One Frightened Puppy
Stories
Object:
Contents
What's Up This Week
"One Frightened Puppy" by Sandra Herrmann
"Passing Over to the Other Side" by C. David McKirachan
"Five Smooth Stones" by Bruce Stunkard
"Going Native" by C. David McKirachan
What's Up This Week
When the storm came up in this week's gospel reading, the disciples were clearly frightened out of their wits -- and in the feature story of this edition of StoryShare, Sandra Herrmann gives us a sense of just how frightened they must have been with a portrait of a scared puppy who ventures out on his own, only to become lost. David McKirachan lends another perspective, giving us the view of a sailor. Then Bruce Stunkard offers a fascinating take on the story of David and Goliath, and David McKirachan shares an interesting anecdote from his ministry.
* * * * * * * * *
One Frightened Puppy
by Sandra Herrmann
Mark 4:35-41
Charlie was a very small dog, with curly white hair. He lived with his mom and dad (a lovely older couple) in a suburb of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. He had his own blanket in a basket in the living room, and at night he slept nestled against Mom's legs. He had his own bowl for food and another one for water. He even had a nice, fenced-in backyard to run and play in. So you might think he was the happiest dog in the world. But he wasn't; he was a restless dog.
Charlie was an only dog. Of course, he got all kinds of attention from his mom and dad, but he had no other dogs to play with. Whenever other dogs trotted by his yard, Charlie would jump and whine and bark, begging them to come to the fence and play with him. But all of those dogs had places to go and things to do. Their people would usually tug on their leashes just as they put their noses through the mesh of Charlie's fence. Or they were already with friends, running through the neighborhood.
Charlie wanted to be free! So he started looking for a chance. And then one day Mom and Dad got into the truck, and instead of jumping into the truck, Charlie ran down the street.
"Charlie! Come back here!" shouted Dad. "Come back here right now!"
Charlie laughed and ran in circles.
"Come on, Charlie," called Mom, rattling a box of treats. Normally, the treat box was enough to make Charlie come to Mom right away -- but not that day. Charlie was in a mood to explore.
So he ran through the neighbor's hedge and out to the street. This was amazing to Charlie! He sniffed the air. It smelled green and flowery but like tires and motor oil, too. Off he trotted to the corner.
Mom and Dad quickly started the truck and began following Charlie. When he saw them, he rounded the corner and hid behind a store. They followed him. He jumped behind a dumpster and they drove on, calling his name.
Charlie laughed. He'd circle back home when he was ready. And he wasn't ready yet. He had things to do, other dogs to run with. Other -- out of the corner of his eye, Charlie saw a cat. He knew what it was, because the neighbor on the other side of his alley had a cat. He ran toward it, laughing and inviting it to play.
But the cat was not friendly. It arched its back and hissed. Its breath was terrible! Charlie stopped, confused. But as he watched the cat, he realized he'd scared it -- just like the squirrel he loved to chase around the yard. Charlie made a beeline for the cat, barking ferociously, just as he did with the squirrel. The cat took off, and Charlie chased it -- across the street, down an alley, across a yard. When the cat leaped at the backdoor, clinging to the screen with its claws, Charlie screeched to a halt. A lady came to the door and she waved a broom at him!
"Get away, you mean little dog! Out! Go home!"
Charlie turned tail and ran. He intended to run home, but when he got to the street, he didn't recognize a thing. The houses looked a lot like his street, but his nose told him he'd never been here before. He sniffed a tree, hoping for a familiar scent, but the only one he recognized belonged to a Rottweiler that Charlie had learned did not like to play. He looked up and down the street. Maybe Mom and Dad would drive by. But they didn't.
Charlie tried to get back in the yard where the cat had run. If he could get out to the front sidewalk, he was sure he could find his way back home. But the lady with the broom was sweeping the patio. Charlie turned another way. He thought this was the street the cat had crossed. If he went back the way they'd come, he might pick up a familiar scent.
And so it went. The morning turned into afternoon, and the afternoon sun dipped low. It was getting cold and dark, and Charlie had no idea where he was. He trotted down the street, looking everywhere for a hint as to where he was. And then he caught a familiar smell: hamburger! He ran as fast as he could toward the smell. Sometimes Mom and Dad stopped at a good hamburger place. The girl at the window usually handed Charlie a dog treat. And Mom and Dad always gave him the last bites of their food. This would be a good place to go.
But as he approached the bright lights and loud smells of food, a couple of teenagers came along. "Well, hi there, pooch," said one of the boys. "Whatcha doing out here?" He stooped down and smacked his lips, wiggling his fingers at Charlie. "Com'ere boy."
Charlie was afraid. He didn't know this boy. He was hungry, but could he trust the french fry being held out to him? He skittered away. The boys called out to him, but he kept running, around to the back of the restaurant. He was watching the boys, so he didn't see that he'd run right in front of a moving car.
"Look out!" screamed a girl as the driver slammed on his brakes with a squeal. Charlie ran off into the darkness.
Frightened and hungry, but too frightened to go back to the hamburger joint, Charlie found a large bag of garbage in an alley and crawled up on top of it. He sank into the folds of the bag and fell asleep.
The next day was too much like the first day. A few people stopped to talk to him, but Charlie was afraid to go to any of them. And the more people tried to talk to him, the more frightened he became. One lady tried to get him to come to her car, promising she would help him find his home, but by then Charlie was afraid of everything. Even loud bird calls made him jump.
The third day was even worse. Charlie was dirty from digging in garbage, trying to find something to eat. His hair was limp and scraggly, and he was getting thin. (A little dog like Charlie loses weight very easily, especially in cold weather, and it had been three days since he'd had dinner.) And he was very, very tired. He hadn't been able to find a safe place to rest since that first night, and his body ached all over. His eyes were runny, and his face was sticky with the mess. He shivered with the cold.
He was sitting in a patch of sunlight in a parking lot next to a store when a truck pulled up. A man got out and walked right over to Charlie. He had heavy gloves on, and so when he picked Charlie up and Charlie tried to bite him, the man just laughed in a rumbly sort of way. "For a dog in such rough shape, you're still a fighter, aren't you?" He held Charlie close to his jacket, and went around to the back of the truck, where he put Charlie in a kennel cage. And off they drove.
When the truck stopped, Charlie had fallen asleep sitting up. He had been too frightened to lay down. The man came around to the back of the truck and opened the cage and took Charlie into his arms.
"You're gonna be okay, fella. This is the Humane Society, and they're going to give you a bath and a meal and a warm place to stay."
It was too late in the day when they arrived for Charlie to have his promised bath. He was okay with that -- he had always hated baths. They gave him some food, but his tummy hurt too much to eat. And then they gave him a bed. Charlie was grateful, but he was still afraid. What would happen to him? Would Mom and Dad ever find him here? What if nobody wanted him? He was so worried, he again fell asleep sitting up.
Charlie's world was like that for two more days. He barely ate. He couldn't relax enough to sleep more than a few minutes. He shied away from anyone who tried to pet him. The people at the animal shelter were afraid for him. They decided to put him up for adoption.
Just as they had put him in the showing room, a woman and man walked in the front door. They went to the receptionist and said, "We've been looking everywhere for our lost dog. We put a notice on the trees in our neighborhood, and someone suggested that we come here. Have you found a little white dog? He had a tag on his collar with his name on it."
"Didn't you have your phone number on the tag?" asked the clerk. "We normally call whatever number is on a tag."
The man dipped his head. "Er, no, he didn't have vet tags. And we never thought to put our number on his name tag. He was always in the yard. We never thought about him getting out."
"What's his name?"
"Charlie."
"Wow! You and Charlie are in luck! We just put him up for adoption. Come with me." And she took them to the showing room where Charlie was.
Mom and Dad walked into the room, and Dad bent down and said, "Charlie?" Charlie was still so matted, he wasn't sure!
Charlie had been half-asleep. But when he heard Dad's voice, his head snapped up. He got a grin on his face, and even though he was still so tired and sore, his tail thumped a little on the floor.
Mom picked him up. "You naughty boy! You had us so scared!" Dad nodded his head. Charlie wished he could say how scared he had been. He licked Mom's face all over the side he could get at.
Mom and Dad had to pay his room and board before the shelter would let them take him home, but they paid gladly. They took Charlie home, and Mom cut his fur and gave him a bath. It was the best bath and cut Charlie could ever remember. He sat as still as he could while Mom took care of him.
They got out his bed and toys, and fed him his favorite food. They petted him a lot. Charlie fell asleep in Dad's lap, so glad that he had been found and did not need to be afraid.
Sandra Herrmann is pastor of Memorial United Methodist Church in Greenfield, Wisconsin. She is the author of Ambassadors of Hope (CSS); her articles and sermons have also appeared in Emphasis and The Circuit Rider, and her poetry has been published in Alive Now and So's Your Old Lady. She has trained lay speakers and led workshops and Bible studies throughout Wisconsin, Iowa, and Indiana.
Passing Over to the Other Side
by C. David McKirachan
Mark 4:35-41
I love to sail. People who like powerboats or anything else that has a steering wheel that you can turn in a specific direction and thus direct the vehicle in question have no use for sailboats or sailors. We can point our boats all we want, but the wind is our master. A sailor is not in the business of going somewhere; a sailor is just in the business of going.
I have spent most of my life wasted in the vain pursuit of goals. I will be kind to myself and lay a lot of the blame for this useless chase on our culture. "Measureable" and "attainable" are two of the stupidest words in our language. They were devised by people who either have no understanding of life or who have really sick senses of humor. Nothing of any import is either measurable or attainable. It gets really crazy when the church begins using these words. Sometimes I wonder why God doesn't fry us.
Sailing reminds us of Heisenberg, who with enough objective proof to choke the proverbial dinosaur demonstrated that objectivity is impossible. Anytime we observe something we change it. So much for objective reality. So how can we ever choose a direction and go there? Winnie the Pooh had it right -- he said life is a "long explore." We aren't called to solve it or accomplish it or even arrive. We're called to put up our sails and see what happens.
A lot changed during that storm. But the most important thing was that the disciples recognized Jesus for who he really was. During the most difficult transitions of my life, I need to remember that the most important thing I can accomplish is recognizing who He really is -- and that no matter what I think, He's in the boat with me.
My boat's name is Norma Jean.
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).
Five Smooth Stones
by Bruce Stunkard
1 Samuel 17:(1a, 4-11, 19-23) 32-49
Then he took his staff in his hand, and chose five smooth stones from the wadi, and put them in his shepherd's bag, in the pouch; his sling was in his hand, and he drew near to the Philistine.
-- 1 Samuel 17:40
In those days, the land was a spiritual desert with no one to lead the people to God. Everyone did what seemed right in their own eyes, and the voice of God was seldom heard. Violence and injustice caused the people to groan. Crying out, they said, "Lord, we have done harm against you by valuing other things over you. Do to us whatever seems good to you, but please, deliver us." And God heard their cry and could bear their suffering no longer.
Meanwhile, a prophet wept near a lake, crying because of what was going on. Suddenly, an angel of the Lord appeared and nudged the prophet's side. "Get up quickly and dry your eyes. Do you think your tears can water this arid land? God has heard the cries and is now sending you to anoint a leader for God's people. Gather from the water five smooth stones and go to the fields to give them to the one I have chosen." So the prophet immediately did what the angel commanded, reaching down into the cold water to gather the stones, and then left in haste.
When the prophet arrived at the fields where the flocks were grazing, he came upon a water well and rested next to it. After some time had passed, a young girl drew near to the well to draw water for her flock. Suddenly the prophet heard the voice of God saying, "Rise up and anoint her, for she is the one." So the prophet rose up, ran to the girl, and said, "Greetings, O favored one. The Lord is with you."
She hesitated, and drew back from the prophet because what he said disturbed her. "What type of greeting can this possibly be?" she wondered. But the prophet reassured her. "Do not be afraid, for you have found grace in the eyes of God. Listen! God has chosen you to lead God's people."
"Me? I don't know what to say," she replied. "How can this be possible, since I am only a girl?"
The prophet swiftly rebuked her, saying, "Don't say you are only a girl! You are the chosen one, and you shall go where God will send you. Don't be afraid, for God is with you to deliver. Remember, with God nothing is impossible."
She replied, "But who am I to lead God's people? What if they don't believe that God has chosen me to lead them? How shall they ever be convinced?"
"This will be a sign for the people that I have sent you," says the Lord. "When you have defeated five giants, you shall worship God with the whole community in this place."
Suddenly shaken by his words, she asked, "Did you say five giants? With what am I to defeat five giants?"
"With these," smiled the prophet, as he placed into her hand the five smooth stones.
She looked at the stones in astonishment, and then began to laugh mockingly. "With these? With pebbles? God expects me to fight giants with pebbles? What kind of foolishness is this?"
"God's foolishness," answered the prophet. "It is wiser than the wisdom of humans, and God's weakness is stronger than human strength. For God has chosen the foolish to shame the wise, and the puny to shame the strong, and the nothings of this world to bring to nothing the things that are, so that no one can take the credit from God by saying, 'My own hand has delivered me.' "
She gulped hard, then asked, "When will this all take place?"
"Look," pointed the prophet, "the giant is almost near. Its name is Goliath. It is the champion of all that seeks to intimidate creation through its craftiness, strength, and arrogance. It mocks God and laughs at all who trust in God. You must challenge it face to face, or it will dominate you and carry you off to a shadow land of fear and trembling."
"I'm so afraid," she said.
"You must be strong and courageous," replied the prophet. "Don't be terrified, or discouraged, for your God will be with you wherever you go."
She was not comforted by his words. "But I feel so alone," she whispered.
"For you to prevail, you must overcome your fear of being abandoned," spoke the prophet, "for those who fear abandonment will find themselves imprisoned behind bars of despair. Be not afraid, only believe -- for God will never leave you or forsake you. God's full and unlimited love will vanquish your fear."
She raised up her head to look at him. "Even if I were to succeed in overcoming the first giant, how could I ever hope to defeat four more?" she asked.
"That's easy," said the prophet, "you won't have to."
His words surprised her. "What? I thought you told me that I was to defeat five giants. Why else would God give me five stones?" she asked.
The prophet explained, "You are to challenge the first giant, and for that you will need only one stone. As for the other giants, they may come when you least expect them and they could find you unprepared or even weary. When they come, you are to cry out, and God will send others into your life to aid you in defeating them. Those remaining four stones are to be a reminder that you cannot overcome by yourself all the giants that will confront you in your life. You must only stay near to those who listen for God's voice."
For a long time she pondered his words. Then she lifted her head and said, "Here I am, send me, for I am the servant of God. Let it be with me according to your word." So she bowed her head and the prophet anointed her. She then bent down to pick up her staff leaning against the well, placed the five smooth stones in the pouch of her shepherd's bag, and with her sling in her hand, she went out to confront the giant.
Bruce Stunkard is the pastor of Hudson United Methodist Church in Hudson,Wisconsin.
Going Native
by C. David McKirachan
Psalm 9:9-20
Moving into a new church is quite a heady experience. One of the best parts of it is the sense of inclusion that many people offer to the new pastor. They seem to say, "You're one of us now." It's an amazing feeling to be brought into the bunch. People want to see you as part of their lives. They invest you with hope and affection. It's a dangerous place to be.
I had been in a new church about three weeks and was getting more invitations to dinner than were possible for my schedule or healthy for my waistline. I had the feeling that this was going to work out in a lot of good ways. I felt my preaching was touching them, and they were responding in ways that surprised even me.
After worship one Sunday a diminutive octogenarian lady came close to me and placed the flat of her right hand on my chest. She looked into my eyes with a sense of affection and said, "Pastor, isn't it wonderful we don't have any nigras here?"
I hope this offends none of my readers. It didn't so much offend me as knock every bit of wind out of my lungs. I had no clue how or what to say. The sense of belonging and being part of the community shattered like crystal. I said something like "Uhhh…" while furiously blinking my eyes. With the same grace she'd glided up to me, she turned and glided away.
It took me a few days put this into any perspective that was useful. The ninth psalm and its relatives throughout the Bible had always been an embarrassment to me. They belonged to attitudes that I saw as ugly and evil. I'd seen them firsthand wearing hoods and carrying shotguns and hurting people. I'd seen them in Newark in high schools pitting children against each other. I'd seen them in corded necks and names thrown like sharp rocks. I'd never seen them glide out of a lovely lady's smiling mouth. But it wasn't so much the source -- it was the reality that she fully expected me to share her prejudice.
Ed White from the Alban Institute once told me that the chief danger for a long-term pastor was going native. When we lose the prophetic edge, when we are more interested in cultivating their friendship than their transformation, we're sunk. But the third week?
I've been here more than a decade. And evidence of this attitude has never shown up again. The lady in question became a mission for me and for others in the church. She was alone for most of her life. She didn't die that way.
Bigotry and xenophobia can't be explained away with platitudes. It's part of our lives and part of our churches. But the older I get, the more I believe that as we stand against evil, we must seek to be loving and inclusive -- even as such evil is not.
So I'm glad the ninth psalm is there. It keeps us from getting complacent. It reminds us of the "real" world. And it keeps us from going native. Ya never know when it's going to sneak up and bite you. Maybe we shouldn't forget, we're not like them. Selah.
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).
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StoryShare, June 21, 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
"One Frightened Puppy" by Sandra Herrmann
"Passing Over to the Other Side" by C. David McKirachan
"Five Smooth Stones" by Bruce Stunkard
"Going Native" by C. David McKirachan
What's Up This Week
When the storm came up in this week's gospel reading, the disciples were clearly frightened out of their wits -- and in the feature story of this edition of StoryShare, Sandra Herrmann gives us a sense of just how frightened they must have been with a portrait of a scared puppy who ventures out on his own, only to become lost. David McKirachan lends another perspective, giving us the view of a sailor. Then Bruce Stunkard offers a fascinating take on the story of David and Goliath, and David McKirachan shares an interesting anecdote from his ministry.
* * * * * * * * *
One Frightened Puppy
by Sandra Herrmann
Mark 4:35-41
Charlie was a very small dog, with curly white hair. He lived with his mom and dad (a lovely older couple) in a suburb of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. He had his own blanket in a basket in the living room, and at night he slept nestled against Mom's legs. He had his own bowl for food and another one for water. He even had a nice, fenced-in backyard to run and play in. So you might think he was the happiest dog in the world. But he wasn't; he was a restless dog.
Charlie was an only dog. Of course, he got all kinds of attention from his mom and dad, but he had no other dogs to play with. Whenever other dogs trotted by his yard, Charlie would jump and whine and bark, begging them to come to the fence and play with him. But all of those dogs had places to go and things to do. Their people would usually tug on their leashes just as they put their noses through the mesh of Charlie's fence. Or they were already with friends, running through the neighborhood.
Charlie wanted to be free! So he started looking for a chance. And then one day Mom and Dad got into the truck, and instead of jumping into the truck, Charlie ran down the street.
"Charlie! Come back here!" shouted Dad. "Come back here right now!"
Charlie laughed and ran in circles.
"Come on, Charlie," called Mom, rattling a box of treats. Normally, the treat box was enough to make Charlie come to Mom right away -- but not that day. Charlie was in a mood to explore.
So he ran through the neighbor's hedge and out to the street. This was amazing to Charlie! He sniffed the air. It smelled green and flowery but like tires and motor oil, too. Off he trotted to the corner.
Mom and Dad quickly started the truck and began following Charlie. When he saw them, he rounded the corner and hid behind a store. They followed him. He jumped behind a dumpster and they drove on, calling his name.
Charlie laughed. He'd circle back home when he was ready. And he wasn't ready yet. He had things to do, other dogs to run with. Other -- out of the corner of his eye, Charlie saw a cat. He knew what it was, because the neighbor on the other side of his alley had a cat. He ran toward it, laughing and inviting it to play.
But the cat was not friendly. It arched its back and hissed. Its breath was terrible! Charlie stopped, confused. But as he watched the cat, he realized he'd scared it -- just like the squirrel he loved to chase around the yard. Charlie made a beeline for the cat, barking ferociously, just as he did with the squirrel. The cat took off, and Charlie chased it -- across the street, down an alley, across a yard. When the cat leaped at the backdoor, clinging to the screen with its claws, Charlie screeched to a halt. A lady came to the door and she waved a broom at him!
"Get away, you mean little dog! Out! Go home!"
Charlie turned tail and ran. He intended to run home, but when he got to the street, he didn't recognize a thing. The houses looked a lot like his street, but his nose told him he'd never been here before. He sniffed a tree, hoping for a familiar scent, but the only one he recognized belonged to a Rottweiler that Charlie had learned did not like to play. He looked up and down the street. Maybe Mom and Dad would drive by. But they didn't.
Charlie tried to get back in the yard where the cat had run. If he could get out to the front sidewalk, he was sure he could find his way back home. But the lady with the broom was sweeping the patio. Charlie turned another way. He thought this was the street the cat had crossed. If he went back the way they'd come, he might pick up a familiar scent.
And so it went. The morning turned into afternoon, and the afternoon sun dipped low. It was getting cold and dark, and Charlie had no idea where he was. He trotted down the street, looking everywhere for a hint as to where he was. And then he caught a familiar smell: hamburger! He ran as fast as he could toward the smell. Sometimes Mom and Dad stopped at a good hamburger place. The girl at the window usually handed Charlie a dog treat. And Mom and Dad always gave him the last bites of their food. This would be a good place to go.
But as he approached the bright lights and loud smells of food, a couple of teenagers came along. "Well, hi there, pooch," said one of the boys. "Whatcha doing out here?" He stooped down and smacked his lips, wiggling his fingers at Charlie. "Com'ere boy."
Charlie was afraid. He didn't know this boy. He was hungry, but could he trust the french fry being held out to him? He skittered away. The boys called out to him, but he kept running, around to the back of the restaurant. He was watching the boys, so he didn't see that he'd run right in front of a moving car.
"Look out!" screamed a girl as the driver slammed on his brakes with a squeal. Charlie ran off into the darkness.
Frightened and hungry, but too frightened to go back to the hamburger joint, Charlie found a large bag of garbage in an alley and crawled up on top of it. He sank into the folds of the bag and fell asleep.
The next day was too much like the first day. A few people stopped to talk to him, but Charlie was afraid to go to any of them. And the more people tried to talk to him, the more frightened he became. One lady tried to get him to come to her car, promising she would help him find his home, but by then Charlie was afraid of everything. Even loud bird calls made him jump.
The third day was even worse. Charlie was dirty from digging in garbage, trying to find something to eat. His hair was limp and scraggly, and he was getting thin. (A little dog like Charlie loses weight very easily, especially in cold weather, and it had been three days since he'd had dinner.) And he was very, very tired. He hadn't been able to find a safe place to rest since that first night, and his body ached all over. His eyes were runny, and his face was sticky with the mess. He shivered with the cold.
He was sitting in a patch of sunlight in a parking lot next to a store when a truck pulled up. A man got out and walked right over to Charlie. He had heavy gloves on, and so when he picked Charlie up and Charlie tried to bite him, the man just laughed in a rumbly sort of way. "For a dog in such rough shape, you're still a fighter, aren't you?" He held Charlie close to his jacket, and went around to the back of the truck, where he put Charlie in a kennel cage. And off they drove.
When the truck stopped, Charlie had fallen asleep sitting up. He had been too frightened to lay down. The man came around to the back of the truck and opened the cage and took Charlie into his arms.
"You're gonna be okay, fella. This is the Humane Society, and they're going to give you a bath and a meal and a warm place to stay."
It was too late in the day when they arrived for Charlie to have his promised bath. He was okay with that -- he had always hated baths. They gave him some food, but his tummy hurt too much to eat. And then they gave him a bed. Charlie was grateful, but he was still afraid. What would happen to him? Would Mom and Dad ever find him here? What if nobody wanted him? He was so worried, he again fell asleep sitting up.
Charlie's world was like that for two more days. He barely ate. He couldn't relax enough to sleep more than a few minutes. He shied away from anyone who tried to pet him. The people at the animal shelter were afraid for him. They decided to put him up for adoption.
Just as they had put him in the showing room, a woman and man walked in the front door. They went to the receptionist and said, "We've been looking everywhere for our lost dog. We put a notice on the trees in our neighborhood, and someone suggested that we come here. Have you found a little white dog? He had a tag on his collar with his name on it."
"Didn't you have your phone number on the tag?" asked the clerk. "We normally call whatever number is on a tag."
The man dipped his head. "Er, no, he didn't have vet tags. And we never thought to put our number on his name tag. He was always in the yard. We never thought about him getting out."
"What's his name?"
"Charlie."
"Wow! You and Charlie are in luck! We just put him up for adoption. Come with me." And she took them to the showing room where Charlie was.
Mom and Dad walked into the room, and Dad bent down and said, "Charlie?" Charlie was still so matted, he wasn't sure!
Charlie had been half-asleep. But when he heard Dad's voice, his head snapped up. He got a grin on his face, and even though he was still so tired and sore, his tail thumped a little on the floor.
Mom picked him up. "You naughty boy! You had us so scared!" Dad nodded his head. Charlie wished he could say how scared he had been. He licked Mom's face all over the side he could get at.
Mom and Dad had to pay his room and board before the shelter would let them take him home, but they paid gladly. They took Charlie home, and Mom cut his fur and gave him a bath. It was the best bath and cut Charlie could ever remember. He sat as still as he could while Mom took care of him.
They got out his bed and toys, and fed him his favorite food. They petted him a lot. Charlie fell asleep in Dad's lap, so glad that he had been found and did not need to be afraid.
Sandra Herrmann is pastor of Memorial United Methodist Church in Greenfield, Wisconsin. She is the author of Ambassadors of Hope (CSS); her articles and sermons have also appeared in Emphasis and The Circuit Rider, and her poetry has been published in Alive Now and So's Your Old Lady. She has trained lay speakers and led workshops and Bible studies throughout Wisconsin, Iowa, and Indiana.
Passing Over to the Other Side
by C. David McKirachan
Mark 4:35-41
I love to sail. People who like powerboats or anything else that has a steering wheel that you can turn in a specific direction and thus direct the vehicle in question have no use for sailboats or sailors. We can point our boats all we want, but the wind is our master. A sailor is not in the business of going somewhere; a sailor is just in the business of going.
I have spent most of my life wasted in the vain pursuit of goals. I will be kind to myself and lay a lot of the blame for this useless chase on our culture. "Measureable" and "attainable" are two of the stupidest words in our language. They were devised by people who either have no understanding of life or who have really sick senses of humor. Nothing of any import is either measurable or attainable. It gets really crazy when the church begins using these words. Sometimes I wonder why God doesn't fry us.
Sailing reminds us of Heisenberg, who with enough objective proof to choke the proverbial dinosaur demonstrated that objectivity is impossible. Anytime we observe something we change it. So much for objective reality. So how can we ever choose a direction and go there? Winnie the Pooh had it right -- he said life is a "long explore." We aren't called to solve it or accomplish it or even arrive. We're called to put up our sails and see what happens.
A lot changed during that storm. But the most important thing was that the disciples recognized Jesus for who he really was. During the most difficult transitions of my life, I need to remember that the most important thing I can accomplish is recognizing who He really is -- and that no matter what I think, He's in the boat with me.
My boat's name is Norma Jean.
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).
Five Smooth Stones
by Bruce Stunkard
1 Samuel 17:(1a, 4-11, 19-23) 32-49
Then he took his staff in his hand, and chose five smooth stones from the wadi, and put them in his shepherd's bag, in the pouch; his sling was in his hand, and he drew near to the Philistine.
-- 1 Samuel 17:40
In those days, the land was a spiritual desert with no one to lead the people to God. Everyone did what seemed right in their own eyes, and the voice of God was seldom heard. Violence and injustice caused the people to groan. Crying out, they said, "Lord, we have done harm against you by valuing other things over you. Do to us whatever seems good to you, but please, deliver us." And God heard their cry and could bear their suffering no longer.
Meanwhile, a prophet wept near a lake, crying because of what was going on. Suddenly, an angel of the Lord appeared and nudged the prophet's side. "Get up quickly and dry your eyes. Do you think your tears can water this arid land? God has heard the cries and is now sending you to anoint a leader for God's people. Gather from the water five smooth stones and go to the fields to give them to the one I have chosen." So the prophet immediately did what the angel commanded, reaching down into the cold water to gather the stones, and then left in haste.
When the prophet arrived at the fields where the flocks were grazing, he came upon a water well and rested next to it. After some time had passed, a young girl drew near to the well to draw water for her flock. Suddenly the prophet heard the voice of God saying, "Rise up and anoint her, for she is the one." So the prophet rose up, ran to the girl, and said, "Greetings, O favored one. The Lord is with you."
She hesitated, and drew back from the prophet because what he said disturbed her. "What type of greeting can this possibly be?" she wondered. But the prophet reassured her. "Do not be afraid, for you have found grace in the eyes of God. Listen! God has chosen you to lead God's people."
"Me? I don't know what to say," she replied. "How can this be possible, since I am only a girl?"
The prophet swiftly rebuked her, saying, "Don't say you are only a girl! You are the chosen one, and you shall go where God will send you. Don't be afraid, for God is with you to deliver. Remember, with God nothing is impossible."
She replied, "But who am I to lead God's people? What if they don't believe that God has chosen me to lead them? How shall they ever be convinced?"
"This will be a sign for the people that I have sent you," says the Lord. "When you have defeated five giants, you shall worship God with the whole community in this place."
Suddenly shaken by his words, she asked, "Did you say five giants? With what am I to defeat five giants?"
"With these," smiled the prophet, as he placed into her hand the five smooth stones.
She looked at the stones in astonishment, and then began to laugh mockingly. "With these? With pebbles? God expects me to fight giants with pebbles? What kind of foolishness is this?"
"God's foolishness," answered the prophet. "It is wiser than the wisdom of humans, and God's weakness is stronger than human strength. For God has chosen the foolish to shame the wise, and the puny to shame the strong, and the nothings of this world to bring to nothing the things that are, so that no one can take the credit from God by saying, 'My own hand has delivered me.' "
She gulped hard, then asked, "When will this all take place?"
"Look," pointed the prophet, "the giant is almost near. Its name is Goliath. It is the champion of all that seeks to intimidate creation through its craftiness, strength, and arrogance. It mocks God and laughs at all who trust in God. You must challenge it face to face, or it will dominate you and carry you off to a shadow land of fear and trembling."
"I'm so afraid," she said.
"You must be strong and courageous," replied the prophet. "Don't be terrified, or discouraged, for your God will be with you wherever you go."
She was not comforted by his words. "But I feel so alone," she whispered.
"For you to prevail, you must overcome your fear of being abandoned," spoke the prophet, "for those who fear abandonment will find themselves imprisoned behind bars of despair. Be not afraid, only believe -- for God will never leave you or forsake you. God's full and unlimited love will vanquish your fear."
She raised up her head to look at him. "Even if I were to succeed in overcoming the first giant, how could I ever hope to defeat four more?" she asked.
"That's easy," said the prophet, "you won't have to."
His words surprised her. "What? I thought you told me that I was to defeat five giants. Why else would God give me five stones?" she asked.
The prophet explained, "You are to challenge the first giant, and for that you will need only one stone. As for the other giants, they may come when you least expect them and they could find you unprepared or even weary. When they come, you are to cry out, and God will send others into your life to aid you in defeating them. Those remaining four stones are to be a reminder that you cannot overcome by yourself all the giants that will confront you in your life. You must only stay near to those who listen for God's voice."
For a long time she pondered his words. Then she lifted her head and said, "Here I am, send me, for I am the servant of God. Let it be with me according to your word." So she bowed her head and the prophet anointed her. She then bent down to pick up her staff leaning against the well, placed the five smooth stones in the pouch of her shepherd's bag, and with her sling in her hand, she went out to confront the giant.
Bruce Stunkard is the pastor of Hudson United Methodist Church in Hudson,Wisconsin.
Going Native
by C. David McKirachan
Psalm 9:9-20
Moving into a new church is quite a heady experience. One of the best parts of it is the sense of inclusion that many people offer to the new pastor. They seem to say, "You're one of us now." It's an amazing feeling to be brought into the bunch. People want to see you as part of their lives. They invest you with hope and affection. It's a dangerous place to be.
I had been in a new church about three weeks and was getting more invitations to dinner than were possible for my schedule or healthy for my waistline. I had the feeling that this was going to work out in a lot of good ways. I felt my preaching was touching them, and they were responding in ways that surprised even me.
After worship one Sunday a diminutive octogenarian lady came close to me and placed the flat of her right hand on my chest. She looked into my eyes with a sense of affection and said, "Pastor, isn't it wonderful we don't have any nigras here?"
I hope this offends none of my readers. It didn't so much offend me as knock every bit of wind out of my lungs. I had no clue how or what to say. The sense of belonging and being part of the community shattered like crystal. I said something like "Uhhh…" while furiously blinking my eyes. With the same grace she'd glided up to me, she turned and glided away.
It took me a few days put this into any perspective that was useful. The ninth psalm and its relatives throughout the Bible had always been an embarrassment to me. They belonged to attitudes that I saw as ugly and evil. I'd seen them firsthand wearing hoods and carrying shotguns and hurting people. I'd seen them in Newark in high schools pitting children against each other. I'd seen them in corded necks and names thrown like sharp rocks. I'd never seen them glide out of a lovely lady's smiling mouth. But it wasn't so much the source -- it was the reality that she fully expected me to share her prejudice.
Ed White from the Alban Institute once told me that the chief danger for a long-term pastor was going native. When we lose the prophetic edge, when we are more interested in cultivating their friendship than their transformation, we're sunk. But the third week?
I've been here more than a decade. And evidence of this attitude has never shown up again. The lady in question became a mission for me and for others in the church. She was alone for most of her life. She didn't die that way.
Bigotry and xenophobia can't be explained away with platitudes. It's part of our lives and part of our churches. But the older I get, the more I believe that as we stand against evil, we must seek to be loving and inclusive -- even as such evil is not.
So I'm glad the ninth psalm is there. It keeps us from getting complacent. It reminds us of the "real" world. And it keeps us from going native. Ya never know when it's going to sneak up and bite you. Maybe we shouldn't forget, we're not like them. Selah.
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).
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StoryShare, June 21, 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.
