Witnessing To The Truth
Stories
Object:
Contents
What's Up This Week
"Witnessing to the Truth" by Peter Andrew Smith
"The Best Ascension We Ever Had" by John Sumwalt
"Choices" by Argile Smith
"Who Was That Masked Man?" by C. David McKirachan
"But Jim, That’s Not Logical" by C. David McKirachan
What's Up This Week
How do we reach out and touch others and witness to our faith? There are countless ways, of course, but the stories in this edition of StoryShare show three different ways that we can be part of that great "cloud of witnesses." In our feature story, Peter Andrew Smith tells of a woman who offers a listening ear and the gift of prayer to a grieving daughter. John Sumwalt then shares his personal experience of Rosmarie Trapp (of the von Trapp Family Singers) witnessing to audiences on a storytelling tour, while Argile Smith offers a portrayal of two old college friends getting together -- one embittered by her perception that God had not answered her prayers when her mother was dying, and her friend who helps her understand that maybe she needs to give God a chance and live according to his ways. David McKirachan imagines Jesus reaching out and touching those he ministered to — and concludes that Jesus certainly couldn’t ride off into the sunset like the Lone Ranger. But, McKirachan also points out, those of us who follow the Lord are called to share his love throughout the universe… or as Star Trek so memorably puts it, “to boldly go where no one has gone before.”
* * * * * * * * *
Witnessing to the Truth
by Peter Andrew Smith
Luke 24:44-53
Janine sat alone crying in the midst of the life and activity of the park. Many of the people passing by never saw her as they enjoyed the spring morning. Some of the people noticed her but turned away when they saw her tears. A small dog was drawn to the sounds of her sobs but its owner pulled it in another direction before they came too close. Janine covered her face with her hands and wept.
"Are you okay?"
Janine looked up into the face of a middle-aged woman dressed in a business suit. The woman's make-up was perfect and her clothes were crisply pressed.
"I'll move along," Janine said, wiping her cheeks and trying to gather herself together. "I didn't mean to bother anyone."
"I don't think you are bothering anyone in the least," the woman said, sitting down beside her. "Besides, the park is a good place to come when you're sad. I've cried here many a time."
"I'm not crying."
"Then why the tears?" the woman asked.
"Nothing a stranger would care about," Janine said.
"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't care. My name is Angela."
Janine introduced herself.
"Good," Angela said with a gentle smile. "Now that we're no longer strangers, why don't you tell me what brought you to the park this morning to cry."
Tears began to run down Janine's face. "My mother died last night."
"I'm sorry." Angela said.
"It's not fair," Janine said. "She was a good person, so full of energy and so caring. The cancer just took her life away. I never got the chance to say everything I wanted to say to her."
"There is never enough time in life to say everything we want to say." Angela handed Janine a tissue. "She sounds like a wonderful person."
"She was. The best mother a girl could ever want."
"Tell me about her," Angela said.
Janine began slowly telling about her mother. At first she talked about her death, the pain of seeing her withered and weak lying in the hospital bed. She told of her anger at finding out about her mother's cancer and her search for a cure. She cried as she described her mother's illness.
Then she laughed as she told of her mother's jokes about hospital food and the shameless flirting her mother did with the young male orderly who worked nights. She spoke of the times her mother took her to the zoo as a young girl and the Sunday dinners they always had after church.
"I'll never have another Sunday dinner with her," Janine said covering her face again and sobbing.
Angela handed her another tissue when the sobbing quieted. "You know your face lights up when you speak of your mother."
"I loved her."
"And it sounds like she loved you."
Janine nodded. "She did. No matter what I did in life she still loved me. Even when I didn't go to church I knew I was welcome at her house for dinner."
"Did your mother go to church often?"
"Every Sunday. The last thing she told me was not to be afraid, that she was going to a better place and that Jesus was looking after her," Janine said. "She wasn't afraid in the least to die."
"She sounds like a strong woman."
"She was," Janine said nodding. "I wish I was as strong as her. I wish I had her faith."
"You have her faith," Angela said. "She shared it with you in her love for you and in the way she lived her life and the way she faced her death. She showed you her faith by telling what she believed and in teaching you about Jesus."
Janine nodded. "She always said prayer was the way through a hard time."
"Would you like to pray together?" Angela asked extending an open hand.
The two grasped hands and together they prayed in the park surrounded by people that spring morning. Most of the people ignored them and continued on with their lives without paying any attention to the two women speaking with God. But a few people noticed and carried with them the sight of two strangers who became friends through a tragedy and through the hope of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Peter Andrew Smith is an ordained minister in the United Church of Canada who currently serves at 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, as well as many stories and articles, which can be found listed at www.peterandrewsmith.com.
The Best Ascension We Ever Had
by John Sumwalt
Luke 24:44-53
Then he led them out as far as Bethany, and, lifting up his hands, he blessed them. While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven.
-- Luke 24:50-51
The season of Eastertide ends every year with this incredible account of Jesus being "carried up into heaven" as the disciples watched. How does one describe such an occurrence or understand it? If you or I were to show up at the coffee shop and announce that we had witnessed such a thing, no one would believe us.
Is the response any different when these scriptures are read in worship? It would be interesting to ask several thousand average Christians what they think about the Ascension and then do some statistical analysis of the results. Would a majority say they believe what they say when they say that line in the Apostle's Creed: "… he ascended into heaven and sitteth at the right hand of God the Father almighty, from thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead"? I expect most followers of Jesus would say they believe this, but I also suspect that, if pressed, they would admit that they haven't thought much about it. Unlike the resurrection, which gets much bigger play because churches are full on Easter, the Ascension gets little attention. This may be, in part, because we have almost no framework for comprehending such an event.
Neither did the disciples. They are left standing, looking up with their mouths open, not quite comprehending what they have just seen. What do you do after you see something like that? What words do you employ to describe a phenomenon unlike anything you or anyone else on Earth has ever seen, and who would they tell? Who would believe it?
In the summer of 2004, I had the joy of traveling with Rosmarie Trapp on a five-day, whirlwind storytelling tour of southern Wisconsin. Rosmarie is the first-born child of the Captain and Maria, of the von Trapp Family Singers of Sound of Music fame. She has seven older and two younger siblings, five of whom are still living. The von Trapps escaped from Austria when the Nazis came in 1938. Rosmarie said her parents had a vision like Abraham to go to a new land that God would show them, a decision that, she said, saved their lives. She was 9 years old when they arrived in "Amerika" and settled on a farm in Stowe, Vermont, where the von Trapp Family Lodge is still located today. They slept in a haymow in a barn the first summer while their home was being built.
The von Trapp Family Singers offered concerts all over the world in the 1940s and '50s: "Tiny one-horse towns and big cities, we went everywhere -- every state in the US (except Alaska), Canada, Mexico, South America, and New Zealand," Rosmarie said. When we passed Kohler, Wisconsin, on our way from a book signing in Plymouth to a church event in Sheboygan, she exclaimed, "Oh, we played here in the 1940s." She remembered touring the factory where the popular Kohler tubs, sinks, and other bathroom accessories are made.
Wherever we went Rosmarie witnessed to her faith, played guitar, and led people in singing favorite songs from The Sound of Music. I heard new stories each time Rosmarie spoke. On the last night, she told about a sister who was always late. They used to tease her, telling her that she would be late for her own funeral. When she died, her body was sent, by mistake, to Waterbury, Connecticut, instead of Waterbury, Vermont. They had to start the funeral without her, and when the casket arrived about halfway through the service, everyone had a good laugh. "It was the best funeral we ever had," Rosmarie said.
That's one way to make a memorable exit. The disciples would not have called Jesus' departure the "best ascension we ever had," because they had never had one before. It had to have been one of the most defining moments of their lives. And, of all of their many experiences with Jesus -- raising the dead, healing the sick, feeding 5,000, and his many resurrection appearances -- it may have been the most difficult to explain.
John Sumwalt is the pastor of Our Lord's United Methodist Church in New Berlin, Wisconsin. John and his wife Jo Perry-Sumwalt are the former co-editors of StoryShare, and John is the author of nine books.
Choices
by Argile Smith
Psalm 1; John 17:6-19
Nicole and Dana stood in a long line at the coffee shop waiting to place their orders. Friends since college, the two of them enjoyed an afternoon together whenever they could schedule it. Fifteen years had passed since they had graduated. Across those years, their relationship had grown deeper.
Not only did they enjoy each other's company, they found strength in one another that helped them through some of the tough times in each of their lives. Once, when Nicole got fired from her job, Dana kept on encouraging her not to give up on her career. Eventually Nicole got back in the game, so to speak, and from that point her career took off in a new and lucrative direction.
But Dana helped Nicole, too. Dana enjoyed a personal relationship with the Lord, but Nicole didn't consider her to be a religious person. When Nicole was a little girl, she lost her mother to cancer. When she told Dana about the loss one night in their dorm room in college, she explained that she prayed every day for God to make her mom well. In her childlike way, she really believed that He would heal her. When her mom died, Nicole said that she became bitter about religion and gave up on God. She couldn't see any value in devoting herself to a deity that hadn't given any attention to her at the point of her deepest need as a child.
Saying good-bye to her mother for the last time broke Nicole's little heart. Growing up without her mom made her life unbearable at times. To make matters worse, she had to put up with her dad, who numbed his grief with alcohol and eventually became addicted to it. Throughout her years as a teenager, she had to deal with an unabated sorrow that always simmered in her soul.
Dana took advantage of every opportunity to talk with Nicole about a personal relationship with God, but so far her efforts had been in vain. Nicole constantly replied with the same rejoinder: "Dana, you know that I'm not religious. I'm not interested!" Sometimes she would add, "Dana, believing in God has been good for you, but you can't make me believe that it's good for me. I've made it this far without believing, and I am sure that I can take care of myself without any help from the Divine."
Dana saw an opportunity to talk with Nicole about God that afternoon they visited each other at the coffee shop. As they stood in line, she heard Nicole make a comment about the menu posted on the coffee shop wall. As she surveyed it, Nicole commented on the number of options. As they waited in line, Nicole counted out loud the number of coffee selections. Frustrated because she couldn't make up her mind about what she wanted, she complained to Dana that she had too many choices to make. "Sometimes," she said to Dana, "I would like to have only a couple of choices."
"In fact, you do!" Dana replied. "But not necessarily when it comes to coffee."
"Are you going to get religious on me again?" Nicole replied with a hint of uneasiness and caution in her voice.
"No, not really," Dana said. "But you could take it that way."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, everyone everywhere has really only two paths to choose from when it comes to how we will live. Either we take the path that has us living according to God's ways, or we'll choose another way. But one fact is certain. You've got to make a choice."
"I've already made my choice. I want to live without God. I don't need Him."
"That's your choice, but have you stopped to think about what taking that path means to you?"
"Yes, it means I won't ever be disappointed!" groused Nicole, still stinging as an adult because God didn't answer her prayer when she was a child.
"Yes, you will. You'll be disappointed with yourself because you didn't give God a chance. Rest assured that He doesn't feel about you the way you feel about Him."
"Maybe you've got a point," Nicole said.
The author of Psalm 1 described the difference the choices would make in a person's life. As He prayed for His disciples, Jesus asked the Father to guide them so they would choose well (John 17:6-19).
Argile Smith is the pastor of First Baptist Church in Biloxi, Mississippi. He previously served as the vice president for advancement at William Carey University in Hattiesburg, Mississippi, and as a preaching professor, chairman of the division of pastoral ministries, and director of the communications center at New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary (NOBTS). While at NOTBS, Smith regularly hosted the Gateway to Truth program on the FamilyNet television network. Smith's articles have been widely published in church periodicals, and he is the author or editor of four books.
Who Was That Masked Man?
by C. David McKirachan
Acts 1:1-11
The Lone Ranger always bothered me when I was a kid. I think it was because he was so clean. I liked Lash LaRue. He wore a black outfit and once in a while you actually saw dust on him. But clean was in back then. So Lash in all his dusty black was only grade B when compared to the dude with the white hat, the white horse, and the faithful Native American who called him something that none of us knew what it meant.
After he had defeated the dirty bad guys and put the world back in order he rode off into the sunset. When I was about eight, I came up with a theory about why he had to ride away, why he couldn't settle down. I figured if he stayed around he'd have to do normal things. He'd have to work and sweat. He'd have to buy groceries. (I couldn't imagine the Masked Man in a supermarket or a general store.) He'd have to eat. He'd have to take off his skintight uniform and take a bath. (How would he get it back on?) He'd get sick. He'd get old. In other words, he'd be like everybody else. Even if he kept wearing the mask, he'd be just Mr. Ranger, or Lone to his friends, or the weird guy who lived with the Indian.
The next step of my convoluted logic went theological. Is that why Jesus went up on Ascension Day? He hi-ho-angel'ed away so he wouldn't have to get all tangled up in the stuff that makes our lives normal (substitute dirty)?
But even then I couldn't put Jesus down like that. Jesus got dirty. You don't touch people, draw in the dirt, or wash feet without picking up some of the grime we all share. Besides, he didn't wear a mask or that improbable outfit. Nope, Jesus didn't float away because he resembled the squeaky-clean masked dude.
The next step was the lulu. I figured that He left because the bunch wouldn't get much done if He hung around. They'd be working on crowd control rather than doing what He wanted them to do, which was basically get dirty the way He did.
I think that's pretty good for an eight-year-old. I think that's pretty good for a sixty-year-old. It's still my theology.
I still think Lash LaRue got the short end of the stick.
"But Jim, That's Not Logical"
by C. David McKirachan
Ephesians 1:15-23
My father loved the letter to the Ephesians. As an exercise, he memorized it in Greek. He said it kept him up to snuff and allowed him to do word studies without the lights on. Okay. He said that the scope of the letter was universal. Taking into account his practices and his attitudes, you'd think he would have enjoyed Star Trek. He always reminded me of Mr. Spock. Ephesians could use the musical theme with the video from Star Trek: The Next Generation (better graphics). It almost sounds like "… boldly go where no one has gone before."
I do think that's the vision of the writer. He sees a limitless expanse of mission. He sees fields white for the harvest, stretching far beyond the paltry parameters of the known world, out into the far reaches of God's imagination.
In this latter day when we spend a lot more time trying to figure out a way to get past lawsuits over property and where to find a decent organist, it's hard to have that kind of vision. It's funny -- as our universe has expanded, we've gotten in the habit of thinking smaller. Now that we can see the formation of galaxies, we have a hard time believing that we can actually make a difference in people's lives.
That's where this hope stuff comes in. Not the hope that we'll be able to collect social security in a few years, but hope that allows for something beyond our wildest dreams to be possible and interesting and wonderful. Gene Roddenberry's vision for Star Trek saw the universe as a place full of danger and difficulty, but he also believed that these small and vulnerable beings called humans brought something wonderful out into those dark and hostile spaces. He also believed that we would grow because of our willingness to reach, "to boldly go where no one has gone before."
That kind of hope is not founded on success, but on identity. Who are we? Why are we here? I think we're here to get moving, out there, out beyond, out to the edges of what we are and what we know. I think we're here to follow the Lord. That's where he was going. Not to some cozy living room with hot and cold running snack food, but out to the edges of what is, out to what could be. We've been given warp engines after all, fueled by the most powerful force in the universe -- love.
So, as the Captain of the Enterprise, Jean-Luc Picard, says so well: "Engage."
C. David McKirachan is pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Shrewsbury in central New Jersey. He also teaches at Monmouth University. He is the author of I Happened Upon a Miracle and A Year of Wonder (Westminster John Knox).
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StoryShare, May 24, 2009, issue.
Copyright 2009 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
"Witnessing to the Truth" by Peter Andrew Smith
"The Best Ascension We Ever Had" by John Sumwalt
"Choices" by Argile Smith
"Who Was That Masked Man?" by C. David McKirachan
"But Jim, That’s Not Logical" by C. David McKirachan
What's Up This Week
How do we reach out and touch others and witness to our faith? There are countless ways, of course, but the stories in this edition of StoryShare show three different ways that we can be part of that great "cloud of witnesses." In our feature story, Peter Andrew Smith tells of a woman who offers a listening ear and the gift of prayer to a grieving daughter. John Sumwalt then shares his personal experience of Rosmarie Trapp (of the von Trapp Family Singers) witnessing to audiences on a storytelling tour, while Argile Smith offers a portrayal of two old college friends getting together -- one embittered by her perception that God had not answered her prayers when her mother was dying, and her friend who helps her understand that maybe she needs to give God a chance and live according to his ways. David McKirachan imagines Jesus reaching out and touching those he ministered to — and concludes that Jesus certainly couldn’t ride off into the sunset like the Lone Ranger. But, McKirachan also points out, those of us who follow the Lord are called to share his love throughout the universe… or as Star Trek so memorably puts it, “to boldly go where no one has gone before.”
* * * * * * * * *
Witnessing to the Truth
by Peter Andrew Smith
Luke 24:44-53
Janine sat alone crying in the midst of the life and activity of the park. Many of the people passing by never saw her as they enjoyed the spring morning. Some of the people noticed her but turned away when they saw her tears. A small dog was drawn to the sounds of her sobs but its owner pulled it in another direction before they came too close. Janine covered her face with her hands and wept.
"Are you okay?"
Janine looked up into the face of a middle-aged woman dressed in a business suit. The woman's make-up was perfect and her clothes were crisply pressed.
"I'll move along," Janine said, wiping her cheeks and trying to gather herself together. "I didn't mean to bother anyone."
"I don't think you are bothering anyone in the least," the woman said, sitting down beside her. "Besides, the park is a good place to come when you're sad. I've cried here many a time."
"I'm not crying."
"Then why the tears?" the woman asked.
"Nothing a stranger would care about," Janine said.
"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't care. My name is Angela."
Janine introduced herself.
"Good," Angela said with a gentle smile. "Now that we're no longer strangers, why don't you tell me what brought you to the park this morning to cry."
Tears began to run down Janine's face. "My mother died last night."
"I'm sorry." Angela said.
"It's not fair," Janine said. "She was a good person, so full of energy and so caring. The cancer just took her life away. I never got the chance to say everything I wanted to say to her."
"There is never enough time in life to say everything we want to say." Angela handed Janine a tissue. "She sounds like a wonderful person."
"She was. The best mother a girl could ever want."
"Tell me about her," Angela said.
Janine began slowly telling about her mother. At first she talked about her death, the pain of seeing her withered and weak lying in the hospital bed. She told of her anger at finding out about her mother's cancer and her search for a cure. She cried as she described her mother's illness.
Then she laughed as she told of her mother's jokes about hospital food and the shameless flirting her mother did with the young male orderly who worked nights. She spoke of the times her mother took her to the zoo as a young girl and the Sunday dinners they always had after church.
"I'll never have another Sunday dinner with her," Janine said covering her face again and sobbing.
Angela handed her another tissue when the sobbing quieted. "You know your face lights up when you speak of your mother."
"I loved her."
"And it sounds like she loved you."
Janine nodded. "She did. No matter what I did in life she still loved me. Even when I didn't go to church I knew I was welcome at her house for dinner."
"Did your mother go to church often?"
"Every Sunday. The last thing she told me was not to be afraid, that she was going to a better place and that Jesus was looking after her," Janine said. "She wasn't afraid in the least to die."
"She sounds like a strong woman."
"She was," Janine said nodding. "I wish I was as strong as her. I wish I had her faith."
"You have her faith," Angela said. "She shared it with you in her love for you and in the way she lived her life and the way she faced her death. She showed you her faith by telling what she believed and in teaching you about Jesus."
Janine nodded. "She always said prayer was the way through a hard time."
"Would you like to pray together?" Angela asked extending an open hand.
The two grasped hands and together they prayed in the park surrounded by people that spring morning. Most of the people ignored them and continued on with their lives without paying any attention to the two women speaking with God. But a few people noticed and carried with them the sight of two strangers who became friends through a tragedy and through the hope of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Peter Andrew Smith is an ordained minister in the United Church of Canada who currently serves at 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, as well as many stories and articles, which can be found listed at www.peterandrewsmith.com.
The Best Ascension We Ever Had
by John Sumwalt
Luke 24:44-53
Then he led them out as far as Bethany, and, lifting up his hands, he blessed them. While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven.
-- Luke 24:50-51
The season of Eastertide ends every year with this incredible account of Jesus being "carried up into heaven" as the disciples watched. How does one describe such an occurrence or understand it? If you or I were to show up at the coffee shop and announce that we had witnessed such a thing, no one would believe us.
Is the response any different when these scriptures are read in worship? It would be interesting to ask several thousand average Christians what they think about the Ascension and then do some statistical analysis of the results. Would a majority say they believe what they say when they say that line in the Apostle's Creed: "… he ascended into heaven and sitteth at the right hand of God the Father almighty, from thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead"? I expect most followers of Jesus would say they believe this, but I also suspect that, if pressed, they would admit that they haven't thought much about it. Unlike the resurrection, which gets much bigger play because churches are full on Easter, the Ascension gets little attention. This may be, in part, because we have almost no framework for comprehending such an event.
Neither did the disciples. They are left standing, looking up with their mouths open, not quite comprehending what they have just seen. What do you do after you see something like that? What words do you employ to describe a phenomenon unlike anything you or anyone else on Earth has ever seen, and who would they tell? Who would believe it?
In the summer of 2004, I had the joy of traveling with Rosmarie Trapp on a five-day, whirlwind storytelling tour of southern Wisconsin. Rosmarie is the first-born child of the Captain and Maria, of the von Trapp Family Singers of Sound of Music fame. She has seven older and two younger siblings, five of whom are still living. The von Trapps escaped from Austria when the Nazis came in 1938. Rosmarie said her parents had a vision like Abraham to go to a new land that God would show them, a decision that, she said, saved their lives. She was 9 years old when they arrived in "Amerika" and settled on a farm in Stowe, Vermont, where the von Trapp Family Lodge is still located today. They slept in a haymow in a barn the first summer while their home was being built.
The von Trapp Family Singers offered concerts all over the world in the 1940s and '50s: "Tiny one-horse towns and big cities, we went everywhere -- every state in the US (except Alaska), Canada, Mexico, South America, and New Zealand," Rosmarie said. When we passed Kohler, Wisconsin, on our way from a book signing in Plymouth to a church event in Sheboygan, she exclaimed, "Oh, we played here in the 1940s." She remembered touring the factory where the popular Kohler tubs, sinks, and other bathroom accessories are made.
Wherever we went Rosmarie witnessed to her faith, played guitar, and led people in singing favorite songs from The Sound of Music. I heard new stories each time Rosmarie spoke. On the last night, she told about a sister who was always late. They used to tease her, telling her that she would be late for her own funeral. When she died, her body was sent, by mistake, to Waterbury, Connecticut, instead of Waterbury, Vermont. They had to start the funeral without her, and when the casket arrived about halfway through the service, everyone had a good laugh. "It was the best funeral we ever had," Rosmarie said.
That's one way to make a memorable exit. The disciples would not have called Jesus' departure the "best ascension we ever had," because they had never had one before. It had to have been one of the most defining moments of their lives. And, of all of their many experiences with Jesus -- raising the dead, healing the sick, feeding 5,000, and his many resurrection appearances -- it may have been the most difficult to explain.
John Sumwalt is the pastor of Our Lord's United Methodist Church in New Berlin, Wisconsin. John and his wife Jo Perry-Sumwalt are the former co-editors of StoryShare, and John is the author of nine books.
Choices
by Argile Smith
Psalm 1; John 17:6-19
Nicole and Dana stood in a long line at the coffee shop waiting to place their orders. Friends since college, the two of them enjoyed an afternoon together whenever they could schedule it. Fifteen years had passed since they had graduated. Across those years, their relationship had grown deeper.
Not only did they enjoy each other's company, they found strength in one another that helped them through some of the tough times in each of their lives. Once, when Nicole got fired from her job, Dana kept on encouraging her not to give up on her career. Eventually Nicole got back in the game, so to speak, and from that point her career took off in a new and lucrative direction.
But Dana helped Nicole, too. Dana enjoyed a personal relationship with the Lord, but Nicole didn't consider her to be a religious person. When Nicole was a little girl, she lost her mother to cancer. When she told Dana about the loss one night in their dorm room in college, she explained that she prayed every day for God to make her mom well. In her childlike way, she really believed that He would heal her. When her mom died, Nicole said that she became bitter about religion and gave up on God. She couldn't see any value in devoting herself to a deity that hadn't given any attention to her at the point of her deepest need as a child.
Saying good-bye to her mother for the last time broke Nicole's little heart. Growing up without her mom made her life unbearable at times. To make matters worse, she had to put up with her dad, who numbed his grief with alcohol and eventually became addicted to it. Throughout her years as a teenager, she had to deal with an unabated sorrow that always simmered in her soul.
Dana took advantage of every opportunity to talk with Nicole about a personal relationship with God, but so far her efforts had been in vain. Nicole constantly replied with the same rejoinder: "Dana, you know that I'm not religious. I'm not interested!" Sometimes she would add, "Dana, believing in God has been good for you, but you can't make me believe that it's good for me. I've made it this far without believing, and I am sure that I can take care of myself without any help from the Divine."
Dana saw an opportunity to talk with Nicole about God that afternoon they visited each other at the coffee shop. As they stood in line, she heard Nicole make a comment about the menu posted on the coffee shop wall. As she surveyed it, Nicole commented on the number of options. As they waited in line, Nicole counted out loud the number of coffee selections. Frustrated because she couldn't make up her mind about what she wanted, she complained to Dana that she had too many choices to make. "Sometimes," she said to Dana, "I would like to have only a couple of choices."
"In fact, you do!" Dana replied. "But not necessarily when it comes to coffee."
"Are you going to get religious on me again?" Nicole replied with a hint of uneasiness and caution in her voice.
"No, not really," Dana said. "But you could take it that way."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, everyone everywhere has really only two paths to choose from when it comes to how we will live. Either we take the path that has us living according to God's ways, or we'll choose another way. But one fact is certain. You've got to make a choice."
"I've already made my choice. I want to live without God. I don't need Him."
"That's your choice, but have you stopped to think about what taking that path means to you?"
"Yes, it means I won't ever be disappointed!" groused Nicole, still stinging as an adult because God didn't answer her prayer when she was a child.
"Yes, you will. You'll be disappointed with yourself because you didn't give God a chance. Rest assured that He doesn't feel about you the way you feel about Him."
"Maybe you've got a point," Nicole said.
The author of Psalm 1 described the difference the choices would make in a person's life. As He prayed for His disciples, Jesus asked the Father to guide them so they would choose well (John 17:6-19).
Argile Smith is the pastor of First Baptist Church in Biloxi, Mississippi. He previously served as the vice president for advancement at William Carey University in Hattiesburg, Mississippi, and as a preaching professor, chairman of the division of pastoral ministries, and director of the communications center at New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary (NOBTS). While at NOTBS, Smith regularly hosted the Gateway to Truth program on the FamilyNet television network. Smith's articles have been widely published in church periodicals, and he is the author or editor of four books.
Who Was That Masked Man?
by C. David McKirachan
Acts 1:1-11
The Lone Ranger always bothered me when I was a kid. I think it was because he was so clean. I liked Lash LaRue. He wore a black outfit and once in a while you actually saw dust on him. But clean was in back then. So Lash in all his dusty black was only grade B when compared to the dude with the white hat, the white horse, and the faithful Native American who called him something that none of us knew what it meant.
After he had defeated the dirty bad guys and put the world back in order he rode off into the sunset. When I was about eight, I came up with a theory about why he had to ride away, why he couldn't settle down. I figured if he stayed around he'd have to do normal things. He'd have to work and sweat. He'd have to buy groceries. (I couldn't imagine the Masked Man in a supermarket or a general store.) He'd have to eat. He'd have to take off his skintight uniform and take a bath. (How would he get it back on?) He'd get sick. He'd get old. In other words, he'd be like everybody else. Even if he kept wearing the mask, he'd be just Mr. Ranger, or Lone to his friends, or the weird guy who lived with the Indian.
The next step of my convoluted logic went theological. Is that why Jesus went up on Ascension Day? He hi-ho-angel'ed away so he wouldn't have to get all tangled up in the stuff that makes our lives normal (substitute dirty)?
But even then I couldn't put Jesus down like that. Jesus got dirty. You don't touch people, draw in the dirt, or wash feet without picking up some of the grime we all share. Besides, he didn't wear a mask or that improbable outfit. Nope, Jesus didn't float away because he resembled the squeaky-clean masked dude.
The next step was the lulu. I figured that He left because the bunch wouldn't get much done if He hung around. They'd be working on crowd control rather than doing what He wanted them to do, which was basically get dirty the way He did.
I think that's pretty good for an eight-year-old. I think that's pretty good for a sixty-year-old. It's still my theology.
I still think Lash LaRue got the short end of the stick.
"But Jim, That's Not Logical"
by C. David McKirachan
Ephesians 1:15-23
My father loved the letter to the Ephesians. As an exercise, he memorized it in Greek. He said it kept him up to snuff and allowed him to do word studies without the lights on. Okay. He said that the scope of the letter was universal. Taking into account his practices and his attitudes, you'd think he would have enjoyed Star Trek. He always reminded me of Mr. Spock. Ephesians could use the musical theme with the video from Star Trek: The Next Generation (better graphics). It almost sounds like "… boldly go where no one has gone before."
I do think that's the vision of the writer. He sees a limitless expanse of mission. He sees fields white for the harvest, stretching far beyond the paltry parameters of the known world, out into the far reaches of God's imagination.
In this latter day when we spend a lot more time trying to figure out a way to get past lawsuits over property and where to find a decent organist, it's hard to have that kind of vision. It's funny -- as our universe has expanded, we've gotten in the habit of thinking smaller. Now that we can see the formation of galaxies, we have a hard time believing that we can actually make a difference in people's lives.
That's where this hope stuff comes in. Not the hope that we'll be able to collect social security in a few years, but hope that allows for something beyond our wildest dreams to be possible and interesting and wonderful. Gene Roddenberry's vision for Star Trek saw the universe as a place full of danger and difficulty, but he also believed that these small and vulnerable beings called humans brought something wonderful out into those dark and hostile spaces. He also believed that we would grow because of our willingness to reach, "to boldly go where no one has gone before."
That kind of hope is not founded on success, but on identity. Who are we? Why are we here? I think we're here to get moving, out there, out beyond, out to the edges of what we are and what we know. I think we're here to follow the Lord. That's where he was going. Not to some cozy living room with hot and cold running snack food, but out to the edges of what is, out to what could be. We've been given warp engines after all, fueled by the most powerful force in the universe -- love.
So, as the Captain of the Enterprise, Jean-Luc Picard, says so well: "Engage."
C. David McKirachan is pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Shrewsbury in central New Jersey. He also teaches at Monmouth University. He is the author of I Happened Upon a Miracle and A Year of Wonder (Westminster John Knox).
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StoryShare, May 24, 2009, issue.
Copyright 2009 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.
