Strength In Meekness
Children's sermon
Cows In Church
80 Biblically Based Children's Sermons
Object:
A very large blade of grass (about an inch wide and fifteen inches long) and a branch or stick.
"We have been talking about the Beatitudes the last few weeks. This morning, I'd like to discuss another one with you. Jesus said, 'Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.' Does anybody know what 'meek' means?" The children look thoughtful, but none offers an answer. "Is it a word you have heard?" I ask, hoping they are at least familiar with its sound, if not its meaning. The children nod affirmatively, so I continue.
" 'Meek' can mean 'gentle.' It can mean 'not very strong.' It can mean 'timid' or 'shy.' Sometimes 'meek' is used to describe a person who is easily pushed around. Meekness is generally not a quality that we in our culture tend to admire."
"I've brought a couple of things with me this morning to help us try to understand the word 'meek.' I've brought a stick and a large blade of grass. Now, of these two, which would you call 'meek?' "
With little hesitation, several children respond: "The grass!"
"Do the rest of you agree?" I ask. They do.
Affirming their responses, I pose a rhetorical question: "The grass doesn't look like it's as strong as the stick, does it?" Then I ask one of the children to take hold of one end of the stick and pull while I hang on to the other end.
"This stick seems strong," I note. "At least, it didn't break."
Next I ask another child to pull on one end of the grass. It is a hefty piece of grass -- and hadn't pulled apart when I tested it earlier. But grace has a way of taking over in the midst of a children's sermon, enlarging upon or deepening the message I've brought to the youngsters. This morning is no exception. As the child pulls the grass away from me, it breaks! One part of my mind considers what to do about this unexpected circumstance while another part continues our conversation.
"When we pulled on the grass, it broke into two pieces. But what if you wanted to bend the grass? Would that cause it to break?" The children tell me it would not.
"What if I try to bend the stick?"
"It will break," the children assure me. So, I bend the stick until it snaps.
"Sure enough, the stick broke," I continue. "From our experience so far we can see that the grass and the stick have different kinds of strength. The stick can be pulled on without breaking; the grass can be bent without breaking -- and it's a little easier to fix the grass. We can tie it back together because it has the kind of strength that allows it to bend.1 But how are we going to fix the stick?"
"Glue it together?" Beverly questions.
"What if I don't have any glue?" I respond.
"Tape it," Marty suggests.
"Like the glue, tape would work if I had some; but I don't. Is there a way I could fix the stick right now, with just what I have?"
"With the grass?" comes a meek suggestion from one of the shyest youngsters.
"With the grass! Yes! But I need your help. If you will hold the two pieces of the stick together, I can tie the grass around the broken place ..." In a moment, the stick is again in one piece, more or less.
"I think there is a message for us here, a message about meekness and about binding things together. Which would you say was more like Jesus, the stick or the grass?"2
"The grass," several children answer.
"Do you all agree?" The others nod.
"Why do you think the grass is more like Jesus?" I continue. And, as so often, I am blessed by the profound insight of one of our younger theologians:
"We can break Jesus by hurting his heart -- and we know the grass can be broken in two. Jesus also mends our broken places, like you fixed the broken stick with the grass. And you fixed the grass by tying it back together. We can be nice to Jesus and that mends his heart. When we're nice to each other, it mends his heart too."
I thank the children for sharing their thoughts and bring our time together to a close: "Sometimes Jesus was called 'meek.' But, as you can see, there's a different kind of strength in being meek, a quiet strength that people seldom see.
It's a strength that can bend when it needs to and bind together the broken places in our lives."
1. I demonstrate this "mending" by tying the two pieces of grass together as I continue to speak.
2. It's always risky to ask such a question, for the children just might see things differently than I do. But that's why I continue to ask them. For when the children respond with an unexpected answer, I always have my perspective broadened.
" 'Meek' can mean 'gentle.' It can mean 'not very strong.' It can mean 'timid' or 'shy.' Sometimes 'meek' is used to describe a person who is easily pushed around. Meekness is generally not a quality that we in our culture tend to admire."
"I've brought a couple of things with me this morning to help us try to understand the word 'meek.' I've brought a stick and a large blade of grass. Now, of these two, which would you call 'meek?' "
With little hesitation, several children respond: "The grass!"
"Do the rest of you agree?" I ask. They do.
Affirming their responses, I pose a rhetorical question: "The grass doesn't look like it's as strong as the stick, does it?" Then I ask one of the children to take hold of one end of the stick and pull while I hang on to the other end.
"This stick seems strong," I note. "At least, it didn't break."
Next I ask another child to pull on one end of the grass. It is a hefty piece of grass -- and hadn't pulled apart when I tested it earlier. But grace has a way of taking over in the midst of a children's sermon, enlarging upon or deepening the message I've brought to the youngsters. This morning is no exception. As the child pulls the grass away from me, it breaks! One part of my mind considers what to do about this unexpected circumstance while another part continues our conversation.
"When we pulled on the grass, it broke into two pieces. But what if you wanted to bend the grass? Would that cause it to break?" The children tell me it would not.
"What if I try to bend the stick?"
"It will break," the children assure me. So, I bend the stick until it snaps.
"Sure enough, the stick broke," I continue. "From our experience so far we can see that the grass and the stick have different kinds of strength. The stick can be pulled on without breaking; the grass can be bent without breaking -- and it's a little easier to fix the grass. We can tie it back together because it has the kind of strength that allows it to bend.1 But how are we going to fix the stick?"
"Glue it together?" Beverly questions.
"What if I don't have any glue?" I respond.
"Tape it," Marty suggests.
"Like the glue, tape would work if I had some; but I don't. Is there a way I could fix the stick right now, with just what I have?"
"With the grass?" comes a meek suggestion from one of the shyest youngsters.
"With the grass! Yes! But I need your help. If you will hold the two pieces of the stick together, I can tie the grass around the broken place ..." In a moment, the stick is again in one piece, more or less.
"I think there is a message for us here, a message about meekness and about binding things together. Which would you say was more like Jesus, the stick or the grass?"2
"The grass," several children answer.
"Do you all agree?" The others nod.
"Why do you think the grass is more like Jesus?" I continue. And, as so often, I am blessed by the profound insight of one of our younger theologians:
"We can break Jesus by hurting his heart -- and we know the grass can be broken in two. Jesus also mends our broken places, like you fixed the broken stick with the grass. And you fixed the grass by tying it back together. We can be nice to Jesus and that mends his heart. When we're nice to each other, it mends his heart too."
I thank the children for sharing their thoughts and bring our time together to a close: "Sometimes Jesus was called 'meek.' But, as you can see, there's a different kind of strength in being meek, a quiet strength that people seldom see.
It's a strength that can bend when it needs to and bind together the broken places in our lives."
1. I demonstrate this "mending" by tying the two pieces of grass together as I continue to speak.
2. It's always risky to ask such a question, for the children just might see things differently than I do. But that's why I continue to ask them. For when the children respond with an unexpected answer, I always have my perspective broadened.
