Honest, Not Courteous, Prayer
Stories
Contents
"Honest, Not Courteous, Prayer" by David O. Bales
"Teaming With Jesus OR Theft of Services" by David O. Bales
"Unity of Division" by John Fitzgerald
* * * * * * *
Honest, Not Courteous, Prayer
by David O. Bales
Romans 8:22-27
Pastor Mel had asked her several times. Bebe remembered three precisely. The first was three days after the funeral when he and his wife brought a casserole to her home and commented on the well written obituary and the courtesy of her grandchildren. The second time was at the door of the church as he greeted parishioners after worship. It was Bebe’s first time back in worship. She’d survived the funeral by four days, then fled to her daughter’s for a month. On that first Sunday back in worship she’d fought tears that she feared could burst out into a loud bawl. The third time was hardly a request. She was crossing from the Christian Education building to the parking lot when he came behind her, placed his hand under her elbow with a little lift, took a couple steps with her, and said quietly but firmly, “You really should share with others your experience of God through this ordeal.”
Bebe faced him and spoke each word distinctly, “I’m not ready to talk about it yet.”
“I realize there’s some pain in this,” Pastor Mel said, “but so much victory. I’d really like you to speak at the next Conquerors meeting. You’ll have two weeks to prepare.”
Bebe didn’t remember clearly how she’d finally shed him, but she definitely didn’t agree.
On Monday the eighteenth he phoned, pleading for her to speak for the Conquerors. Her indefinite response brought a call the next day. She held the receiver listening to the pastor implore her as she looked at her favorite photo of Roger on their wedding day. Her mind was a muddle. She was flying in a fog. The only reason she could remember for having agreed was that he suggested, “Maybe you could narrow in on prayer.”
So “prayer” it was and even though Bebe had six days to seek, grab, and organize her scattered thoughts, she made little progress beyond weeping, “God, how can I do this?” Until then each step she took had necessitated a conscious decision and more energy than she thought she possessed. Nothing had granted her relief from what she named “terminal grief.” Roger -- her husband and friend, father of her children, playmate, counselor, business partner. Roger -- she still couldn’t sleep in their bedroom and, as she stepped around each corner in the house, she expected Roger. Roger -- flopping back his stringy hair with a reckless twist of his neck; Roger -- shuffling in his 30 year old moccasins; Roger -- with another knock-knock joke.
The Conquerors adult group met on the last Sunday evening of each month. Bebe and Roger had joined the group for outings to special restaurants and for the regular monthly meetings -- always a magnificent potluck, plenty of friends to socialize with, and a speaker.
Now, during this Conquerors dinner, Bebe’s mind alternated from dust storm to earthquake, but mostly dust storm. She found herself nodding in agreement toward anyone who was speaking as she breathed through her mouth in order to remember to breath. Her one consistent action was to look at the clock. Nothing could help her now. The hands kept turning. When Pastor Mel stood, she knew what had arrived. She felt as though two clock hands as tall as a house slapped together with a bang that everyone around her must be able to hear. Pastor Mel was speaking and pointing towards her. She didn’t register a word he spoke, but rose from her seat and walked to stand beside him while he held his hand on her shoulder, reviewing Roger’s tragic, much-too-early death, and how Bebe’s faith had drawn her through, and that she wanted to share with them a few things about prayer.
When she went home that night, she remembered staring at Pastor Mel’s brown cardigan sweater as he walked away. Roger had a blue one like it.
“I had to learn the Ten Commandments when I was a kid,” she said. “My parents taught me ‘Thou shalt not bear false witness’ meant to be honest.” She pointed down to her piece of paper on the lectern. “I wrote on my notes: ‘Be honest.’
“I’ve never been a great prayer. Regular, yes. I’ve tried. Rog tried. We even prayed together sometimes, but he’d usually make a joke to God and we’d start laughing.” She looked over everyone’s head and said, “I miss his laughing.”
She clamped her teeth together and stamped her foot gently like a child’s weak tantrum. “I’ll tell you what I think about prayer. For me prayer has been an angry scream, inside me or outside me.” She frowned. “When the EMTs loaded Rog in the ambulance, a well-meaning neighbor hugged me and said, ‘I’m sure he’ll be okay.’ Inside me I yelled to God, ‘Really? How does she know such things?’ I could say that to God, whereas I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. We’re all taught to be courteous, aren’t we? I did better in the hospital where, even though the staff said there was hope, they didn’t lie to me. And I screamed inside me, ‘Help him, God!’
“And Rog wasn’t okay. And I’m in a hollow house now, echoing with Rog’s phantom movements and I scream to God asking ‘Why?’ And this is what I think, being as honest as I can: I don’t believe we have to be courteous with God. Jesus’ scream on the cross! In his dying breath he wasn’t being nicey-nicey with God. And my screams and whimpers to God say more to God than any gallant thoughts I can shuffle together to share with you. I wish I could tell you more.…”
Bebe looked at her friends, desperately, courteously, trying to think of more to say that would help them. After a few seconds she shook her head, walked to her chair, and sat with a limp thump. In the back of the room a sniffle on one side, a groan on the other. Everyone knew Pastor Mel had to get up and close the meeting. No one could guess what he’d say.
Preaching Point: God’s Spirit invites and inspires our absolute (not necessarily courteous) honesty in prayer.
* * *
Teaming With Jesus OR Theft of Services
by David O. Bales
John 15:26-27; 16:4b-15
“Donald’s my friend but, when he talks about faith, I cringe and he doesn’t notice. He’s drifting off somewhere in a cloud.” Wayne was talking with Oskar. They were getting their fingers sticky in an order of cheesy nachos before the rest of the church bowling team arrived for practice.
“Right,” Oskar said. “When he says something about faith, he puckers his lips as though he’s going to kiss somebody and sounds like he’s trying to rock a baby to sleep.”
“He’s cruising for a bruising,” Wayne said, as he thumped his palm on the table. “Life keeps leaping out at him and he keeps wishing it away with faith. His sister phones nearly every day begging him to help her decide what to do about assisted living or something for his mom. He says, ‘Oh, it’s not that bad. She’s a believer.’ He’s ringing up charges in Jesus’ name and I don’t think Jesus is going to pay the tab.”
Oskar took a handful of nachos and said, “Same as when Little Donnie was flunking out of college. Donald just kept sending him money. No day of reckoning, only little squeaks about keeping the faith. There went twenty thousand dollars; but, he won’t face reality even when it hits him like the mirror of a passing truck. ‘Everything’s going to be all right,’ he says. At work Mike’s peeved because he’s sent wrong orders to shipping. Talked to him a number of times, even put him on an improvement plan and Donald whistles along like nothing’s wrong. Was he like this as a kid?”
“A little,” Wayne said, “back when he still had some hair. But nothing like this. Pushes away problems, and pastes Jesus onto the situation as a defense. I was thrilled when he reaffirmed his faith. Couple years before you moved here he’d been swept out through a reduction in force at Sanchi And Sons and his dad had died. Pastor had his friends gather around him in front of the congregation and we prayed for his renewed faith. A great step on his part. Only seen something like that a couple times in my life. But, he went too far....” Wayne watched the bowler in the next lane pick up a spare, sighed and said, “You know why it bothers me so much? He’d give you his house and car if you needed it. He’s lived into the center of Christian ethics, like hardly anybody I’ve known. But with the rest of his faith he skips along with a third grade Sunday school reasoning, like he refuses to grow up and think. Says ‘Jesus is going to knock over all the pins.’ 44 years old! Old enough to be banged and squeezed and shoved into a mature way of understanding that, trust Jesus as we might, everything doesn’t always work out the way we want.”
“Oh rats!” Oskar said.
“What?”
“Spilled cheese on my shirt,” Oskar said. “Janice warns me every Thursday night to be careful not to spill on my clothes.”
“Here’s a napkin. Try…. Hey, there’s the guys.”
Donald came in with the other two team members, his shiny bald head bouncing in front of them -- everyone ready for the usual zany practice to begin.
50 minutes into practice Donald had the lowest score. Then he bowled the unprecedented two gutter balls in a row, sat down, and rubbed his hands over his glossy head. Unspoken rules of the group declared that no one razzed you. However, Oskar spoke up, “Jesus isn’t going to direct a ball to hit a 6-8 split.”
Donald looked up, “What?”
“And Jesus isn’t going to scoot a ball into the pocket. You’re pulling up too soon and too hard.”
Donald said, “I can see that. Why you blame Jesus for my bad shots?”
“I wanted to remind you,” Oskar said, “that some things you have to take full responsibility for.”
Donald raised his voice, as no one had heard him do before, “What you getting at?”
“Just that you can wait forever for Jesus to do some things that only you can do. Jesus promises to do a lot for us, but not everything. Christian life’s a partnership, like our bowling team. His spirit inspires us to take our part in the world and we have to recognize where he summons us to live and serve.”
Donald glanced at the team members who were all looking at him. He bent his eye brows together, “You telling me my faith’s no good.”
The team gathered closer as Oskar and Donald faced each other. “I don’t mean you harm,” Oskar said. “But I think you’re expecting Jesus to do what Jesus wants you to do. It’s not like God helps those who help themselves. It’s that Jesus’ Spirit guides you in what to do for Jesus. When people first get serious as Christians they still have a lot to learn about how Jesus promises to help us. Jesus didn’t even tell his disciples everything when he was on earth. More instruction for them later. More instruction for us later.”
Wayne stretched his arm between Oskar and Donald, “Oskar’s on your side, Donald. He’s on your team and he’s rooting for you. And, yes, we’ve been talking about you because we’re concerned for you. You’re expecting too much from Jesus’ services.”
“Services?” Donald said.
“When you and I did the little joy ride on the freight all the way to the Chicago stockyards? Great fun for high school kids, until they dragged us into court for ‘theft of services.’” Donald and Wayne smiled in their private conspiracy. The others looked at them almost with admiration. Wayne turned to the rest and said, “I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“Yeah,” Donald said, “73 dollars was a hefty fine 25 years ago, but at least no jail time.”
“That was ‘theft of services,’” Wayne said. “We can do that with Jesus, assuming he’s going to give us a free ride. He set us right with God for nothing, but then we’re in a partnership. We’re concerned about you. You need to take another step not so much in faith but in understanding. It’s what we’ve been studying in our Monday Bible study on the Spirit. No use trying to explain it all now, but we’d sure like to have you come and join us. Won’t help you release the ball any better, but will definitely help your life with Christ.”
Donald looked at the team standing around him. His wrinkled forehead relaxed so that his bald head reached smoothly to his eyebrows. “You talking about Mom?”
“Yes,” Wayne said and Oskar nodded.
Donald bowed his head slightly and said, “I’ve had a hard time with this lately.” The team stood silently around him. He scanned the good will in their faces and spoke sadly, “Okay, I get the idea. But how about if we bowl now and discuss this afterwards?”
“Excellent,” Wayne said.
“Yep,” Oskar said. “Now you’re talking teamwork.”
Preaching Point: Jesus’ Spirit has more to teach every Christian.
* * *
Unity of Division
by John Fitzgerald
Acts 2:1-21
There is no question that our nation faces a grave challenge with coming together as one people. Disunity and division face us at every level. Our politics, families, schools and churches struggle in maintaining a common bond.
In some ways finding qualities which lead to unity is a problem which dates back to days of scripture. In the Hebrew Bible (our Old Testament) we see the twelve tribes of Israel constantly fighting. Finally the continued bickering among twelve tribes led to separation. Israel to the North and Judah in the southern part of God’s promised land became nations which defined twelve tribes.
Two nations instead of one contributed greatly to Israel’s downfall. Invaders such as Assyria and Babylon found Israel and Judah to be easy prey. A stubborn resistance for Israel to be united resulted in captivity for all of the twelve tribes.
We wonder if this fate will be passed on to 21st Century America. Which direction shall the United States head: unity or division?
Two biblical texts speak powerfully to this question. The first text from Genesis 11 tells an ancient story of division. In this passage we find an account of the Tower of Babel. According to scripture the world at one point shared one language. People became conceited and proud while constructing a tower which would reach God in heaven. The Lord looked down upon this tower and destroyed it and sent everyone home possessing a different language. No longer could people speak with the same form of speech.
The Tower of Babel demonstrates what happens when people do not remain humble before God. Division and upheaval are a byproduct of rebellion before the Holy One.
A companion biblical story to the Tower of Babel serves as our scripture lesson for today. Acts 2 is an account of when the Holy Spirit brought people who spoke different languages into one form of speaking about God.
The Holy Spirit made it possible for followers of Jesus to testify about his Gospel to many who spoke a variety of languages. The biblical Day of Pentecost is a tribute to what Christ’s church should be striving toward. We should be praying for God’s spirit to descend upon us in a manner which brings people together.
Our nation, church, school and family depend on us to search and find God’s presence which unifies all things. In Ephesians 4:4 the Apostle Paul lists seven qualities which brings churches together: one body, one Spirit, one hope, one faith, one baptism, and one God and Father of all.
Today on Pentecost Sunday what does your life reflect -- unity or division?
*****************************************
StoryShare, May 20, 2018, issue.
Copyright 2018 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.
"Honest, Not Courteous, Prayer" by David O. Bales
"Teaming With Jesus OR Theft of Services" by David O. Bales
"Unity of Division" by John Fitzgerald
* * * * * * *
Honest, Not Courteous, Prayer
by David O. Bales
Romans 8:22-27
Pastor Mel had asked her several times. Bebe remembered three precisely. The first was three days after the funeral when he and his wife brought a casserole to her home and commented on the well written obituary and the courtesy of her grandchildren. The second time was at the door of the church as he greeted parishioners after worship. It was Bebe’s first time back in worship. She’d survived the funeral by four days, then fled to her daughter’s for a month. On that first Sunday back in worship she’d fought tears that she feared could burst out into a loud bawl. The third time was hardly a request. She was crossing from the Christian Education building to the parking lot when he came behind her, placed his hand under her elbow with a little lift, took a couple steps with her, and said quietly but firmly, “You really should share with others your experience of God through this ordeal.”
Bebe faced him and spoke each word distinctly, “I’m not ready to talk about it yet.”
“I realize there’s some pain in this,” Pastor Mel said, “but so much victory. I’d really like you to speak at the next Conquerors meeting. You’ll have two weeks to prepare.”
Bebe didn’t remember clearly how she’d finally shed him, but she definitely didn’t agree.
On Monday the eighteenth he phoned, pleading for her to speak for the Conquerors. Her indefinite response brought a call the next day. She held the receiver listening to the pastor implore her as she looked at her favorite photo of Roger on their wedding day. Her mind was a muddle. She was flying in a fog. The only reason she could remember for having agreed was that he suggested, “Maybe you could narrow in on prayer.”
So “prayer” it was and even though Bebe had six days to seek, grab, and organize her scattered thoughts, she made little progress beyond weeping, “God, how can I do this?” Until then each step she took had necessitated a conscious decision and more energy than she thought she possessed. Nothing had granted her relief from what she named “terminal grief.” Roger -- her husband and friend, father of her children, playmate, counselor, business partner. Roger -- she still couldn’t sleep in their bedroom and, as she stepped around each corner in the house, she expected Roger. Roger -- flopping back his stringy hair with a reckless twist of his neck; Roger -- shuffling in his 30 year old moccasins; Roger -- with another knock-knock joke.
The Conquerors adult group met on the last Sunday evening of each month. Bebe and Roger had joined the group for outings to special restaurants and for the regular monthly meetings -- always a magnificent potluck, plenty of friends to socialize with, and a speaker.
Now, during this Conquerors dinner, Bebe’s mind alternated from dust storm to earthquake, but mostly dust storm. She found herself nodding in agreement toward anyone who was speaking as she breathed through her mouth in order to remember to breath. Her one consistent action was to look at the clock. Nothing could help her now. The hands kept turning. When Pastor Mel stood, she knew what had arrived. She felt as though two clock hands as tall as a house slapped together with a bang that everyone around her must be able to hear. Pastor Mel was speaking and pointing towards her. She didn’t register a word he spoke, but rose from her seat and walked to stand beside him while he held his hand on her shoulder, reviewing Roger’s tragic, much-too-early death, and how Bebe’s faith had drawn her through, and that she wanted to share with them a few things about prayer.
When she went home that night, she remembered staring at Pastor Mel’s brown cardigan sweater as he walked away. Roger had a blue one like it.
“I had to learn the Ten Commandments when I was a kid,” she said. “My parents taught me ‘Thou shalt not bear false witness’ meant to be honest.” She pointed down to her piece of paper on the lectern. “I wrote on my notes: ‘Be honest.’
“I’ve never been a great prayer. Regular, yes. I’ve tried. Rog tried. We even prayed together sometimes, but he’d usually make a joke to God and we’d start laughing.” She looked over everyone’s head and said, “I miss his laughing.”
She clamped her teeth together and stamped her foot gently like a child’s weak tantrum. “I’ll tell you what I think about prayer. For me prayer has been an angry scream, inside me or outside me.” She frowned. “When the EMTs loaded Rog in the ambulance, a well-meaning neighbor hugged me and said, ‘I’m sure he’ll be okay.’ Inside me I yelled to God, ‘Really? How does she know such things?’ I could say that to God, whereas I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. We’re all taught to be courteous, aren’t we? I did better in the hospital where, even though the staff said there was hope, they didn’t lie to me. And I screamed inside me, ‘Help him, God!’
“And Rog wasn’t okay. And I’m in a hollow house now, echoing with Rog’s phantom movements and I scream to God asking ‘Why?’ And this is what I think, being as honest as I can: I don’t believe we have to be courteous with God. Jesus’ scream on the cross! In his dying breath he wasn’t being nicey-nicey with God. And my screams and whimpers to God say more to God than any gallant thoughts I can shuffle together to share with you. I wish I could tell you more.…”
Bebe looked at her friends, desperately, courteously, trying to think of more to say that would help them. After a few seconds she shook her head, walked to her chair, and sat with a limp thump. In the back of the room a sniffle on one side, a groan on the other. Everyone knew Pastor Mel had to get up and close the meeting. No one could guess what he’d say.
Preaching Point: God’s Spirit invites and inspires our absolute (not necessarily courteous) honesty in prayer.
* * *
Teaming With Jesus OR Theft of Services
by David O. Bales
John 15:26-27; 16:4b-15
“Donald’s my friend but, when he talks about faith, I cringe and he doesn’t notice. He’s drifting off somewhere in a cloud.” Wayne was talking with Oskar. They were getting their fingers sticky in an order of cheesy nachos before the rest of the church bowling team arrived for practice.
“Right,” Oskar said. “When he says something about faith, he puckers his lips as though he’s going to kiss somebody and sounds like he’s trying to rock a baby to sleep.”
“He’s cruising for a bruising,” Wayne said, as he thumped his palm on the table. “Life keeps leaping out at him and he keeps wishing it away with faith. His sister phones nearly every day begging him to help her decide what to do about assisted living or something for his mom. He says, ‘Oh, it’s not that bad. She’s a believer.’ He’s ringing up charges in Jesus’ name and I don’t think Jesus is going to pay the tab.”
Oskar took a handful of nachos and said, “Same as when Little Donnie was flunking out of college. Donald just kept sending him money. No day of reckoning, only little squeaks about keeping the faith. There went twenty thousand dollars; but, he won’t face reality even when it hits him like the mirror of a passing truck. ‘Everything’s going to be all right,’ he says. At work Mike’s peeved because he’s sent wrong orders to shipping. Talked to him a number of times, even put him on an improvement plan and Donald whistles along like nothing’s wrong. Was he like this as a kid?”
“A little,” Wayne said, “back when he still had some hair. But nothing like this. Pushes away problems, and pastes Jesus onto the situation as a defense. I was thrilled when he reaffirmed his faith. Couple years before you moved here he’d been swept out through a reduction in force at Sanchi And Sons and his dad had died. Pastor had his friends gather around him in front of the congregation and we prayed for his renewed faith. A great step on his part. Only seen something like that a couple times in my life. But, he went too far....” Wayne watched the bowler in the next lane pick up a spare, sighed and said, “You know why it bothers me so much? He’d give you his house and car if you needed it. He’s lived into the center of Christian ethics, like hardly anybody I’ve known. But with the rest of his faith he skips along with a third grade Sunday school reasoning, like he refuses to grow up and think. Says ‘Jesus is going to knock over all the pins.’ 44 years old! Old enough to be banged and squeezed and shoved into a mature way of understanding that, trust Jesus as we might, everything doesn’t always work out the way we want.”
“Oh rats!” Oskar said.
“What?”
“Spilled cheese on my shirt,” Oskar said. “Janice warns me every Thursday night to be careful not to spill on my clothes.”
“Here’s a napkin. Try…. Hey, there’s the guys.”
Donald came in with the other two team members, his shiny bald head bouncing in front of them -- everyone ready for the usual zany practice to begin.
50 minutes into practice Donald had the lowest score. Then he bowled the unprecedented two gutter balls in a row, sat down, and rubbed his hands over his glossy head. Unspoken rules of the group declared that no one razzed you. However, Oskar spoke up, “Jesus isn’t going to direct a ball to hit a 6-8 split.”
Donald looked up, “What?”
“And Jesus isn’t going to scoot a ball into the pocket. You’re pulling up too soon and too hard.”
Donald said, “I can see that. Why you blame Jesus for my bad shots?”
“I wanted to remind you,” Oskar said, “that some things you have to take full responsibility for.”
Donald raised his voice, as no one had heard him do before, “What you getting at?”
“Just that you can wait forever for Jesus to do some things that only you can do. Jesus promises to do a lot for us, but not everything. Christian life’s a partnership, like our bowling team. His spirit inspires us to take our part in the world and we have to recognize where he summons us to live and serve.”
Donald glanced at the team members who were all looking at him. He bent his eye brows together, “You telling me my faith’s no good.”
The team gathered closer as Oskar and Donald faced each other. “I don’t mean you harm,” Oskar said. “But I think you’re expecting Jesus to do what Jesus wants you to do. It’s not like God helps those who help themselves. It’s that Jesus’ Spirit guides you in what to do for Jesus. When people first get serious as Christians they still have a lot to learn about how Jesus promises to help us. Jesus didn’t even tell his disciples everything when he was on earth. More instruction for them later. More instruction for us later.”
Wayne stretched his arm between Oskar and Donald, “Oskar’s on your side, Donald. He’s on your team and he’s rooting for you. And, yes, we’ve been talking about you because we’re concerned for you. You’re expecting too much from Jesus’ services.”
“Services?” Donald said.
“When you and I did the little joy ride on the freight all the way to the Chicago stockyards? Great fun for high school kids, until they dragged us into court for ‘theft of services.’” Donald and Wayne smiled in their private conspiracy. The others looked at them almost with admiration. Wayne turned to the rest and said, “I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“Yeah,” Donald said, “73 dollars was a hefty fine 25 years ago, but at least no jail time.”
“That was ‘theft of services,’” Wayne said. “We can do that with Jesus, assuming he’s going to give us a free ride. He set us right with God for nothing, but then we’re in a partnership. We’re concerned about you. You need to take another step not so much in faith but in understanding. It’s what we’ve been studying in our Monday Bible study on the Spirit. No use trying to explain it all now, but we’d sure like to have you come and join us. Won’t help you release the ball any better, but will definitely help your life with Christ.”
Donald looked at the team standing around him. His wrinkled forehead relaxed so that his bald head reached smoothly to his eyebrows. “You talking about Mom?”
“Yes,” Wayne said and Oskar nodded.
Donald bowed his head slightly and said, “I’ve had a hard time with this lately.” The team stood silently around him. He scanned the good will in their faces and spoke sadly, “Okay, I get the idea. But how about if we bowl now and discuss this afterwards?”
“Excellent,” Wayne said.
“Yep,” Oskar said. “Now you’re talking teamwork.”
Preaching Point: Jesus’ Spirit has more to teach every Christian.
* * *
Unity of Division
by John Fitzgerald
Acts 2:1-21
There is no question that our nation faces a grave challenge with coming together as one people. Disunity and division face us at every level. Our politics, families, schools and churches struggle in maintaining a common bond.
In some ways finding qualities which lead to unity is a problem which dates back to days of scripture. In the Hebrew Bible (our Old Testament) we see the twelve tribes of Israel constantly fighting. Finally the continued bickering among twelve tribes led to separation. Israel to the North and Judah in the southern part of God’s promised land became nations which defined twelve tribes.
Two nations instead of one contributed greatly to Israel’s downfall. Invaders such as Assyria and Babylon found Israel and Judah to be easy prey. A stubborn resistance for Israel to be united resulted in captivity for all of the twelve tribes.
We wonder if this fate will be passed on to 21st Century America. Which direction shall the United States head: unity or division?
Two biblical texts speak powerfully to this question. The first text from Genesis 11 tells an ancient story of division. In this passage we find an account of the Tower of Babel. According to scripture the world at one point shared one language. People became conceited and proud while constructing a tower which would reach God in heaven. The Lord looked down upon this tower and destroyed it and sent everyone home possessing a different language. No longer could people speak with the same form of speech.
The Tower of Babel demonstrates what happens when people do not remain humble before God. Division and upheaval are a byproduct of rebellion before the Holy One.
A companion biblical story to the Tower of Babel serves as our scripture lesson for today. Acts 2 is an account of when the Holy Spirit brought people who spoke different languages into one form of speaking about God.
The Holy Spirit made it possible for followers of Jesus to testify about his Gospel to many who spoke a variety of languages. The biblical Day of Pentecost is a tribute to what Christ’s church should be striving toward. We should be praying for God’s spirit to descend upon us in a manner which brings people together.
Our nation, church, school and family depend on us to search and find God’s presence which unifies all things. In Ephesians 4:4 the Apostle Paul lists seven qualities which brings churches together: one body, one Spirit, one hope, one faith, one baptism, and one God and Father of all.
Today on Pentecost Sunday what does your life reflect -- unity or division?
*****************************************
StoryShare, May 20, 2018, issue.
Copyright 2018 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.
