A Messianic Message?
Stories
Contents
“A Messianic Message?” by David O. Bales
“Blissful? Agnosticism” by David O. Bales
A Messianic Message?
by David O. Bales
Luke 6:17-26
Shemaiah plodded toward his village grateful to be home in Judea but shaking his head in disappointment. “The elders entrusted me and what can I report? A week’s trek for nothing.” He walked along mumbling and didn’t notice the lone spider strand floating across the road. In the late evening sun it undulated slowly as it drifted toward the village. It was dozens of times thinner than a fishing line and that many times more irritating. As it swept into his mouth, he angrily brushed his hand across it. He spit, and kicked the dust in anger. He continued spitting as he walked, the spider’s bitter invasion seeming to hang in his mouth. Such a little thing shouldn’t bother him so much; but, it was about the Galilean and a wasted week.
His synagogue had deputized him to chase down the Galilean wonder worker and bring a suggestion of what the synagogue should do: support him or, more probably, condemn him. The decision was crucial, because the village’s response could bring down the wrath of the Romans. Ostensibly Shemaiah must determine if Jesus were teaching within the area fenced around the Jewish Torah by the elders. But his real task was to find out if he claimed to be a messiah, and opinions differed on what a messiah would be like.
Shemaiah’s assignment hadn’t seemed difficult. For weeks news had sifted into Judea about the Galilean who was preaching, healing and casting out demons. Others had done similar things, but never for long. They were exposed as frauds or they gathered an army for a failed revolt against the Roman occupiers. Much about Jesus sounded different. Word was that, when Jesus met with faith, miracles happened. His hometown had given up on him, but that just showed he was strong enough to go against the grain of Galilean bumpkins. He might be what old Israel waited and prayed for.
Shemaiah had spent three days reaching Galilee and following the trail of Jesus’ activity village by village. By his fourth day he’d hit upon a crowd tracking Jesus. He circulated in the dusty multitude and questioned anyone who knew of him.
One man told him, “My brother-in-law met a blind man given sight by Jesus.” A woman spoke up, “In our neighboring village they say he cast out a demon.” Many in the crowd were bringing sick and disabled people for healing. Most everyone mentioned the word “messiah,” whether in whisper, wish, or ridicule. A few admitted they were seeking to prove Jesus an ordinary Galilean lunatic. After all, if he couldn’t get along with his neighbors, could he be genuine?
Shemaiah stayed near these folk as the crowd met and merged with the horde already surrounding Jesus. They were on a level field adequate for the thousands to cram together.
He couldn’t penetrate to the front, but word was drifting back that Jesus was right then healing people and casting out demons. Shemaiah was doing his best to seem inconspicuous and move closer; but, everyone was crowding forward, even some foreigners. Jesus’ apprentices surrounded him, muscling back the most frantic. By mid-afternoon, Shemaiah had shouldered and elbowed his way close enough to clearly identify the man that everyone was mobbing. He was only fifteen or twenty people away from Jesus. A few women were weeping and some men were angrily shoving others, but all were pressing forward and trying to touch Jesus. Shemaiah concentrated on not being emotionally carried away. He was here to evaluate, not join. He was near enough to Jesus that he was fairly sure some people were cured and others were freed of their demons. He couldn’t be certain. These so-called healed individuals would need to survive a few days to demonstrate they were whole again.
Then, almost suddenly, Jesus switched from his ministering to suffering individuals. He began to teach. If he were to claim to be Messiah and rouse people against Rome, now was the time. With such a fury surrounding him, this was possible.
The crowd quieted slowly, family and village groups hushed themselves and over their heads Jesus began to speak. He started strangely enough, “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh. Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets.” This could be a shifty way to state a messianic agenda. No matter how bad things are under the Romans, they will be reversed by the Messiah’s forces: taking back our independence, cancelling taxes, reviving Israel’s rightful place at the top of the world, all nations flowing to Jerusalem with offerings.
Shemaiah crested the last hillock to his village. He fussed about the news he was delivering to Judea. This problem had crashed into Shemaiah’s perception when Jesus continued teaching: “But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry. Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep. Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets.”
Jesus had gathered people with miracles only to grind them into the ground with his teaching. He wouldn’t keep drawing crowds with such a line. He needed to declare them God’s greatest people, God’s select, better than anyone else. He should claim that God was going to make our nation magnificent again and promise that rain will fall on our crops only, our sheep will all have twins, our clan will always be the village leaders, our wheat will yield fifty-fold, our children will all marry into rich families.
Shemaiah trudged toward his house, knowing that tomorrow in the synagogue he must report that a man with such a negative message definitely wasn’t the Messiah. He’s a dry well, a wind that brings no rain. But the synagogue need take no action. Jesus’ message will get him killed soon enough. After a while, for every one person attracted to him, 20 will shun him. His twisted message will leave listeners with just a bitter taste in the mouth.
Preaching point: Jesus’ teaching is not thoroughly attractive or understandable.
* * *
Blissful? Agnosticism
by David O. Bales
1 Corinthians 15:12-20
If ever (and it was seldom) anyone asked Sean or Lizzy about their belief in God, they had their answer prepared: They were blissful agnostics. Their glib response meant that generally they didn’t know and didn’t care whether there was a god or not. No offense to god or to believers, they just found little reason to care.
As children they’d known nothing other than a secure upper-middle class home, with safe upper-middle class schools, clubs, athletics, and friends, all who had little awareness of a less sheltered or predictable world, let alone of the suffering world. If they’d glanced evidence of a harsher life than what daily surrounded them, they’d taken little notice. The advantages they’d enjoyed led to university degrees only twice as difficult as high school. And not only were jobs waiting for them after university, recruiters came seeking them on campus. Four years out of university they and their friends were charging ahead in life’s race. They’d abandoned an apartment for a starter house, certain it would be the first of many steps up in the only kind of life they knew.
Lizzy’s family was in the majority on the west coast. They might have professed a nebulous belief in a supreme being, but Lizzy had only been in a church for weddings. All she knew of Christianity was a story passed on from her grandfather about when he was a boy. His mother was dying and the preacher came. Her young grandfather was in the room as the preacher sat by his mother’s bed, asked embarrassing questions about her illness, offered a prayer using a good part of an hour, and requested fresh coffee. Then her grandfather heard him in the kitchen joking with the men.
Lizzy and Sean had been married in Sean’s church. For Lizzy it was a legal procedure they must complete in order to continue living together. She never understood “all this religion business.” Sean’s religious views were more complicated in that he’d been raised in the Christian faith. He’d discarded the faith immediately after high school; but whenever he returned home from university, his parents assumed he’d attend Sunday school and worship.
Until now he’d skirted this problem with Lizzy by making sure they didn’t visit his parents on a Sunday. The couple once had been caught at his parents at Christmas but Lizzy could brush off any religious meaning of Christmas Eve worship because everyone celebrates the snow, family and gift season. This time was different. They were visiting on a weekend. “I don’t want to disappoint them,” Sean said. “It’s always been this way with them. Weird, I know. But they believe it and I don’t want to hurt them.”
They sat in their car in his parents’ driveway, yet to get out and greet the in-laws. Lizzy wasn’t upset. She just didn’t see any reason to rise early on Sunday and get dolled up for three hours with strangers when they could, as usual, lay in bed, read the newspaper, and catch the new YouTube posts. But she’d attend with the rest; and so she did, along with Sean in the back seat of his parents’ car as her mother-in-law pointed to the houses where Sean’s friends had lived, his high school and dentist’s office.
Sunday school was at ten and Lizzy and Sean fit into the younger adults class. Lizzy whispered to Sean, “Why’s the leader of the younger adults nearly 80 years old?”
“As far as I know,” Sean answered, “Mr. Menon has taught the class as long as I’ve been alive. Probably started teaching it after the war.”
“Which war?”
No place to hide. Everyone sat around one large table and Sean recognized only one person. Because Sean and Lizzy didn’t have Bibles, the couple next to them slid one over from the center stack. They also helped them find the text for the morning.
“We’re going on with First Corinthians,” Mr. Menon stood and said. “Let’s pray, Lord Jesus, risen and triumphant, loving and merciful, be present with us now to teach, inspire, and guide us in your ways. Amen.”
The old man continued talking, lowering himself as if by stages into his chair, “We’re in the theological center chapter of First Corinthians. Lots of people think the love chapter 13 is the theological center. It’s not. It tells us how to live as Christians. Chapter 15 tells us why.
“Why should we believe or live differently than anyone else? Most in our community consider God as a cloud at best. Impersonal, a haze around us that maybe got us here and maybe can find us a parking place if we beg for it.” He received some snorts and sniggers.
“We’re surrounded by people who view the Christian faith at best as good feelings, at worst as deeply instilled prejudice. People might have the constitutional right in the U.S. to believe such things, but don’t go spreading it around or offering it to others.
“Is our Christian faith merely vague or foggy? What’ve we got? What’s this Christian life founded on? Feelings, wishes, denial? The apostle Paul dealt with the same questions. He and his folk were real and they give evidence for us to believe they had as much intelligence to navigate life as we do. They just didn’t have all our modern gadgets. Paul tells us the event that our faith is based on. Not something made up, not a mistaken identity, be the motives for such ever so sincere. Paul knew from Jesus’ earliest believers that Jesus was alive. He’d been resurrected. That means ‘to live again.’ The resurrected Jesus also, then, lived again in Paul’s life. If not, Paul says, there’s nothing.” He cleared his throat, sounding like a car whose engine wouldn’t start.
“I don’t know if you all have ever thought of that: Nothing. Not just that nothing is lasting beyond this life, but that nothing is important enough now to live for. Why do we live? Chapter 15 is the ‘Why Chapter.’ What propels us day to day? Just our survival? Just being able to buy the newest gizmos? Just the goodwill of our tribe? What will get you out of bed in the morning when you really don’t feel like it? That might seem easy when you’re young and strong. I’m here to tell you that’s not all of life.” He gave a big grin. “For everything that gets easier by growing older, something gets harder and eventually the balance tips. One thing gets easier, three get harder.” People chuckled as he nodded.
“Our faith balances on Jesus’ resurrection. Might seem like way back then, but it stretches till now. It’s for each of us now, something real beyond what we see and feel and wonder about day to day, something from outside this world that crashes in to each of us to start us over from a new beginning — so important that God would actually come to earth to suffer for us. Not everyone knows it and not everyone believes it. Younger people don’t always think about what life’s built upon and what we can trust, what’s lasting. But for the entire New Testament faith, if Jesus’ resurrection isn’t true, not only is our faith empty and useless in this passing carnival of life but everything is empty and useless. And in the end death will vacuum life of any meaning.
“Much better to learn this when you’re young. Much better to base your life on something that won’t tip sideways when you meet those roadblocks and tragedies and downright evil situations that ambush us all. So much better to trust deep, deep down with Paul that God did something wonderful that changes everything.”
He looked to the wall on his left, shook his head, then looked to the wall on his right to spot the clock. “Now, time for discussion.”
The class offered comments and some slicing questions, which Mr. Menon didn’t always answer. Lizzy was about to ask a question but the man beside her spoke first. “For me, if it weren’t for faith in Christ, there’d be nothing lasting to plant my life on. Without Christ, I take a step and sink. If I reach for something alone, it crumbles in my hand.” The discussion didn’t hold tightly to the subject, but Lizzy was bothered. She’d never truly realized what started Christianity, and she hadn’t contemplated a life with no meaning. When class was over she was almost dizzy when she stood.
Sean grabbed her arm and looked in her eyes, “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she said slowly. She took a few steps, leaned into him and whispered “You were raised in this faith. I’ve got a bunch of questions for you.”
Preaching point: If Jesus has not been raised from the dead, faith is futile and life is meaningless.
*****************************************
StoryShare, February 17, 2019 issue.
Copyright 2019 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
“A Messianic Message?” by David O. Bales
“Blissful? Agnosticism” by David O. Bales
A Messianic Message?
by David O. Bales
Luke 6:17-26
Shemaiah plodded toward his village grateful to be home in Judea but shaking his head in disappointment. “The elders entrusted me and what can I report? A week’s trek for nothing.” He walked along mumbling and didn’t notice the lone spider strand floating across the road. In the late evening sun it undulated slowly as it drifted toward the village. It was dozens of times thinner than a fishing line and that many times more irritating. As it swept into his mouth, he angrily brushed his hand across it. He spit, and kicked the dust in anger. He continued spitting as he walked, the spider’s bitter invasion seeming to hang in his mouth. Such a little thing shouldn’t bother him so much; but, it was about the Galilean and a wasted week.
His synagogue had deputized him to chase down the Galilean wonder worker and bring a suggestion of what the synagogue should do: support him or, more probably, condemn him. The decision was crucial, because the village’s response could bring down the wrath of the Romans. Ostensibly Shemaiah must determine if Jesus were teaching within the area fenced around the Jewish Torah by the elders. But his real task was to find out if he claimed to be a messiah, and opinions differed on what a messiah would be like.
Shemaiah’s assignment hadn’t seemed difficult. For weeks news had sifted into Judea about the Galilean who was preaching, healing and casting out demons. Others had done similar things, but never for long. They were exposed as frauds or they gathered an army for a failed revolt against the Roman occupiers. Much about Jesus sounded different. Word was that, when Jesus met with faith, miracles happened. His hometown had given up on him, but that just showed he was strong enough to go against the grain of Galilean bumpkins. He might be what old Israel waited and prayed for.
Shemaiah had spent three days reaching Galilee and following the trail of Jesus’ activity village by village. By his fourth day he’d hit upon a crowd tracking Jesus. He circulated in the dusty multitude and questioned anyone who knew of him.
One man told him, “My brother-in-law met a blind man given sight by Jesus.” A woman spoke up, “In our neighboring village they say he cast out a demon.” Many in the crowd were bringing sick and disabled people for healing. Most everyone mentioned the word “messiah,” whether in whisper, wish, or ridicule. A few admitted they were seeking to prove Jesus an ordinary Galilean lunatic. After all, if he couldn’t get along with his neighbors, could he be genuine?
Shemaiah stayed near these folk as the crowd met and merged with the horde already surrounding Jesus. They were on a level field adequate for the thousands to cram together.
He couldn’t penetrate to the front, but word was drifting back that Jesus was right then healing people and casting out demons. Shemaiah was doing his best to seem inconspicuous and move closer; but, everyone was crowding forward, even some foreigners. Jesus’ apprentices surrounded him, muscling back the most frantic. By mid-afternoon, Shemaiah had shouldered and elbowed his way close enough to clearly identify the man that everyone was mobbing. He was only fifteen or twenty people away from Jesus. A few women were weeping and some men were angrily shoving others, but all were pressing forward and trying to touch Jesus. Shemaiah concentrated on not being emotionally carried away. He was here to evaluate, not join. He was near enough to Jesus that he was fairly sure some people were cured and others were freed of their demons. He couldn’t be certain. These so-called healed individuals would need to survive a few days to demonstrate they were whole again.
Then, almost suddenly, Jesus switched from his ministering to suffering individuals. He began to teach. If he were to claim to be Messiah and rouse people against Rome, now was the time. With such a fury surrounding him, this was possible.
The crowd quieted slowly, family and village groups hushed themselves and over their heads Jesus began to speak. He started strangely enough, “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh. Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets.” This could be a shifty way to state a messianic agenda. No matter how bad things are under the Romans, they will be reversed by the Messiah’s forces: taking back our independence, cancelling taxes, reviving Israel’s rightful place at the top of the world, all nations flowing to Jerusalem with offerings.
Shemaiah crested the last hillock to his village. He fussed about the news he was delivering to Judea. This problem had crashed into Shemaiah’s perception when Jesus continued teaching: “But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry. Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep. Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets.”
Jesus had gathered people with miracles only to grind them into the ground with his teaching. He wouldn’t keep drawing crowds with such a line. He needed to declare them God’s greatest people, God’s select, better than anyone else. He should claim that God was going to make our nation magnificent again and promise that rain will fall on our crops only, our sheep will all have twins, our clan will always be the village leaders, our wheat will yield fifty-fold, our children will all marry into rich families.
Shemaiah trudged toward his house, knowing that tomorrow in the synagogue he must report that a man with such a negative message definitely wasn’t the Messiah. He’s a dry well, a wind that brings no rain. But the synagogue need take no action. Jesus’ message will get him killed soon enough. After a while, for every one person attracted to him, 20 will shun him. His twisted message will leave listeners with just a bitter taste in the mouth.
Preaching point: Jesus’ teaching is not thoroughly attractive or understandable.
* * *
Blissful? Agnosticism
by David O. Bales
1 Corinthians 15:12-20
If ever (and it was seldom) anyone asked Sean or Lizzy about their belief in God, they had their answer prepared: They were blissful agnostics. Their glib response meant that generally they didn’t know and didn’t care whether there was a god or not. No offense to god or to believers, they just found little reason to care.
As children they’d known nothing other than a secure upper-middle class home, with safe upper-middle class schools, clubs, athletics, and friends, all who had little awareness of a less sheltered or predictable world, let alone of the suffering world. If they’d glanced evidence of a harsher life than what daily surrounded them, they’d taken little notice. The advantages they’d enjoyed led to university degrees only twice as difficult as high school. And not only were jobs waiting for them after university, recruiters came seeking them on campus. Four years out of university they and their friends were charging ahead in life’s race. They’d abandoned an apartment for a starter house, certain it would be the first of many steps up in the only kind of life they knew.
Lizzy’s family was in the majority on the west coast. They might have professed a nebulous belief in a supreme being, but Lizzy had only been in a church for weddings. All she knew of Christianity was a story passed on from her grandfather about when he was a boy. His mother was dying and the preacher came. Her young grandfather was in the room as the preacher sat by his mother’s bed, asked embarrassing questions about her illness, offered a prayer using a good part of an hour, and requested fresh coffee. Then her grandfather heard him in the kitchen joking with the men.
Lizzy and Sean had been married in Sean’s church. For Lizzy it was a legal procedure they must complete in order to continue living together. She never understood “all this religion business.” Sean’s religious views were more complicated in that he’d been raised in the Christian faith. He’d discarded the faith immediately after high school; but whenever he returned home from university, his parents assumed he’d attend Sunday school and worship.
Until now he’d skirted this problem with Lizzy by making sure they didn’t visit his parents on a Sunday. The couple once had been caught at his parents at Christmas but Lizzy could brush off any religious meaning of Christmas Eve worship because everyone celebrates the snow, family and gift season. This time was different. They were visiting on a weekend. “I don’t want to disappoint them,” Sean said. “It’s always been this way with them. Weird, I know. But they believe it and I don’t want to hurt them.”
They sat in their car in his parents’ driveway, yet to get out and greet the in-laws. Lizzy wasn’t upset. She just didn’t see any reason to rise early on Sunday and get dolled up for three hours with strangers when they could, as usual, lay in bed, read the newspaper, and catch the new YouTube posts. But she’d attend with the rest; and so she did, along with Sean in the back seat of his parents’ car as her mother-in-law pointed to the houses where Sean’s friends had lived, his high school and dentist’s office.
Sunday school was at ten and Lizzy and Sean fit into the younger adults class. Lizzy whispered to Sean, “Why’s the leader of the younger adults nearly 80 years old?”
“As far as I know,” Sean answered, “Mr. Menon has taught the class as long as I’ve been alive. Probably started teaching it after the war.”
“Which war?”
No place to hide. Everyone sat around one large table and Sean recognized only one person. Because Sean and Lizzy didn’t have Bibles, the couple next to them slid one over from the center stack. They also helped them find the text for the morning.
“We’re going on with First Corinthians,” Mr. Menon stood and said. “Let’s pray, Lord Jesus, risen and triumphant, loving and merciful, be present with us now to teach, inspire, and guide us in your ways. Amen.”
The old man continued talking, lowering himself as if by stages into his chair, “We’re in the theological center chapter of First Corinthians. Lots of people think the love chapter 13 is the theological center. It’s not. It tells us how to live as Christians. Chapter 15 tells us why.
“Why should we believe or live differently than anyone else? Most in our community consider God as a cloud at best. Impersonal, a haze around us that maybe got us here and maybe can find us a parking place if we beg for it.” He received some snorts and sniggers.
“We’re surrounded by people who view the Christian faith at best as good feelings, at worst as deeply instilled prejudice. People might have the constitutional right in the U.S. to believe such things, but don’t go spreading it around or offering it to others.
“Is our Christian faith merely vague or foggy? What’ve we got? What’s this Christian life founded on? Feelings, wishes, denial? The apostle Paul dealt with the same questions. He and his folk were real and they give evidence for us to believe they had as much intelligence to navigate life as we do. They just didn’t have all our modern gadgets. Paul tells us the event that our faith is based on. Not something made up, not a mistaken identity, be the motives for such ever so sincere. Paul knew from Jesus’ earliest believers that Jesus was alive. He’d been resurrected. That means ‘to live again.’ The resurrected Jesus also, then, lived again in Paul’s life. If not, Paul says, there’s nothing.” He cleared his throat, sounding like a car whose engine wouldn’t start.
“I don’t know if you all have ever thought of that: Nothing. Not just that nothing is lasting beyond this life, but that nothing is important enough now to live for. Why do we live? Chapter 15 is the ‘Why Chapter.’ What propels us day to day? Just our survival? Just being able to buy the newest gizmos? Just the goodwill of our tribe? What will get you out of bed in the morning when you really don’t feel like it? That might seem easy when you’re young and strong. I’m here to tell you that’s not all of life.” He gave a big grin. “For everything that gets easier by growing older, something gets harder and eventually the balance tips. One thing gets easier, three get harder.” People chuckled as he nodded.
“Our faith balances on Jesus’ resurrection. Might seem like way back then, but it stretches till now. It’s for each of us now, something real beyond what we see and feel and wonder about day to day, something from outside this world that crashes in to each of us to start us over from a new beginning — so important that God would actually come to earth to suffer for us. Not everyone knows it and not everyone believes it. Younger people don’t always think about what life’s built upon and what we can trust, what’s lasting. But for the entire New Testament faith, if Jesus’ resurrection isn’t true, not only is our faith empty and useless in this passing carnival of life but everything is empty and useless. And in the end death will vacuum life of any meaning.
“Much better to learn this when you’re young. Much better to base your life on something that won’t tip sideways when you meet those roadblocks and tragedies and downright evil situations that ambush us all. So much better to trust deep, deep down with Paul that God did something wonderful that changes everything.”
He looked to the wall on his left, shook his head, then looked to the wall on his right to spot the clock. “Now, time for discussion.”
The class offered comments and some slicing questions, which Mr. Menon didn’t always answer. Lizzy was about to ask a question but the man beside her spoke first. “For me, if it weren’t for faith in Christ, there’d be nothing lasting to plant my life on. Without Christ, I take a step and sink. If I reach for something alone, it crumbles in my hand.” The discussion didn’t hold tightly to the subject, but Lizzy was bothered. She’d never truly realized what started Christianity, and she hadn’t contemplated a life with no meaning. When class was over she was almost dizzy when she stood.
Sean grabbed her arm and looked in her eyes, “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she said slowly. She took a few steps, leaned into him and whispered “You were raised in this faith. I’ve got a bunch of questions for you.”
Preaching point: If Jesus has not been raised from the dead, faith is futile and life is meaningless.
*****************************************
StoryShare, February 17, 2019 issue.
Copyright 2019 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
