St Mark's Mission
Children's Story
St Marks were a lively, go-ahead crowd. At least, some of them were. A small group of the younger, more active members of the PCC pushed for a mission in the village, and vicar complied, pleased that at last someone was showing some initiative.
A team from Golden's Theological College in London were booked to come for a week, living in church members' homes. That presented the first difficulty. Half the PCC refused to have anything to do with the arrangements, so the active members were left with the full responsibility of hosting the team.
The PCC decided to drop flyers advertising the events into each house in the village, but again it was the same story. It ended up with just four people doing all the work, while the others watched and waited with some cynicism.
Against their better judgement, some of the older members of the PCC were persuaded to hold coffee mornings and tea parties during the week of the mission, so that the mission team could meet the people on the ground as it were, and "chat" Christianity with them.
No-one could fault the mission team for their enthusiasm, but their talk of "being saved" wasn't entirely appropriate to Frank Chambers, who had struggled to live alone since his wife died a year previously, nor to Esme Sandfield, who was in considerable pain waiting for a hip operation.
On the evening organised to attract the young, three youngsters turned up. They were the teenage offspring of two of the PCC members, and looked as if they didn't want to be there. But they seemed to enjoy the evening, and after the mission kept asking why church wasn't always like that.
The final event, which was to take place in a marquee erected on the village green for the occasion, was to be the highlight of the week. Unfortunately it rained, and coincided with the big cup match at the end of the football season, so wasn't too well attended.
The mission team made the best of it all, and affirmed that if they'd managed to bring just one person nearer to Jesus, that was what mattered. The PCC gratefully concurred.
At the PCC inquest after the event, the non-active members were quietly jubilant. "Told you it wouldn't work," they smirked. The active members were angry and resentful. "Thanks to you," they rejoined. "If you'd pulled your weight this could have been a huge success. Call yourselves Christians? You don't know the meaning of the word!" And with one accord they left the church to set up a house church of like-minded people, those who really loved the Lord Jesus.
The old guard reminded themselves of the story of the sower. "And some seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil. But when the sun rose, they were scorched; and since they had no root, they withered away. And we're better off without them," they added.
The vicar sighed, and pondered on the story of the sower and the seed. He thought it was possible a little of the seed might have fallen on good ground and might therefore produce fruit, but he did wish the sowers had prepared the ground more carefully, and had been a little more careful about the accuracy of their sowing. He also wondered what sort of fruit the old guard were producing. But he didn't dare ask.
And so St Marks continued in the same old way, and their small congregation was happy.
A team from Golden's Theological College in London were booked to come for a week, living in church members' homes. That presented the first difficulty. Half the PCC refused to have anything to do with the arrangements, so the active members were left with the full responsibility of hosting the team.
The PCC decided to drop flyers advertising the events into each house in the village, but again it was the same story. It ended up with just four people doing all the work, while the others watched and waited with some cynicism.
Against their better judgement, some of the older members of the PCC were persuaded to hold coffee mornings and tea parties during the week of the mission, so that the mission team could meet the people on the ground as it were, and "chat" Christianity with them.
No-one could fault the mission team for their enthusiasm, but their talk of "being saved" wasn't entirely appropriate to Frank Chambers, who had struggled to live alone since his wife died a year previously, nor to Esme Sandfield, who was in considerable pain waiting for a hip operation.
On the evening organised to attract the young, three youngsters turned up. They were the teenage offspring of two of the PCC members, and looked as if they didn't want to be there. But they seemed to enjoy the evening, and after the mission kept asking why church wasn't always like that.
The final event, which was to take place in a marquee erected on the village green for the occasion, was to be the highlight of the week. Unfortunately it rained, and coincided with the big cup match at the end of the football season, so wasn't too well attended.
The mission team made the best of it all, and affirmed that if they'd managed to bring just one person nearer to Jesus, that was what mattered. The PCC gratefully concurred.
At the PCC inquest after the event, the non-active members were quietly jubilant. "Told you it wouldn't work," they smirked. The active members were angry and resentful. "Thanks to you," they rejoined. "If you'd pulled your weight this could have been a huge success. Call yourselves Christians? You don't know the meaning of the word!" And with one accord they left the church to set up a house church of like-minded people, those who really loved the Lord Jesus.
The old guard reminded themselves of the story of the sower. "And some seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil. But when the sun rose, they were scorched; and since they had no root, they withered away. And we're better off without them," they added.
The vicar sighed, and pondered on the story of the sower and the seed. He thought it was possible a little of the seed might have fallen on good ground and might therefore produce fruit, but he did wish the sowers had prepared the ground more carefully, and had been a little more careful about the accuracy of their sowing. He also wondered what sort of fruit the old guard were producing. But he didn't dare ask.
And so St Marks continued in the same old way, and their small congregation was happy.
