God's Way
Stories
Object:
Contents
"God's Way" by Keith Hewitt
"All You Know" by Peter Andrew Smith
* * * * * * *
God's Way
by Keith Hewitt
Isaiah 50:4-9a
A certain style of wide-brimmed hat, when worn low on the brow of a head tilted forward at an angle of about twenty degrees, will not only shield face and eyes from sun and rain, but also from the ubiquitous surveillance cameras that ringed the federal building like an army of unblinking eyes.
This fact did not escape the notice of citizens -- like Tom -- who wished to stay off the watch lists... nor of the government, which was drafting changes to the criminal code which would make the wearing of such hats within 1,300 feet of government buildings a crime. These changes were touted in government circles as a compromise, since the original bureaucratic intent had been to ban the sale and wearing of such hats entirely.
It was not the sort of victory that would be celebrated in song and shouted from the barricades.
A blank, slab-like door on a featureless wall opened, casting a cone of light out into the yard, and a lone figure stepped out, ushered unceremoniously by two men in dark blue wool jailers' uniforms. The taller of the two handed the figure a manila envelope and admonished gruffly, "Now get out of here. We don't want to see you again Padre." The contempt wrapped around the last word was almost palpable.
Before the figure could say anything, the man stepped back inside and the door slammed shut, leaving the figure to shuffle toward the wire fence where Tom stood. As he drew near the gate, it rolled back -- seemingly of its own volition -- and allowed him to pass through before closing again.
"Evening, Pastor Mark," Tom said quietly, hoping not to be picked up by surveillance microphones, even as he kept his voice as nondescript as possible. He extended his hand, holding a heavy jacket. "Thought you might be cold."
Pastor Mark accepted the jacket gratefully, handed the envelope to Tom for him to hold while he slipped it on, and then took it back. "Thanks, T-- thanks," he repeated, catching himself. "It was pretty cold in there. I don't think they were heating the detention block I was in."
Tom just nodded, took him by the elbow, and guided him away from the fence... and the lights... and the cameras... and the mics...
As they walked, the pastor tore open the envelope, and pulled out a single sheet of legal-sized paper, but he could not read it in the moonlight. He finally stopped for a few moments underneath a streetlight about two blocks from the federal building and scanned the document. When done, he folded it up and shoved it in a pants pocket.
Tom looked at him quizzically.
"Another cease-and-desist order," Mark said simply.
They walked in silence for a bit, then Tom cast a sideways look at him and asked, "So what are you going to do?"
Mark shrugged. "Put it with the others. And the decertification letter."
Tom nodded. "Yeah, we heard about that. I suppose the church is getting decertified too?"
"Not yet -- but they tell me it could end up being decertified as a religious institution if it continues to promote political positions. For me, it's a done deal -- I've been personally decertified because I've been advocating political policy. They advised the bishop that I would no longer be recognized as a clergyman for any statutory purpose, as of Monday."
Tom said something under his breath and kicked at an empty can that had blown to a stop on the sidewalk. When Mark looked at him curiously, he raised his voice and repeated, "Political policy!"
The pastor just smiled.
"I just don't get what you were doing that was political? What are we doing that's political?"
Mark shrugged. "You know... advocating for the poor, distributing food and blankets to unregistered vagrants, reaching out to those being held in deportation processing facilities, things like that." He stuck his hands in his coat pockets and lowered his head. "I was also told that it's inappropriate to try to foist religious beliefs on people who are too ignorant to form their own opinions. It's a violation of their rights."
Tom shook his head. "Do they have any idea of the good that we do?"
"Doesn't matter... it doesn't fit their pattern for what an orderly society should be."
"So if the church keeps up its charity outreach...?"
"Eventually, the church will lose its tax exempt status. The bishop will be advised that the church is functioning as a political body and advised to either disassociate the conference from it, or risk having all of the churches in the state lose their status as religious institutions."
There was a long silence -- another block or so -- before Tom said quietly, "So what are you going to do?"
"What can I do? My hands are tied, Tom -- you know that as well as I do."
"Yeah," he said slowly. "Yeah, I guess I do."
Their walk had taken them half a mile away from the federal building, brought them to an older minivan parked beneath a streetlight. Mark nodded toward it. "Thanks for bringing it, Tom -- I really appreciate it. It's a long walk home, and they canceled my transit cards."
"No problem. So you're going home?"
"Just to change -- orange isn't my color. And to pick up a few things."
"And then what?"
"I heard there's a group of unregistered families camped out at Richter's old factory -- the vinegar plant. I'm going to take them some blankets and some food -- make sure they're okay... maybe do a little preaching while I'm there." He smiled sadly. "You know, just to keep in practice."
"So you've made up your mind? You know you're going to end up in jail -- not just detention -- at some point."
Mark shrugged. "I think Jesus made the decision for me a long time ago. I've got to do what I've got to do -- you know what Isaiah said in chapter 50, 'The Lord has given me his words of wisdom, so I know how to comfort the weary.' " He reached out a hand. "You got the keys?"
Tom reached out, laid the keys in his hand -- but didn't release them. "There's something you should know, Pastor Mark."
"It's not Pastor Mark -- just plain old Mark. I lost my license, remember?"
"There's something you should know, Pastor Mark," Tom repeated -- then pushed the button that opened the side door on the van. Inside, illuminated by the dim dome light in the ceiling, were half a dozen other members of the church. "We knew what you were going to do... we just knew. And we didn't want you doing it alone," he explained.
Mark's heart was in his throat, and he tried not to show it. "But you know they'll be watching me. You're liable to all end up getting arrested. And then what happens to the church?"
Tom shrugged. "What happens if we don't do it, pastor? If we don't, then we've already lost who we are, and I don't want to give the government that satisfaction. We can handle it, pastor," he said, almost eagerly, then added with a sly smile, "Besides, 'The sovereign Lord is on my side, who can declare me guilty?' That's verse 9, I think."
Mark grinned. "You've been reading my Bible?"
"You left it on the front seat. Highlighted. It was kind of hard not to."
The pastor looked at Tom, then at the other members inside, and finally shrugged. "Okay. Who am I to argue? Have it your way."
"Nope -- we're having it God's way," Tom corrected, and climbed in.
And the rest of the night was not so cold...
Keith Hewitt is the author of three volumes of NaTiVity Dramas: Nontraditional Christmas Plays for All Ages (CSS). He is a local pastor, former youth leader and Sunday school teacher, and occasional speaker at Christian events. He is currently serving as the pastor at Parkview UMC in Turtle Lake, Wisconsin. Keith is married to a teacher, and they have two children and assorted dogs and cats.
All You Know
by Peter Andrew Smith
Psalm 31:9-16
John sat on the bench enjoying the sunshine and watching the traffic go by. The laughter of two children playing in the small green area near the parking lot caught his attention. He watched the boy and the girl running around the small gazebo.
"Here's you're coffee." Sue sat down beside him on the bench. "Did I miss something?"
John pointed toward the children. Their play seemed to have no order or depth but they didn't seem to care. They laughed as they chased each other and raced around.
"You're smiling."
John took a sip of his coffee. "They are having so much fun."
"Huh, usually you're not a great fan of kids on days like this."
"They are so care free and happy." John shrugged. "It makes me think of us when we were younger."
"We did get into some scrapes," she said.
He patted her hand. "We sure did. Is it time to go yet?"
She shook her head. "There is no reason we can't sit here a while longer. Enjoy your coffee."
They sat watching the children playing for a few moments. A woman called to them and the boy and girl ran over to her.
"Do you ever wonder why?" Sue asked as the children disappeared from view.
"Why what?"
"Why you got sick."
"When the doctor first told me the test results it was all I could think about. Why me? What have I done to deserve this? Where is God in all of this? I had many sleepless nights." John's voice trailed off.
Sue waited to see if he would continue talking. "And?"
"And what?" John said looking over at her.
"What did you decide about why you were sick and why everything was happening?"
John took a drink of his coffee. "I realized I don't know."
"You sound certain."
"After a year of agony and searching for an answer as to why me, after unending prayers begging God to not let this happen and rivers of tears, I found myself back where I started. I was sick and in pain with no idea why."
Sue shook her head. "I would go crazy if I couldn't find an answer."
"You get used to not knowing. Not understanding." He sighed. "It's not what I would prefer but sometimes it is all you get."
"I'm sorry." She took his hand in hers. "I wish I knew what to say."
"There really isn't anything you can say. I'm sick and probably not going to get better."
"Don't give up."
"I haven't." John squeezed her hand. "All I have done is accept that an answer, a reason for why all of this is happening to me isn't important. It has actually made things easier realizing that."
"How?"
"Because I can focus on what is important." The corners of his lips turned up. "Do you realize how long it has been since we played tag?"
"The shape you are in it wouldn't be much of a match." Sue looked over at the gazebo. "But I'm up for it if you want to try."
John rubbed his chin. "If you give me a ten minute head start it might be fairer."
"Are you sure that ten minutes would be enough?"
John laughed. "Maybe not."
Sue put her arm around him and held her brother close. "I love you. I wish I could do more."
He kissed her on the cheek. "I couldn't ask for more. Tom probably has forgotten what you look like since you spend so much time here with me."
"He doesn't mind at all. He said he'll be in later after work." Sue looked at her watch. "I suppose we should go back inside."
John nodded. "The nurses will be wondering where I've gone."
Sue helped John to his feet and he took her arm as they began to walk toward the door. After a few steps he stopped.
"I love you too. And I appreciate everything you have been doing to help me." John took a deep breath. "I don't say it enough."
"You don't have to say anything," Sue replied.
"No, that's where you are wrong. I told you that sometimes not knowing is all you get." John looked into her eyes. "That's not all that I know. I know that God loves me."
"After all of this? You still think God loves you?"
"I don't think it," John said starting to walk again. "I believe it and that is all that I need to keep me going."
Peter Andrew Smith is an ordained minister in the United Church of Canada who currently serves at St. James United Church in Antigonish, Nova Scotia. He is the author of All Things Are Ready (CSS), a book of lectionary-based communion prayers, as well as many stories and articles, which can be found listed at www.peterandrewsmith.com.
*****************************************
StoryShare, April 13, 2014, issue.
Copyright 2014 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., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
"God's Way" by Keith Hewitt
"All You Know" by Peter Andrew Smith
* * * * * * *
God's Way
by Keith Hewitt
Isaiah 50:4-9a
A certain style of wide-brimmed hat, when worn low on the brow of a head tilted forward at an angle of about twenty degrees, will not only shield face and eyes from sun and rain, but also from the ubiquitous surveillance cameras that ringed the federal building like an army of unblinking eyes.
This fact did not escape the notice of citizens -- like Tom -- who wished to stay off the watch lists... nor of the government, which was drafting changes to the criminal code which would make the wearing of such hats within 1,300 feet of government buildings a crime. These changes were touted in government circles as a compromise, since the original bureaucratic intent had been to ban the sale and wearing of such hats entirely.
It was not the sort of victory that would be celebrated in song and shouted from the barricades.
A blank, slab-like door on a featureless wall opened, casting a cone of light out into the yard, and a lone figure stepped out, ushered unceremoniously by two men in dark blue wool jailers' uniforms. The taller of the two handed the figure a manila envelope and admonished gruffly, "Now get out of here. We don't want to see you again Padre." The contempt wrapped around the last word was almost palpable.
Before the figure could say anything, the man stepped back inside and the door slammed shut, leaving the figure to shuffle toward the wire fence where Tom stood. As he drew near the gate, it rolled back -- seemingly of its own volition -- and allowed him to pass through before closing again.
"Evening, Pastor Mark," Tom said quietly, hoping not to be picked up by surveillance microphones, even as he kept his voice as nondescript as possible. He extended his hand, holding a heavy jacket. "Thought you might be cold."
Pastor Mark accepted the jacket gratefully, handed the envelope to Tom for him to hold while he slipped it on, and then took it back. "Thanks, T-- thanks," he repeated, catching himself. "It was pretty cold in there. I don't think they were heating the detention block I was in."
Tom just nodded, took him by the elbow, and guided him away from the fence... and the lights... and the cameras... and the mics...
As they walked, the pastor tore open the envelope, and pulled out a single sheet of legal-sized paper, but he could not read it in the moonlight. He finally stopped for a few moments underneath a streetlight about two blocks from the federal building and scanned the document. When done, he folded it up and shoved it in a pants pocket.
Tom looked at him quizzically.
"Another cease-and-desist order," Mark said simply.
They walked in silence for a bit, then Tom cast a sideways look at him and asked, "So what are you going to do?"
Mark shrugged. "Put it with the others. And the decertification letter."
Tom nodded. "Yeah, we heard about that. I suppose the church is getting decertified too?"
"Not yet -- but they tell me it could end up being decertified as a religious institution if it continues to promote political positions. For me, it's a done deal -- I've been personally decertified because I've been advocating political policy. They advised the bishop that I would no longer be recognized as a clergyman for any statutory purpose, as of Monday."
Tom said something under his breath and kicked at an empty can that had blown to a stop on the sidewalk. When Mark looked at him curiously, he raised his voice and repeated, "Political policy!"
The pastor just smiled.
"I just don't get what you were doing that was political? What are we doing that's political?"
Mark shrugged. "You know... advocating for the poor, distributing food and blankets to unregistered vagrants, reaching out to those being held in deportation processing facilities, things like that." He stuck his hands in his coat pockets and lowered his head. "I was also told that it's inappropriate to try to foist religious beliefs on people who are too ignorant to form their own opinions. It's a violation of their rights."
Tom shook his head. "Do they have any idea of the good that we do?"
"Doesn't matter... it doesn't fit their pattern for what an orderly society should be."
"So if the church keeps up its charity outreach...?"
"Eventually, the church will lose its tax exempt status. The bishop will be advised that the church is functioning as a political body and advised to either disassociate the conference from it, or risk having all of the churches in the state lose their status as religious institutions."
There was a long silence -- another block or so -- before Tom said quietly, "So what are you going to do?"
"What can I do? My hands are tied, Tom -- you know that as well as I do."
"Yeah," he said slowly. "Yeah, I guess I do."
Their walk had taken them half a mile away from the federal building, brought them to an older minivan parked beneath a streetlight. Mark nodded toward it. "Thanks for bringing it, Tom -- I really appreciate it. It's a long walk home, and they canceled my transit cards."
"No problem. So you're going home?"
"Just to change -- orange isn't my color. And to pick up a few things."
"And then what?"
"I heard there's a group of unregistered families camped out at Richter's old factory -- the vinegar plant. I'm going to take them some blankets and some food -- make sure they're okay... maybe do a little preaching while I'm there." He smiled sadly. "You know, just to keep in practice."
"So you've made up your mind? You know you're going to end up in jail -- not just detention -- at some point."
Mark shrugged. "I think Jesus made the decision for me a long time ago. I've got to do what I've got to do -- you know what Isaiah said in chapter 50, 'The Lord has given me his words of wisdom, so I know how to comfort the weary.' " He reached out a hand. "You got the keys?"
Tom reached out, laid the keys in his hand -- but didn't release them. "There's something you should know, Pastor Mark."
"It's not Pastor Mark -- just plain old Mark. I lost my license, remember?"
"There's something you should know, Pastor Mark," Tom repeated -- then pushed the button that opened the side door on the van. Inside, illuminated by the dim dome light in the ceiling, were half a dozen other members of the church. "We knew what you were going to do... we just knew. And we didn't want you doing it alone," he explained.
Mark's heart was in his throat, and he tried not to show it. "But you know they'll be watching me. You're liable to all end up getting arrested. And then what happens to the church?"
Tom shrugged. "What happens if we don't do it, pastor? If we don't, then we've already lost who we are, and I don't want to give the government that satisfaction. We can handle it, pastor," he said, almost eagerly, then added with a sly smile, "Besides, 'The sovereign Lord is on my side, who can declare me guilty?' That's verse 9, I think."
Mark grinned. "You've been reading my Bible?"
"You left it on the front seat. Highlighted. It was kind of hard not to."
The pastor looked at Tom, then at the other members inside, and finally shrugged. "Okay. Who am I to argue? Have it your way."
"Nope -- we're having it God's way," Tom corrected, and climbed in.
And the rest of the night was not so cold...
Keith Hewitt is the author of three volumes of NaTiVity Dramas: Nontraditional Christmas Plays for All Ages (CSS). He is a local pastor, former youth leader and Sunday school teacher, and occasional speaker at Christian events. He is currently serving as the pastor at Parkview UMC in Turtle Lake, Wisconsin. Keith is married to a teacher, and they have two children and assorted dogs and cats.
All You Know
by Peter Andrew Smith
Psalm 31:9-16
John sat on the bench enjoying the sunshine and watching the traffic go by. The laughter of two children playing in the small green area near the parking lot caught his attention. He watched the boy and the girl running around the small gazebo.
"Here's you're coffee." Sue sat down beside him on the bench. "Did I miss something?"
John pointed toward the children. Their play seemed to have no order or depth but they didn't seem to care. They laughed as they chased each other and raced around.
"You're smiling."
John took a sip of his coffee. "They are having so much fun."
"Huh, usually you're not a great fan of kids on days like this."
"They are so care free and happy." John shrugged. "It makes me think of us when we were younger."
"We did get into some scrapes," she said.
He patted her hand. "We sure did. Is it time to go yet?"
She shook her head. "There is no reason we can't sit here a while longer. Enjoy your coffee."
They sat watching the children playing for a few moments. A woman called to them and the boy and girl ran over to her.
"Do you ever wonder why?" Sue asked as the children disappeared from view.
"Why what?"
"Why you got sick."
"When the doctor first told me the test results it was all I could think about. Why me? What have I done to deserve this? Where is God in all of this? I had many sleepless nights." John's voice trailed off.
Sue waited to see if he would continue talking. "And?"
"And what?" John said looking over at her.
"What did you decide about why you were sick and why everything was happening?"
John took a drink of his coffee. "I realized I don't know."
"You sound certain."
"After a year of agony and searching for an answer as to why me, after unending prayers begging God to not let this happen and rivers of tears, I found myself back where I started. I was sick and in pain with no idea why."
Sue shook her head. "I would go crazy if I couldn't find an answer."
"You get used to not knowing. Not understanding." He sighed. "It's not what I would prefer but sometimes it is all you get."
"I'm sorry." She took his hand in hers. "I wish I knew what to say."
"There really isn't anything you can say. I'm sick and probably not going to get better."
"Don't give up."
"I haven't." John squeezed her hand. "All I have done is accept that an answer, a reason for why all of this is happening to me isn't important. It has actually made things easier realizing that."
"How?"
"Because I can focus on what is important." The corners of his lips turned up. "Do you realize how long it has been since we played tag?"
"The shape you are in it wouldn't be much of a match." Sue looked over at the gazebo. "But I'm up for it if you want to try."
John rubbed his chin. "If you give me a ten minute head start it might be fairer."
"Are you sure that ten minutes would be enough?"
John laughed. "Maybe not."
Sue put her arm around him and held her brother close. "I love you. I wish I could do more."
He kissed her on the cheek. "I couldn't ask for more. Tom probably has forgotten what you look like since you spend so much time here with me."
"He doesn't mind at all. He said he'll be in later after work." Sue looked at her watch. "I suppose we should go back inside."
John nodded. "The nurses will be wondering where I've gone."
Sue helped John to his feet and he took her arm as they began to walk toward the door. After a few steps he stopped.
"I love you too. And I appreciate everything you have been doing to help me." John took a deep breath. "I don't say it enough."
"You don't have to say anything," Sue replied.
"No, that's where you are wrong. I told you that sometimes not knowing is all you get." John looked into her eyes. "That's not all that I know. I know that God loves me."
"After all of this? You still think God loves you?"
"I don't think it," John said starting to walk again. "I believe it and that is all that I need to keep me going."
Peter Andrew Smith is an ordained minister in the United Church of Canada who currently serves at St. James United Church in Antigonish, Nova Scotia. He is the author of All Things Are Ready (CSS), a book of lectionary-based communion prayers, as well as many stories and articles, which can be found listed at www.peterandrewsmith.com.
*****************************************
StoryShare, April 13, 2014, issue.
Copyright 2014 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., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
