The Chosen One
Stories
Object:
Contents
"The Chosen One" by Keith Hewitt
"Providence and Production" by John Fitzgerald
* * * * * * *
The Chosen One
by Keith Hewitt
1 Samuel 15:34--16:13
“How about that one?” she said, leaning forward in her chair to tap one of five monitors arrayed on the table in front of them. The other screens showed men doing different things -- in a group setting, or (apparently) sitting at a kitchen table having a casual conversation; the one she tapped appeared to be a one-on-one interview. They had been watching with the sound off.
That was Sam’s doing. He believed that visual impressions counted, first, then everything else. In his words he didn’t want to “taint the field” by actually hearing someone speak until he knew whether or not that person had it. And whatever it was might be different from job to job, but he was always sure that he would know it when he saw it.
He was allowed his eccentricities; his track record was almost flawless.
Sam slid his headphones over his ears and flipped the audio to Channel 4. After about ninety seconds -- an eternity in Sam time -- he slipped the phone off his right ear and potted down the volume, turned to her. “Did you know there is a chimp at the University of Wisconsin that can sign over a thousand words, and recognize about five hundred more?”
Her eyebrows drew together as she took her eyes off the monitor to look at him. “No, I didn’t know that.”
“It’s true. And I would rather have that chimp for a client than that guy. I’m surprised he can manage to answer the phone, let alone hold a job.”
She sighed. “So that’s a no?”
“It’s a ‘no’ with exclamation points and an underline. Cut him loose, we definitely won’t take him.” She sighed again, spoke into her headset. Onscreen, after a moment, a young man came in and thanked the off-screen interviewer and the subject, chatted him up while escorting him gracefully out of the room. Sam watched, and without looking at his companion said, “If you’d like, I could introduce you.”
She glanced at a sheaf of papers spread out on the table between them, shook her head. “He’s married, with kids, back home?and, it says here, also dating his handler’s secretary. I don’t think he’d have the time.”
Sam looked sideways at her. “I didn’t mean him. I meant the chimp in Madison.”
She rolled her eyes. “Thanks for caring. I can do better.”
“Past history says not,” he said, and turned his attention to another monitor.
It was a slow process, and they had not come in blind. There had been resumes and head shots, video of the subjects, focus groups?all of the groundwork that a man like Sam -- who took pride in his work -- would do before making a selection, choosing the right -- no, the perfect person, for the job. His mentor had once told him that with six months’ lead time and an unlimited budget, he could sell nuclear waste to Green Peace, and Sam had adopted that as a philosophy that colored everything he did.
“How about this one?” his companion asked, cutting into his thoughts. She was pointing to the center screen -- a well groomed, permanently cheerful sort of man who was sitting at a kitchen table with three women, chatting and drinking coffee. Irish coffee, if Sam was any judge, based on what he knew about the man. “He looks perfect,” she added, “like he was born for it.”
“I’m sick of talking haircuts,” Sam grunted. “And the public is, too.”
“I’m not so sure,” she said doubtfully.
“I am. Fold up the kaffeeklatsch and send him back where he came from. There’s no way he has it.” When she didn’t respond, he looked at her and said quietly,
“Michael Dukakis, 1988. The tank ad. Remember? Dukakis riding around in an Abrams tank, wearing that helmet, looking like Charlie Brown pretending to be Patton? Do you know who got him to wear the helmet?” He tapped his chest slowly.
“Is that the last time you failed? Your secret professional shame?”
“Hardly. I was working for George Bush’s team. I just happened to be at General Dynamics when he was that day -- “
“’Just happened to be?’”
He smiled. “And it’s possible he thought I was a representative of General Dynamics when I told him the helmet would be a good idea.” Sam spread his hands. “The rest is history.”
“You play dirty,” she said after a short silence, then spoke into her headset again. Onscreen, the same production assistant walked onto the kitchen set and let everyone know shooting was done for the day. When the subject got testy, the assistant quickly talked him down, and by the time he left the set, the man was laughing.
“I play smart, not dirty,” Sam said quietly. “Who is that production assistant? One of ours?”
She glanced at the screen. “No, he’s an intern for the production company. Why?”
“Could you have him come down here when he’s done with Mister Haircut?”
“Sure. Why?”
But he had already slid his headphones back into place, and didn’t answer her. When the production assistant arrived a few minutes later, Sam took off his headphones, set them on the table and turned to face him. “What’s your name, son?” he asked, while his companion looked on curiously.
“Dave, sir. David Sheppard.”
“Nice to meet you, Dave. My name is Sam. This is Marilyn. She tells me you’re an intern here at the studio?”
“Yes, sir. Is there a problem? My supervisor is -- “
“No, no. No problem. It’s just -- well, pardon me for saying, but you seem a little old to be an intern.”
Dave smiled easily, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I am, sir. I went into the service right after I graduated, did three tours in Iraq before my enlistment was up, and I started school. Now -- if I make it through this -- I’ll be graduating in December.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine. But tell me -- you seem to have a way with people. We saw you with a couple of the subjects today.” He nodded toward the monitors, two of them now dark.
“Oh -- right. Well, I guess when you command men you figure out how to get them to do what you want. And when you spend your days alongside people you aren’t sure want to kill you or help you, you get a sense for people.”
“Yes, I imagine you do.” Sam looked at him closely, eyes scanning him from head to toe as though committing him to memory. “Look -- Dave -- what are your plans after December?”
“Get a job, sir. My degree is in journalism, but whatever comes along first.”
“Right.” He paused. “I know you already did your stint, Dave -- three tours in Iraq is more than we should ask of any man. But I wonder -- have you given any thought to public service?”
“Sir?”
“Have you ever thought about running for office?”
Dave looked puzzled, then smiled shyly. “Truth be told, there were a few times when I was kicking in doors, that I would think, ‘If I were running this show, it would be different.’ But that’s about it. I’m not the politician type, sir.”
“And that’s what I like about you, son?David. The Party is gearing up for the next gubernatorial race, and they asked me to look at some candidates in different settings, to see who I thought I could help win. Truth is, none of them strike me the way you do -- serious, but not too serious; honest; a man who’s proven he cares for his country because by volunteering to serve. Looking at the ones they asked me to look at, I can see that we could do far, far worse than you -- and we could never do any better.”
“You’re serious?”
“I never kid about politics, Dave. The Party asked me for a recommendation, and I want to recommend you. Are you interested?
“But I?can I think it over?”
“Of course. But don’t over think it. I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive, Dave. I know what I’m talking about. If you want to do this, if you commit to it heart and soul, put in the same effort you did kicking in doors and keeping our country safe?you can do it. You can win.”
“Sir, the only time I ever did anything political was when I ran for class president in junior high school. It was so bad I think my running mate voted against me.”
“You’re the right man for the job. I can feel it, Dave. And if you’re the right man, I can get you the job. Trust me, by the time we’re done, the other guy will be voting for you.”
“But you don’t know anything about me. I’ve got flaws, I’m -- “
Sam held up his hand. “Enough of that. I didn’t ask if you were perfect. I didn’t ask anything -- other than if you were the right man for the job. I can feel it in my bones. When you’re the right one, you’re the right one. The rest can be sorted out later.”
“Well?let me think about it. I’ll let you know.” Awkwardly, then, he excused himself and left.
There was a long silence after he left, then his companion finally said, “Do you think he’ll do it? And what will our clients say? I think the Party kind of had their hearts set on one of their men.”
“I think the Party has its heart set on dumping the current governor before he gets indicted, but keeping the governor’s mansion. They’ll complain, but they won’t fire me. Because I’m the right man for this job. It’ll be a tough row to hoe for David, but he can do it. I can just feel it in him.”
”If he says yes.”
Sam laughed, and stood up. “Oh, you really need to learn how to judge men better. He may take awhile, but he’ll say yes. He’ll do it. I know it.”
“Because you want him to?”
“Because compared to what we’ve got, he’s a much better man for the job, and he knows it. And besides, I haven’t met the man yet who’s been able to resist being told he’s the chosen one. It’ll work out.” He opened the door, held it for her as she stepped out. “Now -- are you sure you don’t want to meet the chimp?”
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.
* * *
Providence and Production
by John Fitzgerald
Mark 4:26-34
According to legend, Betsy Ross created the first American flag. Despite a lack of credible evidence to support this, she remains an icon of our national history. We remember Betsy and her story on this day. This morning we celebrate Flag Day as a tribute to the original United States Flag fashioned in 1777. We have honored the flag ever since this time and in 1916 President Woodrow Wilson made it official. In this year a proclamation issued by the Wilson administration established June 14 as Flag Day.
When we view the flag, we think of liberty, freedom, pride, and Betsy Ross. The American flag flies on the moon and sits atop Mount Everest. The flag is how America signs her name. It is no surprise that Betsy Ross has become one of the most cherished figures of United States history.
Betsy Ross, a fourth-generation American born in 1752 at Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, apprenticed as a seamstress while young. She attended Quaker schools and learned sewing and other crafts common to the day. She met John Ross, a fellow upholster and the two married in 1772. In 1776, at the start of our American Revolution, John Ross died due to a gunpowder explosion which occurred while he served with militia opposed to King George. A year latter, Betsy married Joseph Ashburn who had the unfortunate luck to be captured by the British while serving with colonial forces. Joseph died in prison a year latter. In 1783, Betsy married for a third and final time. This time Betsy and John Claypoole were able to share benefits of married life for 34 years.
Betsy Ross is a fine example of what many women in her generation endured. Betsy overcame widowhood, single motherhood, and managing a business on her own. Although best known for her story of knitting together an American Flag commissioned by George Washington, she will remain stitched into our national imagination due to fortitude and personal strength.
Betsy Ross could not have imagined that she would be singled out by the forces of history to play a distinguished role in our nation’s beginnings. Divine Providence intervened to cast her in a role that captures the American Spirit. The God who ordains nations to fall and rise choose for Betsy Ross this station in life. So it is with each one of us. The Living Lord determines our pathway in this walk. Providence shapes where we shall go and what our ultimate destination will be. Our scripture reading for today has two stories which describe the ongoing forces of God which forms all things. The Parable of the Growing Seed and Mustard Seed which comprise our Bible lesson are two examples shared by our Lord about divine providence. In both accounts a seed is planted and tremendous growth takes place. Human effort did not make this growth possible. It is only the handiwork of God which allowed for good things to happen.
These stories suggest that our job is to plant the seed, but God does the work of causing growth. This means our life and times are in the hands of a Lord who loves us and knows what lies ahead. God controls our destiny and purpose. Instead of pretending to be Masters of the Universe, we should see our life in hands of a Savior who has ordered our future steps. Not only is our life moved forward by divine providence, but blessing comes from the Holy Spirit. In our scripture lesson a harvest time will materialize because of the planted seed. Also, a tiny mustard seed produces a beautiful plant. There are occasions for blessing, harvest, and reaping fruits of God’s good work. Will we be ready for the harvest when it is time? Betsy Ross knitted a flag for George Washington never guessing at the consequences of blessing that awaited her. God will produce good fruit at the appropriate season if we are prepared.
On Flag Day, we honor the memory of Betsy Ross. This day we thank God for America and for all those who like Betsy Ross have been agents for divine providence and production.
John Fitzgerald lives in Leesburg, Ohio, with his wife Carolyn and has served as pastor at the Leesburg Friends Meeting for the past 27 years. Cornfield Cathedral (Fairway Press, 2013) is the second book authored by Pastor Fitzgerald. John has earned a Master's of Ministry Degree from the Earlham School of Religion in Richmond, Indiana.
*****************************************
StoryShare, June 14, 2015, issue.
Copyright 2015 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., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
"The Chosen One" by Keith Hewitt
"Providence and Production" by John Fitzgerald
* * * * * * *
The Chosen One
by Keith Hewitt
1 Samuel 15:34--16:13
“How about that one?” she said, leaning forward in her chair to tap one of five monitors arrayed on the table in front of them. The other screens showed men doing different things -- in a group setting, or (apparently) sitting at a kitchen table having a casual conversation; the one she tapped appeared to be a one-on-one interview. They had been watching with the sound off.
That was Sam’s doing. He believed that visual impressions counted, first, then everything else. In his words he didn’t want to “taint the field” by actually hearing someone speak until he knew whether or not that person had it. And whatever it was might be different from job to job, but he was always sure that he would know it when he saw it.
He was allowed his eccentricities; his track record was almost flawless.
Sam slid his headphones over his ears and flipped the audio to Channel 4. After about ninety seconds -- an eternity in Sam time -- he slipped the phone off his right ear and potted down the volume, turned to her. “Did you know there is a chimp at the University of Wisconsin that can sign over a thousand words, and recognize about five hundred more?”
Her eyebrows drew together as she took her eyes off the monitor to look at him. “No, I didn’t know that.”
“It’s true. And I would rather have that chimp for a client than that guy. I’m surprised he can manage to answer the phone, let alone hold a job.”
She sighed. “So that’s a no?”
“It’s a ‘no’ with exclamation points and an underline. Cut him loose, we definitely won’t take him.” She sighed again, spoke into her headset. Onscreen, after a moment, a young man came in and thanked the off-screen interviewer and the subject, chatted him up while escorting him gracefully out of the room. Sam watched, and without looking at his companion said, “If you’d like, I could introduce you.”
She glanced at a sheaf of papers spread out on the table between them, shook her head. “He’s married, with kids, back home?and, it says here, also dating his handler’s secretary. I don’t think he’d have the time.”
Sam looked sideways at her. “I didn’t mean him. I meant the chimp in Madison.”
She rolled her eyes. “Thanks for caring. I can do better.”
“Past history says not,” he said, and turned his attention to another monitor.
It was a slow process, and they had not come in blind. There had been resumes and head shots, video of the subjects, focus groups?all of the groundwork that a man like Sam -- who took pride in his work -- would do before making a selection, choosing the right -- no, the perfect person, for the job. His mentor had once told him that with six months’ lead time and an unlimited budget, he could sell nuclear waste to Green Peace, and Sam had adopted that as a philosophy that colored everything he did.
“How about this one?” his companion asked, cutting into his thoughts. She was pointing to the center screen -- a well groomed, permanently cheerful sort of man who was sitting at a kitchen table with three women, chatting and drinking coffee. Irish coffee, if Sam was any judge, based on what he knew about the man. “He looks perfect,” she added, “like he was born for it.”
“I’m sick of talking haircuts,” Sam grunted. “And the public is, too.”
“I’m not so sure,” she said doubtfully.
“I am. Fold up the kaffeeklatsch and send him back where he came from. There’s no way he has it.” When she didn’t respond, he looked at her and said quietly,
“Michael Dukakis, 1988. The tank ad. Remember? Dukakis riding around in an Abrams tank, wearing that helmet, looking like Charlie Brown pretending to be Patton? Do you know who got him to wear the helmet?” He tapped his chest slowly.
“Is that the last time you failed? Your secret professional shame?”
“Hardly. I was working for George Bush’s team. I just happened to be at General Dynamics when he was that day -- “
“’Just happened to be?’”
He smiled. “And it’s possible he thought I was a representative of General Dynamics when I told him the helmet would be a good idea.” Sam spread his hands. “The rest is history.”
“You play dirty,” she said after a short silence, then spoke into her headset again. Onscreen, the same production assistant walked onto the kitchen set and let everyone know shooting was done for the day. When the subject got testy, the assistant quickly talked him down, and by the time he left the set, the man was laughing.
“I play smart, not dirty,” Sam said quietly. “Who is that production assistant? One of ours?”
She glanced at the screen. “No, he’s an intern for the production company. Why?”
“Could you have him come down here when he’s done with Mister Haircut?”
“Sure. Why?”
But he had already slid his headphones back into place, and didn’t answer her. When the production assistant arrived a few minutes later, Sam took off his headphones, set them on the table and turned to face him. “What’s your name, son?” he asked, while his companion looked on curiously.
“Dave, sir. David Sheppard.”
“Nice to meet you, Dave. My name is Sam. This is Marilyn. She tells me you’re an intern here at the studio?”
“Yes, sir. Is there a problem? My supervisor is -- “
“No, no. No problem. It’s just -- well, pardon me for saying, but you seem a little old to be an intern.”
Dave smiled easily, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I am, sir. I went into the service right after I graduated, did three tours in Iraq before my enlistment was up, and I started school. Now -- if I make it through this -- I’ll be graduating in December.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine. But tell me -- you seem to have a way with people. We saw you with a couple of the subjects today.” He nodded toward the monitors, two of them now dark.
“Oh -- right. Well, I guess when you command men you figure out how to get them to do what you want. And when you spend your days alongside people you aren’t sure want to kill you or help you, you get a sense for people.”
“Yes, I imagine you do.” Sam looked at him closely, eyes scanning him from head to toe as though committing him to memory. “Look -- Dave -- what are your plans after December?”
“Get a job, sir. My degree is in journalism, but whatever comes along first.”
“Right.” He paused. “I know you already did your stint, Dave -- three tours in Iraq is more than we should ask of any man. But I wonder -- have you given any thought to public service?”
“Sir?”
“Have you ever thought about running for office?”
Dave looked puzzled, then smiled shyly. “Truth be told, there were a few times when I was kicking in doors, that I would think, ‘If I were running this show, it would be different.’ But that’s about it. I’m not the politician type, sir.”
“And that’s what I like about you, son?David. The Party is gearing up for the next gubernatorial race, and they asked me to look at some candidates in different settings, to see who I thought I could help win. Truth is, none of them strike me the way you do -- serious, but not too serious; honest; a man who’s proven he cares for his country because by volunteering to serve. Looking at the ones they asked me to look at, I can see that we could do far, far worse than you -- and we could never do any better.”
“You’re serious?”
“I never kid about politics, Dave. The Party asked me for a recommendation, and I want to recommend you. Are you interested?
“But I?can I think it over?”
“Of course. But don’t over think it. I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive, Dave. I know what I’m talking about. If you want to do this, if you commit to it heart and soul, put in the same effort you did kicking in doors and keeping our country safe?you can do it. You can win.”
“Sir, the only time I ever did anything political was when I ran for class president in junior high school. It was so bad I think my running mate voted against me.”
“You’re the right man for the job. I can feel it, Dave. And if you’re the right man, I can get you the job. Trust me, by the time we’re done, the other guy will be voting for you.”
“But you don’t know anything about me. I’ve got flaws, I’m -- “
Sam held up his hand. “Enough of that. I didn’t ask if you were perfect. I didn’t ask anything -- other than if you were the right man for the job. I can feel it in my bones. When you’re the right one, you’re the right one. The rest can be sorted out later.”
“Well?let me think about it. I’ll let you know.” Awkwardly, then, he excused himself and left.
There was a long silence after he left, then his companion finally said, “Do you think he’ll do it? And what will our clients say? I think the Party kind of had their hearts set on one of their men.”
“I think the Party has its heart set on dumping the current governor before he gets indicted, but keeping the governor’s mansion. They’ll complain, but they won’t fire me. Because I’m the right man for this job. It’ll be a tough row to hoe for David, but he can do it. I can just feel it in him.”
”If he says yes.”
Sam laughed, and stood up. “Oh, you really need to learn how to judge men better. He may take awhile, but he’ll say yes. He’ll do it. I know it.”
“Because you want him to?”
“Because compared to what we’ve got, he’s a much better man for the job, and he knows it. And besides, I haven’t met the man yet who’s been able to resist being told he’s the chosen one. It’ll work out.” He opened the door, held it for her as she stepped out. “Now -- are you sure you don’t want to meet the chimp?”
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.
* * *
Providence and Production
by John Fitzgerald
Mark 4:26-34
According to legend, Betsy Ross created the first American flag. Despite a lack of credible evidence to support this, she remains an icon of our national history. We remember Betsy and her story on this day. This morning we celebrate Flag Day as a tribute to the original United States Flag fashioned in 1777. We have honored the flag ever since this time and in 1916 President Woodrow Wilson made it official. In this year a proclamation issued by the Wilson administration established June 14 as Flag Day.
When we view the flag, we think of liberty, freedom, pride, and Betsy Ross. The American flag flies on the moon and sits atop Mount Everest. The flag is how America signs her name. It is no surprise that Betsy Ross has become one of the most cherished figures of United States history.
Betsy Ross, a fourth-generation American born in 1752 at Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, apprenticed as a seamstress while young. She attended Quaker schools and learned sewing and other crafts common to the day. She met John Ross, a fellow upholster and the two married in 1772. In 1776, at the start of our American Revolution, John Ross died due to a gunpowder explosion which occurred while he served with militia opposed to King George. A year latter, Betsy married Joseph Ashburn who had the unfortunate luck to be captured by the British while serving with colonial forces. Joseph died in prison a year latter. In 1783, Betsy married for a third and final time. This time Betsy and John Claypoole were able to share benefits of married life for 34 years.
Betsy Ross is a fine example of what many women in her generation endured. Betsy overcame widowhood, single motherhood, and managing a business on her own. Although best known for her story of knitting together an American Flag commissioned by George Washington, she will remain stitched into our national imagination due to fortitude and personal strength.
Betsy Ross could not have imagined that she would be singled out by the forces of history to play a distinguished role in our nation’s beginnings. Divine Providence intervened to cast her in a role that captures the American Spirit. The God who ordains nations to fall and rise choose for Betsy Ross this station in life. So it is with each one of us. The Living Lord determines our pathway in this walk. Providence shapes where we shall go and what our ultimate destination will be. Our scripture reading for today has two stories which describe the ongoing forces of God which forms all things. The Parable of the Growing Seed and Mustard Seed which comprise our Bible lesson are two examples shared by our Lord about divine providence. In both accounts a seed is planted and tremendous growth takes place. Human effort did not make this growth possible. It is only the handiwork of God which allowed for good things to happen.
These stories suggest that our job is to plant the seed, but God does the work of causing growth. This means our life and times are in the hands of a Lord who loves us and knows what lies ahead. God controls our destiny and purpose. Instead of pretending to be Masters of the Universe, we should see our life in hands of a Savior who has ordered our future steps. Not only is our life moved forward by divine providence, but blessing comes from the Holy Spirit. In our scripture lesson a harvest time will materialize because of the planted seed. Also, a tiny mustard seed produces a beautiful plant. There are occasions for blessing, harvest, and reaping fruits of God’s good work. Will we be ready for the harvest when it is time? Betsy Ross knitted a flag for George Washington never guessing at the consequences of blessing that awaited her. God will produce good fruit at the appropriate season if we are prepared.
On Flag Day, we honor the memory of Betsy Ross. This day we thank God for America and for all those who like Betsy Ross have been agents for divine providence and production.
John Fitzgerald lives in Leesburg, Ohio, with his wife Carolyn and has served as pastor at the Leesburg Friends Meeting for the past 27 years. Cornfield Cathedral (Fairway Press, 2013) is the second book authored by Pastor Fitzgerald. John has earned a Master's of Ministry Degree from the Earlham School of Religion in Richmond, Indiana.
*****************************************
StoryShare, June 14, 2015, issue.
Copyright 2015 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., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
