.
There you have it. It is now safe for you to go out in public again without the local wait staff whispering behind your back, damaging your magnanimous reputation by suggesting instead that you're a parsimonious, penurious ingrate.
The situation for the Magi is slightly different. They are guests in someone else's home, even if that home is an animal shelter full of bleating animals and foul smells. The frankincense, tactfully offered if not graciously received, no doubt alleviated some of the stench during their visit.
It has always seemed to me that the tableau that is laid out before us suggests that we are called to bring our gifts to Jesus. The fact that he is an infant here, probably less than two years old, suggests to me that our gifts are offered not to the child, but the godhead dwelling in the child. We bring our gifts to Jesus as we would to God, and indeed the action is one and the same.
Of course, 15 percent will not do either at Chez Henri's or Chez Manger. Only 100 percent is acceptable. It is, as the apostle says, "our reasonable service" (Romans 12:1).
Timothy Merrill is the Senior Editor of the preaching journal Homiletics. He has published numerous articles in the religious press and in academic journals, and he is the author of Learning to Fall: A Guide for the Spiritually Clumsy (Chalice Press) and a volume in the CSS series Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit. Merrill is an ordained United Church of Christ minister who has served churches in Colorado, Minnesota, and Oregon.
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How to Share Stories
You have good stories to share, probably more than you know: personal stories as well as stories from others that you have used over the years. If you have a story you like, whether fictional or "really happened," authored by you or a brief excerpt from a favorite book, send it to StoryShare for review. Simply click here share-a-story@csspub.com and e-mail the story to us.
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StoryShare, January 8, 2006, issue.
Copyright 2006 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.
What's Up This Week
A Story to Live By: "Finishing Together"
Good Stories: "Father and Son" by Betty Lynn Schwab
"Little Lola Marie's Baptism" by Constance Berg
Sermon Starters: "The Creative Power of God" by Chuck Cammarata
Scrap Pile: "A Different Celebration" by Constance Berg
"Tipping Etiquette" by Timothy Merrill
What's Up This Week
This Sunday we celebrate John's baptism of Jesus -- and God's acknowledgement of Jesus as his son, with whom he is well pleased. This week's StoryShare offers two stories about fathers who are immensely proud of their sons, including a recounting of an unforgettable scene from the Barcelona Olympics. This edition also includes a moving baptism story, as well as a diverse group of sermon starters on the theme in this week's texts of God's creative power. And for those of you who will be observing Epiphany Sunday, there are two stories on those texts in the Scrap Pile.
A Story to Live By
Finishing Together
And a voice came from heaven, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased."
Mark 1:11
Derek Redmond had dreamed all his life of winning an Olympic gold medal -- and at the 1992 Olympics in Barcelona his dream seemed to be in sight, as he was considered one of the favorites in the men's 400 meters event. His dream had already been deferred for four years; Redmond had been forced to withdraw from the 400 at the 1988 Seoul Olympics, just 10 minutes before the race, because of an Achilles tendon injury. He then underwent five surgeries over the next year.
Redmond was confident as the starter's gun sounded for his semifinal heat. He quickly broke from the pack and seized the lead. As he rounded the turn into the backstretch, Redmond was a shoo-in to make the finals. But about 175 meters away from the finish line, Derek Redmond felt a piercing pain in the back of his right leg. He pulled up lame, as if he had been shot. The next thing he knew, he was lying face down on the track, having experienced the runner's worst nightmare: a torn hamstring. Redmond realized his dream of an Olympic medal was gone.
What happened next is one of the most remarkable stories in sporting history. As first-aid personnel approached with a stretcher, Redmond somehow struggled to his feet. "It was animal instinct," he would say later. He began hopping on his uninjured leg in a crazed attempt to finish the race.
The crowd looked on in silent amazement as Redmond refused to hobble off to the side of the track. Instead he stubbornly continued to limp onward, his face twisted with pain and tears.
When Redmond reached the final curve, about 120 meters from the finish, a large man in a t-shirt leaped down from the stands, hurled aside a security guard, and ran over to him, embracing him. It was Derek's father.
"You don't have to do this," he told his son.
"Yes, I do," insisted the son, through bitter tears.
"Well, then," said his father, "we're going to finish this together." And there, before the eyes of the entire world, the son's head sometimes buried in his father's shoulder, the two men hobbled along in his lane all the way to the end, finishing the race.
The crowd went wild; 65,000 people cheered, clapped, and cried in an absolute frenzy. Derek Redmond did not leave Barcelona with the gold medal he had dreamed of. But he did return home with a precious memory of a father who looked down on his beloved son, with whom he was well pleased.
(Adapted from Lectionary Preaching Workbook [Series VIII, Cycle B] by Carlos Wilton)
Good Stories
Father and Son
by Betty Lynn Schwab
The little group of doctors and interns burst out laughing at their own joke. Slapping one another on the shoulder in good-natured camaraderie, they left the nursery and headed toward the hospital coffee shop. The nurse finished tucking in the last sleepy infant and briskly slipped out the nursery door.
"At last! Alone!" Bob breathed. "Alone. With you! Weren't they noisy?"
In the quiet, Bob's rhythmic pushing of the nursery rocking chair slowed somewhat. Yet his gaze never even for a second left the tiny swaddled bundle in his arms.
"At last! Alone with you!" he whispered. "How can this be? How can you be? Me! Sitting here alone holding you! Oh, I know what the experts would say. But that's not really the question, is it?" Bob breathed in deeply and smiled.
"Oh! I remember the day I met your mommy. Sitting two rows over from me in our very first class that fall. When she stood and answered the professor's question, I thought she was the most attractive woman in the whole world. So we got to talking with each other over coffee, then dating. Our engagement was on Christmas Eve. Her diamond sparkled in the candlelight! We got married and then you were on the way! Mommy told me you were coming Father's Day. I couldn't believe it! I watched her grow bigger every month. One evening she took my hand in hers and kissed it, then put my hand on her big tummy! We could feel you kicking and moving deep inside! I couldn't believe it. How could it be? When we went for the ultrasound -- that's just a fancy way of looking for you -- the man pointed to the screen and said, 'There! That's your little one!' And I looked and looked at the screen. I tried so hard to see you! All I could see were wiggly lines and blurry waves. How could that be you? And how could you be on that little screen? Last night your mommy said it was time to go. And we came here to the hospital. And your mommy worked so hard all night long. It seemed forever! Then suddenly you were here! You cried and cried! I cried too! They wiped you and suctioned you and weighed you and measured you and bundled you up. Then they put you in my arms! Imagine! In my arms! And the nurse brought us here to this chair. So here we are! And now you're one hour old! Ahh! You keep looking at me! Who am I?" Raising the bundle, Bob gently kissed the tiny forehead and ever so gently held him close to his chest, rocking, rocking... "Who am I? I am your daddy! I am your daddy! You are my son, my beloved one."
Betty Lynn Schwab is an ordained United Church of Canada minister presently serving Meewasin Valley United Church in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada. Her CSS publications include The Carpenter's Child and Visions of Lent, a three-volume set of worship resources based on Jewish holidays.
Little Lola Marie's Baptism
by Constance Berg
...they were baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus. When Paul had laid his hands on them, the Holy Spirit came upon them...
Acts 19:5-6
Lola was a young doctor: an obstetrician who loved what she did. She had recently moved to a small town, about 50 miles east of her parents. Oh, it was so good to be able to drive to their house every once in a while to get away from the pressure of the hospital! She had found a little house on the end of a quiet street, and she felt like she had hit the jackpot when she saw it. It had a big room out back where she promised herself she would set up a little art studio. Her first love was medicine, but painting was a close second.
She was going to practice general medicine, since usually only a few dozen babies were born in the town. Lola would appreciate all the babies she could deliver. But she wasn't prepared for her first emergency delivery on a cold, lonely highway.
It was about noon that day when she finished her rounds at the hospital. She was on her way to Thanksgiving dinner with her parents when she came upon an accident outside of town. It had snowed that morning and the roads were still slippery. A car had slid off the highway and landed in the ditch. Inside, Lola found a very pregnant young woman named Elizabeth. She was conscious. Elizabeth explained that although she wasn't due for another thirteen weeks, she thought perhaps her water had broken upon impact. And she was pinned in the car.
Lola checked Elizabeth and they started to talk -- at first about nothing in particular. Elizabeth lived in a town about 40 miles away to the north. She was a teacher who was going to be a stay-at-home mom once the baby arrived -- which was supposed to be in early March! Lola shared that she was new to the rural community but the people had captured her heart and the landscape had captured her artistic side. She couldn't wait to start painting the landscapes as the seasons changed! They each shared their love of their families and their close ties to their church. Together, they bowed their head in prayer as they waited for help to arrive.
Volunteer fire and rescue personnel came and they were able to free Elizabeth. While on the way to the hospital, Lola got busy and a tiny baby girl was delivered in the ambulance. Lola was overwhelmed with emotion and joked to Elizabeth that she never wanted to deliver another baby like this! The baby, whom Elizabeth named Lola Marie, looked so little next to Elizabeth. Both mother and daughter were whisked away as soon as the ambulance arrived at the hospital.
Lola sat in the family conference room, waiting for someone to bring her back to her car on the highway, when she heard "code blue, NICU, code blue, NICU." She knew in her heart that it was Lola Marie, and she ran through the double doors. Lola offered to help, praying that the baby would be saved for Elizabeth's sake. She heard the nurse say the chaplain was on the way. The doctors were able to revive little Lola Marie, and after a few hours the baby stabilized. Lola decided she could finally leave. She went to say good-bye to Elizabeth.
Three months later, Lola received an invitation to Lola Marie's dedication. Elizabeth had enclosed pictures of Lola Marie, and although she looked tiny, she looked beautiful! Elizabeth wanted Lola to sit with the family.
It was late February and crocuses were peaking through the snow. There was hope that the snow would finally go away after all! The church service was lovely, and when it came time for the dedication, the pastor explained why this was not a "baptism." See, tiny Lola Marie had already been baptized in the hospital by the chaplain while the doctors were frantically trying to revive her.
The pastor symbolically poured water from the baptismal font into a shell. "The baptismal waters have already been poured on Lola Marie when she was less than an hour old, but this water symbolizes what happened at her true baptism that first day of her life. Today we are reminded what happens at baptism. The words 'you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever' have already been uttered over Lola Marie. The Holy Spirit has already come upon Lola Marie."
Lola smiled -- there was not a dry eye in the congregation. Lola Marie indeed was baptized: Lola Marie was a child of God, and as tiny as she was, she was a fighter. God bless little Lola Marie!
Constance Berg is a former missionary to Chiapas, Mexico. She is currently based in Bakersfield, California, where she serves as the director of 18 nursing homes for handicapped individuals. Berg holds degrees from California State University and Lutheran Theological Southern Seminary, and she has done graduate work at Fuller Theological Seminary. She is the author of three volumes of the CSS series Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit.
Sermon Starters
The Creative Power of God
by Chuck Cammarata
The common theme in this week's texts is the creative power of God. In the beginning God creates. Psalm 29 celebrates the creative power of God's voice. In the gospel reading (Mark 1:4-11) and in the epistle lesson (Acts 19:1-7) we find the Spirit of God bringing about a new thing: the beginning of the public ministry of the Messiah, and a work of transformation in some new believers. This is the work of our God -- creation and re-creation. Light out of darkness! Order out of chaos! Power out of weakness! Victory out of defeat! Life out of death! The following stories and illustrations celebrate this power.
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The great astronomer Kirchner had a friend who denied the existence of a God. One day he called on the astronomer. When he saw in the corner of Kirchner's room a very beautiful celestial globe, he inquired who had made it. "It's not mine," said Kirchner, "and I don't think anybody made it. It must have come there by chance, and of its own accord."
"Ridiculous!" said his friend.
"Why," rejoined Kirchner, "you cannot believe that this little, imperfect piece of workmanship sprang into existence of itself? How then can you imagine that the glorious heavens, which this merely represents, could have sprung into being of their own accord?"
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How is it that people stand in awe before a Van Gogh or Monet or Rembrandt, the wonderful creative ability of the designer and painter of a masterpiece on their minds and in their hearts, and yet they can look at a hummingbird floating in mid-air, or at the intricacy of a rose blossom, or the complexity of a ladybug, and attribute it to blind forces working mindlessly without purpose?
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William Jennings Bryan got more than refreshment from a piece of watermelon:
"I was eating a piece of watermelon some months ago when I was struck with its beauty. I took some of the seeds and dried them and weighed them, and found that it would require some 5,000 seeds to weigh a pound; and then I applied mathematics to that 40-pound melon.
"One of these seeds, put into the ground, when warmed by the sun and moistened by the rain, takes off its coat and goes to work; it gathers from somewhere 200,000 times its own weight, and forcing this raw material through a tiny stem, constructs a watermelon. It ornaments the outside with a covering of green; inside the green it puts a layer of white, and within the white a core of red, and all through the red it scatters seeds, each one capable of continuing the work of reproduction.
"Who drew the plan by which that little seed works? Where does it get its tremendous strength? Where does it find its coloring matter? How does it collect its flavoring extract? How does it develop a watermelon?
"Until you can explain a watermelon, do not be too sure that you can set limits to the power of the Almighty and say just what He would do or how He would do it."
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Our family was recently in Boston, and one of the fascinating outings we undertook was to go whale watching. They are amazing creatures. Here is some of the information passed on by the captain of our whale watching tour.
Humpback whales are about 40 feet long at maturity and weigh about one ton per foot. They carry a thousand pounds of barnacles. When they breech, or jump out of the water, you can see the splash five miles away.
The whales migrate back and forth from north to south every year. Year after year, each family comes back to the very same place. When the calves are born (they weight about five tons), they are born breech -- or tail-first. If they were born head-first, these air-breathing mammals would drown during the birth process. As a baby whale is born, another humpback whale comes alongside and pushes it up to the surface to help the baby take his first breath of air.
The guide also said that the humpback whale sings a "song" that can be heard more than 50 miles away underwater. Every one of these whales sings the same song. Each year, the song changes slightly, and every humpback whale in the world will sing that year's song.
Come on, now -- tell me there is no "Intelligent Designer."
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Imagine a family of mice who live all their lives in a large piano. To them in their piano-world came the music of the instrument, filling all the dark spaces with sound and harmony. At first the mice were impressed by it. They drew comfort and wonder from the thought that there was Someone who made the music -- invisible to them -- yet close to them. They loved to think of the Great Player whom they could not see.
Then one day a daring young mouse climbed up part of the piano and returned very thoughtful. He had found out how the music was made. Wires were the secret; tightly stretched wires of graduated lengths which trembled and vibrated. They must revise all their old beliefs: none but the most conservative could any longer believe in the Unseen Player. Later, another explorer carried the explanation further. Hammers were now the secret, numbers of hammers dancing and leaping on the wires. This was a more complicated theory, but it all went to show that they lived in a purely mechanical and mathematical world. The Unseen Player came to be thought of as a myth. But the Pianist continued to play.
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Here are some words by Bishop Fulton J. Sheen (from an old issue of Christianity Today):
"Why did God create a world? God created the world for something like the same reason that we find it hard to keep a secret! Good things are hard to keep. The rose is good, and tells its secret in perfume. The sun is good, and tells its secret in light and heat.... But God is infinitely good, and therefore infinitely loving. Why therefore could not He by a free impulsion of His love let love overflow and bring new worlds into being? God could not keep, as it were, the secret of His love, and the telling of it was creation."
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From the wonderful author and apologist Ravi Zacharias we have these words:
"On Christmas Day 1968, the three astronauts of Apollo 8 circled the dark side of the moon and headed for home. Suddenly, over the horizon of the moon rose the blue and white Earth garlanded by the glistening light of the sun against the black void of space. Those sophisticated men, trained in science and technology, did not utter Einstein's name. They did not even go to the poets, the lyricists, or the dramatists. Only one thing could capture the awe-inspiring thrill of this magnificent observation. Billions heard the voice from outer space as the astronaut read it: 'In the beginning God' -- the only concept worthy enough to describe that unspeakable awe, unutterable in any other way. 'In the beginning God created' -- the invasive, the inescapable sense of the infinite and the eternal."
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And lastly -- this from Robert Farrar Capon in another Christianity Today article. (This is great stuff!!)
"[It] is not that the Trinity manufactures the first duck and then the ducks take over the duck business as a kind of cottage industry. It is that every duck, down at the roots of its being, at the level where what is needed is not the ability to fertilize duck eggs, but the moxie to stand outside of nothing -- to 'be' when there is no necessity of being -- every duck, at that level, is a response to the creative act of God....
"The world is not God's surplus inventory of artifacts; it is a whole barrelful of the apples of his eye, constantly juggled, relished, and exchanged by the persons of the Trinity. No wonder we love circuses, games, and magic: they prove we are in the image of God."
Chuck Cammarata is the pastor of Fairview Presbyterian Church in Fairview, Pennsylvania. He is the author of the CSS titles Lighting The Flame and Lectionary Worship Workbook, and he has regularly contributed worship resources for The Immediate Word. Cammarata is a graduate of Duquesne University and Pittsburgh Theological Seminary.
Scrap Pile
A Different Celebration
by Constance Berg
... and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts...
Matthew 2:11b
In Mexico, it's not Santa Claus who delivers gifts. And it's not December 25 that is so important. No, it's January 6 -- Epiphany -- that children wait for all year.
Epiphany in Mexico is called "Dia de los Santos Reyes" or "Three Kings Day." It's the day when the three wise men bring presents to deserving children. Mexican parents warn their children to behave in order to get candy. If they don't behave, a lump of coal might be found. If the child is very mischievous he or she may even get a pile of dung from the horse, elephant, and camel upon which the kings ride.
Three Kings Day really begins the night before when children parade through the town dressed as the three wise men: Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazar. Family and friends gather to eat a sweet bread in the shape of a wreath, called pan de rosca. In the bread is hidden a small clay doll to represent the baby Jesus. Whoever gets the doll in his or her slice has the honor of hosting next year's Candlemas party, which falls 40 days after Christmas and marks the end of the Christmas season. People are usually happy to get the doll in their slice.
The next morning, the children open little gifts as a reminder of the frankincense, gold, and myrrh given to baby Jesus. Gifts can often range from candy to new shoes or clothes. This is also the day when the mother of the family lifts the baby Jesus from the creche and takes it to the church to be blessed by the priest. After the blessing, the Christ Child is put away with the other creche figures and animals until next year. Only when the Christ Child is put away carefully can everyone begin feasting on tamales and atole (a milk and fruit drink).
Epiphany is the day children wait for in Mexico. It is the day when the Christ Child is blessed, the day when all children celebrate!
Tipping Etiquette
by Timothy Merrill
Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.
Matthew 2:11b
I don't frequent fine restaurants regularly, but occasionally I will visit an establishment that comes recommended with several stars, rather than greasy spoons.
Of course, I know that the final bill represents only part of the cost to me: there's the small matter of the tip.
I can recall the days when a 10 percent tip was considered standard for excellent service, but I know that nowadays tipping protocol suggests something closer to 15 percent. At least that's what I thought.
Then I ran across Hilka Klinkenberg (a real person -- not a made-up name), who is the founder of Etiquette International in New York City.She suggests a 15-20 percent tip at a diner, and if you're in a fine restaurant, 20-25 percent!
Fine. But if the service is bad, I reduce the tip, or depart without leaving a tip at all. Right?
Wrong. Hilka says that if the service is not satisfactory I should address the problem immediately before the tip enters the equation. Usually, the wait staff can sort things out.
The wine steward -- naturally -- should be tipped separately and in cash, up to 15 percent of the bottle's cost, or $2 to $5.
And we should never reduce a tip because of factors that are beyond a server's control.
There you have it. It is now safe for you to go out in public again without the local wait staff whispering behind your back, damaging your magnanimous reputation by suggesting instead that you're a parsimonious, penurious ingrate.
The situation for the Magi is slightly different. They are guests in someone else's home, even if that home is an animal shelter full of bleating animals and foul smells. The frankincense, tactfully offered if not graciously received, no doubt alleviated some of the stench during their visit.
It has always seemed to me that the tableau that is laid out before us suggests that we are called to bring our gifts to Jesus. The fact that he is an infant here, probably less than two years old, suggests to me that our gifts are offered not to the child, but the godhead dwelling in the child. We bring our gifts to Jesus as we would to God, and indeed the action is one and the same.
Of course, 15 percent will not do either at Chez Henri's or Chez Manger. Only 100 percent is acceptable. It is, as the apostle says, "our reasonable service" (Romans 12:1).
Timothy Merrill is the Senior Editor of the preaching journal Homiletics. He has published numerous articles in the religious press and in academic journals, and he is the author of Learning to Fall: A Guide for the Spiritually Clumsy (Chalice Press) and a volume in the CSS series Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit. Merrill is an ordained United Church of Christ minister who has served churches in Colorado, Minnesota, and Oregon.
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StoryShare, January 8, 2006, issue.
Copyright 2006 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
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