Mercy Triumphs
Stories
Object:
Contents
What's Up This Week
"Mercy Triumphs" by David O. Bales
"Harry Potter Lives" by C. David McKirachan
"Going to Gwatamawah" by C. David McKirachan
What's Up This Week
God has a habit of communicating powerful truths and reaching people in the most unusual of ways -- as this week's edition of StoryShare attests. Whether it's the message of the Bible working its way into an unlikely heart, or through the preaching voice of Henri Nouwen (who David McKirachan tells us "sounded like Daffy Duck"), magic happens and lives are forever changed.
* * * * * * * * *
Mercy Triumphs
by David O. Bales
James 2:1-10 (11-13) 14-17
If Maury had finished his work before he left the mainland, he would have enjoyed his deferred honeymoon much more. But three days into his week with Jenny found him today not only missing Jenny's company but all of Hawaii's joys.
In the hotel room after lunch he had said, "If I can just take a couple hours to sit and think," he placed his hands on her shoulders, "this will fix it. I'm sure. I'm sorry I've been preoccupied…. Not always, of course."
Jenny frowned. Maury swallowed so hard he nearly choked. "But two hours, honest. Then I'll throw the file into the suitcase and not look at it again. Just at you." Maury smiled and leaned into Jenny.
She grinned, kissed him, and said, "Okay. I'll just saunter along the beach. Two hours," she held up two fingers. "Then, if you're not done, I'll throw away the entire suitcase." She knew he liked that kind of answer.
"Absolutely," Maury said. He grabbed his backpack with the book and file folders and went down the stairs two at a time, heading for the patio's umbrella tables where he would speed-think if not speed-read.
More than anything he was embarrassed that he hadn't been able to shuck his nagging conscience. The day before their flight, Maury's last conversation with his senior pastor was: "I'm completely stuck. I've been trying to come up with another approach. I think about it during my morning's jog. I get ready to order from a menu and realize I'm thinking about teaching the young men's group. It's even when I'm with Jenny. They're great guys, my good friends. We all like meeting every week and having breakfast; but when it comes to studying and understanding the book, nothing happens."
"You try questions?" Reverend Royce asked.
"I've used a handful for each chapter," Maury said. "Doesn't seem to work."
"Ever make an outrageous overstatement and see if that lights a fire?"
"A couple times. But it's God's mercy. They get the ethics perfectly -- treating people the same with no partiality. But their ethics -- strange as it sounds -- overpower their theology. They can't understand that God loves impartially, forgives us, and we don't earn our way to God. I tried reading part of the 'Hound of Heaven' about God chasing us like a dog and it led to a discussion of Labrador Retrievers. I brought up Groundhog Day and the many chances offered to Bill Murray, and they decided it's about reincarnation."
"Maury, you just go on that delayed honeymoon," Reverend Royce said. "You kids deserve it. Try to drop this. I'll pray about it. What chapter you on?"
"Four. It's titled 'Mercy Triumphs.' "
Now on the hotel's patio table Maury prepared to spread out his work. The Pacific Ocean's breeze ruffled the pages of his open book. He reached into his backpack and saw he'd also grabbed the file folder with the address labels he and Jenny had brought in order to quickly address postcards to their families and friends. Maury looked into the folder and realized that yesterday, while he was re-reading his Bible study curriculum, Jenny had bought the postcards, stamped them, and put the address stickers on them all. Seeing what she'd done with her spare time made him feel even worse.
With a sigh he returned the book and files into his backpack, put his head in his arms on the table, and prayed. He tried to concentrate, but his prayer wandered from his younger men's group to God's grace to Jenny, then back again. After nearly falling asleep, he thought: If our Christian life is all grace, why should I have to work this hard?
It took him a couple seconds to realize that the footsteps that had screeched next to him and run away so suddenly indicated something was wrong. He looked up to see a young man running with his backpack. Maury was up in an instant. He only needed ten yards to conclude: This guy doesn't have a chance. As he gained on him he yelled, "There's nothing in the bag. Just drop it!"
The young man raced on. The young man's running form was more desperate than efficient. Maury was gaining on him quickly. He knew the young man could hear him well. "Really," he shouted through his panting, "there's no value. Just drop it!"
He was almost up to the young man now. Maury slowed, right behind him. "There's a book in the bag. Read it!" Then he slowed his running and stayed immediately behind for another second, long enough for the young man to understand that Maury could catch him if he tried. As he dashed around a corner, the young man turned to see who was after him. At that, Maury stopped, cupped his hands at his mouth, and yelled, "Read it! Think about it!"
Jenny was surprised to find Maury already waiting in the room when she got back. He told her what happened. "Well," she said, "that young man was sent by God. And it's not a bad trade," she winked, "losing a backpack instead of a piece of our expensive new luggage."
The rest of their week was, well, one couldn't call it normal. Both Maury and Jenny were sad to leave Hawaii but both were also happy to go back to work. What was out of the ordinary, however, was a telephone call three weeks later from Jenny's mother. Jenny was on the phone for only a minute and didn't say much more than, "Uh huh. Yes. Oh." Then she held out the phone to Maury with a smile. "It's my mom. It's for you."
Maury took the receiver with a surprised look. "Hi," he said.
"What did you mean," she said, "sending me a postcard from Hawaii that says, 'I've read the book. I'm thinking about it'?"
David O. Bales was a Presbyterian minister for 33 years. Recently retired as the pastor of Bethany Presbyterian Church in Ontario, Oregon, he is also a freelance writer and editor for Stephen Ministries and Tebunah Ministries. His sermons and articles have appeared in Lectionary Homiletics, Preaching Great Texts, and Interpretation, and he is the author of the CSS titles Scenes of Glory: Subplots of God's Long Story and Gospel Subplots: Story Sermons of God's Grace.
Harry Potter Lives
by C. David McKirachan
Mark 7:24-37
When I was younger I wanted to open a school for Christian wizards. I figured there were a lot of things we should be doing and investigating that we weren't because we were too busy being pastors and preachers and teachers and church runners. I didn't think all the things Jesus did were unique to him and those immediately around him. A lot of his teaching pointed toward the power "at work within us." This wasn't about spells and incantations; it was about unleashing the power of the Holy Spirit to the world. It was about allowing us to be something other than frightened and timid. It was about standing up and saying to demons, "Be gone!" I was young.
After a stint in Newark and then the suburbs and finally as a single parent (I'm not sure which was more difficult), my worldview started to morph. I began to realize that Jesus did not see this miracle-doing as much of an important thing. I began to see that an awful lot of the miracle stuff had to do with the individual to whom it happened. I began to realize that just like anything else we do, it is limited and will pass into dust one day. Our job is to point to the eternal.
I like Harry Potter. He's a confused kid with a lot of hang-ups. Not much of what he does is for any good reason except that it seems to make sense at that particular moment. And the magic part is not much help -- it tends to get him into as much trouble as it gets him out of. It's just like any other gift of the spirit. It's very definitely up to you what you're going to get done with the gifts and the opportunities God gives you.
So I have my hole. There are strange things on the walls, and I dabble in magic every time I write a novel. But the powerful magic of my life is much more evident in the classroom and the sanctuary and the hospital room. It's where the spells of teaching and preaching and compassion weave and dance with the music of the Holy Spirit and the souls of those whose hearts and minds are open and receptive. That, my friends, is magic to be sure.
So I guess I am a Christian wizard. I'm glad I don't need a wand -- I tend to lose things.
C. David McKirachan is pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Shrewsbury in central New Jersey. He also teaches at Monmouth University. McKirachan is the author of I Happened Upon a Miracle and A Year of Wonder (Westminster John Knox).
Going to Gwatamawah
by C. David McKirachan
Mark 7:24-37
My first parish was in Irvington, New Jersey, right on the Newark border. There was plenty of crime, poverty, and violence, and not much of anything else. I remember we had to count the change in the Coke machine one month to come up with enough money to pay the heat bill. Some of the better-heeled churches considered us a mission church. They thought it would be a good idea to fund an intern position through Princeton Theological Seminary -- somebody ought to have some experience in the inner city. It was generous and it really helped me maintain a sense of professionalism while I fought with the alligators. (You know the old saying: It's hard to remember that you're here to drain the swamp when you're up to your ass in alligators.)
Anyway, one of my interns got to the point of graduating. Now, Princeton's graduations are grand affairs. They are held in Princeton's "Chapel." The chapel is a gothic cathedral -- stone, stained glass, thundering organ, and all the pageantry that goes with that. The academic procession is appropriately pomp and circumstanced, replete with Oxford gowns striped up the wazoo and velvet hoods that rival pimpmobile interiors. I was invited. I sat in the back, behind one of the massive pillars.
The students had invited Henri Nouwen to speak. This guy was articulate, spiritual, a Roman Catholic Brother, and a best-seller. So when he climbed into the stone pulpit with the roof, we all quieted with expectation. He sounded like Daffy Duck.
"Here you awe, gwaduating fwom dis beautiful place. You know so much. You all would like to go to sububan catedrals. You believe in upwud mobiwity. I'm on my way to Gwatamawah to wive with da poor. Dat's downwud mobiwity. Wanna come?"
I apologize to any and all who are self-conscious about their speech for any reason. I will merely say this: He was devastating. I'll remember that sermon for the rest of my life, God willing. He convicted us. He put the itching powder of the gospel into our academic velvet and invited us to come and live in third-world slums, and in prisons, and in nursing homes, and in lousy neighborhoods where nobody has anything except fear and pain and limitation. Why? Very simply, because that's where the Lord lives. It was winsome and funny and filled with the Spirit.
And I went back to Irvington with a new perspective. I realized that I did have something to teach and preach and share. Besides, the Lord was waiting for me there.
Jesus was constantly upsetting the power grid. He overturned expectations and reset the measurements that we get so used to using. He didn't believe in victims. He believed in the kingdom of God. And that has been and is constantly being established through Downward Mobility. That day in that awesome place, I saw the Lord, I heard the Lord. He sounded like Daffy Duck, on his way to Gwatamawah. Praise the Lord. Amen.
C. David McKirachan is pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Shrewsbury in central New Jersey. He also teaches at Monmouth University. McKirachan is the author of I Happened Upon a Miracle and A Year of Wonder (Westminster John Knox).
**************
StoryShare, September 6, 2009, issue.
Copyright 2009 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
"Mercy Triumphs" by David O. Bales
"Harry Potter Lives" by C. David McKirachan
"Going to Gwatamawah" by C. David McKirachan
What's Up This Week
God has a habit of communicating powerful truths and reaching people in the most unusual of ways -- as this week's edition of StoryShare attests. Whether it's the message of the Bible working its way into an unlikely heart, or through the preaching voice of Henri Nouwen (who David McKirachan tells us "sounded like Daffy Duck"), magic happens and lives are forever changed.
* * * * * * * * *
Mercy Triumphs
by David O. Bales
James 2:1-10 (11-13) 14-17
If Maury had finished his work before he left the mainland, he would have enjoyed his deferred honeymoon much more. But three days into his week with Jenny found him today not only missing Jenny's company but all of Hawaii's joys.
In the hotel room after lunch he had said, "If I can just take a couple hours to sit and think," he placed his hands on her shoulders, "this will fix it. I'm sure. I'm sorry I've been preoccupied…. Not always, of course."
Jenny frowned. Maury swallowed so hard he nearly choked. "But two hours, honest. Then I'll throw the file into the suitcase and not look at it again. Just at you." Maury smiled and leaned into Jenny.
She grinned, kissed him, and said, "Okay. I'll just saunter along the beach. Two hours," she held up two fingers. "Then, if you're not done, I'll throw away the entire suitcase." She knew he liked that kind of answer.
"Absolutely," Maury said. He grabbed his backpack with the book and file folders and went down the stairs two at a time, heading for the patio's umbrella tables where he would speed-think if not speed-read.
More than anything he was embarrassed that he hadn't been able to shuck his nagging conscience. The day before their flight, Maury's last conversation with his senior pastor was: "I'm completely stuck. I've been trying to come up with another approach. I think about it during my morning's jog. I get ready to order from a menu and realize I'm thinking about teaching the young men's group. It's even when I'm with Jenny. They're great guys, my good friends. We all like meeting every week and having breakfast; but when it comes to studying and understanding the book, nothing happens."
"You try questions?" Reverend Royce asked.
"I've used a handful for each chapter," Maury said. "Doesn't seem to work."
"Ever make an outrageous overstatement and see if that lights a fire?"
"A couple times. But it's God's mercy. They get the ethics perfectly -- treating people the same with no partiality. But their ethics -- strange as it sounds -- overpower their theology. They can't understand that God loves impartially, forgives us, and we don't earn our way to God. I tried reading part of the 'Hound of Heaven' about God chasing us like a dog and it led to a discussion of Labrador Retrievers. I brought up Groundhog Day and the many chances offered to Bill Murray, and they decided it's about reincarnation."
"Maury, you just go on that delayed honeymoon," Reverend Royce said. "You kids deserve it. Try to drop this. I'll pray about it. What chapter you on?"
"Four. It's titled 'Mercy Triumphs.' "
Now on the hotel's patio table Maury prepared to spread out his work. The Pacific Ocean's breeze ruffled the pages of his open book. He reached into his backpack and saw he'd also grabbed the file folder with the address labels he and Jenny had brought in order to quickly address postcards to their families and friends. Maury looked into the folder and realized that yesterday, while he was re-reading his Bible study curriculum, Jenny had bought the postcards, stamped them, and put the address stickers on them all. Seeing what she'd done with her spare time made him feel even worse.
With a sigh he returned the book and files into his backpack, put his head in his arms on the table, and prayed. He tried to concentrate, but his prayer wandered from his younger men's group to God's grace to Jenny, then back again. After nearly falling asleep, he thought: If our Christian life is all grace, why should I have to work this hard?
It took him a couple seconds to realize that the footsteps that had screeched next to him and run away so suddenly indicated something was wrong. He looked up to see a young man running with his backpack. Maury was up in an instant. He only needed ten yards to conclude: This guy doesn't have a chance. As he gained on him he yelled, "There's nothing in the bag. Just drop it!"
The young man raced on. The young man's running form was more desperate than efficient. Maury was gaining on him quickly. He knew the young man could hear him well. "Really," he shouted through his panting, "there's no value. Just drop it!"
He was almost up to the young man now. Maury slowed, right behind him. "There's a book in the bag. Read it!" Then he slowed his running and stayed immediately behind for another second, long enough for the young man to understand that Maury could catch him if he tried. As he dashed around a corner, the young man turned to see who was after him. At that, Maury stopped, cupped his hands at his mouth, and yelled, "Read it! Think about it!"
Jenny was surprised to find Maury already waiting in the room when she got back. He told her what happened. "Well," she said, "that young man was sent by God. And it's not a bad trade," she winked, "losing a backpack instead of a piece of our expensive new luggage."
The rest of their week was, well, one couldn't call it normal. Both Maury and Jenny were sad to leave Hawaii but both were also happy to go back to work. What was out of the ordinary, however, was a telephone call three weeks later from Jenny's mother. Jenny was on the phone for only a minute and didn't say much more than, "Uh huh. Yes. Oh." Then she held out the phone to Maury with a smile. "It's my mom. It's for you."
Maury took the receiver with a surprised look. "Hi," he said.
"What did you mean," she said, "sending me a postcard from Hawaii that says, 'I've read the book. I'm thinking about it'?"
David O. Bales was a Presbyterian minister for 33 years. Recently retired as the pastor of Bethany Presbyterian Church in Ontario, Oregon, he is also a freelance writer and editor for Stephen Ministries and Tebunah Ministries. His sermons and articles have appeared in Lectionary Homiletics, Preaching Great Texts, and Interpretation, and he is the author of the CSS titles Scenes of Glory: Subplots of God's Long Story and Gospel Subplots: Story Sermons of God's Grace.
Harry Potter Lives
by C. David McKirachan
Mark 7:24-37
When I was younger I wanted to open a school for Christian wizards. I figured there were a lot of things we should be doing and investigating that we weren't because we were too busy being pastors and preachers and teachers and church runners. I didn't think all the things Jesus did were unique to him and those immediately around him. A lot of his teaching pointed toward the power "at work within us." This wasn't about spells and incantations; it was about unleashing the power of the Holy Spirit to the world. It was about allowing us to be something other than frightened and timid. It was about standing up and saying to demons, "Be gone!" I was young.
After a stint in Newark and then the suburbs and finally as a single parent (I'm not sure which was more difficult), my worldview started to morph. I began to realize that Jesus did not see this miracle-doing as much of an important thing. I began to see that an awful lot of the miracle stuff had to do with the individual to whom it happened. I began to realize that just like anything else we do, it is limited and will pass into dust one day. Our job is to point to the eternal.
I like Harry Potter. He's a confused kid with a lot of hang-ups. Not much of what he does is for any good reason except that it seems to make sense at that particular moment. And the magic part is not much help -- it tends to get him into as much trouble as it gets him out of. It's just like any other gift of the spirit. It's very definitely up to you what you're going to get done with the gifts and the opportunities God gives you.
So I have my hole. There are strange things on the walls, and I dabble in magic every time I write a novel. But the powerful magic of my life is much more evident in the classroom and the sanctuary and the hospital room. It's where the spells of teaching and preaching and compassion weave and dance with the music of the Holy Spirit and the souls of those whose hearts and minds are open and receptive. That, my friends, is magic to be sure.
So I guess I am a Christian wizard. I'm glad I don't need a wand -- I tend to lose things.
C. David McKirachan is pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Shrewsbury in central New Jersey. He also teaches at Monmouth University. McKirachan is the author of I Happened Upon a Miracle and A Year of Wonder (Westminster John Knox).
Going to Gwatamawah
by C. David McKirachan
Mark 7:24-37
My first parish was in Irvington, New Jersey, right on the Newark border. There was plenty of crime, poverty, and violence, and not much of anything else. I remember we had to count the change in the Coke machine one month to come up with enough money to pay the heat bill. Some of the better-heeled churches considered us a mission church. They thought it would be a good idea to fund an intern position through Princeton Theological Seminary -- somebody ought to have some experience in the inner city. It was generous and it really helped me maintain a sense of professionalism while I fought with the alligators. (You know the old saying: It's hard to remember that you're here to drain the swamp when you're up to your ass in alligators.)
Anyway, one of my interns got to the point of graduating. Now, Princeton's graduations are grand affairs. They are held in Princeton's "Chapel." The chapel is a gothic cathedral -- stone, stained glass, thundering organ, and all the pageantry that goes with that. The academic procession is appropriately pomp and circumstanced, replete with Oxford gowns striped up the wazoo and velvet hoods that rival pimpmobile interiors. I was invited. I sat in the back, behind one of the massive pillars.
The students had invited Henri Nouwen to speak. This guy was articulate, spiritual, a Roman Catholic Brother, and a best-seller. So when he climbed into the stone pulpit with the roof, we all quieted with expectation. He sounded like Daffy Duck.
"Here you awe, gwaduating fwom dis beautiful place. You know so much. You all would like to go to sububan catedrals. You believe in upwud mobiwity. I'm on my way to Gwatamawah to wive with da poor. Dat's downwud mobiwity. Wanna come?"
I apologize to any and all who are self-conscious about their speech for any reason. I will merely say this: He was devastating. I'll remember that sermon for the rest of my life, God willing. He convicted us. He put the itching powder of the gospel into our academic velvet and invited us to come and live in third-world slums, and in prisons, and in nursing homes, and in lousy neighborhoods where nobody has anything except fear and pain and limitation. Why? Very simply, because that's where the Lord lives. It was winsome and funny and filled with the Spirit.
And I went back to Irvington with a new perspective. I realized that I did have something to teach and preach and share. Besides, the Lord was waiting for me there.
Jesus was constantly upsetting the power grid. He overturned expectations and reset the measurements that we get so used to using. He didn't believe in victims. He believed in the kingdom of God. And that has been and is constantly being established through Downward Mobility. That day in that awesome place, I saw the Lord, I heard the Lord. He sounded like Daffy Duck, on his way to Gwatamawah. Praise the Lord. Amen.
C. David McKirachan is pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Shrewsbury in central New Jersey. He also teaches at Monmouth University. McKirachan is the author of I Happened Upon a Miracle and A Year of Wonder (Westminster John Knox).
**************
StoryShare, September 6, 2009, issue.
Copyright 2009 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.
