The Third Heaven
Stories
Object:
Contents
What's Up This Week
"The Third Heaven" by David O. Bales
"Out in Faith" by Peter Andrew Smith
"The Sleeping Giant" by John Sumwalt
What's Up This Week
What is faith? Is it belief, deep spiritual knowledge, or something else? Is it vital? Is it alive? In this edition of StoryShare, we have three stories that look at different aspects of faith. David Bales tells about a harried pastor's encounters with a difficult man. When the pastor loses her patience and says something she regrets, the man takes her remark literally -- and shares a profound lesson. Then Peter Andrew Smith portrays a pair of men heading to the inner city to preach about Jesus. One of them is quite concerned over the lack of a specific itinerary… and questions the whole endeavor as an "act of faith." Finally, John Sumwalt shares a whimsical tale about a giant sleeping on the steps of a church -- but it's also a parable about the fossilized state the church can fall into when they merely try to avoid "waking the giant."
* * * * * * * * *
The Third Heaven
by David O. Bales
2 Corinthians 12:2-10
Out of the corner of her eye Brenda saw Ryan Owen Lowther coming toward her across the fellowship hall. Church members parted before him like the Red Sea at the Exodus. Brenda balanced her coffee cup on the saucer and regretted that it slowed her freedom of movement.
" 'He that winketh with the eye causeth sorrow; but a prating fool shall fall,' Proverbs 10:10," Ryan Owen Lowther said in a sing-song voice.
Brenda nodded to him and said, "Uh huh."
Ryan Owen Lowther's face, usually the living description of a flat affect, showed a slight upturn at the corners of his mouth. Ryan Owen Lowther walked away. The van waited for him outside the church building.
Michelle came over. "I saw him smile at you, Pastor," she said with a smirk.
"Oh thanks a lot," Brenda said, returning her cup to the serving counter. Neither coffee nor cookies sounded good now. Two parishioners came up to her with matters to discuss. Brenda tried to listen attentively, but she was distracted by what in the world she was going to do about Ryan Owen Lowther.
For the last three months Sunday's fellowship time after worship had become an ordeal. Ryan Owen Lowther had moved into a nearby adult care home and attended worship every Sunday. During fellowship time he cornered Brenda and quoted scripture to her. Today he didn't have as much time. Worship had gone longer and the van always arrived for him at 12:15. Brenda considered extending worship every Sunday.
His case manager described Ryan Owen Lowther's diagnosis as "high-functioning autism." His memory was amazing. He could tell you what he ate for breakfast seven years ago this past Tuesday, and he often did. When he was a child, a foster parent set him to memorizing the Bible, which he did, completely, in the King James Version.
Last week at social hour Ryan Owen Lowther had more time to hem in Brenda with his quoting the Bible. She got irritated and asked him facetiously, "Ryan Owen Lowther, have you ever forgotten anything?"
"Not that I can remember," he answered, not noticing his own irony.
When Ryan Owen Lowther actually talked instead of quoted, he always called God "he," which grated on Brenda. If I were older, she thought, it wouldn't bother me so much. She'd been out of seminary only three years. But that wasn't all. She'd never been good at memorizing scripture and believed it wasn't the most important thing about studying the Bible or about being a pastor.
The next Sunday after worship the same thing happened. While parishioners dodged him, Ryan Owen Lowther made his way to Brenda and recited genealogies from First Chronicles. Finally, Michelle took him by the arm and said, "Your van's waiting in the parking lot."
Brenda gritted her teeth every time she thought of him. God called her to this? And this is what her congregation pays her to do -- tend a person with a developmental disorder instead of spending fellowship time learning her parishioners' needs?
By the following Sunday Brenda felt she was ready -- prayed up for the situation, as her old pastor would say. She was prepared to be loving but firm with Ryan Owen Lowther. He surprised her, however. As usual he came right up to her, standing too close. "Last night," he said, sounding like a robot, "I was caught up into the first heaven."
Brenda had no idea what to say. She was sure that her face at that moment was as blank as Ryan Owen Lowther's. "Well, ah," she stuttered, "that's nice," at which point Ryan Owen Lowther began to quote scriptures about heaven.
When Sunday came again, she was anxious. As usual in the fellowship hall, here came Ryan Owen Lowther. Same as the week before he leaned too close and said, "Last night I was caught up into the second heaven." He stood there looking at her, breathing into her face. She'd had a hard week -- with counseling, people in the hospital, and this afternoon she needed to meet with a bereaved family. She greatly regretted it later, but she said, "What went on there?"
"I can't say. Don't you remember that Paul heard unspeakable words, which it is not lawful for a man to utter?"
Brenda couldn't stop herself, "Do you suppose you're going to be caught up into the third heaven this coming week?"
"I don't know," he said, not moving.
For no reason she could identify Brenda was particularly provoked. "Do me a favor, Ryan Owen Lowther. If you arrive at the third heaven, will you ask God something?"
"I will," he said.
"When I was in high school I did something I very much regret and have felt guilty about ever since. Would you ask God what I did and what I should do about it?"
He answered in his monotone, "I'll ask him."
Brenda's week was doubly bad because of her workload and her extreme guilt for saying such a thing to Ryan Owen Lowther. She was under deep conviction for responding as she did to a person with a developmental disorder, and she was prepared to apologize to him first thing Sunday and ask his forgiveness. She didn't have time, however. Ryan Owen Lowther was in her face immediately after worship before she could reach the fellowship hall, and he spoke before she could. "Last night I was caught up to the third heaven."
He stood straighter than usual, face still blank, but seemed to wait like a royal official reporting from the king.
Brenda felt she should honor what she'd led him into, "Did you talk with God?"
"Yes."
"Did you ask God about my transgression?"
"Yes."
Brenda let out her breath slowly. "What did he say?"
The edges of Ryan Owen Lowther's lips turned up slightly, as they usually did after he quoted scripture to Brenda. "God said, 'I forgot.' "
David O. Bales was a Presbyterian minister for 33 years. Recently retired as the pastor of Bethany Presbyterian Church in Ontario, Oregon, he is also a freelance writer and editor for Stephen Ministries and Tebunah Ministries. His sermons and articles have appeared in Lectionary Homiletics, Preaching Great Texts, and Interpretation, and he is the author of the CSS titles Scenes of Glory: Subplots of God's Long Story and Gospel Subplots: Story Sermons of God's Grace.
Out in Faith
by Peter Andrew Smith
Mark 6:1-13
"Are you sure about this?" Thomas asked, as he looked at the bus schedule again.
"Yes," Philip said.
"But we have no real plan, no money, and nowhere to stay."
Philip sighed. "We're going to the inner city to preach about Jesus and to help out in community projects. You knew that when you agreed to come along."
"Yes, but I expected that we would have a detailed plan, a budget to guide us, and maybe that we would be part of a larger group of people. I mean, what do we do when we get there?"
"You saw the pictures of the vandalism and the devastation. I don't think we'll have any problem finding something to do."
Thomas rolled his eyes. "Okay maybe, but where do we stay? People are sleeping in the streets there and we don't have any money."
Philip shrugged. "Then we will sleep on the streets, too."
"But…"
"The bus is leaving soon and I'm getting on it," Philip said, picking up his backpack and starting toward the door. "Are you going to come with me or not?"
"Do I have a choice? I'm not letting you go alone." Thomas grabbed his bag and guitar case. He fell in line behind Philip and climbed onto the bus. There weren't many people heading their way, so they had no problem getting a seat together and finding a spot for their bags.
Thomas shifted in his seat a number of times before turning to Philip. "What happens if they don't want us where we are going?"
Philip rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes. "Then I guess we move along to the next neighborhood."
Thomas chewed his lower lip. "How will we know when it is time to go home?"
"The same way we knew it was time to go help in the inner city."
"What? That's no answer."
Philip opened his eyes and turned toward Thomas. "What do you want from me?"
"Answers, certainties, plans."
"We are going to the inner city because it is an area that needs people willing to volunteer. We're going together because you have carpentry experience and can play the guitar, and I can do some plumbing and electrical and am comfortable preaching. We know there is lots to do," Philip said. "We both saw pictures of what the place is like."
"I know all of that. I want you to answer the questions about what I don't know," Thomas said, "like what's going to happen when we get there, what we will be doing, and whether we're going to make any difference."
Philip shrugged. "No idea."
"Then why in heaven's name are we going?"
"To help people who need help. To tell people about Jesus."
"But why us? Why you and me?"
"Because there is no reason we can't."
"But there is so much we don't know about what we are doing," Thomas said. "This doesn't make sense. Why are we doing this? Nothing is certain about this trip. I mean that makes this whole thing an act of…"
"… faith?" Philip said.
Thomas opened his mouth and then closed it. He stared straight ahead for a while before finally closing his eyes. His lips moved slightly for a few moments and he settled back into his seat. He and Philip sat in silence while the few passengers worked their way onto the bus and the departure time arrived.
The bus driver came down the aisle asking everyone for their tickets. Thomas handed them to her.
Her face scrunched up as she read their destination. "You boys realize that area is pretty bad?"
They both nodded.
"Do you know what you are getting yourself into? You can get your money back on these tickets, but once I punch them there are no refunds," she said. "Are you sure about this?"
"Yes," Thomas answered, before Philip could say anything.
Peter Andrew Smith is an ordained minister in the United Church of Canada who currently serves at St. James United Church in Antigonish, Nova Scotia. He is the author of All Things Are Ready (CSS), a book of lectionary-based communion prayers, as well as many stories and articles, which can be found listed at www.peterandrewsmith.com.
The Sleeping Giant
by John Sumwalt
Mark 6:1-13
And if any place will not receive you and they refuse to hear you, when you leave shake off the dust that is on your feet for a testimony against them.
-- Mark 6:11
Long ago in a distant mountain village there lived a God-fearing people who had fallen on hard times. The village had once been prosperous and full of life, but now the people were very poor and beginning to lose hope. They longed for a miracle, some sign that God had not forgotten them.
Late one Saturday evening, a very sleepy giant stumbled into the village square. And as there was no one about, he simply lay his head down on the church steps and went to sleep.
The next morning when it came time to worship, God's people didn't know what to do. Everyone came to the church at the appointed hour, but no one was able to enter. Just as people began to give up hope and drift away toward their homes, someone said, "Why don't we go in through the back door?" Everyone tiptoed around the giant and went in through the back door of the church.
The service began on time, as usual. The people sang and prayed, the scripture was read, the preacher preached, the offering was brought to the altar, and no mention was made of the giant.
Years passed and every Sunday was the same. The giant continued to sleep on the church steps. God's people came to worship at the appointed hour, always tiptoeing around the giant and entering through the back door of the church. The service always began on time. The people sang and prayed, the scripture was read, the preacher preached, the offering was brought to the altar, and no mention was made of the giant.
One Sunday morning a stranger appeared at the door of the church. She was very old and she walked slowly with the aid of a gnarled cane. When she discovered that the front door was blocked, she walked up to the giant's head, pulled herself up to her full height, and whispered something in the giant's ear. Suddenly the giant snorted in his sleep and shifted his head, leaving a clear path to the door. The old woman climbed up the steps, opened the door, walked into the sanctuary, and sat down on the very last bench in the back.
Everyone else tiptoed around the giant and entered through the back door of the church as usual. The service began on time. The people sang and prayed, the scripture was read, the preacher preached, the offering was brought to the altar, and, as usual, no mention was made of the giant.
Just as the preacher was about to pronounce the benediction, the old woman stood up and said in a loud voice, "Why don't you wake up the giant?"
God's people sat in stunned silence. No one moved or breathed for more than a minute.
The old woman repeated the question, this time in a soft, pleading voice. "Why don't you wake up the giant?"
The silence continued for a long time. At last a small child spoke up. "We must never wake up the giant. He might kill us, and if he didn't kill us, he would surely eat us out of house and home."
The old woman waited. No one else ventured to speak. "Very well," she said, "I shall take the giant with me." She turned and walked out the same door through which she had entered. God's people got up and went out through the back door of the church, as usual, tiptoed around the giant, and watched in amazement as the old woman raised her cane and shouted, "God's will be done!"
The giant woke up with a start, climbed slowly to his feet, stretched his legs, offered his hand to the old woman, and the two of them walked off together. When they reached the edge of the village, they paused and shook the dust from their feet. Then without so much as a single glance at those who were watching, they turned their backs on the village and went deliberately on their way.
The next Sunday morning God's people came to worship at the appointed hour, tiptoed around, and entered through the back door of the church, as usual, except for one small child, the one who spoke up when the old woman asked the question. The child entered through the front door of the church and sat down on the very last bench in the back.
The service began on time. The people sang and prayed, the scripture was read, the preacher preached, the offering was brought to the altar, and, as usual, no mention was made of the giant.
Just as the preacher was about to give the benediction, the small child stood up and said in a soft, pleading voice, "Why don't we wake up the giant?"
John Sumwalt is the pastor of Our Lord's United Methodist Church in New Berlin, Wisconsin. John and his wife Jo Perry-Sumwalt are the former co-editors of StoryShare, and John is the author of nine books.
**************
StoryShare, July 5, 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
"The Third Heaven" by David O. Bales
"Out in Faith" by Peter Andrew Smith
"The Sleeping Giant" by John Sumwalt
What's Up This Week
What is faith? Is it belief, deep spiritual knowledge, or something else? Is it vital? Is it alive? In this edition of StoryShare, we have three stories that look at different aspects of faith. David Bales tells about a harried pastor's encounters with a difficult man. When the pastor loses her patience and says something she regrets, the man takes her remark literally -- and shares a profound lesson. Then Peter Andrew Smith portrays a pair of men heading to the inner city to preach about Jesus. One of them is quite concerned over the lack of a specific itinerary… and questions the whole endeavor as an "act of faith." Finally, John Sumwalt shares a whimsical tale about a giant sleeping on the steps of a church -- but it's also a parable about the fossilized state the church can fall into when they merely try to avoid "waking the giant."
* * * * * * * * *
The Third Heaven
by David O. Bales
2 Corinthians 12:2-10
Out of the corner of her eye Brenda saw Ryan Owen Lowther coming toward her across the fellowship hall. Church members parted before him like the Red Sea at the Exodus. Brenda balanced her coffee cup on the saucer and regretted that it slowed her freedom of movement.
" 'He that winketh with the eye causeth sorrow; but a prating fool shall fall,' Proverbs 10:10," Ryan Owen Lowther said in a sing-song voice.
Brenda nodded to him and said, "Uh huh."
Ryan Owen Lowther's face, usually the living description of a flat affect, showed a slight upturn at the corners of his mouth. Ryan Owen Lowther walked away. The van waited for him outside the church building.
Michelle came over. "I saw him smile at you, Pastor," she said with a smirk.
"Oh thanks a lot," Brenda said, returning her cup to the serving counter. Neither coffee nor cookies sounded good now. Two parishioners came up to her with matters to discuss. Brenda tried to listen attentively, but she was distracted by what in the world she was going to do about Ryan Owen Lowther.
For the last three months Sunday's fellowship time after worship had become an ordeal. Ryan Owen Lowther had moved into a nearby adult care home and attended worship every Sunday. During fellowship time he cornered Brenda and quoted scripture to her. Today he didn't have as much time. Worship had gone longer and the van always arrived for him at 12:15. Brenda considered extending worship every Sunday.
His case manager described Ryan Owen Lowther's diagnosis as "high-functioning autism." His memory was amazing. He could tell you what he ate for breakfast seven years ago this past Tuesday, and he often did. When he was a child, a foster parent set him to memorizing the Bible, which he did, completely, in the King James Version.
Last week at social hour Ryan Owen Lowther had more time to hem in Brenda with his quoting the Bible. She got irritated and asked him facetiously, "Ryan Owen Lowther, have you ever forgotten anything?"
"Not that I can remember," he answered, not noticing his own irony.
When Ryan Owen Lowther actually talked instead of quoted, he always called God "he," which grated on Brenda. If I were older, she thought, it wouldn't bother me so much. She'd been out of seminary only three years. But that wasn't all. She'd never been good at memorizing scripture and believed it wasn't the most important thing about studying the Bible or about being a pastor.
The next Sunday after worship the same thing happened. While parishioners dodged him, Ryan Owen Lowther made his way to Brenda and recited genealogies from First Chronicles. Finally, Michelle took him by the arm and said, "Your van's waiting in the parking lot."
Brenda gritted her teeth every time she thought of him. God called her to this? And this is what her congregation pays her to do -- tend a person with a developmental disorder instead of spending fellowship time learning her parishioners' needs?
By the following Sunday Brenda felt she was ready -- prayed up for the situation, as her old pastor would say. She was prepared to be loving but firm with Ryan Owen Lowther. He surprised her, however. As usual he came right up to her, standing too close. "Last night," he said, sounding like a robot, "I was caught up into the first heaven."
Brenda had no idea what to say. She was sure that her face at that moment was as blank as Ryan Owen Lowther's. "Well, ah," she stuttered, "that's nice," at which point Ryan Owen Lowther began to quote scriptures about heaven.
When Sunday came again, she was anxious. As usual in the fellowship hall, here came Ryan Owen Lowther. Same as the week before he leaned too close and said, "Last night I was caught up into the second heaven." He stood there looking at her, breathing into her face. She'd had a hard week -- with counseling, people in the hospital, and this afternoon she needed to meet with a bereaved family. She greatly regretted it later, but she said, "What went on there?"
"I can't say. Don't you remember that Paul heard unspeakable words, which it is not lawful for a man to utter?"
Brenda couldn't stop herself, "Do you suppose you're going to be caught up into the third heaven this coming week?"
"I don't know," he said, not moving.
For no reason she could identify Brenda was particularly provoked. "Do me a favor, Ryan Owen Lowther. If you arrive at the third heaven, will you ask God something?"
"I will," he said.
"When I was in high school I did something I very much regret and have felt guilty about ever since. Would you ask God what I did and what I should do about it?"
He answered in his monotone, "I'll ask him."
Brenda's week was doubly bad because of her workload and her extreme guilt for saying such a thing to Ryan Owen Lowther. She was under deep conviction for responding as she did to a person with a developmental disorder, and she was prepared to apologize to him first thing Sunday and ask his forgiveness. She didn't have time, however. Ryan Owen Lowther was in her face immediately after worship before she could reach the fellowship hall, and he spoke before she could. "Last night I was caught up to the third heaven."
He stood straighter than usual, face still blank, but seemed to wait like a royal official reporting from the king.
Brenda felt she should honor what she'd led him into, "Did you talk with God?"
"Yes."
"Did you ask God about my transgression?"
"Yes."
Brenda let out her breath slowly. "What did he say?"
The edges of Ryan Owen Lowther's lips turned up slightly, as they usually did after he quoted scripture to Brenda. "God said, 'I forgot.' "
David O. Bales was a Presbyterian minister for 33 years. Recently retired as the pastor of Bethany Presbyterian Church in Ontario, Oregon, he is also a freelance writer and editor for Stephen Ministries and Tebunah Ministries. His sermons and articles have appeared in Lectionary Homiletics, Preaching Great Texts, and Interpretation, and he is the author of the CSS titles Scenes of Glory: Subplots of God's Long Story and Gospel Subplots: Story Sermons of God's Grace.
Out in Faith
by Peter Andrew Smith
Mark 6:1-13
"Are you sure about this?" Thomas asked, as he looked at the bus schedule again.
"Yes," Philip said.
"But we have no real plan, no money, and nowhere to stay."
Philip sighed. "We're going to the inner city to preach about Jesus and to help out in community projects. You knew that when you agreed to come along."
"Yes, but I expected that we would have a detailed plan, a budget to guide us, and maybe that we would be part of a larger group of people. I mean, what do we do when we get there?"
"You saw the pictures of the vandalism and the devastation. I don't think we'll have any problem finding something to do."
Thomas rolled his eyes. "Okay maybe, but where do we stay? People are sleeping in the streets there and we don't have any money."
Philip shrugged. "Then we will sleep on the streets, too."
"But…"
"The bus is leaving soon and I'm getting on it," Philip said, picking up his backpack and starting toward the door. "Are you going to come with me or not?"
"Do I have a choice? I'm not letting you go alone." Thomas grabbed his bag and guitar case. He fell in line behind Philip and climbed onto the bus. There weren't many people heading their way, so they had no problem getting a seat together and finding a spot for their bags.
Thomas shifted in his seat a number of times before turning to Philip. "What happens if they don't want us where we are going?"
Philip rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes. "Then I guess we move along to the next neighborhood."
Thomas chewed his lower lip. "How will we know when it is time to go home?"
"The same way we knew it was time to go help in the inner city."
"What? That's no answer."
Philip opened his eyes and turned toward Thomas. "What do you want from me?"
"Answers, certainties, plans."
"We are going to the inner city because it is an area that needs people willing to volunteer. We're going together because you have carpentry experience and can play the guitar, and I can do some plumbing and electrical and am comfortable preaching. We know there is lots to do," Philip said. "We both saw pictures of what the place is like."
"I know all of that. I want you to answer the questions about what I don't know," Thomas said, "like what's going to happen when we get there, what we will be doing, and whether we're going to make any difference."
Philip shrugged. "No idea."
"Then why in heaven's name are we going?"
"To help people who need help. To tell people about Jesus."
"But why us? Why you and me?"
"Because there is no reason we can't."
"But there is so much we don't know about what we are doing," Thomas said. "This doesn't make sense. Why are we doing this? Nothing is certain about this trip. I mean that makes this whole thing an act of…"
"… faith?" Philip said.
Thomas opened his mouth and then closed it. He stared straight ahead for a while before finally closing his eyes. His lips moved slightly for a few moments and he settled back into his seat. He and Philip sat in silence while the few passengers worked their way onto the bus and the departure time arrived.
The bus driver came down the aisle asking everyone for their tickets. Thomas handed them to her.
Her face scrunched up as she read their destination. "You boys realize that area is pretty bad?"
They both nodded.
"Do you know what you are getting yourself into? You can get your money back on these tickets, but once I punch them there are no refunds," she said. "Are you sure about this?"
"Yes," Thomas answered, before Philip could say anything.
Peter Andrew Smith is an ordained minister in the United Church of Canada who currently serves at St. James United Church in Antigonish, Nova Scotia. He is the author of All Things Are Ready (CSS), a book of lectionary-based communion prayers, as well as many stories and articles, which can be found listed at www.peterandrewsmith.com.
The Sleeping Giant
by John Sumwalt
Mark 6:1-13
And if any place will not receive you and they refuse to hear you, when you leave shake off the dust that is on your feet for a testimony against them.
-- Mark 6:11
Long ago in a distant mountain village there lived a God-fearing people who had fallen on hard times. The village had once been prosperous and full of life, but now the people were very poor and beginning to lose hope. They longed for a miracle, some sign that God had not forgotten them.
Late one Saturday evening, a very sleepy giant stumbled into the village square. And as there was no one about, he simply lay his head down on the church steps and went to sleep.
The next morning when it came time to worship, God's people didn't know what to do. Everyone came to the church at the appointed hour, but no one was able to enter. Just as people began to give up hope and drift away toward their homes, someone said, "Why don't we go in through the back door?" Everyone tiptoed around the giant and went in through the back door of the church.
The service began on time, as usual. The people sang and prayed, the scripture was read, the preacher preached, the offering was brought to the altar, and no mention was made of the giant.
Years passed and every Sunday was the same. The giant continued to sleep on the church steps. God's people came to worship at the appointed hour, always tiptoeing around the giant and entering through the back door of the church. The service always began on time. The people sang and prayed, the scripture was read, the preacher preached, the offering was brought to the altar, and no mention was made of the giant.
One Sunday morning a stranger appeared at the door of the church. She was very old and she walked slowly with the aid of a gnarled cane. When she discovered that the front door was blocked, she walked up to the giant's head, pulled herself up to her full height, and whispered something in the giant's ear. Suddenly the giant snorted in his sleep and shifted his head, leaving a clear path to the door. The old woman climbed up the steps, opened the door, walked into the sanctuary, and sat down on the very last bench in the back.
Everyone else tiptoed around the giant and entered through the back door of the church as usual. The service began on time. The people sang and prayed, the scripture was read, the preacher preached, the offering was brought to the altar, and, as usual, no mention was made of the giant.
Just as the preacher was about to pronounce the benediction, the old woman stood up and said in a loud voice, "Why don't you wake up the giant?"
God's people sat in stunned silence. No one moved or breathed for more than a minute.
The old woman repeated the question, this time in a soft, pleading voice. "Why don't you wake up the giant?"
The silence continued for a long time. At last a small child spoke up. "We must never wake up the giant. He might kill us, and if he didn't kill us, he would surely eat us out of house and home."
The old woman waited. No one else ventured to speak. "Very well," she said, "I shall take the giant with me." She turned and walked out the same door through which she had entered. God's people got up and went out through the back door of the church, as usual, tiptoed around the giant, and watched in amazement as the old woman raised her cane and shouted, "God's will be done!"
The giant woke up with a start, climbed slowly to his feet, stretched his legs, offered his hand to the old woman, and the two of them walked off together. When they reached the edge of the village, they paused and shook the dust from their feet. Then without so much as a single glance at those who were watching, they turned their backs on the village and went deliberately on their way.
The next Sunday morning God's people came to worship at the appointed hour, tiptoed around, and entered through the back door of the church, as usual, except for one small child, the one who spoke up when the old woman asked the question. The child entered through the front door of the church and sat down on the very last bench in the back.
The service began on time. The people sang and prayed, the scripture was read, the preacher preached, the offering was brought to the altar, and, as usual, no mention was made of the giant.
Just as the preacher was about to give the benediction, the small child stood up and said in a soft, pleading voice, "Why don't we wake up the giant?"
John Sumwalt is the pastor of Our Lord's United Methodist Church in New Berlin, Wisconsin. John and his wife Jo Perry-Sumwalt are the former co-editors of StoryShare, and John is the author of nine books.
**************
StoryShare, July 5, 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.
