"Written on our Hearts" by Peter Andrew Smith
"The Interview That Wasn't" by Keith Hewitt
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Written on our Hearts
by Peter Andrew Smith
Jeremiah 31:31-34
Sarah stopped outside of Jimmy’s room and listened. Everything was quiet and she wondered if she had been mistaken. She turned to go back down the hallway and heard the sounds of crying start again. She slowly opened the door to her son’s room. The noise stopped.
“Jimmy, are you alright?”
Jimmy covered his face with his arm. “Fine.”
“I thought I heard something.”
“No.” He turned away from her.
“You didn’t eat much supper tonight.” She sat down on the side of his bed. “Are you feeling sick?”
Jimmy shook his head.
“Then why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
He shrugged.
Sarah sat patiently on the bed. He rolled over and she could see his cheeks were wet and his eyes were red. She had learned the hard way though that some things you don’t mention to school age boys.
He wiped his hand over his face. “I just wasn’t hungry.”
“I realize that.” She waited some more.
“I’m not sick. Honest.”
Sarah said nothing.
“I’m kind of tired.”
“You’ve been in bed for the last hour and I heard you tossing and turning.”
Jimmy propped himself up on his elbows. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“Like what? Today was Sunday and since you are grounded you were with me all day. We went to church and you did home work.” Sarah tilted her head to one side. “Did you have problems with some of it?”
“No, it’s pretty easy.”
“Did you get it all done?”
“Yes.”
“Are you worried about going to school tomorrow?”
“Why would I be worried about school?”
Sarah sighed. “Are you going to tell me what is bothering you or are we going to play twenty questions?”
Jimmy slumped back in his bed. “You know that I lied about Todd’s mother saying it was okay for him to stay over on Friday.”
“Yes, I am aware. She was very upset because she didn’t know where he was.”
Jimmy sat up. “He was going to call her it’s just that we got busy playing and forgot.”
“Which would have been fine if you had not told me that you’d called her. She was frantic when she called. What you did was wrong.”
“We said we were sorry.” Jimmy looked down. “It was a mistake.”
“Yes, it was. I know you realize what you did was wrong which is why you are only grounded for a week and not two weeks or more.” Sarah leaned forward slightly. “We had this conversation already. Are you still upset about it?”
Jimmy looked away. “Kind of.”
“Why? You apologized and I told you the consequences of your actions.” Sarah examined his face. “It isn’t as if you have never been grounded before. You know that when the week is over it is behind us.”
Jimmy shifted in bed. “I broke one of the commandments.”
“Pardon?”
“In church this morning we learned about the ten commandments. I bore false witness.”
Sarah narrowed her eyes. “You lied, yes.”
“That means I broke God’s law.” Jimmy’s body started to tremble.
“Yes.”
Tears rolled down his face. “I don’t know if God loves me anymore.”
“Of course God loves you.” Sarah took him into her arms and held him.
“But I broke a commandment.” Jimmy sobbed. “That’s like breaking the law. God gets mad when people break laws.”
“God doesn’t like people breaking commandments, no.” Sarah wiped his cheeks with her fingers. “Just like I don’t like you breaking rules.”
“Huh?” Jimmy pushed away so he could see her face.
“Do you think that I don’t love you anymore because you lied to me?”
He shook his head. “No, you were mad but you still love me.”
“God has a lot more love and patience than I do so trust me, God still loves you.”
Jimmy wiped at his eyes with his hands. “But I broke a commandment.”
“Uh-huh you did.” Sarah handed him a tissue. “God gave us the commandments to help us do the right things not so God can get mad at us. You know what I think?”
Jimmy wiped his cheeks and nose. “No, what?”
“I think that when we break God’s commandments that God gets sad because God knows that people get hurt when we do bad things.”
Jimmy looked into her face. “Did you get sad when you realized I lied to you?”
Sarah nodded. “I did.”
He hugged her. “I’m sorry.”
“I know.” She held him for a moment. “And something else I know is that nothing you can do will ever take God’s love away from you. That’s the promise God made to us through Jesus, a promise that is written on our hearts.”
Jimmy yawned. “Thanks, Mom.”
Sarah kissed him on the forehead and watched as he snuggled back into bed. She smiled as she closed the door and walked back down the hallway, grateful for the peace which comes from the love and grace of God.
Peter Andrew Smith is an ordained minister in the United Church of Canada currently serving 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 and a number of stories and articles, which can be found listed at www.peterandrewsmith.com.
The Interview That Wasn't
by Keith Hewitt
John 12:20-33
We were standing off to one side, at the edge of the crowd, where we had moved when we saw the rather energetic discussion which we had sparked. As we waited, the disciple, Philip -- a tall, broad shouldered man with handsome features and a worried expression -- sliced through the mass of people and sought us out. When he drew close to us, he looked around almost furtively, then said quietly, “I suppose you heard that?”
My companions and I looked at one another, then I looked back to Philip and spoke for us. “Heard what?”
“The discussion...argument...whatever you want to call it. I’m sorry you had to hear that, friends. I honestly don’t know what has gotten into the Master lately. Truthfully, it has been hard on all of us, moreso for him, I know. We have been on the road for so long, it seems like we haven’t been home in years.”
“Don’t worry yourself over it,” I said. “The word of your teacher’s ministry has spread even to us, we can appreciate how difficult it must be. When do you think we will get to see him?”
He glanced over his shoulder, seemed nervous. “I’m not sure you will,” he answered, turning back to us. “He’s left. I’m not sure where he’s gone...maybe to the -- “ He stopped himself, realized he was about to reveal more than he cared to, and shifted thoughts abruptly. “I’m not sure. Jesus has been under a lot of stress, lately -- a lot of stress. So many people he’s healed, so many wonders he’s done, and now all this -- “ he waved a hand around at the crowd that had gathered. “ -- it’s very difficult to keep one’s wits about them.”
“I can imagine so,” I answered as tactfully as I could.
Philip looked at me closely, then, and said, “You did hear the discussion, then? The talk of wheat falling to the ground, of dying -- of God. You heard all that?”
I glanced at my traveling companions, polling their expressions, then looked back to this young disciple and nodded. “We did.”
“He seems to have gone to a very dark place, of late,” Philip said anxiously. “I don’t understand it, completely. I mean, yes, we know he is not very popular with certain elements of our society right now -- the authorities -- but all this talk of dying, of being lifted up in order to gather the people to him. I’m struggling. We’re all struggling with it, I’m afraid.”
I just nodded. “I could understand that.”
“We try to get him to refocus himself, to speak of other things -- the things he has spoken of so well in the past. Of love and charity, peace and justice. We try to get him to tell us more about the Law, to explain to us some of the harder passages of Scripture, but of late he keeps coming back to this darkness. And he -- “ his voice dropped, “ -- he keeps talking about being a son of...you know.” He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, looking heavenward, unwilling to finish the thought.
“So we hear. Tell me, who do you think he is? Is he the Messiah?”
Philip turned back to look at the crowd, still milling around, and took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “Some days...some days I truly do. Then others, he talks about dying for us, instead of leading us -- serving us, instead of teaching us -- and then it’s hard for me to think of him that way. It just doesn’t seem reasonable.” He turned back, looked at us sheepishly. “Do you want to know the truth? The truth is, I just don’t know. It depends upon which day you ask.”
I smiled, what I hoped was a friendly smile. “Thank you for your honesty, Philip.”
He shrugged, made a gesture as though it was nothing.
I could see that the most recent events were still weighing on him. “So, you and the brothers talked to him. Do you think he will see us today?”
“I don’t know. He seems...erratic. Or maybe we just don’t understand everything that’s happening, every burden he carries, I’m not sure. Things seemed so clear, back there in Galilee, but now...here...it’s not so clear anymore. The people greet him like a returning king, the authorities treat him like a particularly bothersome boil they can’t be rid of -- and he talks about dying, and light and dark in the world.” He paused, seemed to be thinking, then opened his hands and said, “Look, with the festival and all, this is a very busy week. You see it, yourselves.”
I nodded; the crowd was still there, many of them out of towners like us, come to Jerusalem for Passover. It was a treat, of sorts, just to stand in the courtyard of the Temple and watch the pillar of smoke rise heavenward from the altar, knowing that this was the place where God set foot, when he came to earth -- and the place where his people could make their sacrifices to him to settle their accounts.
There was a constant drone that hung over the crowd like the sweet smell of incense from the altar, and alongside it was the monotonously beautiful sound of prayer and chanting from the priests who ministered at the altar.
“It is a busy time,” I agreed.
“Then how about this. Passover will be done in just a few days, and then things should be calmer. Can I see if he will see you on Sunday, say? Will that do, for you?”
My companions and I exchanged looks; there seemed to be agreement. “Certainly,” I said. “Sunday will be fine. But no later, I’m afraid. We must leave for Laodicea on Monday.”
He nodded, seemed relieved. “Wonderful. The Master will see you on Sunday. I -- we -- will make sure of it.” He started to turn away, then, to leave us -- then stopped and turned back. “What I said earlier -- about hearing something -- you thought I was talking about the voice, didn’t you?”
I looked at him blankly. “Voice? What voice?”
“The voice that called down to him after he spoke. The voice that glorified the name of God. You heard it, didn’t you?”
I didn’t look at my companions; I didn’t have to. I just shrugged. “We heard some thunder -- some thunder in the hills, I suppose, as there are no clouds here.”
“Oh.” He stood for a moment, as though unsure what to say next, then opted to say nothing more. “I see. Never mind. I will see you Sunday, then. Right here. Then we can all talk.”
We watched him walk away, back toward where some of the other disciples of Jesus had gathered, no doubt to talk about what they had heard. When he was far enough away that the noise of the crowd protected our privacy, one of my companions stepped up close to me and said quietly, “But you did hear it, didn’t you? ‘I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.’”
I looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Heard it? Of course I did -- I’m not deaf.” And I left it there...because I didn’t know what to make of it, right then.
But I had hopes that the Sunday after Passover would clear things up...
Keith Hewitt is the author of two volumes of NaTiVity Dramas: Nontraditional Christmas Plays for All Ages (CSS). Keith's newest book NaTiVity Dramas: The Third Season will be published September 2012. He is a local pastor, co-youth leader, former Sunday school teacher, and occasional speaker at Christian events. He lives in southeastern Wisconsin with his wife, two children, and assorted dogs and cats.
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StoryShare, March 22, 2015, issue.
Copyright 2015 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
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