As Much As Jesus Loves His Sheep...
Stories
Contents
What's Up This Week
A Story to Live By: "The Healing Power of Love"
Good Stories: "As Much As Jesus Loves His Sheep..." by Constance Berg
"Goya's People" by Peter C. Garrison
Scrap Pile: "Law and Misery" by Chuck Cammarata
What's Up This Week
In this week's Gospel lesson, Jesus tells us he is the good shepherd -- and outlines what that really requires. Another memorable description of the power of sacrificial love occurs later on in John's Gospel: "No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends" (15:13). Our stories this week relate the variety of ways such overwhelming love can manifest itself, from the healing of broken relationships, to selflessly giving of oneself to care for others, to literally forgiving one's betrayer on death's doorstep. Then in the Scrap Pile, we see the destruction caused by a slavish devotion to legalism over human compassion.
A Story to Live By
The Healing Power of Love
...let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action.
1 John 3:18
There's a wonderful story told by Alex Karras in his autobiography. (Older sports fans will recognize that name -- Karras was one of the premiere players in the National Football League during the 1960s.)
Karras grew up in a poor family in the steel town of Gary, Indiana, and he relates the intense competition between himself and his older brother Ted as the two were growing up. Being bigger and older, Ted was able to push his younger brother around when the two would roughhouse. As they grew up, Ted was a good football player in high school who went on to play at Purdue; but after two years he transferred to a small school so he could get more playing time. Alex, on the other hand, was an All-State lineman four years in a row. Alex went to Iowa, where after some initial difficulty he received All-American honors and was awarded the Outland Trophy as the outstanding lineman in college football. After graduation, Ted played briefly with the Philadelphia Eagles, but finally he was cut from the team. Alex, meanwhile, had an outstanding career with the Detroit Lions in which he was elected All-Pro nearly every year he played. Alex went on to a successful post-football acting career, appearing in several movies and starring in his own television show (the sitcom Webster).
One day Alex received word that Ted had been admitted to a mental hospital, where his condition seemed hopeless. Psychiatrists had diagnosed the man as being seriously ill and were very pessimistic about his future. The stress and failures of his life had been too much. Alex, of course, went to see his brother. He tells of the terrible feeling of responsibility which overcame him as he and his brother stood before each other in that hospital. Then, Alex said he did something he never thought he could do, something which required every ounce of determination he could muster. He said it was so unnatural for him, given the way he had grown up, that he found it more frightening than facing a 280-pound tackle. He walked over to his brother, put his arms around him, and said: "Ted, you big jerk, I love you." One week later, Ted Karras was released from the hospital and pronounced completely cured. What an astounding example of the healing power of love.
(Adapted from Lectionary Preaching Workbook [Series VI, Cycle B] by E. Carver McGriff)
Good Stories
As Much As Jesus Loves His Sheep...
by Constance Berg
Jane sat, listening. She wanted to make sure Robbie was breathing steadily before she called it a night. She watched his chest rise slowly. The light of the nightlight in the hall spread a soft glow as she bent over to kiss his head.
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
he restores my soul.
She had been so worried since Robbie came home from the hospital last week. She got up from the rocking chair to stand by his bed and gently stroked his cheek, then his arm, and she whispered "good night" in his ear. She didn't care that Robbie couldn't hear. She knew that he would be able to feel her presence, her breath on his face, her touch on his arm. She loved him with all her heart, and she knew that Robbie knew that.
He guides me in paths of righteousness
for his name's sake.
She quietly turned to leave, noting the tiny red blink from the baby monitor by the bed. Robbie was no baby, however -- he was 26. He was born after a troubling 40 hours of labor. He had a massive seizure during his birth, the first of many, and his life was one filled with pain.
Even though I walk
through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil, for you are with me;
your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
Jane came into his life when he was only 9 years old. Robbie was brought to the care facility just after he turned 9, his mother and father asking that no contact be made once they left the facility. They had left after two hours. They honestly said they could no longer bear watching Robbie suffer and they wanted to have a "normal" life.
Judging others wasn't what Jane was about. She didn't know what the parents had experienced during those first nine years of Robbie's life. She didn't know what kind of grief they had experienced after his birth, watching him grow up in a way they hadn't anticipated. No, it wasn't in her to be hateful or resentful. She just knew that she loved Robbie with all her heart. She was his mother, his father, his siblings, his world. Oh, sure, the staff came and went, but Jane was there at Robbie's side at all times. She wouldn't have it any other way. That's what mothers were for. When those parents walked out that day, Jane had made up her mind: she would be everything for Robbie.
The facility was beautiful. It was a rambling 4200-square-foot home with five large bedrooms, a fenced swimming pool, and a three-car garage that was used for storage space for boxes and boxes of diapers, medical supplies, and formula. Other than a wheelchair ramp and an enormous bubble-top van parked at the side of the house, one would think it was just an average house at the country club.
You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
There were six young men who lived in this house, and staff came and went. There was lots of turnover of the staff: some felt that they weren't paid enough for changing adults; some thought it was "disgusting" feeding a person through a tube in the stomach. Some just grew tired of the routine.
But Jane didn't mind. She patiently trained the staff to care for "her boys." She taught them to cook. She showed them the best places to go on outings and introduced them to the merchants who didn't mind "them." She taught the staff to talk and sing to the guys. She wanted them to love her guys.
Surely goodness and love will follow me
all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD
forever.
"Good night, Robbie," she whispered as she closed the door behind her, "I love you." Jane knew Jesus. She knew how much Jesus loved her. And she knew how much Jesus loved her guys.
Constance Berg is a former missionary to Chiapas, Mexico. She is currently based in Bakersfield, California, where she serves as the director of 18 nursing homes for handicapped individuals. Berg holds degrees from California State University and Lutheran Theological Southern Seminary, and she has done graduate work at Fuller Theological Seminary. She is the author of three volumes of the CSS series Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit.
Goya's People
by Peter C. Garrison
"I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep."
John 10:11
Goya squinted at the brass and steel. The polished metal of the firing squad shone in his eyes under the clear May sun. Goya's eyes watered in the brightness.
Goya and the others were lined up, advancing slowly toward a yellow wall. They advanced by three or four people after each preceding pile was dragged away.
People were reserved, almost shy in this line waiting to die. Only when taking their place before the executioners would they rouse themselves: "Viva!" something or someone and the bullets would crash into their last shout.
As he stood in line, he looked quickly at who would die beside him: Francisco the traitor. Goya tugged at Francisco's gray sleeve. Francisco looked at him from under his brow. He was both guilty and betrayed; a judge of the doomed standing around him and judged by the executioners as not worth saving.
"I'm sorry." Francisco's mouth barely moved as he spoke. His mouth was dry and his tongue was cold; a small still fish in his teeth.
Goya would die with his betrayer. That night, when the soldiers came, he had seen Francisco by a tree, hiding among the leaves moving in the spring breeze, pointing out Goya and the others. Goya imagined Francisco had been given kind words, spoken to by the soldiers like a bad child who had surprisingly done a kind act, a special treat pressed into his pudgy hands as a reward. But the soldiers must have put Francisco into the jail right along with Goya and the others.
Goya moved forward, surprised to be pushed from behind. People standing in line were always in a hurry -- even when standing in line to die. Francisco and Goya moved forward together. They stood closer to one another now that they were near the pocked wall.
To die with Francisco -- an insult? Perhaps to Francisco. Perhaps an irony planned by the soldiers. For Goya, it was a strange comfort to know he would die with someone he knew, even if it was someone like Francisco.
After all, Goya's life of revolution had been lived for creatures like Francisco. Goya would let himself die next to him and not expect Francisco to understand the depth of his betrayal, the depth of his self-pity, of the revolution's true purpose, of the death they were about to suffer.
They moved against the wall. By watching the others before them, they knew where they were to stand and took their places, the wall rough through their thin shirts.
Francisco said, "I'm sorry." He didn't look at Goya or their killers fidgeting.
Goya said, "I know." He looked purposely at Francisco and how Francisco had made his hands into fists, of how his feet tapped the earth as if to make sure it still was there and still solid beneath him; that he was still solid above it.
Goya looked directly at the soldiers. He raised his arms high, his loose white shirt billowing in the spring breeze as a rifle pointed to his heart. Goya knew his betrayer, he knew his executioner -- the soldier with the button missing -- he knew his revolution and purposely shouted "Viva!" as the bullet shouted back.
Peter C. Garrison is pastor of Good Shepherd Lutheran Church in Burlingame, California. He is the author of several CSS titles, including A Guide For Godparents and At Odds With God.
Scrap Pile
Law and Misery
by Chuck Cammarata
In my mind this week's lectionary texts reflect a picture of Jesus -- and God -- as a good shepherd, whose love is far more than a strict adherence to the law. I think one theme running through these passages is expressed by the following words:
"Law reflects, but in no sense determines, the moral worth of a society. The values of a just society will reflect themselves in a just law. The better the society, the less law there will be. In Heaven there will be no law, and the lion will lie down with the lamb. The values of an unjust society will reflect themselves in an unjust law. The worse the society, the more law there will be. In Hell there will be nothing but law, and due process will be meticulously observed." (Grant Gilmore, The Ages of American Law, Yale University Press, 1977, pp. 110-111)
Wow! That is a powerful quote for Christians to grasp.
My story this week comes from one of the great novels of all time, Victor Hugo's Les Miserables. One of the "miserable ones" of the novel is a police officer named Javert. Javert's misery is most apparent in a scene near the end of the novel where he runs into a man from his past -- Jean Valjean.
Many years before, Javert had arrested Valjean, who was then a common criminal. In fact, for his crimes Valjean had been condemned to the galleys for many years. But Valjean was wily and cunning, and one day made his escape. He managed to fake his own death, so he became essentially a free man. No one knew he was alive. He was given a new start, a second chance.
Here is a story about death and resurrection to new life. Valjean gets a new chance and makes the best of it. He moves to a small town, comes up with an invention that makes him a wealthy man, and becomes not only a philanthropist but a beloved member of his new town.
One day, however, Inspector Javert just happens to be in that town on another case. And unfortunately for all involved, he comes across Jean Valjean. Even after many years, Javert realizes that Valjean had not died but had escaped. For Javert this is a great injustice. Valjean's new life notwithstanding, the law must be served.
Javert finds Valjean and approaches him to arrest him. Valjean, however, escapes into the sewers of the city. Javert pursues him. In the chase Javert is badly hurt. Valjean, who has become a redeemed man, a good man, cannot let him die in the sewers, so he carries Javert on his back through miles of tunnel, risking his own life to save his enemy.
This action by Valjean sets up the dilemma that makes Javert more miserable than he has ever been. What does he do now? Does he arrest and imprison this man who is so obviously changed? Does he condemn a man who brings so much joy to so many people now? What does he do with this lawbreaker who has saved his own life, and who is, Javert comes to understand, so much nobler than he? Does he serve the law, which he has so faithfully and vigilantly served all his life? Or does he let him go free, which seems to be the right thing to do?
There is the battle between law and love played out in Javert's soul. And poor Javert, the servant of law, cannot deal with this conflict within himself. So he throws himself from a high place into a raging river -- ending his life.
Ahh -- what Javert never was able to grasp, and too many Christians have never been able to grasp, is that the law as given by God is a means to an end. It is the end of right relationships between people; between men and women; between humans and God. It is the end of the abundant life of which Jesus speaks in John 10:10.
Sadly for Javert, the law had become an end in itself. He wasn't concerned about abundant life and right relationships. He was concerned only about the law.
Chuck Cammarata is the pastor of Fairview Presbyterian Church in Fairview, Pennsylvania. He is the author of the CSS titles Lighting the Flame and Lectionary Worship Workbook.
**********************************************
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, May 7, 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 Healing Power of Love"
Good Stories: "As Much As Jesus Loves His Sheep..." by Constance Berg
"Goya's People" by Peter C. Garrison
Scrap Pile: "Law and Misery" by Chuck Cammarata
What's Up This Week
In this week's Gospel lesson, Jesus tells us he is the good shepherd -- and outlines what that really requires. Another memorable description of the power of sacrificial love occurs later on in John's Gospel: "No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends" (15:13). Our stories this week relate the variety of ways such overwhelming love can manifest itself, from the healing of broken relationships, to selflessly giving of oneself to care for others, to literally forgiving one's betrayer on death's doorstep. Then in the Scrap Pile, we see the destruction caused by a slavish devotion to legalism over human compassion.
A Story to Live By
The Healing Power of Love
...let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action.
1 John 3:18
There's a wonderful story told by Alex Karras in his autobiography. (Older sports fans will recognize that name -- Karras was one of the premiere players in the National Football League during the 1960s.)
Karras grew up in a poor family in the steel town of Gary, Indiana, and he relates the intense competition between himself and his older brother Ted as the two were growing up. Being bigger and older, Ted was able to push his younger brother around when the two would roughhouse. As they grew up, Ted was a good football player in high school who went on to play at Purdue; but after two years he transferred to a small school so he could get more playing time. Alex, on the other hand, was an All-State lineman four years in a row. Alex went to Iowa, where after some initial difficulty he received All-American honors and was awarded the Outland Trophy as the outstanding lineman in college football. After graduation, Ted played briefly with the Philadelphia Eagles, but finally he was cut from the team. Alex, meanwhile, had an outstanding career with the Detroit Lions in which he was elected All-Pro nearly every year he played. Alex went on to a successful post-football acting career, appearing in several movies and starring in his own television show (the sitcom Webster).
One day Alex received word that Ted had been admitted to a mental hospital, where his condition seemed hopeless. Psychiatrists had diagnosed the man as being seriously ill and were very pessimistic about his future. The stress and failures of his life had been too much. Alex, of course, went to see his brother. He tells of the terrible feeling of responsibility which overcame him as he and his brother stood before each other in that hospital. Then, Alex said he did something he never thought he could do, something which required every ounce of determination he could muster. He said it was so unnatural for him, given the way he had grown up, that he found it more frightening than facing a 280-pound tackle. He walked over to his brother, put his arms around him, and said: "Ted, you big jerk, I love you." One week later, Ted Karras was released from the hospital and pronounced completely cured. What an astounding example of the healing power of love.
(Adapted from Lectionary Preaching Workbook [Series VI, Cycle B] by E. Carver McGriff)
Good Stories
As Much As Jesus Loves His Sheep...
by Constance Berg
Jane sat, listening. She wanted to make sure Robbie was breathing steadily before she called it a night. She watched his chest rise slowly. The light of the nightlight in the hall spread a soft glow as she bent over to kiss his head.
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
he restores my soul.
She had been so worried since Robbie came home from the hospital last week. She got up from the rocking chair to stand by his bed and gently stroked his cheek, then his arm, and she whispered "good night" in his ear. She didn't care that Robbie couldn't hear. She knew that he would be able to feel her presence, her breath on his face, her touch on his arm. She loved him with all her heart, and she knew that Robbie knew that.
He guides me in paths of righteousness
for his name's sake.
She quietly turned to leave, noting the tiny red blink from the baby monitor by the bed. Robbie was no baby, however -- he was 26. He was born after a troubling 40 hours of labor. He had a massive seizure during his birth, the first of many, and his life was one filled with pain.
Even though I walk
through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil, for you are with me;
your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
Jane came into his life when he was only 9 years old. Robbie was brought to the care facility just after he turned 9, his mother and father asking that no contact be made once they left the facility. They had left after two hours. They honestly said they could no longer bear watching Robbie suffer and they wanted to have a "normal" life.
Judging others wasn't what Jane was about. She didn't know what the parents had experienced during those first nine years of Robbie's life. She didn't know what kind of grief they had experienced after his birth, watching him grow up in a way they hadn't anticipated. No, it wasn't in her to be hateful or resentful. She just knew that she loved Robbie with all her heart. She was his mother, his father, his siblings, his world. Oh, sure, the staff came and went, but Jane was there at Robbie's side at all times. She wouldn't have it any other way. That's what mothers were for. When those parents walked out that day, Jane had made up her mind: she would be everything for Robbie.
The facility was beautiful. It was a rambling 4200-square-foot home with five large bedrooms, a fenced swimming pool, and a three-car garage that was used for storage space for boxes and boxes of diapers, medical supplies, and formula. Other than a wheelchair ramp and an enormous bubble-top van parked at the side of the house, one would think it was just an average house at the country club.
You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
There were six young men who lived in this house, and staff came and went. There was lots of turnover of the staff: some felt that they weren't paid enough for changing adults; some thought it was "disgusting" feeding a person through a tube in the stomach. Some just grew tired of the routine.
But Jane didn't mind. She patiently trained the staff to care for "her boys." She taught them to cook. She showed them the best places to go on outings and introduced them to the merchants who didn't mind "them." She taught the staff to talk and sing to the guys. She wanted them to love her guys.
Surely goodness and love will follow me
all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD
forever.
"Good night, Robbie," she whispered as she closed the door behind her, "I love you." Jane knew Jesus. She knew how much Jesus loved her. And she knew how much Jesus loved her guys.
Constance Berg is a former missionary to Chiapas, Mexico. She is currently based in Bakersfield, California, where she serves as the director of 18 nursing homes for handicapped individuals. Berg holds degrees from California State University and Lutheran Theological Southern Seminary, and she has done graduate work at Fuller Theological Seminary. She is the author of three volumes of the CSS series Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit.
Goya's People
by Peter C. Garrison
"I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep."
John 10:11
Goya squinted at the brass and steel. The polished metal of the firing squad shone in his eyes under the clear May sun. Goya's eyes watered in the brightness.
Goya and the others were lined up, advancing slowly toward a yellow wall. They advanced by three or four people after each preceding pile was dragged away.
People were reserved, almost shy in this line waiting to die. Only when taking their place before the executioners would they rouse themselves: "Viva!" something or someone and the bullets would crash into their last shout.
As he stood in line, he looked quickly at who would die beside him: Francisco the traitor. Goya tugged at Francisco's gray sleeve. Francisco looked at him from under his brow. He was both guilty and betrayed; a judge of the doomed standing around him and judged by the executioners as not worth saving.
"I'm sorry." Francisco's mouth barely moved as he spoke. His mouth was dry and his tongue was cold; a small still fish in his teeth.
Goya would die with his betrayer. That night, when the soldiers came, he had seen Francisco by a tree, hiding among the leaves moving in the spring breeze, pointing out Goya and the others. Goya imagined Francisco had been given kind words, spoken to by the soldiers like a bad child who had surprisingly done a kind act, a special treat pressed into his pudgy hands as a reward. But the soldiers must have put Francisco into the jail right along with Goya and the others.
Goya moved forward, surprised to be pushed from behind. People standing in line were always in a hurry -- even when standing in line to die. Francisco and Goya moved forward together. They stood closer to one another now that they were near the pocked wall.
To die with Francisco -- an insult? Perhaps to Francisco. Perhaps an irony planned by the soldiers. For Goya, it was a strange comfort to know he would die with someone he knew, even if it was someone like Francisco.
After all, Goya's life of revolution had been lived for creatures like Francisco. Goya would let himself die next to him and not expect Francisco to understand the depth of his betrayal, the depth of his self-pity, of the revolution's true purpose, of the death they were about to suffer.
They moved against the wall. By watching the others before them, they knew where they were to stand and took their places, the wall rough through their thin shirts.
Francisco said, "I'm sorry." He didn't look at Goya or their killers fidgeting.
Goya said, "I know." He looked purposely at Francisco and how Francisco had made his hands into fists, of how his feet tapped the earth as if to make sure it still was there and still solid beneath him; that he was still solid above it.
Goya looked directly at the soldiers. He raised his arms high, his loose white shirt billowing in the spring breeze as a rifle pointed to his heart. Goya knew his betrayer, he knew his executioner -- the soldier with the button missing -- he knew his revolution and purposely shouted "Viva!" as the bullet shouted back.
Peter C. Garrison is pastor of Good Shepherd Lutheran Church in Burlingame, California. He is the author of several CSS titles, including A Guide For Godparents and At Odds With God.
Scrap Pile
Law and Misery
by Chuck Cammarata
In my mind this week's lectionary texts reflect a picture of Jesus -- and God -- as a good shepherd, whose love is far more than a strict adherence to the law. I think one theme running through these passages is expressed by the following words:
"Law reflects, but in no sense determines, the moral worth of a society. The values of a just society will reflect themselves in a just law. The better the society, the less law there will be. In Heaven there will be no law, and the lion will lie down with the lamb. The values of an unjust society will reflect themselves in an unjust law. The worse the society, the more law there will be. In Hell there will be nothing but law, and due process will be meticulously observed." (Grant Gilmore, The Ages of American Law, Yale University Press, 1977, pp. 110-111)
Wow! That is a powerful quote for Christians to grasp.
My story this week comes from one of the great novels of all time, Victor Hugo's Les Miserables. One of the "miserable ones" of the novel is a police officer named Javert. Javert's misery is most apparent in a scene near the end of the novel where he runs into a man from his past -- Jean Valjean.
Many years before, Javert had arrested Valjean, who was then a common criminal. In fact, for his crimes Valjean had been condemned to the galleys for many years. But Valjean was wily and cunning, and one day made his escape. He managed to fake his own death, so he became essentially a free man. No one knew he was alive. He was given a new start, a second chance.
Here is a story about death and resurrection to new life. Valjean gets a new chance and makes the best of it. He moves to a small town, comes up with an invention that makes him a wealthy man, and becomes not only a philanthropist but a beloved member of his new town.
One day, however, Inspector Javert just happens to be in that town on another case. And unfortunately for all involved, he comes across Jean Valjean. Even after many years, Javert realizes that Valjean had not died but had escaped. For Javert this is a great injustice. Valjean's new life notwithstanding, the law must be served.
Javert finds Valjean and approaches him to arrest him. Valjean, however, escapes into the sewers of the city. Javert pursues him. In the chase Javert is badly hurt. Valjean, who has become a redeemed man, a good man, cannot let him die in the sewers, so he carries Javert on his back through miles of tunnel, risking his own life to save his enemy.
This action by Valjean sets up the dilemma that makes Javert more miserable than he has ever been. What does he do now? Does he arrest and imprison this man who is so obviously changed? Does he condemn a man who brings so much joy to so many people now? What does he do with this lawbreaker who has saved his own life, and who is, Javert comes to understand, so much nobler than he? Does he serve the law, which he has so faithfully and vigilantly served all his life? Or does he let him go free, which seems to be the right thing to do?
There is the battle between law and love played out in Javert's soul. And poor Javert, the servant of law, cannot deal with this conflict within himself. So he throws himself from a high place into a raging river -- ending his life.
Ahh -- what Javert never was able to grasp, and too many Christians have never been able to grasp, is that the law as given by God is a means to an end. It is the end of right relationships between people; between men and women; between humans and God. It is the end of the abundant life of which Jesus speaks in John 10:10.
Sadly for Javert, the law had become an end in itself. He wasn't concerned about abundant life and right relationships. He was concerned only about the law.
Chuck Cammarata is the pastor of Fairview Presbyterian Church in Fairview, Pennsylvania. He is the author of the CSS titles Lighting the Flame and Lectionary Worship Workbook.
**********************************************
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, May 7, 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.
