Stories/illustrations For February 6Th & 10Th, 2008
Stories
Object:
The Terrible Dark Day
by Peter Andrew Smith
Joel 2:1-2, 12-17
Carried by the wind, a small pod covered with spikes fell onto a field. The precious seeds within spilled into the ground and after the rains fell, one of them sprouted and took root. A tiny shoot pushed up through the ground and reached toward the light. The shoot grew into a sapling, which grew into a small tree.
As the tree's branches spread out, a bird flying past landed and took rest among its leaves. The bird flew on but soon other birds used the branches of the young tree as a resting place. One bird took shelter there from the elements and returned time and time again to the tree. As the tree grew larger the bird built a nest, attracted a mate, and soon the nest was filled with eggs. The eggs hatched and the baby birds used the branches of the tree as places to sing their songs and build their own nests.
As the seasons passed, the tree kept reaching toward the sun. The branches grew thicker and the trunk grew sturdy and strong. In the middle of the field, the tree stood tall and proud anchored firmly by deep roots that tightly gripped the earth.
When the time came, tiny pods covered with spikes containing precious seeds appeared on the branches of the tree. They started small, then grew, and when it was their time, they fell upon the ground. Each one of those pods landed under the shadow of the mighty tree with its full branches and towering height. Without the light of the sun and the kiss of the rain, the seeds never took root and simply rotted where they fell.
One season the tree stopped reaching for the sun. The branches did not extend any further and the roots did not seek any deeper. The birds that were there remained but no new ones came to the tree or near the field where the lone tree stood tall and full. The leaves still came each spring and fell each autumn. When it was time, the pods full of precious seeds developed and dropped from the tree but the seeds never went beyond the shadow of the tree and none of them ever sprouted.
The insects came seeking to eat away at the vitality of the tree as did the various diseases that sought to overcome its health. Each time the great branches, sturdy trunk, and the deep roots allowed the tree to resist. Yet, each time the tree took longer to heal itself following the assault of the forces looking to consume its life.
One season when the spiky pods had again sprouted on the tree, the sky grew dark during the day. As the light died, the birds stopped their songs, and huddled close to the trunk of the tree as an eerie silence covered the field. The calm was broken by the gentle rustle of the leaves. The gentle rustle grew to a roar as a persistent wind began to blow. The leaves shook and the birds hung on in the shelter of the many branches of the great tall tree. The persistent wind became a raging gale. Nests were pulled apart and scattered to the wind as eggs smashed into the ground and the birds were driven from their refuge.
The wind tore and bit into the tree pulling and tearing at it. Leaves were ripped in pieces and torn from the branches. The branches themselves strained under the fury of the wind. The smallest ones were twisted back and forth until they snapped off. The larger ones bent and strained under the relentless pressure.
The wind crashed and pounded against the tree with such a terrible fury that the mighty trunk itself began to sway from side to side. The roots struggled to hold the tree in place as the wind slammed into the tree again and again. Then all at once the wind stopped.
The once-mighty tree stood broken and battered among the shattered nests and debris. The roots had only a fragile hold on the earth and sap dripped from cracks in the trunk. The branches hung twisted and warped, stripped bare of all but a leaf here and there. Only the memory of the tree's former majesty remained as the light returned and a gentle rain began to fall.
As the days passed, the tree began to grow new leaves and the branches spread out in the embrace of the light. The roots tightened their grip on the earth and then dug deeper into the ground. New branches grew in place of those which had been lost and the tree reached upward once again. The birds slowly returned to the branches. Nests and songs of life returned to the tree.
Beyond where the branches stretched, pods covered in spikes broke open and the seeds within fell into the embrace of the earth. The seeds took root and grew into saplings. The saplings pushed toward the light and as their branches reached out they grew strong and tall outside the shadow of the tree that had stood for so long by itself in the field. After the terrible dark day, the tree was no longer alone in the field. It stood in the middle of a new forest.
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.
Still Learning Not to Wobble
by Rosmarie Trapp
Do not be like a horse or a mule, without understanding, whose temper must be curbed with bit and bridle, else it will not stay near you. Many are the torments of the wicked, but steadfast love surrounds those who trust in the Lord.
Psalm 32:9-10
Some people accept the Lord Jesus Christ and live with that for the rest of their lives. Others get inspired to proclaim him in public for the rest of their lives. That's the way it is in our family, and that's the way it is in the body of Christ, I think.
Anyway, after I had said my Sinner's Prayer with an evangelist on the radio in my bedroom one desperate night, I was having coffee in a bus station and found a scripture on the wall. Put there by some group for lost souls, it was Romans 10:9:
"If thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved."
That verse penetrated my terribly darkened mind, and my spirit leaped up and said, "Yes, that's what I want!" But guess what? I couldn't do it. There I sat, drinking coffee, and the word "Jesus" would not come out of my mouth for my neighbor to hear. It was stuck there, and I felt defeated again.
The spirit was trying to teach me what salvation is all about. He led me gently, slowly -- for I was a slow learner (and still am!) -- but he never let me go. In my struggle to get back home and start over again, these little penetrating lights got buried, and I forgot them as being the important truths they are.
The mercy of God led me to the Community of the Crucified One. This group was in its beginning stages in Homestead, Pennsylvania. Eddie Donovan had been called by God to start a Bible study in his own house, and soon many people came, for he is an excellent Bible teacher.
One of the nuns from Baltimore told my sister Agathe about him, and as I had been living with her there for three years, we both flew to Homestead to have him talk with her. Soon my mother and other sisters came to hear him, and my mother advised me to join his group. After another few years' struggle with rebellion, I submitted to the idea and drove to Homestead. It was May of 1978.
I was warmly welcomed, and was invited to stay as long as I felt I needed to. I decided to stay for two weeks. When I found out there was a trip to the Holy Land promised, I asked to go along. I was allowed to stay until October, and we had a glorious visit to the Holy Land.
As a result, Jesus came off the wall and out of pictures for me, and became a living person with history. That helped me decide to be part of the chapter of third order Franciscans.
There was much excitement when we returned to Homestead. I woke up every morning looking forward to what the day would bring. It was the beginning of our community, with many discussions and many decisions to be made. Everyone was included. Eddie was always talking in public and we were allowed to give our opinions. That was just up my alley, for I loved to be included in decision-making. When I was young, I had always envied my parents and siblings getting together to make decisions about the family singing group after Lorli and I, the little ones, had been put to bed.
Now I was part of another family -- the family of God, making decisions. It was great! But one day I was disrespectful to authority. I forget what I said, but Eddie suggested a personal retreat might be helpful. It was my first extended retreat: it lasted seven days, and it got me to read the Bible.
That evening, as I tried to fall asleep, the Lord visited me in a bright golden light in my room. It made me remember the Sinner's Prayer I had said in Syracuse, New York. That was a real blessing. Praise God for his memory. He had not forgotten, even though I had. Through all the years I had spent in Baltimore, when people asked me how I had been saved, I couldn't say, because I had forgotten that simple prayer in my room. God is faithful, because he knew how distraught I had become about whether I was truly saved or not. He knew I would run up to the altar at every altar call, but it never reassured me. Well, that night the golden glow brought peace to my soul, and I found that I could stand upon the rock of my salvation. At first I was pretty wobbly, and it took years to be firm. It's been twenty years since that blessing, and I'm still learning not to wobble.
Rosmarie Trapp is a member of the "Community of the Crucified One," 104 E. 11th Ave., Homestead, PA 15120. She lives in an apartment in one of their mission houses in Vermont, where she is involved in children's Bible classes, fundraisers, and prison ministry, sharing the message "Jesus loves you." Her family's story was told in the well-known movie The Sound of Music. This story appeared in Shining Moments: Visions of the Holy in Ordinary Lives (CSS Publishing, 2004).
by Peter Andrew Smith
Joel 2:1-2, 12-17
Carried by the wind, a small pod covered with spikes fell onto a field. The precious seeds within spilled into the ground and after the rains fell, one of them sprouted and took root. A tiny shoot pushed up through the ground and reached toward the light. The shoot grew into a sapling, which grew into a small tree.
As the tree's branches spread out, a bird flying past landed and took rest among its leaves. The bird flew on but soon other birds used the branches of the young tree as a resting place. One bird took shelter there from the elements and returned time and time again to the tree. As the tree grew larger the bird built a nest, attracted a mate, and soon the nest was filled with eggs. The eggs hatched and the baby birds used the branches of the tree as places to sing their songs and build their own nests.
As the seasons passed, the tree kept reaching toward the sun. The branches grew thicker and the trunk grew sturdy and strong. In the middle of the field, the tree stood tall and proud anchored firmly by deep roots that tightly gripped the earth.
When the time came, tiny pods covered with spikes containing precious seeds appeared on the branches of the tree. They started small, then grew, and when it was their time, they fell upon the ground. Each one of those pods landed under the shadow of the mighty tree with its full branches and towering height. Without the light of the sun and the kiss of the rain, the seeds never took root and simply rotted where they fell.
One season the tree stopped reaching for the sun. The branches did not extend any further and the roots did not seek any deeper. The birds that were there remained but no new ones came to the tree or near the field where the lone tree stood tall and full. The leaves still came each spring and fell each autumn. When it was time, the pods full of precious seeds developed and dropped from the tree but the seeds never went beyond the shadow of the tree and none of them ever sprouted.
The insects came seeking to eat away at the vitality of the tree as did the various diseases that sought to overcome its health. Each time the great branches, sturdy trunk, and the deep roots allowed the tree to resist. Yet, each time the tree took longer to heal itself following the assault of the forces looking to consume its life.
One season when the spiky pods had again sprouted on the tree, the sky grew dark during the day. As the light died, the birds stopped their songs, and huddled close to the trunk of the tree as an eerie silence covered the field. The calm was broken by the gentle rustle of the leaves. The gentle rustle grew to a roar as a persistent wind began to blow. The leaves shook and the birds hung on in the shelter of the many branches of the great tall tree. The persistent wind became a raging gale. Nests were pulled apart and scattered to the wind as eggs smashed into the ground and the birds were driven from their refuge.
The wind tore and bit into the tree pulling and tearing at it. Leaves were ripped in pieces and torn from the branches. The branches themselves strained under the fury of the wind. The smallest ones were twisted back and forth until they snapped off. The larger ones bent and strained under the relentless pressure.
The wind crashed and pounded against the tree with such a terrible fury that the mighty trunk itself began to sway from side to side. The roots struggled to hold the tree in place as the wind slammed into the tree again and again. Then all at once the wind stopped.
The once-mighty tree stood broken and battered among the shattered nests and debris. The roots had only a fragile hold on the earth and sap dripped from cracks in the trunk. The branches hung twisted and warped, stripped bare of all but a leaf here and there. Only the memory of the tree's former majesty remained as the light returned and a gentle rain began to fall.
As the days passed, the tree began to grow new leaves and the branches spread out in the embrace of the light. The roots tightened their grip on the earth and then dug deeper into the ground. New branches grew in place of those which had been lost and the tree reached upward once again. The birds slowly returned to the branches. Nests and songs of life returned to the tree.
Beyond where the branches stretched, pods covered in spikes broke open and the seeds within fell into the embrace of the earth. The seeds took root and grew into saplings. The saplings pushed toward the light and as their branches reached out they grew strong and tall outside the shadow of the tree that had stood for so long by itself in the field. After the terrible dark day, the tree was no longer alone in the field. It stood in the middle of a new forest.
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.
Still Learning Not to Wobble
by Rosmarie Trapp
Do not be like a horse or a mule, without understanding, whose temper must be curbed with bit and bridle, else it will not stay near you. Many are the torments of the wicked, but steadfast love surrounds those who trust in the Lord.
Psalm 32:9-10
Some people accept the Lord Jesus Christ and live with that for the rest of their lives. Others get inspired to proclaim him in public for the rest of their lives. That's the way it is in our family, and that's the way it is in the body of Christ, I think.
Anyway, after I had said my Sinner's Prayer with an evangelist on the radio in my bedroom one desperate night, I was having coffee in a bus station and found a scripture on the wall. Put there by some group for lost souls, it was Romans 10:9:
"If thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved."
That verse penetrated my terribly darkened mind, and my spirit leaped up and said, "Yes, that's what I want!" But guess what? I couldn't do it. There I sat, drinking coffee, and the word "Jesus" would not come out of my mouth for my neighbor to hear. It was stuck there, and I felt defeated again.
The spirit was trying to teach me what salvation is all about. He led me gently, slowly -- for I was a slow learner (and still am!) -- but he never let me go. In my struggle to get back home and start over again, these little penetrating lights got buried, and I forgot them as being the important truths they are.
The mercy of God led me to the Community of the Crucified One. This group was in its beginning stages in Homestead, Pennsylvania. Eddie Donovan had been called by God to start a Bible study in his own house, and soon many people came, for he is an excellent Bible teacher.
One of the nuns from Baltimore told my sister Agathe about him, and as I had been living with her there for three years, we both flew to Homestead to have him talk with her. Soon my mother and other sisters came to hear him, and my mother advised me to join his group. After another few years' struggle with rebellion, I submitted to the idea and drove to Homestead. It was May of 1978.
I was warmly welcomed, and was invited to stay as long as I felt I needed to. I decided to stay for two weeks. When I found out there was a trip to the Holy Land promised, I asked to go along. I was allowed to stay until October, and we had a glorious visit to the Holy Land.
As a result, Jesus came off the wall and out of pictures for me, and became a living person with history. That helped me decide to be part of the chapter of third order Franciscans.
There was much excitement when we returned to Homestead. I woke up every morning looking forward to what the day would bring. It was the beginning of our community, with many discussions and many decisions to be made. Everyone was included. Eddie was always talking in public and we were allowed to give our opinions. That was just up my alley, for I loved to be included in decision-making. When I was young, I had always envied my parents and siblings getting together to make decisions about the family singing group after Lorli and I, the little ones, had been put to bed.
Now I was part of another family -- the family of God, making decisions. It was great! But one day I was disrespectful to authority. I forget what I said, but Eddie suggested a personal retreat might be helpful. It was my first extended retreat: it lasted seven days, and it got me to read the Bible.
That evening, as I tried to fall asleep, the Lord visited me in a bright golden light in my room. It made me remember the Sinner's Prayer I had said in Syracuse, New York. That was a real blessing. Praise God for his memory. He had not forgotten, even though I had. Through all the years I had spent in Baltimore, when people asked me how I had been saved, I couldn't say, because I had forgotten that simple prayer in my room. God is faithful, because he knew how distraught I had become about whether I was truly saved or not. He knew I would run up to the altar at every altar call, but it never reassured me. Well, that night the golden glow brought peace to my soul, and I found that I could stand upon the rock of my salvation. At first I was pretty wobbly, and it took years to be firm. It's been twenty years since that blessing, and I'm still learning not to wobble.
Rosmarie Trapp is a member of the "Community of the Crucified One," 104 E. 11th Ave., Homestead, PA 15120. She lives in an apartment in one of their mission houses in Vermont, where she is involved in children's Bible classes, fundraisers, and prison ministry, sharing the message "Jesus loves you." Her family's story was told in the well-known movie The Sound of Music. This story appeared in Shining Moments: Visions of the Holy in Ordinary Lives (CSS Publishing, 2004).
