A Lot Of Bull
Stories
Object:
Contents
What's Up This Week
"A Lot of Bull" by Alex Gondola
"Rejoice in the Lord Always" by Alex Gondola
"Second Chances" by Craig Kelly
"American Idol" by John Sumwalt
What's Up This Week
We are constantly bombarded with decisions and choices we must make, the upcoming presidential election just being one example. This week's StoryShare examines three different choices faced by others, choices which we ultimately face as well. "A Lot of Bull" examines whether we should trust the words that the world throws at us or whether we should trust the Word of God. "Rejoice in the Lord Always" gives us an example of someone who, after enduring an act of cruelty and injustice, must choose whether to respond in bitterness or love and thankfulness. In "Second Chances," we meet a man who chooses death over life, and the subsequent choice he must face when that life is given back to him.John Sumwalt shows us the choice we as Christians face between honoring God and following the crowd in "American Idol."
* * * * * * * * *
A Lot of Bull
By Alex Gondola
Exodus 32:1-14
Words often are used to mislead or deceive. A national election is just ahead. Politicians may have the worst reputation for abusing words. The late Bob Hope once said, tongue-in-cheek, "Paramount (Pictures) is making sure I won't be (typecast). In Nothing but the Truth, I play... a fellow who is always truthful and in Louisiana Purchase I'm a politician."
Some politicians have abused words. But what about those sweepstakes letters? In our house, usually my wife gets these offers. Fortunately, she has promised if she wins 10 million dollars in the Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes, she'll share it with me! We also get mail that reads: "Notification of $2,500 Winner Please Open at Once"; and "Urgent Advisory Amount Pending $4,997.88"; and "Notice to ALEX GONDOLA of Pending Prize in the Amount of $1,000,000." Via fax we received an invitation for a four-night, five-day, all-expense-paid vacation in Las Vegas about every week for months. Does anybody take these offers seriously? Or how about the too-good-to-be true, broken-English emails from some widow in Nigeria, who is about to inherit $3,000,000 from her now-deceased oil magnate husband, and who, having heard of our good character, wants to share it with us? What about TV and radio commercials? Will a new deodorant soap actually change your love life? Does that face cream instantly smooth out decades of wrinkles? Can a gym set change us from weaklings into fitness buffs in minutes a day? In Exodus 32, Aaron and the children of Israel made a huge, golden calf out in the desert. They worshiped a bull, a terrible sin! But there's a lot of bull in twenty-first century America! There are words, words, words. Then there is the Word! God's word is the one Word that is always and everywhere true. That's what we should focus on, and trust in, now and always.
Rejoice in the Lord Always
By Alex Gondola
Philippians 4:1-9
A story is told about the eighteenth century Bible scholar Matthew Henry. Once while walking out in the country, he was accosted and robbed by a highwayman. An acquaintance later asked Henry whether or not if he was angry about the robbery. "Not at all," he answered. "Actually, I'm thankful for four things." "Thankful for being robbed?" his friend said, incredulously. "Why?" Matthew Henry responded, "First, I'm thankful that, in all my years, I've never been robbed before. Secondly, I'm thankful that though he took all my money, he did not get very much. Thirdly," he said, "though he took my money, he did not take my life. Finally, I'm thankful I'm the one who was robbed, and not the one who did the robbing!" Here was a man who understood Philippians 4:4: "Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice." Consequently, Matthew Henry knew "the peace of God which passes all understanding."
Alex Gondola is Senior Pastor of St. Paul United Church of Christ in Wapakoneta, Ohio. Alex is the author of four books, all published by CSS, and of numerous articles in clergy journals.
Second Chances
By Craig Kelly
Psalm 106:1-6, 19-23
If he weren't in there dying already, I think I'd want to kill him.
I never asked him to get involved. He should have minded his own business. If he had just left well enough alone, everything would have turned out the way it was supposed to. I had it timed perfectly. There was no chance that it wouldn't work. But I didn't count on someone trying to play hero.
I saw that taxi coming from four blocks away. As fast as that guy was driving, I knew he wouldn't be turning anytime soon. At the speed he was driving, I knew it would do the job. I knew it would kill me.
All I had to do was walk into the street at just the right time so that he wouldn't have a chance to brake. Closer the yellow angel came, ready to end my pain, my suffering. I bolted off the sidewalk, on a direct collision course with my destiny. I blocked out the sounds of onlookers yelling at me, warning me to turn away from that which I most desired. They didn't understand. They couldn't.
As I stepped into the lane, looking at the two headlights at the end of my tunnel, I smiled. The car horn may as well have been an angelic chorus bidding me welcome. The crescendo was building as the screeching tires provided the accompaniment. It was all going to be over. I raised my hands, waiting for the final note.
I expected the lurch to come from in front of me as the bumper of the taxi knocked me off my feet, slamming my face into the hood or windshield. What I didn't expect was feeling a push from beside me, knocking me out of the taxi's trajectory. I heard the sound of a body hitting the taxi, being tossed onto the road. The ensuing screams confirmed my worst fears. Someone stole my deliverance!
Having failed in life, now I even failed in ending it! I was so ashamed, so humiliated! I never asked for help! Nobody ever cared before; why did someone have to care now? I just laid there in the street, weeping, wailing because not only do I have to continue my wretched existence, but now, because of me, there is more suffering in the world. Someone else is suffering because of me.
I said nothing as the paramedics examined me and my "rescuer." When the police and counselors questioned me, I told them the truth: Life was unbearable for me and I just wanted it over. I never wanted anyone else to get hurt. By some miracle, they didn't press charges, but now I'm here in the hospital, antidepressants coursing through my veins. Here I am, standing in front of the door of my rescuer's room, seeing him bruised and beaten, a ventilator helping him breathe, delaying his inevitable journey, the one I was supposed to make. I see the man's wife sitting beside his bed, holding his hand, wiping tears from her face with the other. She sees me; I should go.
"Hey!" she calls. I want to run, but for some reason, I stop. She comes out of the room, looking at me. "You're the guy my husband saved, aren't you?"
I'm not sure what to say, but her eyes look for an answer. "Yes," I finally get out. I wait for the screams, the fists beating against my chest as she laments the fact that it's her husband dying and not me. I know I deserve it. Yet, as the moments pass, she just stands there, looking at me. Sniffing, she looks at me, and I can see in her eyes that there is no hatred, just empathy. "Are you all right?"
What? How can she ask me that? I killed her husband! I may as well have pointed a gun at him and shot him dead! I'm the reason she's here crying in a hospital rather than at home living her comfortable life. And she wants to know if I'm all right?
"I think so," I mumble. "They gave me some medication, and they say I should be okay." I'm trying so hard to keep my composure, but I can feel the tears forming, pooling, finally slipping down my face. "Lady, I'm so sorry. I never meant for anyone to get hurt. I just...."
She doesn't say anything, just rushes to me and embraces me. Wait... what? She's actually holding me! Why? I've hurt her; I've inflicted a pain on her that will be with her for life; why does she embrace me? Why is she telling me it's going to be okay?
"Why? Why are you doing this?" I manage to get out between sobs.
Her tears mingle with mine as she holds me close. "I know you didn't want to hurt anyone. I know you must be hurting so much to want to end it all like that. It will be okay. It will be okay." She just keeps repeating it, soothing me as a mother soothes her newborn child.
"Why did he do it? I was nobody to him. Why did he have to save me?"
She steps away from me, looking into my eyes. "You were in trouble. He had to help. That was just how my husband was. Nobody was a nobody to him, and nobody's a nobody to me." She smiles. Even after all this, she smiles at me. I don't think I'll ever understand this. I just stare at her, trying to understand why she can be so kind and so loving after everything I've done to her. Finally, after standing in silence in the hall for who knows how long, she speaks. "I need to get back to my husband. Could you do me a favor?"
"Sure, anything." In amazement, I realize that I actually mean it. I would even trade places with her husband if I could, not to die and end my pain, but to die and end hers.
"Honor my husband."
"How?" I desperately want to fulfill her wish, but I don't even understand what she wants. Does she think I'm a sculptor and can build him a statue? Or a great orator who will bring the world to tears telling them of his selflessness and sacrifice? What does she want me to do?
She squeezes my shoulder. "Live. Live a life worthy of what my husband gave up for you. I can think of no greater tribute to him."
I just stare at her. What do I say? Can I go back to the mess I wanted so desperately to leave behind? I want to leave, to give her the litany of reasons why I can't go back to my life. Yet, there her husband is, unlikely to ever see another sunrise, and here I am, with a chance to start over. "I will," I finally tell her. "I promise you I will."
There's her smile again. "Thank you. Thank you so much. Take care of yourself, and God bless you." After hugging me one more time, she walks slowly back to her dying husband, leaving me stunned in the hallway.
I'm not sure how long I've been standing here, but I'm suddenly brought back to reality by the touch of a hand on my shoulder. I turn quickly to see a nurse standing beside me.
"Are you okay, honey?"
I don't know why, but I start to smile. "I... um... I think I'm going to be."
The nurse smiles back. "Good. Why don't we get you back to your room?"
As we start to walk together, I ask her, "Hey, before we get back to the room, do you think you could show me where the chapel is?"
She's still smiling. "Sure. Be glad to." She takes my hand as we walk to the elevator.
Craig Kelly is the Editorial Assistant for CSS Publishing Company in Lima, Ohio. Hesitant to call himself an aspiring freelance writer, he is a self-proclaimed "dabbler" in writing. This is his first publication.
American Idol
By John Sumwalt
Psalm 106:1-6, 19-23
Following the reading of the text on October 12 a figure appears wearing a paper bag with holes for eyes, nose, and mouth. He sits down in a chair and begins to read the sports page. Then a youth walks across the chancel carrying a placard that reads AMERICAN IDOL. As soon as the first placard bearer has left the chancel a small child appears holding up a placard that reads: IT'S NOT WHAT YOU THINK. Then the youth comes back carrying another placard that reads: IT'S WORSE. Then a second figure appears wearing paper bag mask, a Green Bay Packer sweatshirt, a cheese head on top of his head, waving a Packer pennant, and holding a Packer mug. The first figure puts down the sports page and rises up to greet him:
First Voice: I see you're all ready for the big game.
Second Voice: Go Pack! What do you think of my cheese head?
First Voice: (speaks with just a little fun & a hint of sarcasm in his voice) I've never seen anyone more cheesy than you.
Second Voice: Yeah, I'm all set. I've got a new Packer sweatshirt, my special Packer mug so I can keep myself well lubricated during the game, and I'm wearing my Packer long underwear.
First Voice: You're wearing long underwear? I thought we were all coming to your house to watch the game on TV. Don't you have a furnace?
Second Voice: I'm just trying to get into the spirit of the game. It's going to be freezing at Lambeau Field on Sunday. Well, so long. I've got to go buy some brats and hamburger.
First Voice: See you in church.
Second Voice: Oh, I won't be able to make it this Sunday. It will take all morning to get everything ready for the Packer party.
First Voice: Aren't you the one who taught me that Christians worship God every Sunday? And, didn't you say you would sing in the choir each week?
Second Voice: Well, yes, but this is just this one time.
First Voice: Aren't you hosting the Packer party again next month and the month after that?
Second Voice: Yes, but that's only three times this season... well, I guess it's five times if you count the two Sundays we have tickets to the game. I'm sure God will understand.
First Voice: (raises his eyebrows, holds out his hands palms up, shrugs his shoulders & speaks with a little resignation & disappointment in his voice) I wonder if God does understand. (exits)
The small child appears carrying a placard that reads: A WORD FROM THE LORD.
The youth follows as soon as the child leaves the chancel carrying a placard that reads:
LET'S MEET AT MY HOUSE BEFORE THE GAME.
* * *
Please substitute your own favorite team and appropriate fan gear. With a little rewriting this may also be a good way to address Sunday Soccer and Hockey, both of which also keep a good many Christians away from worship. If you would like to see a brief video showing the Unknown Church Goers in action at Our Lord's United Methodist Church in New Berlin, Wisconsin, write to John Sumwalt: johnsumwalt@sbcglobal.net
**********************************************
How to Share Stories
You have good stories to share, probably more than you know: personal stories as well as stories from others that you have used over the years. If you have a story you like, whether fictional or "really happened," authored by you or a brief excerpt from a favorite book, send it to StoryShare for review. Simply email the story to us at storyshare@sermonsuite.com.
**************
StoryShare, October 12, 2008, issue.
Copyright 2008 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 517 South Main Street, Lima, Ohio 45804.
What's Up This Week
"A Lot of Bull" by Alex Gondola
"Rejoice in the Lord Always" by Alex Gondola
"Second Chances" by Craig Kelly
"American Idol" by John Sumwalt
What's Up This Week
We are constantly bombarded with decisions and choices we must make, the upcoming presidential election just being one example. This week's StoryShare examines three different choices faced by others, choices which we ultimately face as well. "A Lot of Bull" examines whether we should trust the words that the world throws at us or whether we should trust the Word of God. "Rejoice in the Lord Always" gives us an example of someone who, after enduring an act of cruelty and injustice, must choose whether to respond in bitterness or love and thankfulness. In "Second Chances," we meet a man who chooses death over life, and the subsequent choice he must face when that life is given back to him.John Sumwalt shows us the choice we as Christians face between honoring God and following the crowd in "American Idol."
* * * * * * * * *
A Lot of Bull
By Alex Gondola
Exodus 32:1-14
Words often are used to mislead or deceive. A national election is just ahead. Politicians may have the worst reputation for abusing words. The late Bob Hope once said, tongue-in-cheek, "Paramount (Pictures) is making sure I won't be (typecast). In Nothing but the Truth, I play... a fellow who is always truthful and in Louisiana Purchase I'm a politician."
Some politicians have abused words. But what about those sweepstakes letters? In our house, usually my wife gets these offers. Fortunately, she has promised if she wins 10 million dollars in the Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes, she'll share it with me! We also get mail that reads: "Notification of $2,500 Winner Please Open at Once"; and "Urgent Advisory Amount Pending $4,997.88"; and "Notice to ALEX GONDOLA of Pending Prize in the Amount of $1,000,000." Via fax we received an invitation for a four-night, five-day, all-expense-paid vacation in Las Vegas about every week for months. Does anybody take these offers seriously? Or how about the too-good-to-be true, broken-English emails from some widow in Nigeria, who is about to inherit $3,000,000 from her now-deceased oil magnate husband, and who, having heard of our good character, wants to share it with us? What about TV and radio commercials? Will a new deodorant soap actually change your love life? Does that face cream instantly smooth out decades of wrinkles? Can a gym set change us from weaklings into fitness buffs in minutes a day? In Exodus 32, Aaron and the children of Israel made a huge, golden calf out in the desert. They worshiped a bull, a terrible sin! But there's a lot of bull in twenty-first century America! There are words, words, words. Then there is the Word! God's word is the one Word that is always and everywhere true. That's what we should focus on, and trust in, now and always.
Rejoice in the Lord Always
By Alex Gondola
Philippians 4:1-9
A story is told about the eighteenth century Bible scholar Matthew Henry. Once while walking out in the country, he was accosted and robbed by a highwayman. An acquaintance later asked Henry whether or not if he was angry about the robbery. "Not at all," he answered. "Actually, I'm thankful for four things." "Thankful for being robbed?" his friend said, incredulously. "Why?" Matthew Henry responded, "First, I'm thankful that, in all my years, I've never been robbed before. Secondly, I'm thankful that though he took all my money, he did not get very much. Thirdly," he said, "though he took my money, he did not take my life. Finally, I'm thankful I'm the one who was robbed, and not the one who did the robbing!" Here was a man who understood Philippians 4:4: "Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice." Consequently, Matthew Henry knew "the peace of God which passes all understanding."
Alex Gondola is Senior Pastor of St. Paul United Church of Christ in Wapakoneta, Ohio. Alex is the author of four books, all published by CSS, and of numerous articles in clergy journals.
Second Chances
By Craig Kelly
Psalm 106:1-6, 19-23
If he weren't in there dying already, I think I'd want to kill him.
I never asked him to get involved. He should have minded his own business. If he had just left well enough alone, everything would have turned out the way it was supposed to. I had it timed perfectly. There was no chance that it wouldn't work. But I didn't count on someone trying to play hero.
I saw that taxi coming from four blocks away. As fast as that guy was driving, I knew he wouldn't be turning anytime soon. At the speed he was driving, I knew it would do the job. I knew it would kill me.
All I had to do was walk into the street at just the right time so that he wouldn't have a chance to brake. Closer the yellow angel came, ready to end my pain, my suffering. I bolted off the sidewalk, on a direct collision course with my destiny. I blocked out the sounds of onlookers yelling at me, warning me to turn away from that which I most desired. They didn't understand. They couldn't.
As I stepped into the lane, looking at the two headlights at the end of my tunnel, I smiled. The car horn may as well have been an angelic chorus bidding me welcome. The crescendo was building as the screeching tires provided the accompaniment. It was all going to be over. I raised my hands, waiting for the final note.
I expected the lurch to come from in front of me as the bumper of the taxi knocked me off my feet, slamming my face into the hood or windshield. What I didn't expect was feeling a push from beside me, knocking me out of the taxi's trajectory. I heard the sound of a body hitting the taxi, being tossed onto the road. The ensuing screams confirmed my worst fears. Someone stole my deliverance!
Having failed in life, now I even failed in ending it! I was so ashamed, so humiliated! I never asked for help! Nobody ever cared before; why did someone have to care now? I just laid there in the street, weeping, wailing because not only do I have to continue my wretched existence, but now, because of me, there is more suffering in the world. Someone else is suffering because of me.
I said nothing as the paramedics examined me and my "rescuer." When the police and counselors questioned me, I told them the truth: Life was unbearable for me and I just wanted it over. I never wanted anyone else to get hurt. By some miracle, they didn't press charges, but now I'm here in the hospital, antidepressants coursing through my veins. Here I am, standing in front of the door of my rescuer's room, seeing him bruised and beaten, a ventilator helping him breathe, delaying his inevitable journey, the one I was supposed to make. I see the man's wife sitting beside his bed, holding his hand, wiping tears from her face with the other. She sees me; I should go.
"Hey!" she calls. I want to run, but for some reason, I stop. She comes out of the room, looking at me. "You're the guy my husband saved, aren't you?"
I'm not sure what to say, but her eyes look for an answer. "Yes," I finally get out. I wait for the screams, the fists beating against my chest as she laments the fact that it's her husband dying and not me. I know I deserve it. Yet, as the moments pass, she just stands there, looking at me. Sniffing, she looks at me, and I can see in her eyes that there is no hatred, just empathy. "Are you all right?"
What? How can she ask me that? I killed her husband! I may as well have pointed a gun at him and shot him dead! I'm the reason she's here crying in a hospital rather than at home living her comfortable life. And she wants to know if I'm all right?
"I think so," I mumble. "They gave me some medication, and they say I should be okay." I'm trying so hard to keep my composure, but I can feel the tears forming, pooling, finally slipping down my face. "Lady, I'm so sorry. I never meant for anyone to get hurt. I just...."
She doesn't say anything, just rushes to me and embraces me. Wait... what? She's actually holding me! Why? I've hurt her; I've inflicted a pain on her that will be with her for life; why does she embrace me? Why is she telling me it's going to be okay?
"Why? Why are you doing this?" I manage to get out between sobs.
Her tears mingle with mine as she holds me close. "I know you didn't want to hurt anyone. I know you must be hurting so much to want to end it all like that. It will be okay. It will be okay." She just keeps repeating it, soothing me as a mother soothes her newborn child.
"Why did he do it? I was nobody to him. Why did he have to save me?"
She steps away from me, looking into my eyes. "You were in trouble. He had to help. That was just how my husband was. Nobody was a nobody to him, and nobody's a nobody to me." She smiles. Even after all this, she smiles at me. I don't think I'll ever understand this. I just stare at her, trying to understand why she can be so kind and so loving after everything I've done to her. Finally, after standing in silence in the hall for who knows how long, she speaks. "I need to get back to my husband. Could you do me a favor?"
"Sure, anything." In amazement, I realize that I actually mean it. I would even trade places with her husband if I could, not to die and end my pain, but to die and end hers.
"Honor my husband."
"How?" I desperately want to fulfill her wish, but I don't even understand what she wants. Does she think I'm a sculptor and can build him a statue? Or a great orator who will bring the world to tears telling them of his selflessness and sacrifice? What does she want me to do?
She squeezes my shoulder. "Live. Live a life worthy of what my husband gave up for you. I can think of no greater tribute to him."
I just stare at her. What do I say? Can I go back to the mess I wanted so desperately to leave behind? I want to leave, to give her the litany of reasons why I can't go back to my life. Yet, there her husband is, unlikely to ever see another sunrise, and here I am, with a chance to start over. "I will," I finally tell her. "I promise you I will."
There's her smile again. "Thank you. Thank you so much. Take care of yourself, and God bless you." After hugging me one more time, she walks slowly back to her dying husband, leaving me stunned in the hallway.
I'm not sure how long I've been standing here, but I'm suddenly brought back to reality by the touch of a hand on my shoulder. I turn quickly to see a nurse standing beside me.
"Are you okay, honey?"
I don't know why, but I start to smile. "I... um... I think I'm going to be."
The nurse smiles back. "Good. Why don't we get you back to your room?"
As we start to walk together, I ask her, "Hey, before we get back to the room, do you think you could show me where the chapel is?"
She's still smiling. "Sure. Be glad to." She takes my hand as we walk to the elevator.
Craig Kelly is the Editorial Assistant for CSS Publishing Company in Lima, Ohio. Hesitant to call himself an aspiring freelance writer, he is a self-proclaimed "dabbler" in writing. This is his first publication.
American Idol
By John Sumwalt
Psalm 106:1-6, 19-23
Following the reading of the text on October 12 a figure appears wearing a paper bag with holes for eyes, nose, and mouth. He sits down in a chair and begins to read the sports page. Then a youth walks across the chancel carrying a placard that reads AMERICAN IDOL. As soon as the first placard bearer has left the chancel a small child appears holding up a placard that reads: IT'S NOT WHAT YOU THINK. Then the youth comes back carrying another placard that reads: IT'S WORSE. Then a second figure appears wearing paper bag mask, a Green Bay Packer sweatshirt, a cheese head on top of his head, waving a Packer pennant, and holding a Packer mug. The first figure puts down the sports page and rises up to greet him:
First Voice: I see you're all ready for the big game.
Second Voice: Go Pack! What do you think of my cheese head?
First Voice: (speaks with just a little fun & a hint of sarcasm in his voice) I've never seen anyone more cheesy than you.
Second Voice: Yeah, I'm all set. I've got a new Packer sweatshirt, my special Packer mug so I can keep myself well lubricated during the game, and I'm wearing my Packer long underwear.
First Voice: You're wearing long underwear? I thought we were all coming to your house to watch the game on TV. Don't you have a furnace?
Second Voice: I'm just trying to get into the spirit of the game. It's going to be freezing at Lambeau Field on Sunday. Well, so long. I've got to go buy some brats and hamburger.
First Voice: See you in church.
Second Voice: Oh, I won't be able to make it this Sunday. It will take all morning to get everything ready for the Packer party.
First Voice: Aren't you the one who taught me that Christians worship God every Sunday? And, didn't you say you would sing in the choir each week?
Second Voice: Well, yes, but this is just this one time.
First Voice: Aren't you hosting the Packer party again next month and the month after that?
Second Voice: Yes, but that's only three times this season... well, I guess it's five times if you count the two Sundays we have tickets to the game. I'm sure God will understand.
First Voice: (raises his eyebrows, holds out his hands palms up, shrugs his shoulders & speaks with a little resignation & disappointment in his voice) I wonder if God does understand. (exits)
The small child appears carrying a placard that reads: A WORD FROM THE LORD.
The youth follows as soon as the child leaves the chancel carrying a placard that reads:
LET'S MEET AT MY HOUSE BEFORE THE GAME.
* * *
Please substitute your own favorite team and appropriate fan gear. With a little rewriting this may also be a good way to address Sunday Soccer and Hockey, both of which also keep a good many Christians away from worship. If you would like to see a brief video showing the Unknown Church Goers in action at Our Lord's United Methodist Church in New Berlin, Wisconsin, write to John Sumwalt: johnsumwalt@sbcglobal.net
**********************************************
How to Share Stories
You have good stories to share, probably more than you know: personal stories as well as stories from others that you have used over the years. If you have a story you like, whether fictional or "really happened," authored by you or a brief excerpt from a favorite book, send it to StoryShare for review. Simply email the story to us at storyshare@sermonsuite.com.
**************
StoryShare, October 12, 2008, issue.
Copyright 2008 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 517 South Main Street, Lima, Ohio 45804.
