Abiding In Christ
Stories
Contents
What's Up This Week
A Story to Live By: "See the Little Light Shine"
Good Stories: "Abiding in Christ" by Frank R. Fisher
"Breakthrough!" by B. Kathleen Fannin
Scrap Pile: "In Honor of Mothers" by Cynthia E. Cowen
What's Up This Week
In this Sunday's Gospel lesson, Jesus tells us he is the true vine -- and that if we are his branches, we will "bear much fruit." In this week's Good Stories, Frank Fisher gets us thinking about what it really means for Christ to abide in us -- and whether we are willing to respond to the challenge of bearing the fruit of the kingdom. When we do, we reflect God's unconditional love for us as described in our epistle text from 1 John. Speaking of unconditional love, who embodies that more than our mothers? In the Scrap Pile, we offer a brief liturgy for Mother's Day that celebrates the nurturing love and support mothers provide.
A Story to Live By
See the Little Light Shine
Philip asked, "Do you understand what you are reading?" He replied, "How can I, unless someone guides me?"
Acts 8:30b-31a
She was so patient. Again and again she would explain things in different ways until her students would understand -- until she saw "a little light shine in their eyes," she always said. Mrs. DiCarlo was the sixth grade teacher, and working with children until they understood a certain point was her job. It was also her joy.
Mrs. DiCarlo brought in lots of materials to illustrate a point. Figurines, posters, music, science experiments, odd-looking creatures, and a variety of lively examples were paraded endlessly in her classroom. She made learning fun and interesting. This modest woman used much of her paycheck to buy materials and supplies for the classroom. Her class was fun and exciting and she was committed to making her point known.
Philip was committed to make Christ known. In this passage in Acts, he was led by the Holy Spirit to the eunuch. The eunuch was trying to read the message of the prophet Isaiah, but he did not understand. When Philip approached him in the chariot, the eunuch cried out, "How can I understand [what I am reading] unless someone explains it to me?" Philip rode alongside the eunuch until he understood the meaning of the passage. He had patience for the eunuch. Philip led the eunuch to understand.
Teachers, professors, child caregivers, and countless others take great pains to help people understand things. Many teachers still hold their children's hands; they care deeply about their pupils. And most have the courage, wisdom, and patience to wait it out until they "see the little light shine" in their students' eyes.
(From Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit [Series II, Cycle B] by Constance Berg)
Good Stories
Abiding in Christ
by Frank R. Fisher
"Trusting in the gracious mercy of God, do you turn from the ways of sin and renounce evil and its power in the world?"
"I do."
"Who is your Lord and Savior?"
"Jesus Christ is my Lord and Savior."
"Will you be Christ's faithful disciple, obeying Christ's Word and showing Christ's love?"
"I will, with God's help."
Those words simply roll over your ears, for you're much to young to understand their implications. The words don't really impact your parents much, either. They may be too busy looking proudly at you. That wouldn't be too surprising on this the day of your Baptism. Or perhaps they may not fully grasp the implications of the promises they're making on your behalf.
But there is One who fully understands the words your parents say. One who knows these simple-sounding words may be a launching pad calling you to bear much fruit. And the words that One spoke to the disciples echo unspoken under the pastor's voice:
"Abide in me and I will abide in you."
Your heart leaps and answers with words you're not yet able to speak:
"I will abide in you forever!"
The reply comes immediately and again silently to your waiting ears:
"Those who abide in me, and I in them, will bear much fruit."
Your name might be Mary. You heard the voice in your heart at your Baptism. And all your life long you've affirmed Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior. You affirmed Christ as Lord with your words. But you've always felt it was just as important to affirm Christ with the fruit you bear.
As you grew up, you came to understand you were the quintessential businesswoman. Your astuteness at your calling became apparent when you were 14 years old. That's when you began peddling your cat's frequent litters of kittens door to door. No one believed people would pay that much for what you politely described as varietal mixed domestic shorthairs.
As you grew your business talents and training continued to also grow. With a Harvard M.B.A. you had no trouble at all persuading venture capitalists to invest in your business plan. Your new company rapidly took off. Then you paid off your initial investors and began to take your company public. Now, within a month of your listing on the New York Stock Exchange, you're contacted by an enormous multinational corporation. Their offer to buy you out would give you enough ready cash to start a dozen new companies! But there are a couple problems with their offer. The first thing this company wants to do is to fire your current employees. Then they'd replace them with workers at a plant in Thailand. From the company's history you know those workers would be children -- children who'd work in conditions that make your mental picture of a 19th-century sweatshop seem like paradise.
Frantically you contact your lawyer. After investigating carefully she calls you in and tells you that you have two options. You can sell out and become richer than your wildest dreams -- or you can spend all the money you have in a legal fight against a hostile takeover. "If you fight it," she clearly tells you, "you're going to lose everything."
Those two options float through your mind for days. As you consider them, you seem to be hearing a voice. At first you want to pick up the phone book to look up the closest psychiatrist. But then the familiar tone and words of the voice makes you stop. And you actually listen as the voice says:
"Those who abide in me, and I in them, will bear much fruit."
Your heart responds at once:
"I will a abide in you forever."
Immediately the voice asks:
"What fruit are you bearing?"
Even before the voice ceases you're punching the lawyer's number into your cell phone. You tell her to start fighting. And, you add, you don't care what it costs -- for you will not treat your employees unjustly as disposable machinery. And as a follower of the God who came to earth as a child, you can never allow yourself to make money from the blood of children.
Your name might be Jeffrey. You heard the voice in your heart at your Baptism. And all your life long you've affirmed Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior. You affirmed Christ as Lord with your words. But you've always felt it was just as important to affirm Christ with the fruit you bear.
Over time, your faith and your actions led you into leadership in your congregation. At first, you were simply a singer in the choir. The director was pleased to find in you a voice which led the sometimes quavering tones of the less well-trained singers. And then, only a few months after you'd returned to the congregation from college, the nominating committee asked you to serve as a deacon. That call, you felt, was an expression of the congregation's love for you -- a love which led them to ask you to serve your sisters and brothers.
Your ordination day was one of the high points of your life. At least you felt that way at the time. But you soon found the real high point of your life was the work of a deacon. That work took you from the safety of the church's four walls out into the streets to serve your city's homeless population. You spent countless hours working in a soup kitchen and in a homeless shelter.
That kind of work really fed you more than it fed those you served. Mostly it fed you because you made the time to talk to the women, men, and children who frequented the shelter and kitchen. You learned from them that behind an often dirty exterior was a person just like you -- a person who was capable of the same type of failings and the same type of successes as you; a person who loved and laughed just like you; a person who was a child of the living God just like you.
You came to love the people whom you served. You helped them find work. You helped them to find places to live. One day you decided to help them find a place to worship. You thought the perfect place for them would be in the midst of your congregation. After all, your congregation was the most loving place you'd ever experienced. And you thought your old friends there would greet these other sisters and brothers in Christ with love, as they'd always greeted you.
You were wrong. When you led your new friends through the front door heads turned immediately. The members of your church pointedly turned their backs on your other friends and refused to greet them. As you started to lead them into the sanctuary, the moderator of the deacons met you at the door. He told you how admirable it was that you spent your time working with the homeless. "But," he pointed out, "that work needs to be kept away from the church building. After all, the neighbors would talk if those kind of people started attending this church. Besides," he continued, "I'm sure they'd be more comfortable worshiping among their own kind."
Your mouth drops in horror as you hear his words. And your eyes themselves seem chilled as they behold the still pointedly turned backs of those whom you thought loved you. You know if you lead your homeless friends into the sanctuary these people will never speak to you again.
You stand stock-still for a moment while you think over your options. Then, as you continue to listen to the moderator's voice, another voice seems to intrude, saying:
"Those who abide in me, and I in them, will bear much fruit."
You know the voice. It was the voice you somehow remember calling to you on the day of your Baptism. And the call of the One who called you to your work leads your heart to respond at once:
"I will a abide in you forever."
Immediately the voice asks:
"What fruit are you bearing?"
You reach out and take the hands of your homeless friends, push your way past the moderator, and enter God's house to worship the Lord.
Your name might be Janet. You heard the voice in your heart at your Baptism. And all your life long you've affirmed Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior. You affirmed Christ as Lord with your words. But you've always felt it was just as important to affirm Christ with the fruit you bear.
As you grew up you felt no special call to serve our Lord in any special place. But for some reason you felt an urge to become very proficient in Spanish. Your interest in Spanish somehow led you to learn as much as you could about South America. There never seemed to be anything special driving your interest. That changed one day when you heard and answered your denomination's call to serve in Guatemala.
After even more intensive training you were sent to live with a family of Guatemalan Christians. One member of the family was a pastor. Recently he'd been receiving death threats -- threats which seemed directly connected to his protests about his government's human rights abuses.
Your job with this family was simple. You accompanied the pastor wherever he went. In essence, you were a human shield. It was hoped your United States citizenship would make the death squads think twice about making any attacks while you were present.
You found you loved living with this family. And while you lived in different conditions from those in your native land, you began to really enjoy living in Guatemala. But your enjoyment vanished one morning when one of your adopted family found a note pinned to the front door. It was pinned there with a knife -- and it warned you not to accompany the pastor on his rounds this morning.
The words conveying this warning left you no doubt about your possible fate -- a fate which the note said was certain if you ignored this warning. For a moment you hesitated. You thought about your home and family in a now-distant land. And you thought about the Guatemalan family who'd opened their arms to you. And as you thought you seemed to hear a familiar voice -- a voice you somehow knew had called to you every day since the day of your Baptism.
The voice says:
"Those who abide in me, and I in them, will bear much fruit."
Your heart responds at once:
"I will a abide in you forever."
Immediately the voice asks:
"What fruit are you bearing?"
You rip the note into shreds, pick up your coat, and follow the pastor out the door for his morning rounds.
Your name might be your own. And regardless of whether you heard it or not there was a voice speaking to you on the day of your Baptism. It's the voice of the One who calls to all who bear Christ's name, a voice asking all of us if we will live out the promises of our Baptism.
The voice says:
"Those who abide in me, and I in them, will bear much fruit."
Be aware of the implications of this question -- for if your heart responds,
"I will a abide in you forever,"
the voice may immediately ask you:
"What fruit are you bearing?"
Frank R. Fisher currently serves as the interim pastor of First Presbyterian Church in Fairbury, Illinois. During the final years of his first career as a paramedic and administrator for the Chicago Fire Department, Fisher graduated from McCormick Theological Seminary and was ordained. He is an Oblate of the ecumenical Abbey of John the Baptist and Saint Benedict in Bartonville, Illinois.
Breakthrough!
by B. Kathleen Fannin
We have known and believe the love that God has for us. God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them.... We love because he first loved us.
1 John 4:16, 19
Crack! Suddenly the universe went into slow motion. She was intently aware, in a way she had never before experienced. She was falling, slowly falling.
Hey! She was falling! Yet she seemed to be floating, drifting down gently toward the ground. Was she dreaming? No, she was falling. And much to her surprise, she wasn't afraid.
She had come to the woods to find some space away from the city, to walk, think, sort things out. The forest had beckoned, inviting her into its secret hidden spaces filled with noises that were gentle to the soul. Birds, insects, small scurrying creatures -- each added their soothing sounds to the forest's melody. The satisfying crunch of leaves beneath her boots offered counter-cadence as she wandered deeper and deeper into places the forest only offered those who came to mend crisis-burdened psyches and shattered hearts. The trees had seemed to step aside as she walked, creating a path, directing her toward one particular tree, which, when she saw it, she knew she had to climb.
That was the first time this day she had told herself she was crazy. She hadn't climbed a tree in years! But something deep within her, almost instinctual, required her to climb this one.
The higher she climbed, the higher she felt the urge to go. She had to get up, out of the shade, into the sunlight beyond. She had to climb toward the sky, toward... God? Abruptly she halted her reach for the next branch. God?
She wasn't entirely sure she even believed in God. God was the furthest thing from her mind, definitely not part of her life!
Feeling a bit stunned, she decided to sit down. She leaned her back against the tree, and slid down onto a branch.
BIG MISTAKE! Her momentum added force to her weight: the branch couldn't support both. With an ear-splitting crack it snapped, and now she was falling...
But this was like no fall she had ever experienced. It was as if some invisible force had grabbed her when the branch collapsed and was now slowing her descent.
"That's it!" she thought. "I've lost my mind. I know I've been under a lot of pressure. I probably should have come walking months ago, to ease the tension, to regain perspective. But there was no time. And now it's too late. I've gone over the edge."
"No," something like a voice seemed to say inside her head. "You haven't gone over the edge; you've only fallen from a tree."
"Oh, fine!" she thought. "I've fallen out of a tree, but am floating to the ground, not plummeting, and I'm hearing a voice in my head telling me I'm not nuts!"
Expecting the jarring impact of flesh and bone with solid earth to end her conscious existence at any moment, she marveled again at the sense of peace she felt. And then, unbelievably, she was down. She was down on the ground! And she was unhurt!
"What's going on here?" she wondered in awe.
"I told you," the head-voice said. "You fell; I caught you."
"Who ARE you?" she questioned.
"Oh, I think you know," the voice responded. "You're just having trouble admitting I exist."
"Oh, my God!" she exclaimed with sudden understanding. "My GOD!"
B. Kathleen Fannin is the Chaplain at Monmouth College in Monmouth, Illinois, and is an ordained pastor in the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). Her sermons, articles, and poetry have appeared in a variety of publications, and she is the author of Cows in Church (CSS). Fannin is a graduate of the University of Texas, Eden Theological Seminary, and Wesley Theological Seminary.
Scrap Pile
In Honor of Mothers: A Service for Mother's Day
by Cynthia E. Cowen
Today we honor the "mother." Everyone who is present has a biological mother, but one may be a "mother" without being a natural mother. Hear what Christ had to say concerning his family:
While Jesus was still talking to the crowd, his mother and brothers stood outside, wanting to speak to him. Someone told him, "Your mother and brothers are standing outside, wanting to speak to you." Jesus replied, "Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?" Pointing to his disciples, he said, "Here are my mother and my brothers. For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother." (Matthew 12:46-50)
And so today we honor those who have been given the opportunity to mother, physically or spiritually, as we offer our praise and thanksgiving to the Father for the gifts he gives mothers in carrying out their responsibility.
A Litany in honor of mothers
Leader: O God, we celebrate the role of the mothers in our lives.
Congregation: Thank you for women who have touched us with your love, all-caring God.
Leader: We praise you, O God, for mothers who set children and family above possessions.
Congregation: Thank you for those who sacrifice to stay in the home.
Leader: We praise you, O God, for mothers who provide for the needs of their families.
Congregation: Bless those who work outside the home with special opportunities to share their love.
Leader: We praise you for the lives of women in our midst who set good examples with right moral values and serve you in true dedication.
Congregation: Thank you for mothers who give us right teaching and guidance for living.
Leader: As Sarah laughed at the thought of being a mother at her advanced age,
Congregation: We laugh at our inadequacies to mother.
Leader: As Pharaoh's daughter took baby Moses into her home, embracing him as her own,
Congregation: We take all your children into our hearts.
Leader: As Samson's mother taught him God's ways,
Congregation: We set our hearts on you as we train others in your ways.
Leader: As Hannah nurtured her small son Samuel and then released him to live in your temple,
Congregation: We release our children into your care.
Leader: As Mary pondered the angel's announcement of the birth of the Christ,
Congregation: We are awestruck at the thought of the very life of Christ being planted within us.
Leader: As Jarius' wife stayed behind to pray over her sick child,
Congregation: We offer our prayers for the family.
Leader: God gives us the gift of faith and asks us to share that gift with others.
Congregation: Bless mothers everywhere as they plant the faith of Christ within hungry hearts.
Leader: Our spirits rejoice that as we do the will of the Father we become the brothers, sisters, and mother of our Lord and Savior Jesus the Christ.
Congregation: We praise you for that blessed honor. Amen.
Prayer
Bless, O Lord, those in our midst who are committed to serving you in the role of a mother either physically or spiritually. Give them abundant love as they reach out to all your children -- their own and those of our church family and those of the world. Stir up within their hearts the gifts of compassion, healing, laughter, tears, joy, strength, commitment, and faith, that they will reflect the life of Christ Jesus within.
As your son looked upon the face of Mary his mother in love, look upon the faces of these precious mothers we honor today. In Christ's name, we pray. Amen.
Optional celebration
Present mothers in the congregation with a flower or a gift made for them by children of the Sunday school. The following wording could be used:
In celebration of "Mother," we at [name of church] wish to bless those in our midst who hold the love of Jesus as a mother in their hearts. All who are grandmothers, mothers, or spiritual mothers are asked to receive [a flower/gift] as a symbol of the blessing that Christ Jesus has given you.
Cynthia E. Cowen is a prolific writer who has produced many worship resources for CSS Publishing Company. She serves as an Associate in Ministry at Our Saviour's Lutheran Church in Iron Mountain, Michigan, and also been active in synod and denominational leadership teams, including six years of service on the Executive Board of the Women of the ELCA. Among Cowen's CSS titles are 18 Special Worship Celebrations, Lights, Symbols, and Angels, and two volumes of Who -- Me? Do a Program?
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How to Share Stories
You have good stories to share, probably more than you know: personal stories as well as stories from others that you have used over the years. If you have a story you like, whether fictional or "really happened," authored by you or a brief excerpt from a favorite book, send it to StoryShare for review. Simply click here share-a-story@csspub.com and e-mail the story to us.
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StoryShare, May 14, 2006, issue.
Copyright 2006 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
A Story to Live By: "See the Little Light Shine"
Good Stories: "Abiding in Christ" by Frank R. Fisher
"Breakthrough!" by B. Kathleen Fannin
Scrap Pile: "In Honor of Mothers" by Cynthia E. Cowen
What's Up This Week
In this Sunday's Gospel lesson, Jesus tells us he is the true vine -- and that if we are his branches, we will "bear much fruit." In this week's Good Stories, Frank Fisher gets us thinking about what it really means for Christ to abide in us -- and whether we are willing to respond to the challenge of bearing the fruit of the kingdom. When we do, we reflect God's unconditional love for us as described in our epistle text from 1 John. Speaking of unconditional love, who embodies that more than our mothers? In the Scrap Pile, we offer a brief liturgy for Mother's Day that celebrates the nurturing love and support mothers provide.
A Story to Live By
See the Little Light Shine
Philip asked, "Do you understand what you are reading?" He replied, "How can I, unless someone guides me?"
Acts 8:30b-31a
She was so patient. Again and again she would explain things in different ways until her students would understand -- until she saw "a little light shine in their eyes," she always said. Mrs. DiCarlo was the sixth grade teacher, and working with children until they understood a certain point was her job. It was also her joy.
Mrs. DiCarlo brought in lots of materials to illustrate a point. Figurines, posters, music, science experiments, odd-looking creatures, and a variety of lively examples were paraded endlessly in her classroom. She made learning fun and interesting. This modest woman used much of her paycheck to buy materials and supplies for the classroom. Her class was fun and exciting and she was committed to making her point known.
Philip was committed to make Christ known. In this passage in Acts, he was led by the Holy Spirit to the eunuch. The eunuch was trying to read the message of the prophet Isaiah, but he did not understand. When Philip approached him in the chariot, the eunuch cried out, "How can I understand [what I am reading] unless someone explains it to me?" Philip rode alongside the eunuch until he understood the meaning of the passage. He had patience for the eunuch. Philip led the eunuch to understand.
Teachers, professors, child caregivers, and countless others take great pains to help people understand things. Many teachers still hold their children's hands; they care deeply about their pupils. And most have the courage, wisdom, and patience to wait it out until they "see the little light shine" in their students' eyes.
(From Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit [Series II, Cycle B] by Constance Berg)
Good Stories
Abiding in Christ
by Frank R. Fisher
"Trusting in the gracious mercy of God, do you turn from the ways of sin and renounce evil and its power in the world?"
"I do."
"Who is your Lord and Savior?"
"Jesus Christ is my Lord and Savior."
"Will you be Christ's faithful disciple, obeying Christ's Word and showing Christ's love?"
"I will, with God's help."
Those words simply roll over your ears, for you're much to young to understand their implications. The words don't really impact your parents much, either. They may be too busy looking proudly at you. That wouldn't be too surprising on this the day of your Baptism. Or perhaps they may not fully grasp the implications of the promises they're making on your behalf.
But there is One who fully understands the words your parents say. One who knows these simple-sounding words may be a launching pad calling you to bear much fruit. And the words that One spoke to the disciples echo unspoken under the pastor's voice:
"Abide in me and I will abide in you."
Your heart leaps and answers with words you're not yet able to speak:
"I will abide in you forever!"
The reply comes immediately and again silently to your waiting ears:
"Those who abide in me, and I in them, will bear much fruit."
Your name might be Mary. You heard the voice in your heart at your Baptism. And all your life long you've affirmed Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior. You affirmed Christ as Lord with your words. But you've always felt it was just as important to affirm Christ with the fruit you bear.
As you grew up, you came to understand you were the quintessential businesswoman. Your astuteness at your calling became apparent when you were 14 years old. That's when you began peddling your cat's frequent litters of kittens door to door. No one believed people would pay that much for what you politely described as varietal mixed domestic shorthairs.
As you grew your business talents and training continued to also grow. With a Harvard M.B.A. you had no trouble at all persuading venture capitalists to invest in your business plan. Your new company rapidly took off. Then you paid off your initial investors and began to take your company public. Now, within a month of your listing on the New York Stock Exchange, you're contacted by an enormous multinational corporation. Their offer to buy you out would give you enough ready cash to start a dozen new companies! But there are a couple problems with their offer. The first thing this company wants to do is to fire your current employees. Then they'd replace them with workers at a plant in Thailand. From the company's history you know those workers would be children -- children who'd work in conditions that make your mental picture of a 19th-century sweatshop seem like paradise.
Frantically you contact your lawyer. After investigating carefully she calls you in and tells you that you have two options. You can sell out and become richer than your wildest dreams -- or you can spend all the money you have in a legal fight against a hostile takeover. "If you fight it," she clearly tells you, "you're going to lose everything."
Those two options float through your mind for days. As you consider them, you seem to be hearing a voice. At first you want to pick up the phone book to look up the closest psychiatrist. But then the familiar tone and words of the voice makes you stop. And you actually listen as the voice says:
"Those who abide in me, and I in them, will bear much fruit."
Your heart responds at once:
"I will a abide in you forever."
Immediately the voice asks:
"What fruit are you bearing?"
Even before the voice ceases you're punching the lawyer's number into your cell phone. You tell her to start fighting. And, you add, you don't care what it costs -- for you will not treat your employees unjustly as disposable machinery. And as a follower of the God who came to earth as a child, you can never allow yourself to make money from the blood of children.
Your name might be Jeffrey. You heard the voice in your heart at your Baptism. And all your life long you've affirmed Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior. You affirmed Christ as Lord with your words. But you've always felt it was just as important to affirm Christ with the fruit you bear.
Over time, your faith and your actions led you into leadership in your congregation. At first, you were simply a singer in the choir. The director was pleased to find in you a voice which led the sometimes quavering tones of the less well-trained singers. And then, only a few months after you'd returned to the congregation from college, the nominating committee asked you to serve as a deacon. That call, you felt, was an expression of the congregation's love for you -- a love which led them to ask you to serve your sisters and brothers.
Your ordination day was one of the high points of your life. At least you felt that way at the time. But you soon found the real high point of your life was the work of a deacon. That work took you from the safety of the church's four walls out into the streets to serve your city's homeless population. You spent countless hours working in a soup kitchen and in a homeless shelter.
That kind of work really fed you more than it fed those you served. Mostly it fed you because you made the time to talk to the women, men, and children who frequented the shelter and kitchen. You learned from them that behind an often dirty exterior was a person just like you -- a person who was capable of the same type of failings and the same type of successes as you; a person who loved and laughed just like you; a person who was a child of the living God just like you.
You came to love the people whom you served. You helped them find work. You helped them to find places to live. One day you decided to help them find a place to worship. You thought the perfect place for them would be in the midst of your congregation. After all, your congregation was the most loving place you'd ever experienced. And you thought your old friends there would greet these other sisters and brothers in Christ with love, as they'd always greeted you.
You were wrong. When you led your new friends through the front door heads turned immediately. The members of your church pointedly turned their backs on your other friends and refused to greet them. As you started to lead them into the sanctuary, the moderator of the deacons met you at the door. He told you how admirable it was that you spent your time working with the homeless. "But," he pointed out, "that work needs to be kept away from the church building. After all, the neighbors would talk if those kind of people started attending this church. Besides," he continued, "I'm sure they'd be more comfortable worshiping among their own kind."
Your mouth drops in horror as you hear his words. And your eyes themselves seem chilled as they behold the still pointedly turned backs of those whom you thought loved you. You know if you lead your homeless friends into the sanctuary these people will never speak to you again.
You stand stock-still for a moment while you think over your options. Then, as you continue to listen to the moderator's voice, another voice seems to intrude, saying:
"Those who abide in me, and I in them, will bear much fruit."
You know the voice. It was the voice you somehow remember calling to you on the day of your Baptism. And the call of the One who called you to your work leads your heart to respond at once:
"I will a abide in you forever."
Immediately the voice asks:
"What fruit are you bearing?"
You reach out and take the hands of your homeless friends, push your way past the moderator, and enter God's house to worship the Lord.
Your name might be Janet. You heard the voice in your heart at your Baptism. And all your life long you've affirmed Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior. You affirmed Christ as Lord with your words. But you've always felt it was just as important to affirm Christ with the fruit you bear.
As you grew up you felt no special call to serve our Lord in any special place. But for some reason you felt an urge to become very proficient in Spanish. Your interest in Spanish somehow led you to learn as much as you could about South America. There never seemed to be anything special driving your interest. That changed one day when you heard and answered your denomination's call to serve in Guatemala.
After even more intensive training you were sent to live with a family of Guatemalan Christians. One member of the family was a pastor. Recently he'd been receiving death threats -- threats which seemed directly connected to his protests about his government's human rights abuses.
Your job with this family was simple. You accompanied the pastor wherever he went. In essence, you were a human shield. It was hoped your United States citizenship would make the death squads think twice about making any attacks while you were present.
You found you loved living with this family. And while you lived in different conditions from those in your native land, you began to really enjoy living in Guatemala. But your enjoyment vanished one morning when one of your adopted family found a note pinned to the front door. It was pinned there with a knife -- and it warned you not to accompany the pastor on his rounds this morning.
The words conveying this warning left you no doubt about your possible fate -- a fate which the note said was certain if you ignored this warning. For a moment you hesitated. You thought about your home and family in a now-distant land. And you thought about the Guatemalan family who'd opened their arms to you. And as you thought you seemed to hear a familiar voice -- a voice you somehow knew had called to you every day since the day of your Baptism.
The voice says:
"Those who abide in me, and I in them, will bear much fruit."
Your heart responds at once:
"I will a abide in you forever."
Immediately the voice asks:
"What fruit are you bearing?"
You rip the note into shreds, pick up your coat, and follow the pastor out the door for his morning rounds.
Your name might be your own. And regardless of whether you heard it or not there was a voice speaking to you on the day of your Baptism. It's the voice of the One who calls to all who bear Christ's name, a voice asking all of us if we will live out the promises of our Baptism.
The voice says:
"Those who abide in me, and I in them, will bear much fruit."
Be aware of the implications of this question -- for if your heart responds,
"I will a abide in you forever,"
the voice may immediately ask you:
"What fruit are you bearing?"
Frank R. Fisher currently serves as the interim pastor of First Presbyterian Church in Fairbury, Illinois. During the final years of his first career as a paramedic and administrator for the Chicago Fire Department, Fisher graduated from McCormick Theological Seminary and was ordained. He is an Oblate of the ecumenical Abbey of John the Baptist and Saint Benedict in Bartonville, Illinois.
Breakthrough!
by B. Kathleen Fannin
We have known and believe the love that God has for us. God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them.... We love because he first loved us.
1 John 4:16, 19
Crack! Suddenly the universe went into slow motion. She was intently aware, in a way she had never before experienced. She was falling, slowly falling.
Hey! She was falling! Yet she seemed to be floating, drifting down gently toward the ground. Was she dreaming? No, she was falling. And much to her surprise, she wasn't afraid.
She had come to the woods to find some space away from the city, to walk, think, sort things out. The forest had beckoned, inviting her into its secret hidden spaces filled with noises that were gentle to the soul. Birds, insects, small scurrying creatures -- each added their soothing sounds to the forest's melody. The satisfying crunch of leaves beneath her boots offered counter-cadence as she wandered deeper and deeper into places the forest only offered those who came to mend crisis-burdened psyches and shattered hearts. The trees had seemed to step aside as she walked, creating a path, directing her toward one particular tree, which, when she saw it, she knew she had to climb.
That was the first time this day she had told herself she was crazy. She hadn't climbed a tree in years! But something deep within her, almost instinctual, required her to climb this one.
The higher she climbed, the higher she felt the urge to go. She had to get up, out of the shade, into the sunlight beyond. She had to climb toward the sky, toward... God? Abruptly she halted her reach for the next branch. God?
She wasn't entirely sure she even believed in God. God was the furthest thing from her mind, definitely not part of her life!
Feeling a bit stunned, she decided to sit down. She leaned her back against the tree, and slid down onto a branch.
BIG MISTAKE! Her momentum added force to her weight: the branch couldn't support both. With an ear-splitting crack it snapped, and now she was falling...
But this was like no fall she had ever experienced. It was as if some invisible force had grabbed her when the branch collapsed and was now slowing her descent.
"That's it!" she thought. "I've lost my mind. I know I've been under a lot of pressure. I probably should have come walking months ago, to ease the tension, to regain perspective. But there was no time. And now it's too late. I've gone over the edge."
"No," something like a voice seemed to say inside her head. "You haven't gone over the edge; you've only fallen from a tree."
"Oh, fine!" she thought. "I've fallen out of a tree, but am floating to the ground, not plummeting, and I'm hearing a voice in my head telling me I'm not nuts!"
Expecting the jarring impact of flesh and bone with solid earth to end her conscious existence at any moment, she marveled again at the sense of peace she felt. And then, unbelievably, she was down. She was down on the ground! And she was unhurt!
"What's going on here?" she wondered in awe.
"I told you," the head-voice said. "You fell; I caught you."
"Who ARE you?" she questioned.
"Oh, I think you know," the voice responded. "You're just having trouble admitting I exist."
"Oh, my God!" she exclaimed with sudden understanding. "My GOD!"
B. Kathleen Fannin is the Chaplain at Monmouth College in Monmouth, Illinois, and is an ordained pastor in the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). Her sermons, articles, and poetry have appeared in a variety of publications, and she is the author of Cows in Church (CSS). Fannin is a graduate of the University of Texas, Eden Theological Seminary, and Wesley Theological Seminary.
Scrap Pile
In Honor of Mothers: A Service for Mother's Day
by Cynthia E. Cowen
Today we honor the "mother." Everyone who is present has a biological mother, but one may be a "mother" without being a natural mother. Hear what Christ had to say concerning his family:
While Jesus was still talking to the crowd, his mother and brothers stood outside, wanting to speak to him. Someone told him, "Your mother and brothers are standing outside, wanting to speak to you." Jesus replied, "Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?" Pointing to his disciples, he said, "Here are my mother and my brothers. For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother." (Matthew 12:46-50)
And so today we honor those who have been given the opportunity to mother, physically or spiritually, as we offer our praise and thanksgiving to the Father for the gifts he gives mothers in carrying out their responsibility.
A Litany in honor of mothers
Leader: O God, we celebrate the role of the mothers in our lives.
Congregation: Thank you for women who have touched us with your love, all-caring God.
Leader: We praise you, O God, for mothers who set children and family above possessions.
Congregation: Thank you for those who sacrifice to stay in the home.
Leader: We praise you, O God, for mothers who provide for the needs of their families.
Congregation: Bless those who work outside the home with special opportunities to share their love.
Leader: We praise you for the lives of women in our midst who set good examples with right moral values and serve you in true dedication.
Congregation: Thank you for mothers who give us right teaching and guidance for living.
Leader: As Sarah laughed at the thought of being a mother at her advanced age,
Congregation: We laugh at our inadequacies to mother.
Leader: As Pharaoh's daughter took baby Moses into her home, embracing him as her own,
Congregation: We take all your children into our hearts.
Leader: As Samson's mother taught him God's ways,
Congregation: We set our hearts on you as we train others in your ways.
Leader: As Hannah nurtured her small son Samuel and then released him to live in your temple,
Congregation: We release our children into your care.
Leader: As Mary pondered the angel's announcement of the birth of the Christ,
Congregation: We are awestruck at the thought of the very life of Christ being planted within us.
Leader: As Jarius' wife stayed behind to pray over her sick child,
Congregation: We offer our prayers for the family.
Leader: God gives us the gift of faith and asks us to share that gift with others.
Congregation: Bless mothers everywhere as they plant the faith of Christ within hungry hearts.
Leader: Our spirits rejoice that as we do the will of the Father we become the brothers, sisters, and mother of our Lord and Savior Jesus the Christ.
Congregation: We praise you for that blessed honor. Amen.
Prayer
Bless, O Lord, those in our midst who are committed to serving you in the role of a mother either physically or spiritually. Give them abundant love as they reach out to all your children -- their own and those of our church family and those of the world. Stir up within their hearts the gifts of compassion, healing, laughter, tears, joy, strength, commitment, and faith, that they will reflect the life of Christ Jesus within.
As your son looked upon the face of Mary his mother in love, look upon the faces of these precious mothers we honor today. In Christ's name, we pray. Amen.
Optional celebration
Present mothers in the congregation with a flower or a gift made for them by children of the Sunday school. The following wording could be used:
In celebration of "Mother," we at [name of church] wish to bless those in our midst who hold the love of Jesus as a mother in their hearts. All who are grandmothers, mothers, or spiritual mothers are asked to receive [a flower/gift] as a symbol of the blessing that Christ Jesus has given you.
Cynthia E. Cowen is a prolific writer who has produced many worship resources for CSS Publishing Company. She serves as an Associate in Ministry at Our Saviour's Lutheran Church in Iron Mountain, Michigan, and also been active in synod and denominational leadership teams, including six years of service on the Executive Board of the Women of the ELCA. Among Cowen's CSS titles are 18 Special Worship Celebrations, Lights, Symbols, and Angels, and two volumes of Who -- Me? Do a Program?
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How to Share Stories
You have good stories to share, probably more than you know: personal stories as well as stories from others that you have used over the years. If you have a story you like, whether fictional or "really happened," authored by you or a brief excerpt from a favorite book, send it to StoryShare for review. Simply click here share-a-story@csspub.com and e-mail the story to us.
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StoryShare, May 14, 2006, issue.
Copyright 2006 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.
