I Am
Stories
Object:
Contents
What's Up This Week
"I Am" by C. David McKirachan
"Familiar Words" by C. David McKirachan
"A Good Place to Come Back To" by Merle G. Franke
What's Up This Week
Everyone, at some point in their lives, will search for an identity -- something that they can latch onto and say, "This is me. This is who I am." For some, the search is easy. Others can live out their whole lives without any real sense of identity. In "I Am" and "Familiar Words," C. David McKirachan explores the identity of Jesus, first by looking at how Jesus identified himself in relation to his Father in John, and secondly, how God is identified in relation to us in Psalm 23. Merle G. Franke also explores the notion of identity in our faith in "A Good Place to Come Back To." While we may stray off the path in an attempt to forge a new identity, the seeds of faith planted in us in our youth will always bear fruit, becoming the core of who we are.
* * * * * * * * *
I Am
By C. David McKirachan
John 10:1-10
John has Jesus saying, "I am" with great regularity. Every once in a while, up it pops to let us know that something important is happening. In the middle of stories like the woman at the well and the raising of Lazarus they provide a hinge on which the story turns. But here there is no story.
Okay, Jesus is making a point. But this is a point few of us usually make. We talk about what we do and where we're from and who we hang out with and how many kids we have. We rarely make any "I am" claims. I think we're kind of hung up by identity. I worry about what people will do with any such statement. "I am a Christian" turns into a political statement for some, a conservative/liberal designation for others, and a put down for others. I have absolutely no confidence that I can deal with the expectations that go with most "I am" statements.
Early in my ministry I was accosted by an individual who was self-defined as an evangelical. When I say accosted, I mean it. This guy was in the attack mode before he darkened my door and kept at it after I offered him a cup of coffee. "Are you born again?" was thrown at me. The question was an accusation. I didn't feel confident or blessed or included. I felt mugged. I blurted out, " I am a baptized child of God." Knee jerk it may have been but it curtailed the assault and in the process affirmed the power of my own faith.
I don't think Jesus was supremely confident of his ability to deal with the expectations of all the people around him. I think he knew that what he said would be warped and woofed all out of shape. However, when you think of a shepherd, he may define himself by what he does, just as all of us do, but his sheep just know him for what he is. Jesus was giving us a handle to use. He knew that we'd need to reach for him, even when he was out of sight. He knew that it would have to be simple, because we are, and quick, because when the wolves are close, careful reasoning isn't on the agenda.
Familiar Words
By C. David McKirachan
Psalm 23
The 23rd psalm is good stuff. It says deep and meaningful things about God and about us. It confronts, comforts, and assures. Yup. But there is something more about this one. It sings in a voice that resonates deeper than any meaningful words could reach. There is something about the cadence and the touch of "The Lord is my shepherd..." that reminds us of who we are in a way that other, just as profound words do not.
She was in the nursing home when I moved here, more than a decade ago. She had been "out of it" for years before that. She didn't know anyone and sat and stared into some distance beyond the horizons I could see. Then she lost what consciousness she had and slipped into a coma. I went to see her once in a while. I'd sit and talk to her. Tell her things that were going on with her friends and in the church.
One evening I got a call that she wasn't "long for this world." As I drove over there, I wondered where she'd been all these years, between here and there. I wondered if she had to come back to leave. I wondered...
The nurse told me she'd been peaceful, but her breathing had changed and her vitals were dropping. I leaned over and smoothed back her hair, as I'd done before and came close to her ear. I whispered, "Where ever you've been, or where ever you're going, you're going with God." And I started whispering "The Lord is my shepherd..." She straightened in bed and opened her eyes, not wide, but wide enough to see me. And she started softly saying the psalm with me. She was hoarse, it had been a long time since she used that voice, but she stuck to it.
When we got to "...forever," she closed her mouth and smiled, a soft and satisfied smile and then closed her eyes and settled in. I heard the nurse move and looked up. She almost stuttered, "She hasn't spoken in years." "Well, maybe she finally had something important to say."
I don't know what circuit the psalm closed. I don't care if it reminded her of her child hood or her hope. I do know that something in those words and that rhythm called to her through all the fog and cobwebs and let her connect. She died an hour later, slipping off into an untroubled sleep.
It's good stuff, that psalm. Better than we know.
C. David McKirachan is pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Shrewsbury in central New Jersey. He also teaches at Monmouth University. He is the author of I Happened Upon a Miracle and A Year of Wonder (Westminster John Knox).
A Good Place to Come Back To
By Merle G. Franke
1 Peter 2:19-25
The small town in Oklahoma where George and Kathy raised a daughter and a son was not a stronghold of the Roman Catholic faith. But George and Kathy were faithfully raised as Roman Catholics and they were determined to bring up their two children in the same manner. They brought them for baptism to the small parish where they belonged when each was a wee infant. That fact, in itself, was a puzzle to most of the townsfolk, who were members of either the Baptist church or the Church of Christ, neither of which practiced infant baptism.
First Communion at age seven and parochial school starting with the first grade. Taught by nuns. All the good stuff faithful Roman Catholic kids are supposed to learn from the time they could learn. They were shining examples of what Catholic parents expected of their children.
But that little Oklahoma town was also a breeding ground of cultic groups. Strange and distorted offshoots of Christianity grew like weeds in that small community; no one knew exactly why. It was a puzzle to the good Baptists and Church of Christ folks and to the small cadre of Roman Catholics in town.
Even more of a puzzle was why they were an attraction to some of the young people. The son and daughter of George and Kathy were under the spell of one particularly weird cult. They left their parents stunned and hurt one evening as they announced that they were renouncing not only their Roman Catholic upbringing, but also their family name. "We're starting over with a new religion, and it's going to save the world," they told their parents -- almost as though that statement had never been made before.
When it became obvious, after a few weeks, that George and Kathy couldn't get to first base trying to persuade their two teenagers otherwise, the parents went to their priest. "Father Baker, we're at our wits' end. We don't know where to turn next," they said wearily. "Is there anything you can do?"
Father Baker paused before answering. "This has happened here before," he said, "many times, to members of our parish as well as to those of some other churches in and around town. I'm as stumped as you are. But I've learned one thing; that is, you can't argue them out of it. The more you try to argue with them, the more determined they are to stay with whatever group they've hooked up with."
"Are you saying," George questioned, "something like Jesus said -- that is, they only way you can deal with this is by prayer? He said something like that, didn't he?"
Father Baker agreed, "Yes, that's close enough. And I think that's right. We will pray about it, and I'm sure you are doing the same. Let's not minimize the power and effect of prayer in this kind of situation."
"We always thought we raised them in the right way in the Catholic faith," Kathy said with some resignation in her voice.
"Believe me, you did," Father Baker replied. "And I've been around long enough to believe that the seeds you and the church planted in them will bear fruit. I believe some day we'll see them return -- to you, and to the church. The faith we teach is, after all, a good place to return."
-- From Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit, 56 Stories for Cycle A (Lima, Ohio: CSS Publishing Co., Inc., 1995), pp. 59-60.
**********************************************
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 email the story to us at storyshare@sermonsuite.com.
**************
StoryShare, April 13, 2008, issue.
Copyright 2008 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
"I Am" by C. David McKirachan
"Familiar Words" by C. David McKirachan
"A Good Place to Come Back To" by Merle G. Franke
What's Up This Week
Everyone, at some point in their lives, will search for an identity -- something that they can latch onto and say, "This is me. This is who I am." For some, the search is easy. Others can live out their whole lives without any real sense of identity. In "I Am" and "Familiar Words," C. David McKirachan explores the identity of Jesus, first by looking at how Jesus identified himself in relation to his Father in John, and secondly, how God is identified in relation to us in Psalm 23. Merle G. Franke also explores the notion of identity in our faith in "A Good Place to Come Back To." While we may stray off the path in an attempt to forge a new identity, the seeds of faith planted in us in our youth will always bear fruit, becoming the core of who we are.
* * * * * * * * *
I Am
By C. David McKirachan
John 10:1-10
John has Jesus saying, "I am" with great regularity. Every once in a while, up it pops to let us know that something important is happening. In the middle of stories like the woman at the well and the raising of Lazarus they provide a hinge on which the story turns. But here there is no story.
Okay, Jesus is making a point. But this is a point few of us usually make. We talk about what we do and where we're from and who we hang out with and how many kids we have. We rarely make any "I am" claims. I think we're kind of hung up by identity. I worry about what people will do with any such statement. "I am a Christian" turns into a political statement for some, a conservative/liberal designation for others, and a put down for others. I have absolutely no confidence that I can deal with the expectations that go with most "I am" statements.
Early in my ministry I was accosted by an individual who was self-defined as an evangelical. When I say accosted, I mean it. This guy was in the attack mode before he darkened my door and kept at it after I offered him a cup of coffee. "Are you born again?" was thrown at me. The question was an accusation. I didn't feel confident or blessed or included. I felt mugged. I blurted out, " I am a baptized child of God." Knee jerk it may have been but it curtailed the assault and in the process affirmed the power of my own faith.
I don't think Jesus was supremely confident of his ability to deal with the expectations of all the people around him. I think he knew that what he said would be warped and woofed all out of shape. However, when you think of a shepherd, he may define himself by what he does, just as all of us do, but his sheep just know him for what he is. Jesus was giving us a handle to use. He knew that we'd need to reach for him, even when he was out of sight. He knew that it would have to be simple, because we are, and quick, because when the wolves are close, careful reasoning isn't on the agenda.
Familiar Words
By C. David McKirachan
Psalm 23
The 23rd psalm is good stuff. It says deep and meaningful things about God and about us. It confronts, comforts, and assures. Yup. But there is something more about this one. It sings in a voice that resonates deeper than any meaningful words could reach. There is something about the cadence and the touch of "The Lord is my shepherd..." that reminds us of who we are in a way that other, just as profound words do not.
She was in the nursing home when I moved here, more than a decade ago. She had been "out of it" for years before that. She didn't know anyone and sat and stared into some distance beyond the horizons I could see. Then she lost what consciousness she had and slipped into a coma. I went to see her once in a while. I'd sit and talk to her. Tell her things that were going on with her friends and in the church.
One evening I got a call that she wasn't "long for this world." As I drove over there, I wondered where she'd been all these years, between here and there. I wondered if she had to come back to leave. I wondered...
The nurse told me she'd been peaceful, but her breathing had changed and her vitals were dropping. I leaned over and smoothed back her hair, as I'd done before and came close to her ear. I whispered, "Where ever you've been, or where ever you're going, you're going with God." And I started whispering "The Lord is my shepherd..." She straightened in bed and opened her eyes, not wide, but wide enough to see me. And she started softly saying the psalm with me. She was hoarse, it had been a long time since she used that voice, but she stuck to it.
When we got to "...forever," she closed her mouth and smiled, a soft and satisfied smile and then closed her eyes and settled in. I heard the nurse move and looked up. She almost stuttered, "She hasn't spoken in years." "Well, maybe she finally had something important to say."
I don't know what circuit the psalm closed. I don't care if it reminded her of her child hood or her hope. I do know that something in those words and that rhythm called to her through all the fog and cobwebs and let her connect. She died an hour later, slipping off into an untroubled sleep.
It's good stuff, that psalm. Better than we know.
C. David McKirachan is pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Shrewsbury in central New Jersey. He also teaches at Monmouth University. He is the author of I Happened Upon a Miracle and A Year of Wonder (Westminster John Knox).
A Good Place to Come Back To
By Merle G. Franke
1 Peter 2:19-25
The small town in Oklahoma where George and Kathy raised a daughter and a son was not a stronghold of the Roman Catholic faith. But George and Kathy were faithfully raised as Roman Catholics and they were determined to bring up their two children in the same manner. They brought them for baptism to the small parish where they belonged when each was a wee infant. That fact, in itself, was a puzzle to most of the townsfolk, who were members of either the Baptist church or the Church of Christ, neither of which practiced infant baptism.
First Communion at age seven and parochial school starting with the first grade. Taught by nuns. All the good stuff faithful Roman Catholic kids are supposed to learn from the time they could learn. They were shining examples of what Catholic parents expected of their children.
But that little Oklahoma town was also a breeding ground of cultic groups. Strange and distorted offshoots of Christianity grew like weeds in that small community; no one knew exactly why. It was a puzzle to the good Baptists and Church of Christ folks and to the small cadre of Roman Catholics in town.
Even more of a puzzle was why they were an attraction to some of the young people. The son and daughter of George and Kathy were under the spell of one particularly weird cult. They left their parents stunned and hurt one evening as they announced that they were renouncing not only their Roman Catholic upbringing, but also their family name. "We're starting over with a new religion, and it's going to save the world," they told their parents -- almost as though that statement had never been made before.
When it became obvious, after a few weeks, that George and Kathy couldn't get to first base trying to persuade their two teenagers otherwise, the parents went to their priest. "Father Baker, we're at our wits' end. We don't know where to turn next," they said wearily. "Is there anything you can do?"
Father Baker paused before answering. "This has happened here before," he said, "many times, to members of our parish as well as to those of some other churches in and around town. I'm as stumped as you are. But I've learned one thing; that is, you can't argue them out of it. The more you try to argue with them, the more determined they are to stay with whatever group they've hooked up with."
"Are you saying," George questioned, "something like Jesus said -- that is, they only way you can deal with this is by prayer? He said something like that, didn't he?"
Father Baker agreed, "Yes, that's close enough. And I think that's right. We will pray about it, and I'm sure you are doing the same. Let's not minimize the power and effect of prayer in this kind of situation."
"We always thought we raised them in the right way in the Catholic faith," Kathy said with some resignation in her voice.
"Believe me, you did," Father Baker replied. "And I've been around long enough to believe that the seeds you and the church planted in them will bear fruit. I believe some day we'll see them return -- to you, and to the church. The faith we teach is, after all, a good place to return."
-- From Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit, 56 Stories for Cycle A (Lima, Ohio: CSS Publishing Co., Inc., 1995), pp. 59-60.
**********************************************
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 email the story to us at storyshare@sermonsuite.com.
**************
StoryShare, April 13, 2008, issue.
Copyright 2008 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.
