Storyshare

Contents
"If You Don’t Forgive" by David O. Bales
"Being Ready" by David O. Bales
"Yielding to God" by Keith Wagner
"Healing for those who Suffer" by Keith Wagner

If You Don’t Forgive
by David O. Bales
Matthew 18:21-35

Monday at lunch Phil made sure to sit by the factory’s new hire Milo. He knew what it was like to be new to a job or group and Milo was pleased for the company. Five minutes into their lunch break their mutual unbelief popped up in their conversation.

“Sunday after Sunday,” Phil said, “and the whole family every Wednesday night. Droning hymns, and having to sit quiet for the preacher,” he laughed and rasped his voice: “O he of sour face and asphalt speech.” Phil had told this story so often the intonation was down pat. “No matter what he spoke about he always warned us against drinking, smoking, dancing, playing cards, and going to movies. If we disregarded his threats we’d end up joyless and bitter.” He slapped the table with a smile, completing his comedy routine.

“I caught it from the Catholic side,” Milo responded, but without a smile. “Catholic school. All 45 kids in a classroom and a nun ruling with an iron hand and a wooden ruler. I grew up there in a school so small we couldn’t even have sports teams. Just playground scrimmage between kids six years apart in age. I’ll never, ever forgive my parents for sending me to that prison, nor will I forgive the nuns for being the jailors.”

On Tuesday at lunch Milo sought out Phil’s group, sat, and immediately said, “‘Devote yourself to God,’ the nuns told us adolescent boys, when all we could think about was devoting ourselves to some of the older girls. We did better than a lot of boys who became priests. They devoted themselves to little boys.” Phil and the other men at the table laughed and started talking about their high school crushes.

At Wednesday’s lunch Milo took up the conversation, “You know the Catholics don’t allow birth control. Stuff the village with hungry little mouths and who’s going to feed them all? Ever wonder about that?” No, Phil hadn’t wondered about that. He mentioned, however, that the advertisements on television about starving children bothered him something awful.

“It’s power, you know,” Milo said. “Religion is people wanting power over you, get you to do what they want for their sake. I compare it to wives pushing their husbands around, twisting them with whines and complaints. Definitely not healthy.”

By Thursday lunch break Phil was trying to turn the conversation to recent NFL rules changes, but Milo said, “The politicians and the priests are in the same game. They’re going to get something from you and everything they say and do, no matter how plausible, is for their benefit -- you know, like money!”

On Friday Phil didn’t go to the lunch room. He ate at his work station, half the time with his fist bunched under his chin. For the rest of the day whenever he needed to check another section, he found a route away from Milo.

The factory had to work Saturday to catch up on an order. It meant time and a half and most workers liked it. Phil’s group was standing in the lunch room talking about sports and families. Sid was the tallest and opposite Phil. He looked over Phil’s shoulder, ducked down slightly and left as Phil turned to see Milo entering. Milo joined the group.

Pablo said, “We’re really moving on our line. I think we’ll be done before three. Foreman says that if we do, we can punch out and go home.”

“Not ours,” Stu said. “No way he’d let us go. Says section eight’s farther behind than everyone. Stuff’s piling up. Don’t even have space for more pallets.”

“Bosses are a lot like priests and pastors,” Milo said. “Ever notice that? They enjoy telling you what to do. You can figure it out if you think about it. Maybe not when you’re younger, but when you grow up. All that humbug about knowing what’s best for you. Bosses, priests, and pastors, all the same. It’s power.”

The subject changed to Sunday’s NFL games. Each had his favorite. “Packers and Bears,” Juan almost jumped when he announced his preference. “That’s my team. I grew up in Chicago. When they’re on TV, I put on my blue jersey, plant myself in my favorite chair and shout the windows out of the house.”

One by one the six workers mentioned their favorite teams and what they were going to do when the games started on Sunday at 11 AM. Phil was last and said, softly, although loud enough for all to hear, “I’m going to go to church.”   

PREACHING POINT: Forgiving others is the center of church life and is for our sake as well as for those we forgive.

* * *

A Christian From Nowhere
by David O. Bales
Romans 14:1-12

For Megan, Tiffany fell into her life from nowhere. Simply came to the church one day, crept around the door to Megan’s office, “I need some help.”

Tiffany’s need wasn’t the usual: a meal, a voucher for a night in the motel, a bus ticket to Topeka.

“I need help being a Christian,” she said, leaning against the door jam, looking as though this was exactly, and perhaps only, what the Lutheran church and its pastor were there for.

After introductions, Megan asked Tiffany to clarify what she meant.  

“I became a Christian over my back fence. Clara rented behind our house for a month and the first thing she wanted to know was if I was a Christian. I knew people who probably were Christians and I’d caught glimpses on TV. But no one talked to me about faith let alone asked me to become a Christian. Clara told me I needed to be washed in the blood of the lamb. Didn’t make sense to me. Blood stains clothes pretty bad. But I repeated the prayer Clara said, asking Jesus to forgive me and help me live for him, trusting I’ll be in heaven with him forever.”

“Never attended church?”

“No.”

“And never had instruction in the faith, except your neighbor’s helping you pray to become a Christian.”

“None.”

“In other words,” Megan smiled, “you’re at zero in the faith.” They laughed and Megan saw worry releasing from Tiffany’s face.

Then Tiffany squirreled around in her chair. “There’s a problem. I told my husband and he got really mad. Doesn’t want any of that religion stuff. I didn’t know what to say, but Clara told me Jesus helps us love others. That’s what I’m praying about.” Tears formed on cheeks, “I’m alone in this. Who am I talking to up there? What’s he like? If this is forever, what am I supposed to do now?”

Megan had never faced anything like this, in its seriousness and simplicity. She gulped, said a silent prayer and said, “Tiffany, you’re in exactly the spot as the early Christians, say, in Rome around 50 AD. That’s when the faith reached Rome. Jesus was born before 4 BC in Israel,” she stood at the map on her wall, “and was killed around 29 AD. That’s what started Christianity: Jesus, raised from the dead to eternal life. He’s everything we need to see of God’s heart. The church started there on the east side of the Mediterranean Sea.” She moved her hand upward on the map. “Within a generation the Holy Spirit spread Christianity all across Asia Minor and finally to Rome.”

Tiffany’s eyes were intent on the map.

“Here’s a Bible for you. I’d like you to start reading here,” she opened to Matthew’s Gospel. “Skim the first half chapter, then read about Jesus’ life and teaching.”

Tiffany took the Bible and held it reverently.

“Will it be a problem having a Bible in your house?”

Tiffany smiled. “Doug never looks in the kitchen cupboards.”

“When can we get together and talk about what you read?”

She gave Tiffany a bookmark with the Apostles’ Creed and they agreed to the next day at the park. Thus began Tiffany’s journey as a “Christian from nowhere” as she described herself to Pastor Megan Norquist. They usually met twice a week. When the weather was too cold in the park, they walked to a coffee shop or to an alcove in the library. Megan brought others from the congregation to share their faith with Tiffany and to build a group to pray for her. Worship on Sunday was out of the question with Doug’s opposition. But they prayed about it, and one wonderful Sunday Doug was out of town. Tiffany attended worship and was baptized. More than one person claimed that her face glowed.  

Tiffany promised to pray and to read a chapter in the New Testament every day. She always brought questions for Megan, some of which Megan couldn’t answer. But she answered enough. Tiffany finished the gospels and read through Acts, seeing the early church form and realizing how much she was living as did those early Christians. She was stumped by much of Romans, but continued to read for all she could understand.

Four and a half months into her new life in Christ she came to the church to tell Megan two things which she communicated with equal seriousness: She and Doug were moving away and she had decided to become a vegetarian.

“I’m sorry you’re leaving, Tiffany. You’ve been wonderful to be with.”

“Doug says we need to if he’s going to get a better job. He’s rented the truck.”

“We’ll miss you; but … ah … is becoming a vegetarian connected with your leaving?”

Tiffany gave a shake with her whole body and was ready to cry, “I’m so weak. I’m so weak. It’s what I’m supposed to do.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Paul to the Romans. The weak eat only vegetables.”

“Oh, you must be to chapter 14. That’s not about you. You’re in a different world than first century Rome. Meat was butchered in pagan temples and offered first in sacrifice to their gods. It really bothered some Christians to eat meat from those shops. You can take more seriously what Paul says about being convinced in your own mind.”

“Really?” Tiffany laughed, slapped her hands, “what a relief. Doug and I really like hamburgers.” They laughed and hugged and prayed. They saw one another once more and Tiffany was gone. She left with the determination to find Christian friends, to pray for Doug, and to be able to worship on Sundays.

Megan regularly visited the park where they’d sat to study and discuss the faith. It became her place to pray. It remained the closest she’d ever been to the New Testament world and the deepest she’d ever lived within the Christian faith.  

PREACHING POINT: Christians today can still receive (most of) Paul’s instructions with desperate seriousness.

* * *

Yielding to God
by Keith Wagner
Psalm 114

I believe that when the psalmist proclaimed that we should “dance at the presence of the God of Jacob,” he meant for us to yield to God in spite of circumstances that make no sense.

Lloyd John Ogilvie wrote in his book, Let God Love You, about the time a close personal friend let him down. His friend had plagiarized some of his ideas and reproduced them in his name instead of Ogilvie’s. Ogilvie says he was "deeply hurt and indignant." Ogilvie felt he was betrayed by his friend.

Ogilvie wrestled with the situation and prayed to God for help. He later realized that it wasn’t important who got the credit for the Lord’s work, only that the work got done. He then forgave his friend and got on with his life. The only way to fully comprehend the forgiveness of God is when we are able to forgive others.

Ogilvie was willing to forgive his friend for his mistake. He yielded to God and forgave. I believe that we also minimize the power of forgiveness. We underestimate the power of God’s grace that can change the course of history.

In the book, A 3rd Serving of Chicken Soup for the Soul (p. 223), there is a story about an eleven year old boy named Reimund. One day, not long before the end of World War Two, he saw two airmen parachuting out of an enemy plane that had been shot down in Ruhr, Germany. Like many other curious citizens who had seen the parachutists falling through the afternoon sky, he went to the city's central square to wait for the police to arrive with the prisoners of war. Eventually two policemen arrived with two British prisoners in tow. They would wait there in the city square for a car that would take the British airmen to a prison in a neighboring city where prisoners of war were kept. When the crowd saw the prisoners, there were angry shouts of "Kill them! Kill them!"

No doubt the crowd was thinking of the heavy bombings their city had suffered at the hands of the British. Reimund looked at the faces of the British prisoners. They were very young, maybe 19 or 20 years old. He could see that they were extremely frightened. He could also see that the two policemen, whose duty it was to protect the prisoners of war, were no match for the angry crowd with their pitchforks and shovels.

Reimund knew he had to do something, and do it quickly. He ran to place himself between the prisoners and the crowd, turning to face the crowd and shouting to them to stop. Not wanting to hurt the little boy, the crowd held back for a moment, long enough for Reimund who said to them, "Look at these prisoners. They are just young boys! They are no different from your own sons. They are only doing what your own sons are doing -- fighting for their country. If your sons were shot down in a foreign country and became prisoners of war, you wouldn't want the people there to kill your sons. So please don't hurt these boys."

Reimund's fellow townspeople listened in amazement, and then in shame. Finally, a woman said, "It took a little boy to tell us what is right and what is wrong." The crowd began to disperse. Reimund will never forget the look of tremendous relief and gratitude he then saw on the faces of the young British airmen. He had helped his people who had suffered make the connection to others who have suffered as well. When we are able to walk away from our anger and feelings toward others and strive for peace we are yielding to God.

* * *

Healing for those who Suffer
by Keith Wagner
Psalm 103:(1-7), 8-13

There is an old Chinese tale about the woman whose only son died. In her grief, she went to the holy man and said, "What prayers, what magical incantations do you have to bring my son back to life?" Instead of sending her away or reasoning with her, he said to her: "Fetch me a mustard seed from a home that has never known sorrow. We will use it to drive the sorrow out of your life."

The woman set off at once in search of that magical mustard seed. She came first to a splendid mansion, knocked at the door, and said: "I am looking for a home that has never known sorrow. Is this such a place? It is very important to me." They told her, "You've certainly come to the wrong place" and they began to describe all the tragedies that had recently befallen them.

The woman then said to herself, "Who is better able to help these poor unfortunate people than I, who have had misfortune of my own?" She stayed to comfort them, then she went continued her search for a home that had never known sorrow. But wherever she turned, in hovels and in palaces, she found one tale after another of sadness and misfortune. Ultimately, she became so involved in ministering to other people's needs and grief that she forgot about her quest for the magical mustard seed, never realizing that it had in fact driven the sorrow out of her life.

As the Psalm says, “God heals my suffering.” God wants us all to be well and to be whole. God wants us to reach out and believe in the power of healing. God wants us to humble ourselves and come to the realization we can’t manage our lives by ourselves. God wants us to be patient and know that healing is a process and will include interruptions. God wants us to remember that God’s healing power is available to everyone, male or female, young or old, rich or poor, physically sick or spiritually sick. Nothing can separate us from the love of God.

The psalm also says that God, “surrounds us with constant love.” My mother believed that God was always surrounding her with love. She kept a quilt that she acquired decades ago from her church. After she died the family was claiming some of her personal belongings. On her bed was my mother’s quilt. It was very old and a little ragged but she always kept it on her bed.

During my mother’s wake I noticed that one of my nieces was looking at the quilt and she asked me why her grandmother was hanging on to it. I then told her the story my mother had passed on to me years before. The quilt had all the names of the people in her home church. Although her father was a pastor she believed that the quilt gave her comfort through the years because of all the relationships she had made with them. My niece then asked if she could have the quilt since it would help her to make the connection with grandmother’s love and assurance for her. I was more than happy to give it to her.

*****************************************

StoryShare, September 17, 2017, issue.

Copyright 2017 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.