At Least I'm Not That Bad
Stories
Contents
What's Up This Week
A Story to Live By: "Making a Difference"
Good Stories: "And What Else?" by David O. Bales
"Sand" by Peter C. Garrison
Sermon Starters: "At Least I'm Not That Bad" by Terry Cain
"We Can Surprise Even Ourselves" by Terry Cain
What's Up This Week
Our stories this week provide a kaleidoscope of the many and varied ways that what might seem to be small actions can make a huge difference in our own lives and those of others -- both positively and negatively. In "Sand" and "At Least I'm Not That Bad" we see the unintentional but destructive effects of sin, while "And What Else?" and "We Can Surprise Even Ourselves" illustrate the power of teaching that really connects with people to open our eyes to new ways of looking at the world. As A Story to Live By makes clear, we need to ask ourselves if we are sitting in the island of a dry pew -- or if we are freely sharing our modest gifts and letting the Lord multiply them.
A Story to Live By
Making a Difference
"There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish. But what are they among so many people?"
John 6:9
Back in the days of colonial New England, it was the custom for churches to charge families for rental of their pews. These were the old box pews, with little gates on the ends you could open and close. The well-to-do families sat up front, while the common laborers, indentured servants, and slaves -- who couldn't afford the rent -- sat in the balcony.
Many churchgoers today feel like they own the pews they sit in. They come in week after week and sit in the same place. After a while they do come to feel kind of like they own the pew. Well, in Colonial days they were one up on us: you could actually rent a pew and have your name on it. Pew rental was like owning a little piece of the church.
In one Colonial-vintage church, the roof began leaking. Some sections of the sanctuary experienced a steady drip in a heavy storm, while others were bone-dry. One day, the pastor ascended the pulpit and made an appeal for contributions so that the roof could be repaired. One well-to-do gentleman met the pastor at the door afterward and declared that he had no intention of contributing to the campaign -- because, he said, it wasn't raining on his pew.
The boy on the hillside in Galilee with the barley loaves and fish could have taken the same attitude. He could have said: "I've got my lunch. All those hungry people? Not my problem!" But he doesn't. The boy gives all he has to Jesus, and his gift makes all the difference.
(From Lectionary Preaching Workbook [Series VIII, Cycle B] by Carlos Wilton)
Good Stories
And What Else?
by David O. Bales
John 6:1-21
"The wind was squealing through the rigging," Peter said. "We'd gotten the sail down and were doing our best to row into the wind, but it was tougher than we'd faced for a long time -- especially at night. Half of us rowed, half bailed. We all prayed."
Peter shifted his weight. His old bones hurt after sitting long in any position. He was reclining with his students on the evening before they'd leave on their preaching missions. Peter had trained them as Jesus had trained him. At this farewell meal he continued: "We weren't thinking much about Jesus right then, but he's the one who got us there. He'd been healing lots of people. They'd glom onto him, like they were trying to filch power from him. To get time alone we sailed to the east shore, but a large crowd kept following us. They'd seen how many people he'd healed.
"Boat after boat scraped onto the shore and people leaped out and splashed up to us. We looked north and saw crowds walking from there. They were all converging on Jesus. He led us up the hill and had us sit. He surveyed the crowd and said to Philip, 'Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?' "
Peter paused, leaned to the side, and said, "The Romans don't have cushions as good as we had in Galilee." His students laughed. He stretched his back and said to his students, "I've told you, haven't I, about the people on the hillside?" His students nodded.
"Well, Jesus knew what he was going to do, but we didn't understand it at the time. Philip answered him, 'Six months' wages couldn't buy enough bread for each of them to get a little.'
"My brother Andrew said to him, 'A boy's here with five barley loaves and two fish. But what's that for so many people?' Jesus had everybody sit down, by that time about five thousand people. He gave thanks for the loaves and distributed them and the fish -- as much as everybody wanted. Then he had us gather the leftovers, and they filled twelve baskets. Everybody had been eating in their own group, and it wasn't until they looked around and saw how much was left over that they realized what'd happened. This was another miracle. Jesus fed the multitude. Surely he was the prophet. They wanted to toss Jesus onto their shoulders and take him to Jerusalem as king. But he realized what they were doing and retreated alone up the hill.
"When it was evening and he didn't return, we got in our boat, as everyone else had done, and started back to Capernaum. When Jesus wanted to be alone, we'd learned to leave him alone. But we hadn't learned enough from the miracles he'd done, not even the one he'd performed that day, the miracle whose fragments we'd collected in twelve baskets.
"Have I told you this before?" the old man asked.
"Yes, but go on," his disciples said. "Tell us about Jesus walking on the lake."
"All right, but you must be ready to finish this story for me," Peter said. "That's when we were fighting for headway, smack in the middle of the lake. Believe me, the importance of the day's events was lost on us in the dark. We could hardly see one another. We kept yelling over the wind so that the rowers stroked together. We who were bailing encouraged the rowers, because no matter how tired they were of rowing, we couldn't stop and switch rowers. We were," he held two fingers close together, "that near to going under. We could barely control the boat, not half a bowl of strength left among us. We talked about it afterwards. We'd all lost hope, and at that moment none of us thought of Jesus and his power.
"That's when we saw Jesus walking on the sea and coming near the boat. If we thought we'd been frightened by the storm, we were terrified when we saw him. But he said, 'It is I; do not be afraid.' We wanted to get him into our boat, but at that moment we reached the shore at Capernaum.
"Now," said the aged Peter, as he moved slightly from his reclining position at the table. He rotated his arm to get the feeling back and continued, "now, you finish the story."
"You just did," the youngest student said.
"No," Peter instructed him, "I told you what happened. It's not enough to remember what Jesus did, as it's insufficient merely to repeat the words of his teaching. We must understand what Jesus' words and deeds mean today. When you leave tomorrow on your missions, you'll encounter people who need more than a report about what Jesus did decades ago. Now, you finish my story."
The group was silent for quite a while as Peter looked at them, one by one, face by face. Finally, a young man next to Peter said haltingly, "Jesus is with us in the storm."
"True," Peter said. "Go on."
From the back an older man caught on and said, "Jesus will come to us when we don't expect him."
"At the very least, yes," Peter said. "And what else?"
Someone said quickly, "His multiplying the bread and fish is also what he does today when we remember him in this meal."
Peter nodded, "Go on."
After a pause, a student in the middle of the group said, "Jesus arrives even when we aren't thinking about him."
"Certainly," Peter said. "And what else?"
David O. Bales recently retired as the pastor of Bethany Presbyterian Church in Ontario, Oregon. He is a freelance writer and editor for Stephen Ministries and Tebunah Ministries, and is the author of Gospel Subplots: Story Sermons of God's Grace (CSS).
Sand
by Peter C. Garrison
2 Samuel 11:1-15
The smells of the beach reminded Molly of being a kid. When she was a teenager, the smells of thick suntan oil and bright pink bubblegum had lured her to the shouts of her girlfriends by the lifeguard station. Now, the smells of the salt air and seaweed set her mind on Jim. Not Jim her husband -- the other Jim.
The "other Jim" was his designation in her mind. He was kept in a mental box and taken out to be examined only at certain times, in certain circumstances, in certain moods. He was to be designated and not named; nothing so personal as a name.
They met on a late afternoon when the "other Jim" had seen her swimming alone in the smooth gray and white water. They spoke and smiled, no jokes or laughing, but oddly serious. She thought of that day as "our accident." He called it "our mating dance."
Like any mating dance, it was frantic and confusing; there were quick movements and boasting, missteps and retreats with squawks like pain, much preening and quick togethernesses.
When they met, they were on the south side of the pier. It was where knots of young people gathered on bright towels crowded with radios, sodas, chips, and chatter. Now they met on the north side with the older adults who sunned themselves on their too-small towels, a beer hidden under the sand, a paperback book across their eyes.
The moment they had kissed, she changed. The kiss was not what she had expected. She was thinking about the kiss instead of kissing Jim. It was the climax of the mating dance, not the prelude to something more. She realized anything following that kiss would not be celebrated in hot-blooded abandon, but accomplished by cold-blooded calculation.
Things had changed -- not just her marriage to the "real Jim," but her discovery that she now "designated" her husband "real" instead of recognizing him by his real name. She had put herself into a category as the "before" and "after" Molly.
The smells of the beach stuck to her like cotton candy. The odor of suntan oil and bubblegum were sickly sweet. The seaweed smell reminded her of stale sheets. She lay on her towel, waiting for him. Which Jim? Did it matter? The wind blew off the sea. Sand popped against her face, across her hand, over her towel, and stuck like freckles on her oiled skin. Her jaw ached from chewing the gum and waiting for Jim. She dropped the gum in the sand -- a pale pink glob, saliva-shiny, flavor gone, gritty.
Peter C. Garrison is pastor of Good Shepherd Lutheran Church in Burlingame, California. He is the author of several CSS titles, including A Guide For Godparents and At Odds With God.
Sermon Starters
At Least I'm Not That Bad
by Terry Cain
This Sunday's Old Testament scripture (the story from 2 Samuel of David and Bathsheba) in is a most difficult passage to contemplate. Moral truths such as God's forgiveness or God's ability to use unlikely sinners to accomplish great things (David did do some good things) spring to mind. But the theme I always think of when I read this story is that we cannot excuse any of our own sins even though some of the greatest Bible persons committed sins at times.
* * *
Benny, like many other people, was out on a Saturday morning doing some shopping at the mall. As he was returning to his car to head home with a package or two, he noticed a woman, walking just ten yards or so ahead of him, as she dropped an envelope on the ground. As she walked on, obviously not knowing she had dropped anything, he called out to her, but she didn't hear and continued to walk away. He reached the envelope, bent down and picked it up, and started to call out again as he walked towards her -- but he still didn't get her attention. He glanced down and noticed some money partly showing in the envelope. He stopped a moment to think about his situation. Here he was, with an unknown amount of money belonging to a woman who was about to enter her car and drive away. It looked like quite a bit of money.
He glanced around the parking lot, and although it was a busy Saturday morning, there didn't happen to be anyone in sight. He was fairly certain that no one had seen him pick up the envelope. He glanced around the lot once more. By this time the woman had driven off.
Benny took the money out of the envelope and counted it: $137. As he glanced around the parking lot one more time, he thought about the situation. He told himself that the woman looked well-dressed and drove an expensive car; she no doubt would not miss the money. He had tried to get her attention. Then he remembered a rationale he had heard others use on occasion: Because he hadn't gotten the money to her, it would be a good lesson for her to be more careful. That lesson might stand her in good stead some day on another, more important, occasion.
Benny knew that he was in a bit of a financial strait at the moment and certainly could use the money. Then he remembered a Sunday school lesson only a few weeks before concerning the sins of Bible characters such as Abraham, David, and even Peter. The clincher for Benny was: if they could sin, then a lesser person like himself could sin on occasion -- no one is perfect. Still feeling guilty, he put the money in his pocket and drove home.
The next morning, Benny was in class teaching Sunday school as usual. He considered himself to be basically a good person. Everyone had faults, but he did usually tried to do the right thing. After his class of fourth graders dismissed, Benny met Mrs. Capp in the hall outside the classroom door. "I want to talk with you for a moment," she said.
"Well, I noticed your daughter was absent today; I hope she isn't ill," Benny replied.
"No, Tracy is not ill, but she also isn't exactly well," said Mrs. Capp. Vera Capp went on to tell Benny that Tracy had been in a parked car in the mall lot the day before and saw Benny make very little effort to return an envelope a woman had dropped. Vera said her daughter idolized her Sunday school teacher as a saint and was devastated when she saw Benny take the woman's money. She cried Saturday and refused to attend Sunday school that morning.
Now Benny was devastated. He realized that neither David's sin, Peter's lie concerning knowing Jesus, nor any other Bible character's fault would excuse what he had done. His sin had multiplied and hurt Tracy, one of his charges. Another verse concerning something Jesus said came immediately to mind: "If anyone should cause one of these little ones to lose their faith..." (Mark 9:42).
We Can Surprise Even Ourselves
by Terry Cain
I love the phrase from Ephesians 3:20 that says God can do more through us than we dare ask or imagine!
* * *
Ted's wife Sue was a schoolteacher in a large urban high school. Her certification was in English, History, and Social Studies. When the administration came to her and asked if she would be willing to teach philosophy (philosophy had never been taught in that school district before) as a special class, she did not feel qualified -- but her husband had majored in philosophy in college. Consequently, Sue suggested that perhaps Ted could teach the class. Since he had no education background and was not certified to teach, the administration agreed to a team teaching arrangement whereby Ted would teach the content of the class and Sue would be present to manage the classroom.
Ted reluctantly agreed. He certainly had misgivings about teaching a bunch of inner-city kids and he did not feel he had the patience to deal with classroom problems, but it was only one period a day. The first day started off with a bang. Kids came to class dressed in extremes and brought a great diversity of attitudes. Ted was not ashamed to admit he was frightened, but the secret was not to let the students know that.
His biggest challenge seemed to be Bill, a 19-year-old African-American student who should have graduated a year or two earlier, but who had so few credits that he would never make it. Bill was probably insecure; however, his posture was one of belligerence and arrogance. He had to show off in class and constantly make smart remarks. Ted and Sue were both white, as were almost all of the teachers. Bill may or may not have been angry over experiences of racism in the classroom over the years, perceived or actual. Ted wondered how he would handle the class for a whole semester.
As it happened, Bill started missing classes in all his other subjects, as he had done on many previous occasions. Before long he had dropped out of all his other classes, but not the philosophy class. His other teachers made no bones about admitting that they were not sorry he no longer attended their class. The question was, why did he continue to attend the philosophy class?
From the beginning of the class, Bill had been asking silly questions which he knew there were no reasonable answers for: questions such as "If I glued feathers on my arms, could I fly like a bird?" The other students would laugh, which encouraged Bill to continue with questions and comments intended to disrupt the class and Ted's composure. Ted's response was to gently sidestep the question and try to turn the attempt at the obnoxious to a more reasonable subject. For example, he might answer the above question with a counter-question, such as "Would you be willing to give up the advantage of having arms and hands in order to have wings?" Ted continued to smile in his dialogues with Bill and always paid him respect. Occasionally, he would call on Bill to share his thoughts, but not with questions intended to stump him.
It wasn't too long before a friendship of mutual respect seemed to develop between them, and the questions and comments Bill would contribute began to make good sense and the discussions became much more productive. Other students no longer laughed. Bill stayed on in the class, the only one he continued to attend the rest of the semester.
Ted felt his crowning moment came during a Friday night sporting event he attended. Bill left the circle of his gang to come over and greet Ted and visit for a few moments, to the surprise of Bill's friends.
Ted wondered where Bill was headed in life, and pondered what he might have achieved had his other classes along the way been as successful in reaching him. Ted was surprised at how good the experience was for him, and hoped it was half as meaningful for Bill.
Terry Cain is a retired United Methodist pastor, and the author of the CSS titles Shaking Wolves Out of Cherry Trees and Lions and Cows Dining Together.
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How to Share Stories
You have good stories to share, probably more than you know: personal stories as well as stories from others that you have used over the years. If you have a story you like, whether fictional or "really happened," authored by you or a brief excerpt from a favorite book, send it to StoryShare for review. Simply click here share-a-story@csspub.com and e-mail the story to us.
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StoryShare, July 30, 2006, issue.
Copyright 2006 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 517 South Main Street, Lima, Ohio 45804.
What's Up This Week
A Story to Live By: "Making a Difference"
Good Stories: "And What Else?" by David O. Bales
"Sand" by Peter C. Garrison
Sermon Starters: "At Least I'm Not That Bad" by Terry Cain
"We Can Surprise Even Ourselves" by Terry Cain
What's Up This Week
Our stories this week provide a kaleidoscope of the many and varied ways that what might seem to be small actions can make a huge difference in our own lives and those of others -- both positively and negatively. In "Sand" and "At Least I'm Not That Bad" we see the unintentional but destructive effects of sin, while "And What Else?" and "We Can Surprise Even Ourselves" illustrate the power of teaching that really connects with people to open our eyes to new ways of looking at the world. As A Story to Live By makes clear, we need to ask ourselves if we are sitting in the island of a dry pew -- or if we are freely sharing our modest gifts and letting the Lord multiply them.
A Story to Live By
Making a Difference
"There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish. But what are they among so many people?"
John 6:9
Back in the days of colonial New England, it was the custom for churches to charge families for rental of their pews. These were the old box pews, with little gates on the ends you could open and close. The well-to-do families sat up front, while the common laborers, indentured servants, and slaves -- who couldn't afford the rent -- sat in the balcony.
Many churchgoers today feel like they own the pews they sit in. They come in week after week and sit in the same place. After a while they do come to feel kind of like they own the pew. Well, in Colonial days they were one up on us: you could actually rent a pew and have your name on it. Pew rental was like owning a little piece of the church.
In one Colonial-vintage church, the roof began leaking. Some sections of the sanctuary experienced a steady drip in a heavy storm, while others were bone-dry. One day, the pastor ascended the pulpit and made an appeal for contributions so that the roof could be repaired. One well-to-do gentleman met the pastor at the door afterward and declared that he had no intention of contributing to the campaign -- because, he said, it wasn't raining on his pew.
The boy on the hillside in Galilee with the barley loaves and fish could have taken the same attitude. He could have said: "I've got my lunch. All those hungry people? Not my problem!" But he doesn't. The boy gives all he has to Jesus, and his gift makes all the difference.
(From Lectionary Preaching Workbook [Series VIII, Cycle B] by Carlos Wilton)
Good Stories
And What Else?
by David O. Bales
John 6:1-21
"The wind was squealing through the rigging," Peter said. "We'd gotten the sail down and were doing our best to row into the wind, but it was tougher than we'd faced for a long time -- especially at night. Half of us rowed, half bailed. We all prayed."
Peter shifted his weight. His old bones hurt after sitting long in any position. He was reclining with his students on the evening before they'd leave on their preaching missions. Peter had trained them as Jesus had trained him. At this farewell meal he continued: "We weren't thinking much about Jesus right then, but he's the one who got us there. He'd been healing lots of people. They'd glom onto him, like they were trying to filch power from him. To get time alone we sailed to the east shore, but a large crowd kept following us. They'd seen how many people he'd healed.
"Boat after boat scraped onto the shore and people leaped out and splashed up to us. We looked north and saw crowds walking from there. They were all converging on Jesus. He led us up the hill and had us sit. He surveyed the crowd and said to Philip, 'Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?' "
Peter paused, leaned to the side, and said, "The Romans don't have cushions as good as we had in Galilee." His students laughed. He stretched his back and said to his students, "I've told you, haven't I, about the people on the hillside?" His students nodded.
"Well, Jesus knew what he was going to do, but we didn't understand it at the time. Philip answered him, 'Six months' wages couldn't buy enough bread for each of them to get a little.'
"My brother Andrew said to him, 'A boy's here with five barley loaves and two fish. But what's that for so many people?' Jesus had everybody sit down, by that time about five thousand people. He gave thanks for the loaves and distributed them and the fish -- as much as everybody wanted. Then he had us gather the leftovers, and they filled twelve baskets. Everybody had been eating in their own group, and it wasn't until they looked around and saw how much was left over that they realized what'd happened. This was another miracle. Jesus fed the multitude. Surely he was the prophet. They wanted to toss Jesus onto their shoulders and take him to Jerusalem as king. But he realized what they were doing and retreated alone up the hill.
"When it was evening and he didn't return, we got in our boat, as everyone else had done, and started back to Capernaum. When Jesus wanted to be alone, we'd learned to leave him alone. But we hadn't learned enough from the miracles he'd done, not even the one he'd performed that day, the miracle whose fragments we'd collected in twelve baskets.
"Have I told you this before?" the old man asked.
"Yes, but go on," his disciples said. "Tell us about Jesus walking on the lake."
"All right, but you must be ready to finish this story for me," Peter said. "That's when we were fighting for headway, smack in the middle of the lake. Believe me, the importance of the day's events was lost on us in the dark. We could hardly see one another. We kept yelling over the wind so that the rowers stroked together. We who were bailing encouraged the rowers, because no matter how tired they were of rowing, we couldn't stop and switch rowers. We were," he held two fingers close together, "that near to going under. We could barely control the boat, not half a bowl of strength left among us. We talked about it afterwards. We'd all lost hope, and at that moment none of us thought of Jesus and his power.
"That's when we saw Jesus walking on the sea and coming near the boat. If we thought we'd been frightened by the storm, we were terrified when we saw him. But he said, 'It is I; do not be afraid.' We wanted to get him into our boat, but at that moment we reached the shore at Capernaum.
"Now," said the aged Peter, as he moved slightly from his reclining position at the table. He rotated his arm to get the feeling back and continued, "now, you finish the story."
"You just did," the youngest student said.
"No," Peter instructed him, "I told you what happened. It's not enough to remember what Jesus did, as it's insufficient merely to repeat the words of his teaching. We must understand what Jesus' words and deeds mean today. When you leave tomorrow on your missions, you'll encounter people who need more than a report about what Jesus did decades ago. Now, you finish my story."
The group was silent for quite a while as Peter looked at them, one by one, face by face. Finally, a young man next to Peter said haltingly, "Jesus is with us in the storm."
"True," Peter said. "Go on."
From the back an older man caught on and said, "Jesus will come to us when we don't expect him."
"At the very least, yes," Peter said. "And what else?"
Someone said quickly, "His multiplying the bread and fish is also what he does today when we remember him in this meal."
Peter nodded, "Go on."
After a pause, a student in the middle of the group said, "Jesus arrives even when we aren't thinking about him."
"Certainly," Peter said. "And what else?"
David O. Bales recently retired as the pastor of Bethany Presbyterian Church in Ontario, Oregon. He is a freelance writer and editor for Stephen Ministries and Tebunah Ministries, and is the author of Gospel Subplots: Story Sermons of God's Grace (CSS).
Sand
by Peter C. Garrison
2 Samuel 11:1-15
The smells of the beach reminded Molly of being a kid. When she was a teenager, the smells of thick suntan oil and bright pink bubblegum had lured her to the shouts of her girlfriends by the lifeguard station. Now, the smells of the salt air and seaweed set her mind on Jim. Not Jim her husband -- the other Jim.
The "other Jim" was his designation in her mind. He was kept in a mental box and taken out to be examined only at certain times, in certain circumstances, in certain moods. He was to be designated and not named; nothing so personal as a name.
They met on a late afternoon when the "other Jim" had seen her swimming alone in the smooth gray and white water. They spoke and smiled, no jokes or laughing, but oddly serious. She thought of that day as "our accident." He called it "our mating dance."
Like any mating dance, it was frantic and confusing; there were quick movements and boasting, missteps and retreats with squawks like pain, much preening and quick togethernesses.
When they met, they were on the south side of the pier. It was where knots of young people gathered on bright towels crowded with radios, sodas, chips, and chatter. Now they met on the north side with the older adults who sunned themselves on their too-small towels, a beer hidden under the sand, a paperback book across their eyes.
The moment they had kissed, she changed. The kiss was not what she had expected. She was thinking about the kiss instead of kissing Jim. It was the climax of the mating dance, not the prelude to something more. She realized anything following that kiss would not be celebrated in hot-blooded abandon, but accomplished by cold-blooded calculation.
Things had changed -- not just her marriage to the "real Jim," but her discovery that she now "designated" her husband "real" instead of recognizing him by his real name. She had put herself into a category as the "before" and "after" Molly.
The smells of the beach stuck to her like cotton candy. The odor of suntan oil and bubblegum were sickly sweet. The seaweed smell reminded her of stale sheets. She lay on her towel, waiting for him. Which Jim? Did it matter? The wind blew off the sea. Sand popped against her face, across her hand, over her towel, and stuck like freckles on her oiled skin. Her jaw ached from chewing the gum and waiting for Jim. She dropped the gum in the sand -- a pale pink glob, saliva-shiny, flavor gone, gritty.
Peter C. Garrison is pastor of Good Shepherd Lutheran Church in Burlingame, California. He is the author of several CSS titles, including A Guide For Godparents and At Odds With God.
Sermon Starters
At Least I'm Not That Bad
by Terry Cain
This Sunday's Old Testament scripture (the story from 2 Samuel of David and Bathsheba) in is a most difficult passage to contemplate. Moral truths such as God's forgiveness or God's ability to use unlikely sinners to accomplish great things (David did do some good things) spring to mind. But the theme I always think of when I read this story is that we cannot excuse any of our own sins even though some of the greatest Bible persons committed sins at times.
* * *
Benny, like many other people, was out on a Saturday morning doing some shopping at the mall. As he was returning to his car to head home with a package or two, he noticed a woman, walking just ten yards or so ahead of him, as she dropped an envelope on the ground. As she walked on, obviously not knowing she had dropped anything, he called out to her, but she didn't hear and continued to walk away. He reached the envelope, bent down and picked it up, and started to call out again as he walked towards her -- but he still didn't get her attention. He glanced down and noticed some money partly showing in the envelope. He stopped a moment to think about his situation. Here he was, with an unknown amount of money belonging to a woman who was about to enter her car and drive away. It looked like quite a bit of money.
He glanced around the parking lot, and although it was a busy Saturday morning, there didn't happen to be anyone in sight. He was fairly certain that no one had seen him pick up the envelope. He glanced around the lot once more. By this time the woman had driven off.
Benny took the money out of the envelope and counted it: $137. As he glanced around the parking lot one more time, he thought about the situation. He told himself that the woman looked well-dressed and drove an expensive car; she no doubt would not miss the money. He had tried to get her attention. Then he remembered a rationale he had heard others use on occasion: Because he hadn't gotten the money to her, it would be a good lesson for her to be more careful. That lesson might stand her in good stead some day on another, more important, occasion.
Benny knew that he was in a bit of a financial strait at the moment and certainly could use the money. Then he remembered a Sunday school lesson only a few weeks before concerning the sins of Bible characters such as Abraham, David, and even Peter. The clincher for Benny was: if they could sin, then a lesser person like himself could sin on occasion -- no one is perfect. Still feeling guilty, he put the money in his pocket and drove home.
The next morning, Benny was in class teaching Sunday school as usual. He considered himself to be basically a good person. Everyone had faults, but he did usually tried to do the right thing. After his class of fourth graders dismissed, Benny met Mrs. Capp in the hall outside the classroom door. "I want to talk with you for a moment," she said.
"Well, I noticed your daughter was absent today; I hope she isn't ill," Benny replied.
"No, Tracy is not ill, but she also isn't exactly well," said Mrs. Capp. Vera Capp went on to tell Benny that Tracy had been in a parked car in the mall lot the day before and saw Benny make very little effort to return an envelope a woman had dropped. Vera said her daughter idolized her Sunday school teacher as a saint and was devastated when she saw Benny take the woman's money. She cried Saturday and refused to attend Sunday school that morning.
Now Benny was devastated. He realized that neither David's sin, Peter's lie concerning knowing Jesus, nor any other Bible character's fault would excuse what he had done. His sin had multiplied and hurt Tracy, one of his charges. Another verse concerning something Jesus said came immediately to mind: "If anyone should cause one of these little ones to lose their faith..." (Mark 9:42).
We Can Surprise Even Ourselves
by Terry Cain
I love the phrase from Ephesians 3:20 that says God can do more through us than we dare ask or imagine!
* * *
Ted's wife Sue was a schoolteacher in a large urban high school. Her certification was in English, History, and Social Studies. When the administration came to her and asked if she would be willing to teach philosophy (philosophy had never been taught in that school district before) as a special class, she did not feel qualified -- but her husband had majored in philosophy in college. Consequently, Sue suggested that perhaps Ted could teach the class. Since he had no education background and was not certified to teach, the administration agreed to a team teaching arrangement whereby Ted would teach the content of the class and Sue would be present to manage the classroom.
Ted reluctantly agreed. He certainly had misgivings about teaching a bunch of inner-city kids and he did not feel he had the patience to deal with classroom problems, but it was only one period a day. The first day started off with a bang. Kids came to class dressed in extremes and brought a great diversity of attitudes. Ted was not ashamed to admit he was frightened, but the secret was not to let the students know that.
His biggest challenge seemed to be Bill, a 19-year-old African-American student who should have graduated a year or two earlier, but who had so few credits that he would never make it. Bill was probably insecure; however, his posture was one of belligerence and arrogance. He had to show off in class and constantly make smart remarks. Ted and Sue were both white, as were almost all of the teachers. Bill may or may not have been angry over experiences of racism in the classroom over the years, perceived or actual. Ted wondered how he would handle the class for a whole semester.
As it happened, Bill started missing classes in all his other subjects, as he had done on many previous occasions. Before long he had dropped out of all his other classes, but not the philosophy class. His other teachers made no bones about admitting that they were not sorry he no longer attended their class. The question was, why did he continue to attend the philosophy class?
From the beginning of the class, Bill had been asking silly questions which he knew there were no reasonable answers for: questions such as "If I glued feathers on my arms, could I fly like a bird?" The other students would laugh, which encouraged Bill to continue with questions and comments intended to disrupt the class and Ted's composure. Ted's response was to gently sidestep the question and try to turn the attempt at the obnoxious to a more reasonable subject. For example, he might answer the above question with a counter-question, such as "Would you be willing to give up the advantage of having arms and hands in order to have wings?" Ted continued to smile in his dialogues with Bill and always paid him respect. Occasionally, he would call on Bill to share his thoughts, but not with questions intended to stump him.
It wasn't too long before a friendship of mutual respect seemed to develop between them, and the questions and comments Bill would contribute began to make good sense and the discussions became much more productive. Other students no longer laughed. Bill stayed on in the class, the only one he continued to attend the rest of the semester.
Ted felt his crowning moment came during a Friday night sporting event he attended. Bill left the circle of his gang to come over and greet Ted and visit for a few moments, to the surprise of Bill's friends.
Ted wondered where Bill was headed in life, and pondered what he might have achieved had his other classes along the way been as successful in reaching him. Ted was surprised at how good the experience was for him, and hoped it was half as meaningful for Bill.
Terry Cain is a retired United Methodist pastor, and the author of the CSS titles Shaking Wolves Out of Cherry Trees and Lions and Cows Dining Together.
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StoryShare, July 30, 2006, issue.
Copyright 2006 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 517 South Main Street, Lima, Ohio 45804.
