Living The Kingdom
Stories
Contents
What's Up This Week
A Story to Live By: "The Mighty Acorn" by John Sumwalt
Good Stories: "Living the Kingdom" by Frank R. Fisher
"Believing Is Seeing" by Paul Lintern
Scrap Pile: "What's Your Standard?" by Gregory L. Tolle
What's Up This Week
This week's Gospel lesson featuring the parable of the mustard seed is a powerful testament to the glory of God's creation, as our Story to Live By vividly illustrates. But as Frank Fisher's "Living the Kingdom" tale in Good Stories shows us, the nature of that seed's growth, and how lasting its effects are, depends greatly on how we cultivate it. In the Scrap Pile, we have a thoughtful meditation on whether our behavior measures up to the standard Christ set. As Greg Tolle notes, once we've tasted the top-notch friendship and support of God's grace, we'll never want to live without the "good stuff" again.
A Story to Live By
The Mighty Acorn
by John Sumwalt
He also said, "With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade."
Mark 4:30-32
A church camp counselor gathered the six small boys from his cabin under the spread of a very old oak tree, and he instructed them to join hands around the tree's gnarled trunk. By stretching with all of their might and standing on their tiptoes, they were able to encircle the ancient tree.
"Look up now," the counselor called out to the campers. "See how many branches you can count." Each of the boys counted a different number of branches. There were more branches than any one boy could see from his perspective, and the leaves were so thick that they could barely see the sun. One boy spotted a bird's nest near the top of one of the branches, and three boys reported a squirrel scampering from limb to limb in an effort to escape from their view.
Then the counselor bid the boys to let go and join him in a circle under the tree. He instructed them to close their eyes as he picked up an acorn that had fallen from the tree. The counselor held the acorn up next to the trunk of the tree and then asked the boys to open their eyes. "This great oak was once a small acorn like this," the counselor said. "Now it is over 150 years old; it is 200 feet high and has hundreds of branches. Birds, squirrels, and many other small animals make their homes in its branches. God has made something that is very small grow into something that is very, very large. If God can do this with a tree, consider what God is doing in your lives."
Then the counselor opened his Bible and read the parable of the mustard seed. When he was finished he asked the boys to lie on their backs on the ground and look up at the tree. As the boys looked upon the glory of the mighty oak that had grown from the small acorn, the counselor told them about the kingdom of God.
John Sumwalt is the lead pastor of Wauwatosa Avenue United Methodist Church in suburban Milwaukee. He is the author of eight books for CSS. John and his wife, Jo Perry-Sumwalt, served for three years as co-editors of StoryShare.
Good Stories
Living the Kingdom
by Frank R. Fisher
"[The kingdom of God] is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade."
Mark 4:31-32
"Did you hear the news? We had a congregational meeting last week. The new pastor's coming! The new pastor's coming!"
Those words rang through the classrooms, echoed down the hallways, and rebounded through the fellowship hall of Soy Seed Presbyterian Church. All the members were thrilled! And why shouldn't they be thrilled? After all, they'd waited for this day for a very long time.
It had also been a long time since their last called pastor left them. They really still missed him, although they had to agree his sudden call to become a hermit in the mountains of Tibet seemed a bit puzzling. "Why does that always seem to happen to our pastors?" they asked each other. "Does everyone who moves there look as exhausted as he did? And by the way, does anyone know where all our new members went?"
Anyway, all thoughts of where their last pastor or their new members had headed to were quite gone from their minds now. Instead, all they thought about was the arrival of this wonderful person -- the person who'd bring new people flooding into the pews; the person who'd fill the Sunday School classrooms to overflowing; the person who'd bring growth, growth like the lush greening of a soy plant, to a stagnant congregation.
Soon, the new pastor arrived. There was a great celebration! Everyone pitched in to make sure the pastor was well and truly welcomed. Several months went by while everyone enjoyed simply having their pastor in place.
Then one day the pastor started asking questions. "How many people do each of you invite to church each year?" he asked. "What do you do to spread the good news to those who haven't yet heard it?"
"Why, that's your job, Pastor," everyone answered. "That's why we hire a pastor. We pay you to do God's work."
"Ah, I see. I'm the designated Christian. You pay me to do God's work so you don't have to do it," the pastor thought to himself. But despite his somewhat cynical thought, he set out to do the job he'd been hired to do.
Before too long, new families began to appear in worship. Their children swelled the Sunday School rolls. Even the choir found their vacant seats filled with new singers.
The congregation thought all their hopes and dreams had come true. But in all the excitement, none of them noticed how tired and burned out their pastor was starting to appear. A year went by and the congregation's growth tapered off and stopped altogether. Travel brochures for Tibet began to appear in the pastor's study. By the time another year had passed, the pastor was gone.
As the pastor was the only one who'd formed deep relationships with the new members, they began to drift away too. "What happened to our lush green growth?" the members moaned together. Somehow, it seems they'd forgotten that soy plants do not grow to touch the skies -- and neither do congregations whose ministry is only done by the pastor.
"Did you hear the news? We had a congregational meeting last week. The new pastor's coming! The new pastor's coming!"
Those words rang through the sanctuary, echoed through the kitchen, and rebounded through the boardroom of Corn Seed Presbyterian Church. All the members were thrilled! And why shouldn't they be thrilled? After all, they'd waited for this day for a very long time.
It had also been a long time since their last called pastor left them. They really still missed her, although they had to agree her sudden call to serve a teeming homeless population in a metropolitan city seemed a bit puzzling. "Why does that always seem to happen to our pastors?" they asked each other. "Does everyone who moves there look as frustrated as she did? And by the way, why do our new members only seem to stay for about a year or two?"
Anyway, all thoughts of where their last pastor or their new members had headed to were quite gone from their minds now. Instead, all they thought about was the arrival of this wonderful person -- the person who'd bring new people into their wonderful family; the person who'd bring congregational fellowship to new heights; the person who'd bring growth, growth like a corn plant standing tall and strong in the field they'd tilled and made ready.
Soon, the new pastor arrived. There was a great celebration! Everyone pitched in to make sure the pastor was well and truly welcomed. Several months went by while everyone enjoyed simply having their pastor in place.
Then one day the pastor started asking questions. "You've been doing a good job bringing lots of people into the congregation. But what," the pastor asked, "are we doing with them? How are we helping them to prepare for and do the ministries to which God has called them? How are we enabling them to become ministers of Jesus Christ?"
"Now don't worry about that," the members answered. "Just keep on preaching and leading worship. But come to think of it, you need to go a little easy on sermons about mission and about following Jesus. After all, we don't want to upset anyone in our friendly family. Some of our new people might go away if we make demands on their time."
"Oh, now I understand," the pastor said to herself. "This congregation is really about us, and not about God and God's people." But despite her new understanding, she set out to do the job she was hired to do.
And for a long time, Corn Seed Presbyterian continued to grow tall and strong in the field the members had lovingly tilled for one another. But over time the new people that the longer-term members had brought into the church began to drift away.
"Why are they leaving?" the members asked the pastor.
"They came here to be transformed by the touch of the Living God and by service to God's people," she answered. "And by the way, I've been called to work in inner-city New York. I'll be leaving next month."
The new growth once swelling the loving family of Corn Seed church died off, just as it always seemed to have done. It seems the members had forgotten that while corn plants grow tall and strong they do not reach the sky, nor do they provide places to grow and shelter amongst their branches -- and neither do congregations where people are brought in, yet not brought to deeply know their Lord and God, then sent out to serve God's people.
"Did you hear the news? We had a congregational meeting last week. The new pastor's coming! The new pastor's coming!"
Those words rang throughout the building, echoed through the surrounding streets, and rebounded through the town where Mustard Seed Presbyterian Church found its home. All the members were thrilled! And why shouldn't they be thrilled? For their partner in ministry had arrived.
It had also been a long time since their last called pastor left them. They really still missed him, although they had to agree he'd cheered them on and helped them grow in faith and in mission. So they wished him well as he moved on to do the same in another congregation.
When the new pastor walked in the door, there was a great celebration! Everyone pitched in to make sure he was well and truly welcomed. But the celebration didn't even make a ripple in their work, prayer, and worship. Each member continued to grow in faith through constant prayer, frequent worship, and deep study and meditation. Each member continued to reach out to find the ways she or he was called to serve God's people. The congregation as a whole continued to bring more people in the door, help them become disciples of Jesus, and send them out to serve others and bring them onto the Way they themselves now trod.
And the new pastor became their new cheerleader -- pointing always toward the cross of Christ; encouraging the members as they walked their own journeys of faith and mission; and helping the congregation's leaders find the ways to help others grow and be equipped to serve.
Women and men from all walks of life came, found safety in their branches, and healed from the pain that had brought them to God's house. Then they too took wing to join in the members' joy-filled dance of faith and new life.
They were grounded to the earth of faith, and their congregation soared to the skies as they lived out their callings. They never forgot how it took the team of a pastor pointing the way and a congregation being ministers of the Gospel to soar where Christ had led them. And as they lived the kingdom, they gave to God alone all the glory.
Frank R. Fisher currently serves as the interim pastor of First Presbyterian Church in Fairbury, Illinois. He is an Oblate of the ecumenical Abbey of John the Baptist and Saint Benedict in Bartonville, Illinois.
Believing Is Seeing
by Paul Lintern
So we are always confident; even though we know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord -- for we walk by faith, not by sight.
2 Corinthians 5:6-7
"Oh great!"
Al was not excited about being at this workshop on team-building, but his boss was on a big kick about it and Al needed at least to look cooperative.
But now the workshop leader was asking people to pair up for a trust walk, to be blindfolded and led by voice through whatever obstacles were ahead.
Al hated that. He had always been afraid of the dark, something he carefully hid from others because it embarrassed him. He didn't know why darkness was so frightening to him, but he did know that he did not put stock in anything he could not see.
If it were a concept, a promise, an idea, a dream, forget it. Give him something tangible, something concrete, and he could deal with it. Give him something he could control, and he was fine.
But now this. Al didn't even really know the partner who was to lead him around. His nametag said Larry, but that told him nothing.
The workshop leader gave instructions. "I want you to walk by trust, not by sight," she said. "Let your partner guide you, using only the voice, and get a sense of letting go of your own control, so that you may be responsive to someone outside of you."
"There is that word again," Al thought. "Control. It is mine. Why should I give it up? I'm comfortable with it. Why should someone else get to take it away from me?"
Larry handed Al his blindfold and said, "Let's get started."
They exchanged some small talk, but Al was not listening. He was hearing his head instead, telling him just to get it over with, that it shouldn't be this hard, that people do this all the time.
Then he was hearing his gut tell him otherwise: "Don't do it," it was telling him. "You take charge."
Al stalled, but Larry was persistent. "Give up," he smiled.
So Al reluctantly placed the blindfold over his eyes. "All right, I give up," he said to himself.
The voice began to lead him, but Al suddenly realized it was not Larry's voice, and it was not the voice of the workshop leader.
"Follow me," the voice was saying. "Give me control of your steps, and I will show you the way. Trust me as you walk, I will guide you. Don't you see that?"
Maybe Al did see something when the blindfold went on. Maybe he did see that it is possible to see by faith what is not seen by the eyes. Maybe the voice assured him that these steps would be the first steps out of the darkness of his fear.
"Trust me," Larry said.
Al sighed, "I'll try," he replied.
Larry smiled and said, "It's a step in the right direction."
Paul Lintern is the pastor of Oakland Lutheran Church in Mansfield, Ohio.
Scrap Pile
What's Your Standard?
by Gregory L. Tolle
No longer, then, do we judge anyone by human standards. Even if at one time we judged Christ according to human standards, we no longer do so. When anyone is joined to Christ, he is a new being; the old is gone, the new has come.
2 Corinthians 5:16-17 (TEV)
After graduating from seminary in 1995, my wife Hadley and I moved from Fort Worth, Texas, to a small town in rural Oklahoma. With a population of 1,600, the restaurants in our new town were limited. There was the South End, which was conveniently located on the south end of town. The South End was not the real name, but it was what everybody called it. Over the four-year period we lived there, it was also called the Cyclone Cafe, Rhonda's Cafe, and Dale's Diner. No matter who owned and ran the place, it was always a smoke-filled greasy spoon.
There was also the Missile, which of course hadn't been the real name for years. It suffered from the same identity crisis as the South End. At various times, it was known as J.T.'s and also Charlie's. The menu there consisted of fast food.
It was common knowledge around town that the best place to eat was the 62 Cafe. The 62 had the same owner-operator for more than four years. It even had the same waitresses. The consistency alone made it a good place to eat. Besides the normal southern cafe fare, their specialty was Mexican food. In fact, one local citizen claimed it "served the best Mexican food in southwest Oklahoma."
Maybe, but by whose standards? Personally, I felt their Mexican food was average. After all, I had just moved from Fort Worth where the population is about 25 percent Hispanic. The greater Fort Worth area has at least 50 mom-and-pop Mexican restaurants and a few small local chains. After living in Fort Worth, I refused to eat at national chains. I was now a connoisseur of good Mexican food.
For the most part, the 62 was okay. But the food was more on a par with Taco Bell than El Chico. I had their fajitas once -- only once. As far as Mexican food went, their fajitas were pretty good Chinese food. These were the only fajitas I have ever had served with a sweet-and-sour sauce.
I'm not trying to be overly critical of the 62 Cafe (really, other than the fajitas it was all good), but after having Tex-Mex food made by Texans of Mexican descent, Tex-Mex by gringo Okies just didn't cut it. After living in Fort Worth and experiencing really good Mexican food, my standards were different.
What are your standards? Not on Mexican food, but on life? On faith? In 2 Corinthians 5:16-17, Paul says: "No longer, then, do we judge anyone by human standards.... When anyone is joined to Christ, he is a new being; the old is gone, the new has come" (TEV).
Did you get that? The standard that we are to shoot for as Christians is not a human standard, but a Christ standard. We compare ourselves not to other people, not even to other Christians, but to Christ. That's a high standard.
Most of the time, though, we compare ourselves to each other. As long as we're better than the next guy or gal, we're all right. The problem with that is that we can always find someone who has more faults than us. We say:
* Well, sure I lie now and then, but nothing like John Kerry and George W. Bush on the campaign trail.
* Okay, so I cheat on my taxes, but I'm no Willie Nelson or anything.
* Yeah, I'm hot-tempered, but Bobby Knight is worse.
Nancy Adler is a minister friend of mine. She once asked me: "Why do my members keep coming to me and telling me about how much money they won in Las Vegas? Do they think I don't have any standards?"
I answered, "Because they don't see it as wrong. Our culture has accepted gambling and even softened it by calling it gaming."
See, by human standards, if you're not addicted, you're all right. If you haven't lost your house in the trip to the desert, you're okay. We ask, "What's the harm? It's just entertainment."
But Christ's standard is a little different. Because of the Christ standard, United Methodists traditionally have opposed gambling for two reasons: first, gambling has a long-term association with organized crime, and second, for social justice reasons -- many gamblers are people who can least afford it and many families have had their lives destroyed because of an addiction to gambling.
Now, I'm not trying to tell you you're going to fry on judgment day if you've ever bet on a horse, bought a lottery ticket, been to a casino, or played penny-ante poker.
But be honest. Is gambling really a part of the Christ standard? Or any of the other things we try to pass off as okay? Would Jesus risk tripping up a brother or sister in the faith to dance with Lady Luck? Would he risk fueling the fire of organized crime? These are the questions we have to ask as we compare ourselves to Christ instead of each other. That's the perception we have to take as we join ourselves to Christ.
The saying came out a few years ago: WWJD -- What Would Jesus Do? Well, what did Jesus do? He came offering love, forgiveness, and his life. That's the standard -- the standard we are called to seek as Christians with everything that comes our way in life.
A human standard says to go halfway in our faith. It's all right to cheat a little here and cut a corner there. We say:
* Tithing is optional -- like for rich people. I give what I can.
* It's okay if I just glance at my Sunday school lesson instead of reading it -- just this once.
* I'm too busy to serve God through the church anymore. Besides, I've already done my time.
Let's remember that Jesus didn't go halfway with anything. If he did, there would be a death on a cross without the resurrection. There would be despair and no hope for us, as all our failures would bring us death.
But praise God; Christ did defeat our death through his resurrection. Our standard is to be as Christ-like as possible -- to be a new creation with a new standard. As we become joined to Christ, we are called to emulate love, forgiveness, and sacrifice. These are the Christ-like standards -- the purpose of our faith.
God became human in Christ to bear our sin so that we could become righteous and worthy of God's friendship. Being upheld to the standard of Christ is not intended to keep us from fun in life. Instead, it is intended to keep us in friendship with God.
Eating average Tex-Mex food is a reminder to me how great really good Tex-Mex is. In the same way, average human standards remind me how great God's friendship is. How awesome it is to be considered worthy enough to be held to the standard of Christ -- to be counted as a friend of God! It is incredible to know that in spite of our failures, God wants us as friends.
Just like I don't want average Tex-Mex after having the good stuff, we no longer crave a human standard after we have tasted the friendship that comes with a Christ standard. Don't settle for average. Be on a quest for quality. Seek the Christ standard and enjoy the fabulous friendship of God.
Gregory L. Tolle is the senior minister at First United Methodist Church in Durant, Oklahoma. He is the author of three volumes of the CSS series Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit.
**********************************************
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.
**********************************************
StoryShare, June 18, 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: "The Mighty Acorn" by John Sumwalt
Good Stories: "Living the Kingdom" by Frank R. Fisher
"Believing Is Seeing" by Paul Lintern
Scrap Pile: "What's Your Standard?" by Gregory L. Tolle
What's Up This Week
This week's Gospel lesson featuring the parable of the mustard seed is a powerful testament to the glory of God's creation, as our Story to Live By vividly illustrates. But as Frank Fisher's "Living the Kingdom" tale in Good Stories shows us, the nature of that seed's growth, and how lasting its effects are, depends greatly on how we cultivate it. In the Scrap Pile, we have a thoughtful meditation on whether our behavior measures up to the standard Christ set. As Greg Tolle notes, once we've tasted the top-notch friendship and support of God's grace, we'll never want to live without the "good stuff" again.
A Story to Live By
The Mighty Acorn
by John Sumwalt
He also said, "With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade."
Mark 4:30-32
A church camp counselor gathered the six small boys from his cabin under the spread of a very old oak tree, and he instructed them to join hands around the tree's gnarled trunk. By stretching with all of their might and standing on their tiptoes, they were able to encircle the ancient tree.
"Look up now," the counselor called out to the campers. "See how many branches you can count." Each of the boys counted a different number of branches. There were more branches than any one boy could see from his perspective, and the leaves were so thick that they could barely see the sun. One boy spotted a bird's nest near the top of one of the branches, and three boys reported a squirrel scampering from limb to limb in an effort to escape from their view.
Then the counselor bid the boys to let go and join him in a circle under the tree. He instructed them to close their eyes as he picked up an acorn that had fallen from the tree. The counselor held the acorn up next to the trunk of the tree and then asked the boys to open their eyes. "This great oak was once a small acorn like this," the counselor said. "Now it is over 150 years old; it is 200 feet high and has hundreds of branches. Birds, squirrels, and many other small animals make their homes in its branches. God has made something that is very small grow into something that is very, very large. If God can do this with a tree, consider what God is doing in your lives."
Then the counselor opened his Bible and read the parable of the mustard seed. When he was finished he asked the boys to lie on their backs on the ground and look up at the tree. As the boys looked upon the glory of the mighty oak that had grown from the small acorn, the counselor told them about the kingdom of God.
John Sumwalt is the lead pastor of Wauwatosa Avenue United Methodist Church in suburban Milwaukee. He is the author of eight books for CSS. John and his wife, Jo Perry-Sumwalt, served for three years as co-editors of StoryShare.
Good Stories
Living the Kingdom
by Frank R. Fisher
"[The kingdom of God] is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade."
Mark 4:31-32
"Did you hear the news? We had a congregational meeting last week. The new pastor's coming! The new pastor's coming!"
Those words rang through the classrooms, echoed down the hallways, and rebounded through the fellowship hall of Soy Seed Presbyterian Church. All the members were thrilled! And why shouldn't they be thrilled? After all, they'd waited for this day for a very long time.
It had also been a long time since their last called pastor left them. They really still missed him, although they had to agree his sudden call to become a hermit in the mountains of Tibet seemed a bit puzzling. "Why does that always seem to happen to our pastors?" they asked each other. "Does everyone who moves there look as exhausted as he did? And by the way, does anyone know where all our new members went?"
Anyway, all thoughts of where their last pastor or their new members had headed to were quite gone from their minds now. Instead, all they thought about was the arrival of this wonderful person -- the person who'd bring new people flooding into the pews; the person who'd fill the Sunday School classrooms to overflowing; the person who'd bring growth, growth like the lush greening of a soy plant, to a stagnant congregation.
Soon, the new pastor arrived. There was a great celebration! Everyone pitched in to make sure the pastor was well and truly welcomed. Several months went by while everyone enjoyed simply having their pastor in place.
Then one day the pastor started asking questions. "How many people do each of you invite to church each year?" he asked. "What do you do to spread the good news to those who haven't yet heard it?"
"Why, that's your job, Pastor," everyone answered. "That's why we hire a pastor. We pay you to do God's work."
"Ah, I see. I'm the designated Christian. You pay me to do God's work so you don't have to do it," the pastor thought to himself. But despite his somewhat cynical thought, he set out to do the job he'd been hired to do.
Before too long, new families began to appear in worship. Their children swelled the Sunday School rolls. Even the choir found their vacant seats filled with new singers.
The congregation thought all their hopes and dreams had come true. But in all the excitement, none of them noticed how tired and burned out their pastor was starting to appear. A year went by and the congregation's growth tapered off and stopped altogether. Travel brochures for Tibet began to appear in the pastor's study. By the time another year had passed, the pastor was gone.
As the pastor was the only one who'd formed deep relationships with the new members, they began to drift away too. "What happened to our lush green growth?" the members moaned together. Somehow, it seems they'd forgotten that soy plants do not grow to touch the skies -- and neither do congregations whose ministry is only done by the pastor.
"Did you hear the news? We had a congregational meeting last week. The new pastor's coming! The new pastor's coming!"
Those words rang through the sanctuary, echoed through the kitchen, and rebounded through the boardroom of Corn Seed Presbyterian Church. All the members were thrilled! And why shouldn't they be thrilled? After all, they'd waited for this day for a very long time.
It had also been a long time since their last called pastor left them. They really still missed her, although they had to agree her sudden call to serve a teeming homeless population in a metropolitan city seemed a bit puzzling. "Why does that always seem to happen to our pastors?" they asked each other. "Does everyone who moves there look as frustrated as she did? And by the way, why do our new members only seem to stay for about a year or two?"
Anyway, all thoughts of where their last pastor or their new members had headed to were quite gone from their minds now. Instead, all they thought about was the arrival of this wonderful person -- the person who'd bring new people into their wonderful family; the person who'd bring congregational fellowship to new heights; the person who'd bring growth, growth like a corn plant standing tall and strong in the field they'd tilled and made ready.
Soon, the new pastor arrived. There was a great celebration! Everyone pitched in to make sure the pastor was well and truly welcomed. Several months went by while everyone enjoyed simply having their pastor in place.
Then one day the pastor started asking questions. "You've been doing a good job bringing lots of people into the congregation. But what," the pastor asked, "are we doing with them? How are we helping them to prepare for and do the ministries to which God has called them? How are we enabling them to become ministers of Jesus Christ?"
"Now don't worry about that," the members answered. "Just keep on preaching and leading worship. But come to think of it, you need to go a little easy on sermons about mission and about following Jesus. After all, we don't want to upset anyone in our friendly family. Some of our new people might go away if we make demands on their time."
"Oh, now I understand," the pastor said to herself. "This congregation is really about us, and not about God and God's people." But despite her new understanding, she set out to do the job she was hired to do.
And for a long time, Corn Seed Presbyterian continued to grow tall and strong in the field the members had lovingly tilled for one another. But over time the new people that the longer-term members had brought into the church began to drift away.
"Why are they leaving?" the members asked the pastor.
"They came here to be transformed by the touch of the Living God and by service to God's people," she answered. "And by the way, I've been called to work in inner-city New York. I'll be leaving next month."
The new growth once swelling the loving family of Corn Seed church died off, just as it always seemed to have done. It seems the members had forgotten that while corn plants grow tall and strong they do not reach the sky, nor do they provide places to grow and shelter amongst their branches -- and neither do congregations where people are brought in, yet not brought to deeply know their Lord and God, then sent out to serve God's people.
"Did you hear the news? We had a congregational meeting last week. The new pastor's coming! The new pastor's coming!"
Those words rang throughout the building, echoed through the surrounding streets, and rebounded through the town where Mustard Seed Presbyterian Church found its home. All the members were thrilled! And why shouldn't they be thrilled? For their partner in ministry had arrived.
It had also been a long time since their last called pastor left them. They really still missed him, although they had to agree he'd cheered them on and helped them grow in faith and in mission. So they wished him well as he moved on to do the same in another congregation.
When the new pastor walked in the door, there was a great celebration! Everyone pitched in to make sure he was well and truly welcomed. But the celebration didn't even make a ripple in their work, prayer, and worship. Each member continued to grow in faith through constant prayer, frequent worship, and deep study and meditation. Each member continued to reach out to find the ways she or he was called to serve God's people. The congregation as a whole continued to bring more people in the door, help them become disciples of Jesus, and send them out to serve others and bring them onto the Way they themselves now trod.
And the new pastor became their new cheerleader -- pointing always toward the cross of Christ; encouraging the members as they walked their own journeys of faith and mission; and helping the congregation's leaders find the ways to help others grow and be equipped to serve.
Women and men from all walks of life came, found safety in their branches, and healed from the pain that had brought them to God's house. Then they too took wing to join in the members' joy-filled dance of faith and new life.
They were grounded to the earth of faith, and their congregation soared to the skies as they lived out their callings. They never forgot how it took the team of a pastor pointing the way and a congregation being ministers of the Gospel to soar where Christ had led them. And as they lived the kingdom, they gave to God alone all the glory.
Frank R. Fisher currently serves as the interim pastor of First Presbyterian Church in Fairbury, Illinois. He is an Oblate of the ecumenical Abbey of John the Baptist and Saint Benedict in Bartonville, Illinois.
Believing Is Seeing
by Paul Lintern
So we are always confident; even though we know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord -- for we walk by faith, not by sight.
2 Corinthians 5:6-7
"Oh great!"
Al was not excited about being at this workshop on team-building, but his boss was on a big kick about it and Al needed at least to look cooperative.
But now the workshop leader was asking people to pair up for a trust walk, to be blindfolded and led by voice through whatever obstacles were ahead.
Al hated that. He had always been afraid of the dark, something he carefully hid from others because it embarrassed him. He didn't know why darkness was so frightening to him, but he did know that he did not put stock in anything he could not see.
If it were a concept, a promise, an idea, a dream, forget it. Give him something tangible, something concrete, and he could deal with it. Give him something he could control, and he was fine.
But now this. Al didn't even really know the partner who was to lead him around. His nametag said Larry, but that told him nothing.
The workshop leader gave instructions. "I want you to walk by trust, not by sight," she said. "Let your partner guide you, using only the voice, and get a sense of letting go of your own control, so that you may be responsive to someone outside of you."
"There is that word again," Al thought. "Control. It is mine. Why should I give it up? I'm comfortable with it. Why should someone else get to take it away from me?"
Larry handed Al his blindfold and said, "Let's get started."
They exchanged some small talk, but Al was not listening. He was hearing his head instead, telling him just to get it over with, that it shouldn't be this hard, that people do this all the time.
Then he was hearing his gut tell him otherwise: "Don't do it," it was telling him. "You take charge."
Al stalled, but Larry was persistent. "Give up," he smiled.
So Al reluctantly placed the blindfold over his eyes. "All right, I give up," he said to himself.
The voice began to lead him, but Al suddenly realized it was not Larry's voice, and it was not the voice of the workshop leader.
"Follow me," the voice was saying. "Give me control of your steps, and I will show you the way. Trust me as you walk, I will guide you. Don't you see that?"
Maybe Al did see something when the blindfold went on. Maybe he did see that it is possible to see by faith what is not seen by the eyes. Maybe the voice assured him that these steps would be the first steps out of the darkness of his fear.
"Trust me," Larry said.
Al sighed, "I'll try," he replied.
Larry smiled and said, "It's a step in the right direction."
Paul Lintern is the pastor of Oakland Lutheran Church in Mansfield, Ohio.
Scrap Pile
What's Your Standard?
by Gregory L. Tolle
No longer, then, do we judge anyone by human standards. Even if at one time we judged Christ according to human standards, we no longer do so. When anyone is joined to Christ, he is a new being; the old is gone, the new has come.
2 Corinthians 5:16-17 (TEV)
After graduating from seminary in 1995, my wife Hadley and I moved from Fort Worth, Texas, to a small town in rural Oklahoma. With a population of 1,600, the restaurants in our new town were limited. There was the South End, which was conveniently located on the south end of town. The South End was not the real name, but it was what everybody called it. Over the four-year period we lived there, it was also called the Cyclone Cafe, Rhonda's Cafe, and Dale's Diner. No matter who owned and ran the place, it was always a smoke-filled greasy spoon.
There was also the Missile, which of course hadn't been the real name for years. It suffered from the same identity crisis as the South End. At various times, it was known as J.T.'s and also Charlie's. The menu there consisted of fast food.
It was common knowledge around town that the best place to eat was the 62 Cafe. The 62 had the same owner-operator for more than four years. It even had the same waitresses. The consistency alone made it a good place to eat. Besides the normal southern cafe fare, their specialty was Mexican food. In fact, one local citizen claimed it "served the best Mexican food in southwest Oklahoma."
Maybe, but by whose standards? Personally, I felt their Mexican food was average. After all, I had just moved from Fort Worth where the population is about 25 percent Hispanic. The greater Fort Worth area has at least 50 mom-and-pop Mexican restaurants and a few small local chains. After living in Fort Worth, I refused to eat at national chains. I was now a connoisseur of good Mexican food.
For the most part, the 62 was okay. But the food was more on a par with Taco Bell than El Chico. I had their fajitas once -- only once. As far as Mexican food went, their fajitas were pretty good Chinese food. These were the only fajitas I have ever had served with a sweet-and-sour sauce.
I'm not trying to be overly critical of the 62 Cafe (really, other than the fajitas it was all good), but after having Tex-Mex food made by Texans of Mexican descent, Tex-Mex by gringo Okies just didn't cut it. After living in Fort Worth and experiencing really good Mexican food, my standards were different.
What are your standards? Not on Mexican food, but on life? On faith? In 2 Corinthians 5:16-17, Paul says: "No longer, then, do we judge anyone by human standards.... When anyone is joined to Christ, he is a new being; the old is gone, the new has come" (TEV).
Did you get that? The standard that we are to shoot for as Christians is not a human standard, but a Christ standard. We compare ourselves not to other people, not even to other Christians, but to Christ. That's a high standard.
Most of the time, though, we compare ourselves to each other. As long as we're better than the next guy or gal, we're all right. The problem with that is that we can always find someone who has more faults than us. We say:
* Well, sure I lie now and then, but nothing like John Kerry and George W. Bush on the campaign trail.
* Okay, so I cheat on my taxes, but I'm no Willie Nelson or anything.
* Yeah, I'm hot-tempered, but Bobby Knight is worse.
Nancy Adler is a minister friend of mine. She once asked me: "Why do my members keep coming to me and telling me about how much money they won in Las Vegas? Do they think I don't have any standards?"
I answered, "Because they don't see it as wrong. Our culture has accepted gambling and even softened it by calling it gaming."
See, by human standards, if you're not addicted, you're all right. If you haven't lost your house in the trip to the desert, you're okay. We ask, "What's the harm? It's just entertainment."
But Christ's standard is a little different. Because of the Christ standard, United Methodists traditionally have opposed gambling for two reasons: first, gambling has a long-term association with organized crime, and second, for social justice reasons -- many gamblers are people who can least afford it and many families have had their lives destroyed because of an addiction to gambling.
Now, I'm not trying to tell you you're going to fry on judgment day if you've ever bet on a horse, bought a lottery ticket, been to a casino, or played penny-ante poker.
But be honest. Is gambling really a part of the Christ standard? Or any of the other things we try to pass off as okay? Would Jesus risk tripping up a brother or sister in the faith to dance with Lady Luck? Would he risk fueling the fire of organized crime? These are the questions we have to ask as we compare ourselves to Christ instead of each other. That's the perception we have to take as we join ourselves to Christ.
The saying came out a few years ago: WWJD -- What Would Jesus Do? Well, what did Jesus do? He came offering love, forgiveness, and his life. That's the standard -- the standard we are called to seek as Christians with everything that comes our way in life.
A human standard says to go halfway in our faith. It's all right to cheat a little here and cut a corner there. We say:
* Tithing is optional -- like for rich people. I give what I can.
* It's okay if I just glance at my Sunday school lesson instead of reading it -- just this once.
* I'm too busy to serve God through the church anymore. Besides, I've already done my time.
Let's remember that Jesus didn't go halfway with anything. If he did, there would be a death on a cross without the resurrection. There would be despair and no hope for us, as all our failures would bring us death.
But praise God; Christ did defeat our death through his resurrection. Our standard is to be as Christ-like as possible -- to be a new creation with a new standard. As we become joined to Christ, we are called to emulate love, forgiveness, and sacrifice. These are the Christ-like standards -- the purpose of our faith.
God became human in Christ to bear our sin so that we could become righteous and worthy of God's friendship. Being upheld to the standard of Christ is not intended to keep us from fun in life. Instead, it is intended to keep us in friendship with God.
Eating average Tex-Mex food is a reminder to me how great really good Tex-Mex is. In the same way, average human standards remind me how great God's friendship is. How awesome it is to be considered worthy enough to be held to the standard of Christ -- to be counted as a friend of God! It is incredible to know that in spite of our failures, God wants us as friends.
Just like I don't want average Tex-Mex after having the good stuff, we no longer crave a human standard after we have tasted the friendship that comes with a Christ standard. Don't settle for average. Be on a quest for quality. Seek the Christ standard and enjoy the fabulous friendship of God.
Gregory L. Tolle is the senior minister at First United Methodist Church in Durant, Oklahoma. He is the author of three volumes of the CSS series Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit.
**********************************************
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.
**********************************************
StoryShare, June 18, 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.
