First
Stories
Contents
What's Up This Week
A Story to Live By: "A Blessed Harvest" by Constance Berg
Good Stories: "First" by Frank R. Fisher
"The Draw of the Magnet" by Cynthia E. Cowen
Scrap Pile: "The End" by Gregory L. Tolle
What's Up This Week
In this week's Gospel reading, Jesus uses the agricultural metaphor of regeneration to illustrate the meaning of his imminent death and the hope of the resurrection. This edition of StoryShare picks up on the agricultural theme, with an imaginative story by Frank Fisher as well as a powerful Story to Live By about a small farming community pulling together to help one of their own. In the Scrap Pile, Greg Tolle offers some thoughts on how we sometimes treat prayer as a last-resort answer to our problems.
A Story to Live By
A Blessed Harvest
by Constance Berg
"Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.... Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor."
John 12:24, 26
It sounded like thunder. There wasn't a cloud in the sky that morning. The noise grew louder. The earth seemed to vibrate.
Nine long grain trucks, several farm trucks, a fuel truck, seven enormous combines, and numerous cars rumbled down the highway. This was obviously a procession -- a procession with a mission.
This was the day of the harvest bee at the Swensen farm. Thelma had had a stroke again and wasn't showing much progress. Harry wasn't very steady on his feet anymore since his hip surgery last month. A few friends had called each other and decided to help Thelma and Harry out. They called some others.
The group had gotten an early start. The weather was being cooperative and the wheat was ready. Thermoses and water jugs were filled. Everyone had a job to do.
They worked through the morning. At noon, it took the women an hour to set up tables with food; it took 30 minutes for it all to be eaten. Hot dishes, salads, breads, and cookies were devoured without ceremony.
This group lived in the same area. They were all neighbors and most were farmers. The weather couldn't have been more perfect: not too wet, not too dry. It would be a bumper crop for most. It was certainly a bumper crop for Harry.
This had all come about because last Sunday the pastor announced in church that Thelma had suffered another stroke. The men had gathered outside after church to share harvesting stories when one of them mentioned he would swing by to see if Harry needed help. Another said he'd join him and then there was a chorus of volunteers. Soon there was a small army formed to take on Harry's crop. It had been planned in a matter of minutes. It didn't take long for the news of the plans to spread.
At the end of a long day the engines finally stopped. Sandwiches, salads, and cookies were served again. A hush came over the group. There was nothing much to say. The harvest had gone smoothly. Everyone had known what to do.
It seemed like a small effort for each one. Only one day out of their lives. Just one day to help Harry. One day to be a helpful neighbor. One day to be a witness.
The fieldwork was finished; their relationships weren't. God had blessed their community. God had blessed their harvest.
Constance Berg is a former missionary to Chiapas, Mexico. She is the author of three volumes of the CSS series Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit.
Good Stories
First
by Frank R. Fisher
John 12:20-33
Once there was a grain of wheat. It was a fat, rich grain, growing in a rich field, on a strong, tall stem.
The grain of wheat loved the stem on which it grew, and the rich field where the stem was planted. It loved the hot sun beating down on a summer afternoon, the soft winds causing it to sway gently in unison with all the other grains, and the gentle rains falling and dripping off it onto the rich field.
But most of all, the grain of wheat loved talking to the stem. The stem, after all, had lived an incredibly long time; at least it seemed a long time to the grain. And because of its longevity, the stem was thought to be very wise.
"Tell me everything," the grain constantly begged the stem.
"I don't know everything," the stem would laughingly reply. "But I can tell you what I do know."
So the stem, its voice swaying in sync with the gentle wind, would tell the grain about its life. It told of its time as a grain; how it too loved the sun, and the wind, the rain, and the field. It told of the fall time when it turned from a part of a green carpet to a rich golden color. Then it told the grain how it dropped from its stem into the rich, dark field, and how it died in the depths of the earth.
"But you can't have died," the grain shot back in horror. "You're here! You're alive!"
"Yes, I did die," the stem calmly replied. "If I hadn't died, you and all the other grains wouldn't be here now. Very truly I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies it bears much fruit."
"I'm not sure I like it, but I think I understand," replied the grain. "If I want to truly live, first I have to die."
Once there was a man -- although the word "man" isn't quite right, for he was much, much more than just a man. Angels foretold his birth and sang in celebration above the place where he entered the human world.
He grew not only in body, but in wisdom. At the proper time he began to walk, across hills and valleys and through cities and towns. And as he walked, he talked, he healed, and he showed all who followed just what it was to love as God loves.
There came a time when he truly knew just what lay ahead of him. He told those who surrounded him how he would be lifted up, and how in the lifting he would die.
Most humans who live and breathe on the face of the earth have no choice about life and death. But this man did have a choice. He did not want to die the death he knew was his proper death.
"If it is possible, please take this away from me," he would one day fervently pray on a very dark night.
But he knew he would not draw all people to him unless he walked the path laid before him. He wanted to bear the fruit of life for all of God's people. And being more than a man, the man named Jesus knew and said, "Very truly I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies it bears much fruit."
He knew if he would bring God's people life, first he would have to die.
Once there were those who followed Jesus -- the Christ, the messiah, the one who brought life to God's people. Each of those who followed was joined to Jesus through dying and rising again through the waters of Baptism. And in the newness of their lives they spread out and followed, in many different ways.
Some followed in name only -- individually, or in groups, they held tightly to their own life, thinking consciously or unconsciously only of how to please themselves. Sometimes they felt they gained much in this way. At other times, their pleasure wasn't gained, or it faded over time, leaving them empty, or bitter and envious of those who had reached their own life's goal.
But sometimes those who followed the one named Jesus found themselves searching; searching for something deeper. Perhaps they felt they were missing what they were called to do. Perhaps their own path or their group's path wasn't bearing fruit. Or perhaps they wondered if following Jesus should involve more than filling their own desires.
And they found the words of Jesus: "Very truly I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies it bears much fruit."
They died and found what was missing inside them. They died and found their lives bearing much fruit. In turning from their own lives, in dying to their own path and seeking instead the path Jesus wanted them to travel, they discovered a richness and joy they never could have imagined.
Most of all, they found they understood the most essential truth of Jesus' path. If you want to truly and fully live, first you have to die.
Frank R. Fisher currently serves as the interim pastor of First Presbyterian Church in Fairbury, Illinois. During the final years of his first career as a paramedic and administrator for the Chicago Fire Department, Fisher graduated from McCormick Theological Seminary and was ordained. He is an Oblate of the ecumenical Abbey of John the Baptist and Saint Benedict in Bartonville, Illinois.
The Draw of the Magnet
by Cynthia E. Cowen
John 12:20-33
A young child sat at the wooden picnic table in the back yard of his suburban home. It was a great day to play outside. The warm wind blew through the trees surrounding the enclosed patio. The birds hopped about in search of food. The outdoors beckoned as wise parents shut off televisions and suggested youngsters spend some time in the fresh air. This boy's mother had a definite plan in mind when she sent him out the back door. One could see the wheels of her son's mind turning as he pondered what lay before him on the outdoor picnic table. An orange dishpan filled with granulated sand absorbed his whole attention. Inquisitive minds need to be challenged on long summer days. So Justin's mother had placed him outside to occupy and channel his youthful energy. And energy he had, sometimes more than his mother could harness! In the sand, his mother had buried a large box of large metal paper clips. Justin was to see how many he could find and report back his findings in an hour. His reward: a trip to Jim's Dairy Creme on the corner for a soft swirl ice cream cone. This was certainly an enticement that few young children could ever resist!
Justin sat with his head in his hands as he pondered the situation before him. How could he possibly find all the hidden treasure his mother had so carefully concealed beneath the sand? His little soul was troubled until a small light went on inside his head. Quickly running into the house, he searched his upstairs toy room for the key to unlocking his problem. In a small basket of odds and ends sitting on top of his dresser, he found the answer: a big, black horseshoe magnet. Racing back outside, he began to stir the sand with one hand while holding the magnet above it to see how many clips would be pulled up. His tiny face shone with delight as the metal objects began to rise in an intricate chain from the plastic dish before him. Lifting the magnet higher and higher, he grinned. This was going to be easy. The chain rose slowly. All at once, the paper clips fell back down, scattering all over the table. The magnetic attraction had been broken by distance. What was left was a jumble of scattered paper clips and a very puzzled child.
Cynthia E. Cowen is a prolific writer who has produced many worship resources for CSS Publishing Company. She serves as an Associate in Ministry at Our Saviour's Lutheran Church in Iron Mountain, Michigan, and also been active in synod and denominational leadership teams, including six years of service on the Executive Board of the Women of the ELCA. Among Cowen's CSS titles are Bread and Broth, Lights, Symbols, and Angels, and two volumes of Who -- Me? Do a Program?
Scrap Pile
The End
by Gregory L. Tolle
Jesus answered them, "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor. Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say -- 'Father, save me from this hour'? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name."
John 12:23-27
In 1978, Burt Reynolds starred in a dark comedy titled The End. He played Wendell Sonny Lawson, an unscrupulous real estate tycoon who was diagnosed as being terminally ill and given three months to live. Not wanting to live his last few months in pain waiting for the end, he tries to pull a "Kevorkian" and commit suicide. A failed attempt lands him in an insane asylum. There he enlists the help of a delusional mental patient named Marlon, played by Dom DeLuise. After several unsuccessful attempts to kill himself, he escapes from the institution.
Still seeking death during a seaside drive, he devises a plan to drown by swimming out into the ocean until he is completely exhausted. But after swimming out quite a ways, he says, "Here I come, Lord." Then he dives down into the ocean. But thinking of his daughter, Sonny changes his mind and decides that he does want to live.
After surfacing, he begins swimming back to the beach. He says, "I can never make it. Help me, Lord. Please. I promise I'll try not to kill myself anymore. Save me and I swear I'll be a better father. I'll be a better man. I'll be a better everything. All I ask is... make me a better swimmer."
He continues swimming and says, "Oh God, let me live and I promise to obey every one of the Ten Commandments." After naming two of the commandments, he realizes that he doesn't know the Ten Commandments. He then changes his promise: "I'll learn the Ten Commandments."
He swims a little farther and promises he will be honest in his real estate business -- only selling lakefront property if there is actually a lake. Then he promises, "Help me make it and I'll give 50 percent of every thing I make. Fifty percent. I want to point out that nobody gives 50 percent. I'm talking gross, God."
With the shore in sight he says, "I think I'm going to make it. You won't regret this, God. I'm going to start donating that 10 percent right away."
We laugh, because there is truth in it. Too often, we pray panic-button prayers packaged with flowery promises. We only turn to God when every other option has failed -- when we realize we can't make it on our own. We promise we'll never speed, slack, cheat, lie, or steal if God will just get us out of our latest mess. (As if God hasn't heard that before.) Our motto appears to be: When the going gets tough, panic. Try to pray your way out of the problem.
In contrast to our tendency to try to pray our way out of problems, Jesus shows us how to pray our way into faith. In the scripture, Jesus bypasses the panic-button prayer option. Knowing he was going to Jerusalem for "The End," to be crucified, Jesus didn't pray, "Father, save me from this hour." Instead, he embraced his call of crucifixion. He could because he knew the power of God was with him. He prayed his way into faith.
It's your choice. You can either try to pray your way out of a problem, or you can trust the power of God and pray your way into faith. We can get in line with God instead of trying to get God in line with us. You can learn from Jesus and trust God -- pray your way in to God's glory.
Gregory L. Tolle is the senior minister at First United Methodist Church in Durant, Oklahoma. He is the author of Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit (Series IV, Cycle B).
**********************************************
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.
**********************************************
StoryShare, April 2, 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: "A Blessed Harvest" by Constance Berg
Good Stories: "First" by Frank R. Fisher
"The Draw of the Magnet" by Cynthia E. Cowen
Scrap Pile: "The End" by Gregory L. Tolle
What's Up This Week
In this week's Gospel reading, Jesus uses the agricultural metaphor of regeneration to illustrate the meaning of his imminent death and the hope of the resurrection. This edition of StoryShare picks up on the agricultural theme, with an imaginative story by Frank Fisher as well as a powerful Story to Live By about a small farming community pulling together to help one of their own. In the Scrap Pile, Greg Tolle offers some thoughts on how we sometimes treat prayer as a last-resort answer to our problems.
A Story to Live By
A Blessed Harvest
by Constance Berg
"Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.... Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor."
John 12:24, 26
It sounded like thunder. There wasn't a cloud in the sky that morning. The noise grew louder. The earth seemed to vibrate.
Nine long grain trucks, several farm trucks, a fuel truck, seven enormous combines, and numerous cars rumbled down the highway. This was obviously a procession -- a procession with a mission.
This was the day of the harvest bee at the Swensen farm. Thelma had had a stroke again and wasn't showing much progress. Harry wasn't very steady on his feet anymore since his hip surgery last month. A few friends had called each other and decided to help Thelma and Harry out. They called some others.
The group had gotten an early start. The weather was being cooperative and the wheat was ready. Thermoses and water jugs were filled. Everyone had a job to do.
They worked through the morning. At noon, it took the women an hour to set up tables with food; it took 30 minutes for it all to be eaten. Hot dishes, salads, breads, and cookies were devoured without ceremony.
This group lived in the same area. They were all neighbors and most were farmers. The weather couldn't have been more perfect: not too wet, not too dry. It would be a bumper crop for most. It was certainly a bumper crop for Harry.
This had all come about because last Sunday the pastor announced in church that Thelma had suffered another stroke. The men had gathered outside after church to share harvesting stories when one of them mentioned he would swing by to see if Harry needed help. Another said he'd join him and then there was a chorus of volunteers. Soon there was a small army formed to take on Harry's crop. It had been planned in a matter of minutes. It didn't take long for the news of the plans to spread.
At the end of a long day the engines finally stopped. Sandwiches, salads, and cookies were served again. A hush came over the group. There was nothing much to say. The harvest had gone smoothly. Everyone had known what to do.
It seemed like a small effort for each one. Only one day out of their lives. Just one day to help Harry. One day to be a helpful neighbor. One day to be a witness.
The fieldwork was finished; their relationships weren't. God had blessed their community. God had blessed their harvest.
Constance Berg is a former missionary to Chiapas, Mexico. She is the author of three volumes of the CSS series Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit.
Good Stories
First
by Frank R. Fisher
John 12:20-33
Once there was a grain of wheat. It was a fat, rich grain, growing in a rich field, on a strong, tall stem.
The grain of wheat loved the stem on which it grew, and the rich field where the stem was planted. It loved the hot sun beating down on a summer afternoon, the soft winds causing it to sway gently in unison with all the other grains, and the gentle rains falling and dripping off it onto the rich field.
But most of all, the grain of wheat loved talking to the stem. The stem, after all, had lived an incredibly long time; at least it seemed a long time to the grain. And because of its longevity, the stem was thought to be very wise.
"Tell me everything," the grain constantly begged the stem.
"I don't know everything," the stem would laughingly reply. "But I can tell you what I do know."
So the stem, its voice swaying in sync with the gentle wind, would tell the grain about its life. It told of its time as a grain; how it too loved the sun, and the wind, the rain, and the field. It told of the fall time when it turned from a part of a green carpet to a rich golden color. Then it told the grain how it dropped from its stem into the rich, dark field, and how it died in the depths of the earth.
"But you can't have died," the grain shot back in horror. "You're here! You're alive!"
"Yes, I did die," the stem calmly replied. "If I hadn't died, you and all the other grains wouldn't be here now. Very truly I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies it bears much fruit."
"I'm not sure I like it, but I think I understand," replied the grain. "If I want to truly live, first I have to die."
Once there was a man -- although the word "man" isn't quite right, for he was much, much more than just a man. Angels foretold his birth and sang in celebration above the place where he entered the human world.
He grew not only in body, but in wisdom. At the proper time he began to walk, across hills and valleys and through cities and towns. And as he walked, he talked, he healed, and he showed all who followed just what it was to love as God loves.
There came a time when he truly knew just what lay ahead of him. He told those who surrounded him how he would be lifted up, and how in the lifting he would die.
Most humans who live and breathe on the face of the earth have no choice about life and death. But this man did have a choice. He did not want to die the death he knew was his proper death.
"If it is possible, please take this away from me," he would one day fervently pray on a very dark night.
But he knew he would not draw all people to him unless he walked the path laid before him. He wanted to bear the fruit of life for all of God's people. And being more than a man, the man named Jesus knew and said, "Very truly I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies it bears much fruit."
He knew if he would bring God's people life, first he would have to die.
Once there were those who followed Jesus -- the Christ, the messiah, the one who brought life to God's people. Each of those who followed was joined to Jesus through dying and rising again through the waters of Baptism. And in the newness of their lives they spread out and followed, in many different ways.
Some followed in name only -- individually, or in groups, they held tightly to their own life, thinking consciously or unconsciously only of how to please themselves. Sometimes they felt they gained much in this way. At other times, their pleasure wasn't gained, or it faded over time, leaving them empty, or bitter and envious of those who had reached their own life's goal.
But sometimes those who followed the one named Jesus found themselves searching; searching for something deeper. Perhaps they felt they were missing what they were called to do. Perhaps their own path or their group's path wasn't bearing fruit. Or perhaps they wondered if following Jesus should involve more than filling their own desires.
And they found the words of Jesus: "Very truly I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies it bears much fruit."
They died and found what was missing inside them. They died and found their lives bearing much fruit. In turning from their own lives, in dying to their own path and seeking instead the path Jesus wanted them to travel, they discovered a richness and joy they never could have imagined.
Most of all, they found they understood the most essential truth of Jesus' path. If you want to truly and fully live, first you have to die.
Frank R. Fisher currently serves as the interim pastor of First Presbyterian Church in Fairbury, Illinois. During the final years of his first career as a paramedic and administrator for the Chicago Fire Department, Fisher graduated from McCormick Theological Seminary and was ordained. He is an Oblate of the ecumenical Abbey of John the Baptist and Saint Benedict in Bartonville, Illinois.
The Draw of the Magnet
by Cynthia E. Cowen
John 12:20-33
A young child sat at the wooden picnic table in the back yard of his suburban home. It was a great day to play outside. The warm wind blew through the trees surrounding the enclosed patio. The birds hopped about in search of food. The outdoors beckoned as wise parents shut off televisions and suggested youngsters spend some time in the fresh air. This boy's mother had a definite plan in mind when she sent him out the back door. One could see the wheels of her son's mind turning as he pondered what lay before him on the outdoor picnic table. An orange dishpan filled with granulated sand absorbed his whole attention. Inquisitive minds need to be challenged on long summer days. So Justin's mother had placed him outside to occupy and channel his youthful energy. And energy he had, sometimes more than his mother could harness! In the sand, his mother had buried a large box of large metal paper clips. Justin was to see how many he could find and report back his findings in an hour. His reward: a trip to Jim's Dairy Creme on the corner for a soft swirl ice cream cone. This was certainly an enticement that few young children could ever resist!
Justin sat with his head in his hands as he pondered the situation before him. How could he possibly find all the hidden treasure his mother had so carefully concealed beneath the sand? His little soul was troubled until a small light went on inside his head. Quickly running into the house, he searched his upstairs toy room for the key to unlocking his problem. In a small basket of odds and ends sitting on top of his dresser, he found the answer: a big, black horseshoe magnet. Racing back outside, he began to stir the sand with one hand while holding the magnet above it to see how many clips would be pulled up. His tiny face shone with delight as the metal objects began to rise in an intricate chain from the plastic dish before him. Lifting the magnet higher and higher, he grinned. This was going to be easy. The chain rose slowly. All at once, the paper clips fell back down, scattering all over the table. The magnetic attraction had been broken by distance. What was left was a jumble of scattered paper clips and a very puzzled child.
Cynthia E. Cowen is a prolific writer who has produced many worship resources for CSS Publishing Company. She serves as an Associate in Ministry at Our Saviour's Lutheran Church in Iron Mountain, Michigan, and also been active in synod and denominational leadership teams, including six years of service on the Executive Board of the Women of the ELCA. Among Cowen's CSS titles are Bread and Broth, Lights, Symbols, and Angels, and two volumes of Who -- Me? Do a Program?
Scrap Pile
The End
by Gregory L. Tolle
Jesus answered them, "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor. Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say -- 'Father, save me from this hour'? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name."
John 12:23-27
In 1978, Burt Reynolds starred in a dark comedy titled The End. He played Wendell Sonny Lawson, an unscrupulous real estate tycoon who was diagnosed as being terminally ill and given three months to live. Not wanting to live his last few months in pain waiting for the end, he tries to pull a "Kevorkian" and commit suicide. A failed attempt lands him in an insane asylum. There he enlists the help of a delusional mental patient named Marlon, played by Dom DeLuise. After several unsuccessful attempts to kill himself, he escapes from the institution.
Still seeking death during a seaside drive, he devises a plan to drown by swimming out into the ocean until he is completely exhausted. But after swimming out quite a ways, he says, "Here I come, Lord." Then he dives down into the ocean. But thinking of his daughter, Sonny changes his mind and decides that he does want to live.
After surfacing, he begins swimming back to the beach. He says, "I can never make it. Help me, Lord. Please. I promise I'll try not to kill myself anymore. Save me and I swear I'll be a better father. I'll be a better man. I'll be a better everything. All I ask is... make me a better swimmer."
He continues swimming and says, "Oh God, let me live and I promise to obey every one of the Ten Commandments." After naming two of the commandments, he realizes that he doesn't know the Ten Commandments. He then changes his promise: "I'll learn the Ten Commandments."
He swims a little farther and promises he will be honest in his real estate business -- only selling lakefront property if there is actually a lake. Then he promises, "Help me make it and I'll give 50 percent of every thing I make. Fifty percent. I want to point out that nobody gives 50 percent. I'm talking gross, God."
With the shore in sight he says, "I think I'm going to make it. You won't regret this, God. I'm going to start donating that 10 percent right away."
We laugh, because there is truth in it. Too often, we pray panic-button prayers packaged with flowery promises. We only turn to God when every other option has failed -- when we realize we can't make it on our own. We promise we'll never speed, slack, cheat, lie, or steal if God will just get us out of our latest mess. (As if God hasn't heard that before.) Our motto appears to be: When the going gets tough, panic. Try to pray your way out of the problem.
In contrast to our tendency to try to pray our way out of problems, Jesus shows us how to pray our way into faith. In the scripture, Jesus bypasses the panic-button prayer option. Knowing he was going to Jerusalem for "The End," to be crucified, Jesus didn't pray, "Father, save me from this hour." Instead, he embraced his call of crucifixion. He could because he knew the power of God was with him. He prayed his way into faith.
It's your choice. You can either try to pray your way out of a problem, or you can trust the power of God and pray your way into faith. We can get in line with God instead of trying to get God in line with us. You can learn from Jesus and trust God -- pray your way in to God's glory.
Gregory L. Tolle is the senior minister at First United Methodist Church in Durant, Oklahoma. He is the author of Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit (Series IV, Cycle B).
**********************************************
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.
**********************************************
StoryShare, April 2, 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.
