The Prompt: You and the congregation are in a forest and you want
to have a church service. What happens? Describe the service.
If you have ever watched The Waltons, this is inspired by Grandpa's feelings about Walton's Mountain.
It was a gorgeous day. The sun was beating heavily down on the heads of the congregation below. The sky was as blue as could be. Every bird from the forest must have been out that afternoon singing the sweetest tunes you've ever heard, and the smell! The sweet scent of evergreens and a light shower from an hour ago filled the nostrils of them as they hiked on over the path. Of course not every member of the congregation was there, but about three quarters were, ranging from as young as 9 to as old as 73. They had intended this to be a community project to clean up the litter that had accumulated across the highway. With so many hands, they were able to finish much sooner than necessary. Since the weather was so nice, Pastor Reynolds had suggested that they go for a small hike on the trail that was nearby, and the congregation agreed.
They had journeyed through that forest for about an hour, and the sun's rays were making them tired. Thankfully, Olivia Reynolds had the foresight to suggest to her husband that they should pack a lunch. Resting for lunch seemed like a perfect idea after hiking. As they ate, Pastor Reynolds' spirit filled with adoration for the beauty that surrounded them. Once he saw that about everyone had finished, he assumed his familiar position standing in front of the crowd.
"Friends! I wanted to say that I am completely and utterly in awe by the Lord's great creation. Can I hear an 'Amen'?"
"Amen!" they responded in unison.
"If it's okay with you, I wanted to take a few minutes just to sing a couple songs to worship God. I feel like singing!"
He began singing the opening lines to "My Father's World," and Becky quickly joined in to lead everyone in her sweet soprano voice. After that song, Becky started singing "How Great is Our God" followed by a contemporary song "Testify to Love." The group was having much more fun singing than they had imagined. The children clapped their hands. A few couples held hands as they stared to the skies. At one time or another, everyone raised a hand in surrender and praise. After the song ended, Pastor Reynolds felt led to say a few words in prayer.
"Dear God, we all are so inspired by your great world you have entrusted into your care. Thank you for blessing us with this splendid day and being with us as we were able to clean up the litter on the road and make the environment a little cleaner. Thank you for bringing us together today, not only so we could use this opportunity to bring glory to You, but to have some time to fellowship with our friends. Please bless and protect us on our walk back to our cars. Help us to find a little beauty in our surroundings every day. In Jesus' name, Amen."
They echoed an "Amen." Then one person uttered, "Say a few extra words, Pastor!" Pastor Reynolds was not expecting to preach but could not deny the request. He wasn't sure what to say, but he ended up preaching a bit on how Jesus would preach in the wilderness. He knew when the time was right to take the time to praise God and when to appreciate nature. After sharing with them a few verses from the Psalms that came to his mind, Pastor Reynolds suggested that they walk back to the road, and with their hearts full of joy, the congregation traveled back the way they came.
I wanted to end this with a little update on what I have planned for the summer. I have decided to name my series with Pastor Reynolds and his congregation Maple Heights. In the future, I intend on expanding more upon the worship team, the Reynolds household, and members of his congregation. Look out for them!
Showing posts with label church. Show all posts
Showing posts with label church. Show all posts
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Monday, March 25, 2013
Day 84: Leading Worship
The Prompt: None of the worship overheads at church work and all
the hymnals have disappeared. You have to lead worship, so what do you
use to lead the congregation?
After Jake told me the news about the overhead machines, I felt a panic tighten my chest. I'd only been leading worship for two months. I didn't know what to do. I only had ten minutes to figure it out. It would have been so easy to simply sing any worship songs I had learned growing up, you know, the tried and true "Jesus Loves Me" that just about everyone knows. I only knew a few of those songs though. Plus they were short. I had to fill up a half hour or so. I would have loved singing a top hit on the Christian radio station, but I didn't have all the lyrics memorized. The congregation would probably be the same way, and I'd end up being the only one singing broken lyrics because no one else would know them. I needed one more idea, and I hoped Jesus would inspire me soon.
At 8:00, I walked up to the mic with my Bible in hand. "Good morning, everyone. Are you ready to worship?!"
Everyone, at least those who had drunk their coffee, cheered.
"Great! Now, we're going to do things a little differently this morning. Let's start with a song we all should know and love, "Jesus Loves Me."
I had already talked to the band about my song selections before, so Brian began strumming the little tune. Some people happily started singing the song while others gave me a look that ask, "You are for real?" I tried to keep my courage and remember that I didn't have to feel humiliated about worshipping God. Once that was done, which was only about two minutes, I announced that "A Mighty Fortress is Our God" would be next. That song was a little more well-received. Then we slowed it down for "Amazing Grace." Things were going quite well!
Last minute, I remembered another song. "Hey, Brian, why don't we try 'Revelation Song' next?" I phrased it in a way that asked, "Do you know how to play it?" He nodded and started the melody. Internally I sighed with relief. That song was able to give me an opportunity for prayer in between verses that stretched the time, but it wasn't enough. There was still ten minutes left. As I finished singing the last lines, the light bulb dinged.
"Alright, everyone, for our final moment of worship, I would like you to please get your Bibles. Before we had worship teams and even written worship songs, churches sang the psalms. I'd like you to open to..." I quickly flipped through the chapters and announced to them the one I liked. I began reading the verses in a sing-song fashion, making it up as I went. I felt silly but kept on. Towards the end, I urged others to participate, and about a dozen voices joined me. Once that was done, I sang the psalm again, and more joined in as they learned the melody. We sang two more psalms like that. It was actually a lot of fun. I had people coming up to me after the service asking of we would be doing that again next week and suggesting it should become a regular part of worship.
After Jake told me the news about the overhead machines, I felt a panic tighten my chest. I'd only been leading worship for two months. I didn't know what to do. I only had ten minutes to figure it out. It would have been so easy to simply sing any worship songs I had learned growing up, you know, the tried and true "Jesus Loves Me" that just about everyone knows. I only knew a few of those songs though. Plus they were short. I had to fill up a half hour or so. I would have loved singing a top hit on the Christian radio station, but I didn't have all the lyrics memorized. The congregation would probably be the same way, and I'd end up being the only one singing broken lyrics because no one else would know them. I needed one more idea, and I hoped Jesus would inspire me soon.
At 8:00, I walked up to the mic with my Bible in hand. "Good morning, everyone. Are you ready to worship?!"
Everyone, at least those who had drunk their coffee, cheered.
"Great! Now, we're going to do things a little differently this morning. Let's start with a song we all should know and love, "Jesus Loves Me."
I had already talked to the band about my song selections before, so Brian began strumming the little tune. Some people happily started singing the song while others gave me a look that ask, "You are for real?" I tried to keep my courage and remember that I didn't have to feel humiliated about worshipping God. Once that was done, which was only about two minutes, I announced that "A Mighty Fortress is Our God" would be next. That song was a little more well-received. Then we slowed it down for "Amazing Grace." Things were going quite well!
Last minute, I remembered another song. "Hey, Brian, why don't we try 'Revelation Song' next?" I phrased it in a way that asked, "Do you know how to play it?" He nodded and started the melody. Internally I sighed with relief. That song was able to give me an opportunity for prayer in between verses that stretched the time, but it wasn't enough. There was still ten minutes left. As I finished singing the last lines, the light bulb dinged.
"Alright, everyone, for our final moment of worship, I would like you to please get your Bibles. Before we had worship teams and even written worship songs, churches sang the psalms. I'd like you to open to..." I quickly flipped through the chapters and announced to them the one I liked. I began reading the verses in a sing-song fashion, making it up as I went. I felt silly but kept on. Towards the end, I urged others to participate, and about a dozen voices joined me. Once that was done, I sang the psalm again, and more joined in as they learned the melody. We sang two more psalms like that. It was actually a lot of fun. I had people coming up to me after the service asking of we would be doing that again next week and suggesting it should become a regular part of worship.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Day 83: Truth Wil Prevail
This is the conclusion to my "XG7" story I started a looong time ago. Try looking at Day #49 too.
The Prompt: Write a short story in which the church’s accountant is stealing money from the church. The pastor is accused. What happens?
It had been two weeks since the church had been ransacked. Thanks to the dedication and willing hearts if the congregation, Pastor Reynolds was able to get the church cleaned up and restored to its original state by the next Sunday service. Catching whoever did this did not prove to be such a swift process though. The lead from the gas station owner proved to be a dead end. He had no idea who was driving the car or where it was headed. With only a partial license plate, the police had no way of easily tracing the car. This forced Pastor Reynolds to have nothing to do but wait for God's justice to prevail. On that weekend, it did, but not in the way he had expected it to.
Pastor Reynolds and Olivia were out that afternoon running some errands. They pulled into the driveway to see a police car sitting in front of their garage.
"Good afternoon!" the pastor called as he walked up to it. "Can I help you with something?"
A police officer exited from the vehicle. "Mr. Reynolds?"
"Yes, sir, I am. Is this about the vandalism in my church?"
"Not exactly, sir. We have a few questions for you. Would you please come down to the station with me?"
Pastor Reynolds was puzzled and looked back at his wife, who was unloading the car. "Sure, officer. Just let me tell my wife."
Once they arrived at the police station, the policeman led him into an interrogation room and left him there for about fifteen minutes, during which time Pastor Reynolds prayed for peace and strength.
"Hello, my man is Officer Randall," a tall, broad shoulder man with graying hair greeted as he sat down at the table in front of him.
"Hello, Officer Randall. Can you tell me why I'm here?"
"We were investigating the attack on your church when we came across some information."
"What sort of information?"
"Well, it's standard procedure to check into everything, and we looked into the church's bank records." He paused slightly and studied Pastor Reynolds' face, expecting some sort of reaction. Nothing. He continued, "It appears as though there is more revenue the church is receiving than it is putting into the bank."
"Oh, I see," he smiled. "It's rather hard to keep track of the money sometimes. I'm not the best at recording that sort of thing, but the transactions happen so fast. You see, I take some the tithe money and donate it immediately to shelters or use it to fund some of our programs and organizations we have running. Anything left goes into the bank account, which used for renovations on the church or bigger events we host, such as the Christmas concert."
"Are you saying you have spent $4,000 on shelters and church programs in the past three months? Because that is the deficit."
The pastor was shocked. "Are you sure?"
"Quite sure. Just as sure that your bank accounts show that about $3,000 was entered into a savings account under your name about three weeks ago. How do you explain that?"
"I-I don't have a savings account with that much money in it. My checking account doesn't even have that much."
"The evidence doesn't lie."
"I don't know what to say. Are you accusing me of stealing from my own church?"
"It sure appears to be that way."
"But what about the vandals?"
"We're still working on that, but just be aware we're keeping a close eye on you too. Pastor."
After Pastor Reynolds talked to his wife about all that happened at the station, he checked his bank records to see for himself. Sure enough, there was a deficit of about $4,000 and another account with a large sum of money in it, in his name. He decided to call his accountant, Geoffrey Dillard, to get an explanation.
"Gosh, Pastor Reynolds, I have no idea how there could be so much money missing. Yeah, I guess I must have made a huge mistake. No, I promise it won't happen again. I'm truly very sorry. No, I don't know of another bank account in your name. Are you sure you didn't just forget or make a mistake? Hmm, curious. Don't worry, I'll guard the money well. Thanks, you too. Bye."
Pastor Reynolds sighed as he closed his cell phone. He couldn't shake off the feeling that something strange was going on.
A couple days later, Pastor Reynolds was at the pulpit, practicing his sermon, when a teenaged boy of about fifteen sauntered through the front doors.
"Hello, young man, can I help you?"
He looked distracted with his thoughts. Pastor Reynolds could tell he wanted to say something. He approached the boy. "What's troubling you, son?"
"Is this the church I heard about that got damaged?"
"Yes, it is."
"It looks good."
"Yes, we were able to clean it up, but we still don't know who did it."
"Really? Not even a hunch?"
"No, but I'm sure whoever did it must be very...upset or lonely. Perhaps he didn't mean it."
The boy wasn't looking him in the eye. He sat down at the pew. "Is this that type of church with curtained booths and stuff?"
Pastor Reynolds laughed gently. "No, but we do take confessions, if there's something you wanted to say."
"Not sure what good it would do."
"Oh a lot! It's quite a burden carrying a secret around, especially if it's something you're not proud of. The guilt eats you up until you can hardly do anything without thinking about it. You start getting nervous someone might find out, and maybe you start snapping at people. But you know what?" He looked straight into the boy's face. "No matter how terrible you think you acted, God will forgive you, if you are repentant enough to ask. And if there's any sort of trouble you're in, I promise I'll try my hardest to help you. God wants you to be happy, and I want that for you."
The boy struggled to hide back tears, and his voice wavered as he spoke. "I did it, me and my friend Joe. We don't normally do stuff like this. At first it was just a funny prank. Then we were asked to vandalize the church. I didn't want to do it. I mean, it's a church! But, I went along anyways. We didn't hurt anyone. I'm so so sorry."
Pastor Reynolds wanted to ask more questions, but he saw helping this boy was more important than satisfying his curiosity. He prayed with the boy, asking God's forgiveness together. He wasn't ready to become a Christian quite yet. He wanted more time to think about it. Pastor Reynolds did convince him though to go to the police.
The whole story slowly unfolded. "Joe" was short for "Joseph," who was Geoffrey Dillard's younger brother. Geoffrey had felt Pastor Reynolds had been taking him for granted for the four years he had been working for him. That feeling, combined with the temptation of stealing, was just too great. He knew he couldn't do if forever without getting caught, so he orchestrated the vandalism to cover it up. Joseph and his friend had gotten into trouble before, so he was only asking them to do what they were good at. He had intended to frame Pastor Reynolds for embezzlement and insurance fraud, but his plan didn't work out that way. Pastor Reynolds was shocked and hurt that Geoffrey was capable of doing this to him and that he might have provoked him in some way. He was even more hurt that Geoffrey wouldn't accept any help from him after he was arrested though, and he had dragged his little brother down with him. There was still hope for Joe's friend Rick. The truth can sometimes be painful, but it can eventually set you free, through mental healing.
The Prompt: Write a short story in which the church’s accountant is stealing money from the church. The pastor is accused. What happens?
It had been two weeks since the church had been ransacked. Thanks to the dedication and willing hearts if the congregation, Pastor Reynolds was able to get the church cleaned up and restored to its original state by the next Sunday service. Catching whoever did this did not prove to be such a swift process though. The lead from the gas station owner proved to be a dead end. He had no idea who was driving the car or where it was headed. With only a partial license plate, the police had no way of easily tracing the car. This forced Pastor Reynolds to have nothing to do but wait for God's justice to prevail. On that weekend, it did, but not in the way he had expected it to.
Pastor Reynolds and Olivia were out that afternoon running some errands. They pulled into the driveway to see a police car sitting in front of their garage.
"Good afternoon!" the pastor called as he walked up to it. "Can I help you with something?"
A police officer exited from the vehicle. "Mr. Reynolds?"
"Yes, sir, I am. Is this about the vandalism in my church?"
"Not exactly, sir. We have a few questions for you. Would you please come down to the station with me?"
Pastor Reynolds was puzzled and looked back at his wife, who was unloading the car. "Sure, officer. Just let me tell my wife."
Once they arrived at the police station, the policeman led him into an interrogation room and left him there for about fifteen minutes, during which time Pastor Reynolds prayed for peace and strength.
"Hello, my man is Officer Randall," a tall, broad shoulder man with graying hair greeted as he sat down at the table in front of him.
"Hello, Officer Randall. Can you tell me why I'm here?"
"We were investigating the attack on your church when we came across some information."
"What sort of information?"
"Well, it's standard procedure to check into everything, and we looked into the church's bank records." He paused slightly and studied Pastor Reynolds' face, expecting some sort of reaction. Nothing. He continued, "It appears as though there is more revenue the church is receiving than it is putting into the bank."
"Oh, I see," he smiled. "It's rather hard to keep track of the money sometimes. I'm not the best at recording that sort of thing, but the transactions happen so fast. You see, I take some the tithe money and donate it immediately to shelters or use it to fund some of our programs and organizations we have running. Anything left goes into the bank account, which used for renovations on the church or bigger events we host, such as the Christmas concert."
"Are you saying you have spent $4,000 on shelters and church programs in the past three months? Because that is the deficit."
The pastor was shocked. "Are you sure?"
"Quite sure. Just as sure that your bank accounts show that about $3,000 was entered into a savings account under your name about three weeks ago. How do you explain that?"
"I-I don't have a savings account with that much money in it. My checking account doesn't even have that much."
"The evidence doesn't lie."
"I don't know what to say. Are you accusing me of stealing from my own church?"
"It sure appears to be that way."
"But what about the vandals?"
"We're still working on that, but just be aware we're keeping a close eye on you too. Pastor."
After Pastor Reynolds talked to his wife about all that happened at the station, he checked his bank records to see for himself. Sure enough, there was a deficit of about $4,000 and another account with a large sum of money in it, in his name. He decided to call his accountant, Geoffrey Dillard, to get an explanation.
"Gosh, Pastor Reynolds, I have no idea how there could be so much money missing. Yeah, I guess I must have made a huge mistake. No, I promise it won't happen again. I'm truly very sorry. No, I don't know of another bank account in your name. Are you sure you didn't just forget or make a mistake? Hmm, curious. Don't worry, I'll guard the money well. Thanks, you too. Bye."
Pastor Reynolds sighed as he closed his cell phone. He couldn't shake off the feeling that something strange was going on.
A couple days later, Pastor Reynolds was at the pulpit, practicing his sermon, when a teenaged boy of about fifteen sauntered through the front doors.
"Hello, young man, can I help you?"
He looked distracted with his thoughts. Pastor Reynolds could tell he wanted to say something. He approached the boy. "What's troubling you, son?"
"Is this the church I heard about that got damaged?"
"Yes, it is."
"It looks good."
"Yes, we were able to clean it up, but we still don't know who did it."
"Really? Not even a hunch?"
"No, but I'm sure whoever did it must be very...upset or lonely. Perhaps he didn't mean it."
The boy wasn't looking him in the eye. He sat down at the pew. "Is this that type of church with curtained booths and stuff?"
Pastor Reynolds laughed gently. "No, but we do take confessions, if there's something you wanted to say."
"Not sure what good it would do."
"Oh a lot! It's quite a burden carrying a secret around, especially if it's something you're not proud of. The guilt eats you up until you can hardly do anything without thinking about it. You start getting nervous someone might find out, and maybe you start snapping at people. But you know what?" He looked straight into the boy's face. "No matter how terrible you think you acted, God will forgive you, if you are repentant enough to ask. And if there's any sort of trouble you're in, I promise I'll try my hardest to help you. God wants you to be happy, and I want that for you."
The boy struggled to hide back tears, and his voice wavered as he spoke. "I did it, me and my friend Joe. We don't normally do stuff like this. At first it was just a funny prank. Then we were asked to vandalize the church. I didn't want to do it. I mean, it's a church! But, I went along anyways. We didn't hurt anyone. I'm so so sorry."
Pastor Reynolds wanted to ask more questions, but he saw helping this boy was more important than satisfying his curiosity. He prayed with the boy, asking God's forgiveness together. He wasn't ready to become a Christian quite yet. He wanted more time to think about it. Pastor Reynolds did convince him though to go to the police.
The whole story slowly unfolded. "Joe" was short for "Joseph," who was Geoffrey Dillard's younger brother. Geoffrey had felt Pastor Reynolds had been taking him for granted for the four years he had been working for him. That feeling, combined with the temptation of stealing, was just too great. He knew he couldn't do if forever without getting caught, so he orchestrated the vandalism to cover it up. Joseph and his friend had gotten into trouble before, so he was only asking them to do what they were good at. He had intended to frame Pastor Reynolds for embezzlement and insurance fraud, but his plan didn't work out that way. Pastor Reynolds was shocked and hurt that Geoffrey was capable of doing this to him and that he might have provoked him in some way. He was even more hurt that Geoffrey wouldn't accept any help from him after he was arrested though, and he had dragged his little brother down with him. There was still hope for Joe's friend Rick. The truth can sometimes be painful, but it can eventually set you free, through mental healing.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Day 79: Love Everyone
The Prompt: A bum comes into church. What happens?
He came in so silently that almost no one noticed he had even come in. Almost. He slunk into the back row where he hoped no one would notice him, but he knew that would never work with his smell, his clothes, his hair. He stuck out like a bright red, pussy pimple on a clean face. The bum made sure to sit next to no one, but that didn't keep him hidden. The people in the row in front of him turned around, probably from the smell, and gawked at him, as though he had been in the classroom and had rudely interrupted them.
Then the wave of whispers started. In a matter of mintues the mad rush of hushed tones made it up to the fron trows and everyone had to turn around and stare with disdain at the unwelcome guest. The man bowed his head even lower than it had already been. He tried to disappear, and he tugged at his tattered, stained jacket, as though that might magically hide himself. As he moved, a few people wuickly turned their heads arond, so he would not see them staring at him.
A young woman, in her late twenties, rose from her seat in the middle of the aisle about 15 rows ahead of him. She had dark purple hair and a highlighter yellow dress on with deep blue shoes. Her limbs displayed some colorful tattoos, and she sported some extra piercings on her face. She strode right up to him, no reservations, no lack of confidence, and she stuck out her hand.
"Hi, I'm Susie. Welcome to First Light Church."
The man slowly raised his head and stared up at the face. Once he saw the genuinity, he took her hand, and Susie shook it warmly.
"I hope you enjoy today's message. God bless!" And with that, she turned right back around and cheerfully sat in her seat again.
Richard stared blankly at the hand, remembering the kindness that had touched it moments before. A small smile spread across his face as he leaned back against the wooden pew. More people walked over to him or turned around to greet him. Some were rather shy in their approach, and others seemed to feel a bit ashamed or awkward. Richard appreciated their sentiments, even if some were fake or delayed. No compared to that first person though that loved him as she did herself. To her, he was a man.
He came in so silently that almost no one noticed he had even come in. Almost. He slunk into the back row where he hoped no one would notice him, but he knew that would never work with his smell, his clothes, his hair. He stuck out like a bright red, pussy pimple on a clean face. The bum made sure to sit next to no one, but that didn't keep him hidden. The people in the row in front of him turned around, probably from the smell, and gawked at him, as though he had been in the classroom and had rudely interrupted them.
Then the wave of whispers started. In a matter of mintues the mad rush of hushed tones made it up to the fron trows and everyone had to turn around and stare with disdain at the unwelcome guest. The man bowed his head even lower than it had already been. He tried to disappear, and he tugged at his tattered, stained jacket, as though that might magically hide himself. As he moved, a few people wuickly turned their heads arond, so he would not see them staring at him.
A young woman, in her late twenties, rose from her seat in the middle of the aisle about 15 rows ahead of him. She had dark purple hair and a highlighter yellow dress on with deep blue shoes. Her limbs displayed some colorful tattoos, and she sported some extra piercings on her face. She strode right up to him, no reservations, no lack of confidence, and she stuck out her hand.
"Hi, I'm Susie. Welcome to First Light Church."
The man slowly raised his head and stared up at the face. Once he saw the genuinity, he took her hand, and Susie shook it warmly.
"I hope you enjoy today's message. God bless!" And with that, she turned right back around and cheerfully sat in her seat again.
Richard stared blankly at the hand, remembering the kindness that had touched it moments before. A small smile spread across his face as he leaned back against the wooden pew. More people walked over to him or turned around to greet him. Some were rather shy in their approach, and others seemed to feel a bit ashamed or awkward. Richard appreciated their sentiments, even if some were fake or delayed. No compared to that first person though that loved him as she did herself. To her, he was a man.
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Day 76: The Pastor's Wife's Secret
Now we're on track. :D Please note that this is not the same pastor's wife I have written about in the past.
The Prompt: The pastor’s wife has a secret and she tries to hide it from the congregation. But someone finds out. What happens?
It had been obvious for some time that something had been bothering the pastor's wife, but no one knew what. She had been acting nervous or jittery, like she had drunk too much coffee. Other times, her mind seemed elsewhere. It was on a Wednesday night, right before the church closed its doors, that someone found out what was wrong.
Judy had offered to lock up the doors for her husband. She checked all the rooms to make sure that no one else was there. Then she stood outside and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her purse. She lit one and breathed in deeply.
"Mrs. Murphy?" a male voice asked from the side of the building.
She coughed and hid the cigarette behind her back. "Who's there?"
"It's Hank Williams. I'm a member of your church."
"Oh, I didn't know anyone else was still out here."
"I didn't know you smoked."
Judy blushed deeply and slowly pulled the cigarette out. "Not many people do. It's a terrible habit. I'm trying to quit, but...it's hard." Her voice quivered.
"I understand," Hank said kindly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I have a problem too. I'm trying to quit gambling. It's ruining my marriage." He paused. "I take it one day at a time, with God's help."
"I try. It just seems like, well, that God's strength isn't enough sometimes. Terrible for a pastor's wife to say, I know."
"Not so bad." He laughed. "It's unexpected, but maybe it's true. Don't get me wrong. God is powerful, but maybe God didn't intend for us to carry our burdens alone. He put people in our lives to help us. You shouldn't be ashamed of your weakness. We all got 'em. Who knows? Maybe some people in church can relate to you."
Judy's eyes filled with tears. "Thank you, Hank. I think you're right."
He gave her a hug.
Hank became an answered prayer for Judy. She came clean in front of the whole congregation the next service. Everyone was quite understanding, and some even told the truth about other personal struggles they had. Together, they formed a prayer group and helped each other through their trials.
The Prompt: The pastor’s wife has a secret and she tries to hide it from the congregation. But someone finds out. What happens?
It had been obvious for some time that something had been bothering the pastor's wife, but no one knew what. She had been acting nervous or jittery, like she had drunk too much coffee. Other times, her mind seemed elsewhere. It was on a Wednesday night, right before the church closed its doors, that someone found out what was wrong.
Judy had offered to lock up the doors for her husband. She checked all the rooms to make sure that no one else was there. Then she stood outside and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her purse. She lit one and breathed in deeply.
"Mrs. Murphy?" a male voice asked from the side of the building.
She coughed and hid the cigarette behind her back. "Who's there?"
"It's Hank Williams. I'm a member of your church."
"Oh, I didn't know anyone else was still out here."
"I didn't know you smoked."
Judy blushed deeply and slowly pulled the cigarette out. "Not many people do. It's a terrible habit. I'm trying to quit, but...it's hard." Her voice quivered.
"I understand," Hank said kindly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I have a problem too. I'm trying to quit gambling. It's ruining my marriage." He paused. "I take it one day at a time, with God's help."
"I try. It just seems like, well, that God's strength isn't enough sometimes. Terrible for a pastor's wife to say, I know."
"Not so bad." He laughed. "It's unexpected, but maybe it's true. Don't get me wrong. God is powerful, but maybe God didn't intend for us to carry our burdens alone. He put people in our lives to help us. You shouldn't be ashamed of your weakness. We all got 'em. Who knows? Maybe some people in church can relate to you."
Judy's eyes filled with tears. "Thank you, Hank. I think you're right."
He gave her a hug.
Hank became an answered prayer for Judy. She came clean in front of the whole congregation the next service. Everyone was quite understanding, and some even told the truth about other personal struggles they had. Together, they formed a prayer group and helped each other through their trials.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Day 61: Mischief in Church
The Prompt: List 10 things you should never do in church. Now write a short story using three of these things.
1. Don't fall asleep in church.
2. You shouldn't text.
3. Do not break any of the Ten Commandments.
4. It is rude to talk to other people.
5. Don't listen to your iPod.
6. I would not advise you to bring in other books to read or activities to distract you (such as textbooks, crosswords, etc.).
7. Do not stick gum underneath the pews.
8. Never play practical jokes on the other people in church.
9. Roller skates and church aisles do not mix.
10. Don't kick the person in front of you.
Jimmy hadn't wanted to go to church this morning. He fought and complained to his mother all the way to church. His mother, at her wit's end, told him to behave and sat him down next to him. Jimmy fidgeted all through the opening benediction and announcements, accidentally kicking the woman sitting in front of him. He almost dropped the offering plate all over the floor because the plate was so heavy. Jimmy had never seen so much money in one spot. During the sermon, he yawned loudly and struggled to stay awake. His mother glared at him and begged him to stop such obnoxious behavior. To make sure he did, she gave him a piece of gum. Jimmy chewed the gum happily (and rather loudly) at first. He soon became bored with it. Jimmy looked over at his mother, who was intently looking at the pastor, then slowly pulled the gum out of his mouth and stuck it under the pew he was sitting in. Something the pastor said caught Jimmy's attention. He was telling the story of Samson, and Jimmy was fascinated by the man's strength. He never knew the Bible could be so much fun. Next week, he thought he wouldn't be so upset about coming to church.
1. Don't fall asleep in church.
2. You shouldn't text.
3. Do not break any of the Ten Commandments.
4. It is rude to talk to other people.
5. Don't listen to your iPod.
6. I would not advise you to bring in other books to read or activities to distract you (such as textbooks, crosswords, etc.).
7. Do not stick gum underneath the pews.
8. Never play practical jokes on the other people in church.
9. Roller skates and church aisles do not mix.
10. Don't kick the person in front of you.
Jimmy hadn't wanted to go to church this morning. He fought and complained to his mother all the way to church. His mother, at her wit's end, told him to behave and sat him down next to him. Jimmy fidgeted all through the opening benediction and announcements, accidentally kicking the woman sitting in front of him. He almost dropped the offering plate all over the floor because the plate was so heavy. Jimmy had never seen so much money in one spot. During the sermon, he yawned loudly and struggled to stay awake. His mother glared at him and begged him to stop such obnoxious behavior. To make sure he did, she gave him a piece of gum. Jimmy chewed the gum happily (and rather loudly) at first. He soon became bored with it. Jimmy looked over at his mother, who was intently looking at the pastor, then slowly pulled the gum out of his mouth and stuck it under the pew he was sitting in. Something the pastor said caught Jimmy's attention. He was telling the story of Samson, and Jimmy was fascinated by the man's strength. He never knew the Bible could be so much fun. Next week, he thought he wouldn't be so upset about coming to church.
Friday, February 22, 2013
Day 53
The Prompt: A Sunday school teacher, a worship leader and an usher
discuss which job is most important. Include the words cell phone, water
and cigars.
"I might just play my guitar and sing, but God uses me to do great things for him. In my job, people are connected to God in the most special way, pure adoration of Him and praises to Him. There is healing through music too. Nothing helps better than being reminded we are forgiven from our sins through some heartfelt lyrics. Some people even get saved through worship songs. What job could be better than helping poor souls come to drink the Living Water?" The worship leader smiled and puffed on his cigar, a nasty habit he had picked up recently. He was sure his argument was fool-proof.
"Yes," the Sunday school teacher agreed, "but it is we teachers who help people understand what they are singing. We teach those ideas to them. Sunday school teachers have it even better. We are preaching to the youth. By leading them to God, we are securing the future for ourselves, for them, and for their children."
The usher, who had been at his job for five years now, ignored his cell phone that had gone off. His point was too important. "You both have excellent points, but I disagree. We shouldn't be arguing about whose job is most important. All of our jobs are important. Remember what Paul says about the church being a body? Each and every member is important and can't function without each other. We're all equal in God's eyes. My job of collecting offerings might sound unimportant, but that money goes to help the church with its various outreaches for its members and for the community."
"I might just play my guitar and sing, but God uses me to do great things for him. In my job, people are connected to God in the most special way, pure adoration of Him and praises to Him. There is healing through music too. Nothing helps better than being reminded we are forgiven from our sins through some heartfelt lyrics. Some people even get saved through worship songs. What job could be better than helping poor souls come to drink the Living Water?" The worship leader smiled and puffed on his cigar, a nasty habit he had picked up recently. He was sure his argument was fool-proof.
"Yes," the Sunday school teacher agreed, "but it is we teachers who help people understand what they are singing. We teach those ideas to them. Sunday school teachers have it even better. We are preaching to the youth. By leading them to God, we are securing the future for ourselves, for them, and for their children."
The usher, who had been at his job for five years now, ignored his cell phone that had gone off. His point was too important. "You both have excellent points, but I disagree. We shouldn't be arguing about whose job is most important. All of our jobs are important. Remember what Paul says about the church being a body? Each and every member is important and can't function without each other. We're all equal in God's eyes. My job of collecting offerings might sound unimportant, but that money goes to help the church with its various outreaches for its members and for the community."
Monday, February 18, 2013
Day 49: Bleak Sunset
The Prompt: The pastor comes into church and finds the place
ransacked. What happens?
"Olivia, I'm going to be leaving for the church now!" Pastor Reynolds called as he tied his shoes.
His wife walked over by the front door. "Isn't it a little early?"
"I wanted to rehearse at the pulpit today. I seem to be...restless here. I can't concentrate."
Olivia looked hurt until he quickly added. "It's nothing you did. I just a need a place where all my lacking responsibilities around the house aren't haunting me."
"But if they don't haunt you, you'll never get them done," she smiled. "I understand. I'll meet you there in another hour."
"Alright, honey." Pastor Reynolds tied his other shoe and gave his wife a kiss. "I love you."
"I love you too!"
The pastor lived about fifteen minutes away from the church, making it quite convenient to travel back and forth whenever he needed. The sun was already beginning to set over the rolling hills of red and yellow colored maple trees. In another couple of weeks, he would need to get his rake.
The church parking lot was empty, and Pastor Reynolds parked in his normal spot at the edge of the spaces. He saved the spots nearest the church for his elderly members who couldn't walk very far anymore. Besides, a little extra exercise couldn't hurt his stomach. Pastor stepped out of his silver car and walked to the front doors. He whistled a hymn they would be singing that evening while he unlocked the doors. His whistling stopped abruptly after the doors swung open.
Pews were overturned. Hymnals were scattered all over the floor. The pulpit was lying on its side. Colored shards of glass from a couple of stain-glassed windows were sprinkled around the feet of the old organ. Curtains were ripped. The wooden cross on the wall at the front of the church was crooked. On an adjacent wall, bitter words were spray-painted in green, along with what looked like a two-headed snake. Then Pastor Reynolds noticed a few silver and gold decorations, such as a pair of candlesticks and one of the utensils used for communion, were missing.
Crestfallen and a bit fearful, Pastor Reynolds carefully stepped over the broken pieces of an angel statue and walked to his office. The doorknob was broken, and the lock had been jimmied. His office shared a similar fate to the church, with overturned furniture, strewn books, broken windows, and spray paint. He checked his desk drawer, and sure enough, his cash box with the tithe money from Sunday's services was missing. He had intended to take it to the bank after services, but he was tired and postponed it until after today's services.
"Dear Lord," he prayed aloud as he ambled through the chaotic rooms, "I don't know how someone could damage Your house. I'm so sorry You have to see this. I'm sure if breaks Your heart much more than it breaks mine. I pray for the souls who did this. They must be in some serious trouble. Please forgive them, and please forgive me for not being a good steward with the tithe money. The congregation gave generously and I lost their precious gift. I can never get that back. Help me be able to at least get the main part of the church cleaned up in time for service tonight."
By this time, he was sitting on a front pew with his head rested heavily in his hands. He stayed this way for a few minutes and was risen out of it when he heard a cry from the front doors. He looked up and saw Becky, the worship leader for that night, standing horrified.
"What happened, Pastor Reynolds?!" Without waiting for a response, she continued, "Vandals! Thieves! How could they?! Oh, I'm so sorry, Pastor Reynolds." She walked over to him. "Did you call the police?"
"No," he answered quietly. "I didn't think about that."
"We have to! We have to find out who did this."
"But what about tonight's service? I don't want to cancel it."
"We're going to have to. There's no way we can get this cleaned up in time, and the police might need us to preserve the crime scene for evidence."
"You're right," he sighed. "Maybe I can have some of the members over at my house. I'll give Olivia a call."
While he did that, Becky called the police then her husband Todd and told both happened.
The police arrived in about five minutes and started interviewing the pastor and taking pictures.
"Can you think of anyone that would want to do this? An angry church member?"
"No, officer. Everyone is so friendly in this town. This sort of thing never happens."
"What about any suspicious behavior?"
"Well," he thought aloud. "A couple of weeks ago, our lights went out for a few minutes. Jim- he's an electrician who attends- Jim checked the fuse box and said they shouldn't have gone out. He couldn't figure out what caused it. I think he suspected it was deliberate."
The policeman wrote this down. A fellow female officer interrupted him. "I asked the homeowners and businessmen around the area if they heard anything peculiar today, and the owner of the gas station store said he noticed a red car zoom away from around this area about an hour ago. He didn't think much of it at the time. He noticed the license plate though. He said it started with 'XG7.' "
Do you remember this story? I told you they'd be back. Look back at "XG7." There's still more to come.
"Olivia, I'm going to be leaving for the church now!" Pastor Reynolds called as he tied his shoes.
His wife walked over by the front door. "Isn't it a little early?"
"I wanted to rehearse at the pulpit today. I seem to be...restless here. I can't concentrate."
Olivia looked hurt until he quickly added. "It's nothing you did. I just a need a place where all my lacking responsibilities around the house aren't haunting me."
"But if they don't haunt you, you'll never get them done," she smiled. "I understand. I'll meet you there in another hour."
"Alright, honey." Pastor Reynolds tied his other shoe and gave his wife a kiss. "I love you."
"I love you too!"
The pastor lived about fifteen minutes away from the church, making it quite convenient to travel back and forth whenever he needed. The sun was already beginning to set over the rolling hills of red and yellow colored maple trees. In another couple of weeks, he would need to get his rake.
The church parking lot was empty, and Pastor Reynolds parked in his normal spot at the edge of the spaces. He saved the spots nearest the church for his elderly members who couldn't walk very far anymore. Besides, a little extra exercise couldn't hurt his stomach. Pastor stepped out of his silver car and walked to the front doors. He whistled a hymn they would be singing that evening while he unlocked the doors. His whistling stopped abruptly after the doors swung open.
Pews were overturned. Hymnals were scattered all over the floor. The pulpit was lying on its side. Colored shards of glass from a couple of stain-glassed windows were sprinkled around the feet of the old organ. Curtains were ripped. The wooden cross on the wall at the front of the church was crooked. On an adjacent wall, bitter words were spray-painted in green, along with what looked like a two-headed snake. Then Pastor Reynolds noticed a few silver and gold decorations, such as a pair of candlesticks and one of the utensils used for communion, were missing.
Crestfallen and a bit fearful, Pastor Reynolds carefully stepped over the broken pieces of an angel statue and walked to his office. The doorknob was broken, and the lock had been jimmied. His office shared a similar fate to the church, with overturned furniture, strewn books, broken windows, and spray paint. He checked his desk drawer, and sure enough, his cash box with the tithe money from Sunday's services was missing. He had intended to take it to the bank after services, but he was tired and postponed it until after today's services.
"Dear Lord," he prayed aloud as he ambled through the chaotic rooms, "I don't know how someone could damage Your house. I'm so sorry You have to see this. I'm sure if breaks Your heart much more than it breaks mine. I pray for the souls who did this. They must be in some serious trouble. Please forgive them, and please forgive me for not being a good steward with the tithe money. The congregation gave generously and I lost their precious gift. I can never get that back. Help me be able to at least get the main part of the church cleaned up in time for service tonight."
By this time, he was sitting on a front pew with his head rested heavily in his hands. He stayed this way for a few minutes and was risen out of it when he heard a cry from the front doors. He looked up and saw Becky, the worship leader for that night, standing horrified.
"What happened, Pastor Reynolds?!" Without waiting for a response, she continued, "Vandals! Thieves! How could they?! Oh, I'm so sorry, Pastor Reynolds." She walked over to him. "Did you call the police?"
"No," he answered quietly. "I didn't think about that."
"We have to! We have to find out who did this."
"But what about tonight's service? I don't want to cancel it."
"We're going to have to. There's no way we can get this cleaned up in time, and the police might need us to preserve the crime scene for evidence."
"You're right," he sighed. "Maybe I can have some of the members over at my house. I'll give Olivia a call."
While he did that, Becky called the police then her husband Todd and told both happened.
The police arrived in about five minutes and started interviewing the pastor and taking pictures.
"Can you think of anyone that would want to do this? An angry church member?"
"No, officer. Everyone is so friendly in this town. This sort of thing never happens."
"What about any suspicious behavior?"
"Well," he thought aloud. "A couple of weeks ago, our lights went out for a few minutes. Jim- he's an electrician who attends- Jim checked the fuse box and said they shouldn't have gone out. He couldn't figure out what caused it. I think he suspected it was deliberate."
The policeman wrote this down. A fellow female officer interrupted him. "I asked the homeowners and businessmen around the area if they heard anything peculiar today, and the owner of the gas station store said he noticed a red car zoom away from around this area about an hour ago. He didn't think much of it at the time. He noticed the license plate though. He said it started with 'XG7.' "
Do you remember this story? I told you they'd be back. Look back at "XG7." There's still more to come.
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Day 48: Improvision
The Prompt: Someone stole all the bread for communion and you only
have five minutes to grab something else. What do you use instead?
Why?
What a heinous crime! Alright, now stay focused with the problem at hand. Saltine crackers would be a good substitute? It must be in these white cabinets over here. Where are they? I wonder what the church is doing with all these cans of prunes? Hmmm. No crackers! Now what to do? I guess I'll just keep looking through the cabinets. Paper plates, coffee, water bottles, apple juice. Wait a minute, what's back here? Animal crackers! These must be for the preschoolers. This is a big box and brand new. It looks like there would be enough. I guess this will have to do. They can be animal sacrifices!
I quickly grabbed the box and raced back to the tray of tiny paper cups and started preparing the trays for communion. I got some weird stares, but overall it turned out okay. God provides in mysterious ways.
What a heinous crime! Alright, now stay focused with the problem at hand. Saltine crackers would be a good substitute? It must be in these white cabinets over here. Where are they? I wonder what the church is doing with all these cans of prunes? Hmmm. No crackers! Now what to do? I guess I'll just keep looking through the cabinets. Paper plates, coffee, water bottles, apple juice. Wait a minute, what's back here? Animal crackers! These must be for the preschoolers. This is a big box and brand new. It looks like there would be enough. I guess this will have to do. They can be animal sacrifices!
I quickly grabbed the box and raced back to the tray of tiny paper cups and started preparing the trays for communion. I got some weird stares, but overall it turned out okay. God provides in mysterious ways.
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Day 46: Sunday School isn't Supposed to Be Stressful
The Prompt: Mary starts her first day at Sunday School for 5 year
olds. What happens?
:( I posted it a few minutes late.
Mary carried two large cloth bags, an easel, posters, and an armful of books into the small room that was opposite the nursery. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and she was wearing a pink blouse, long black skirt, and comfortable ballet flats. She was running late; a few parents were already waiting in the room with their children. Mary was already nervous.
She quickly started setting up her teaching materials while the parents left her alone with the two girls and three boys, two of which were twins. "Please don't leave me yet," she thought desperately. She wanted this job. Now she had to deal with all the responsibility it entailed.
One boy, she thought the mother said his name was Nick, was already rummaging through her bag. "Hey, Nick, please don't do that." She started pulling the bag away from him and putting it on a high table.
"But I thought I saw cookies in there. I'm hungry."
"Those aren't for you," she fibbed.
"Jesus says we should share."
Mary was too flustered to respond.
"Oooo, these are pretty!" a small girl's voice uttered.
"Please, Gabby, don't touch those posters. They're very special."
"My name is Abby."
"Oh, sorry."
"Teacher lady," one of the twins tugged at her skirt, "Adam won't give me a turn with the truck like Mom said."
Mary looked over at the boy in the red striped shirt. His hands did not look willing to part with the coveted object. "Can't you let him have the truck for a little bit longer?"
"I want it now!" he whined.
Mary had been setting up her easel and was fumbling with the posters as she listened. "When I'm done with this, I'll go help you, okay?"
"Okay," he said, not sounding satisfied.
A few more children were thrust into her care, and the stress Mary was feeling slowly rose like the waters during the Great Flood.
"Is church going to start yet?" a black-haired girl with pig tails named Rhonda asked.
"Are we going to have homework like in real school?" a boy with glasses wondered.
"No, Sunday School isn't really like school. It's more fun. And we'll be starting soon, Ruby."
"Rhonda!"
"Right. Rhonda. Sorry about that." Mary flipped through her papers of notes, putting them in chronological order when she was interrupted again by Lori, who had asked her before where was the bathroom was.
"Ms. Mary? Todd is standing on the table." Her small fingers pointed to a boy in a green-striped shirt, the other twin, who was stomping back and forth along the table.
"Hey, get down!" Mary set her papers on the floor to carry Todd off the table. "You're not allowed to climb on furniture."
"But it's fun!"
"I'm sorry, but I make the rules. Stay off."
She returned to find her papers disarranged again after Daniel stepped on them as he was running after the glasses kid. She quickly started picking them up but was forced to stop when she heard an argument break out over the crayon box. They had gotten into her bag and had started coloring the activity sheets she had been saving for later. After she was able to pull the kids apart and take away the source of the argument, she saw the mess the children had created in less than the ten minutes she had been there.
"Sunday School isn't supposed to be stressful!" she cried internally. "It's supposed to be fun. They're just little kids." Mary kept the tears back and whispered a little prayer.
"Ms. Mary?"
"Yes, Lori?" she sighed.
"Can we sing a Bible song?"
A song! Mary had forgotten the CD she had packed. Where was it? Oh, in the bag with the cookies! Mary practically ran to it, pulled out the CD player and CD, and plugged everything in.
"Okay, everyone!" she called. "It's time to get started! Come sit down in your seats! Let's start by singing a song." She quickly looked on the back CD cover. " 'Jesus Loves Me!' "
She pressed play and encouraged the kids to sing along with her while she cleaned up. Only a few kids listened to her, but at least their energy died down. Once everything was picked up good enough, she stood in front of the chairs and led them through the body movements for "Father Abraham," which encouraged more children to participate. By the third song, she had everyone's attention. It warmed her hearts to see their smiling, innocent young faces singing about Jesus.
"This is why I wanted to teach Sunday School," she thought peacefully.
:( I posted it a few minutes late.
Mary carried two large cloth bags, an easel, posters, and an armful of books into the small room that was opposite the nursery. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and she was wearing a pink blouse, long black skirt, and comfortable ballet flats. She was running late; a few parents were already waiting in the room with their children. Mary was already nervous.
She quickly started setting up her teaching materials while the parents left her alone with the two girls and three boys, two of which were twins. "Please don't leave me yet," she thought desperately. She wanted this job. Now she had to deal with all the responsibility it entailed.
One boy, she thought the mother said his name was Nick, was already rummaging through her bag. "Hey, Nick, please don't do that." She started pulling the bag away from him and putting it on a high table.
"But I thought I saw cookies in there. I'm hungry."
"Those aren't for you," she fibbed.
"Jesus says we should share."
Mary was too flustered to respond.
"Oooo, these are pretty!" a small girl's voice uttered.
"Please, Gabby, don't touch those posters. They're very special."
"My name is Abby."
"Oh, sorry."
"Teacher lady," one of the twins tugged at her skirt, "Adam won't give me a turn with the truck like Mom said."
Mary looked over at the boy in the red striped shirt. His hands did not look willing to part with the coveted object. "Can't you let him have the truck for a little bit longer?"
"I want it now!" he whined.
Mary had been setting up her easel and was fumbling with the posters as she listened. "When I'm done with this, I'll go help you, okay?"
"Okay," he said, not sounding satisfied.
A few more children were thrust into her care, and the stress Mary was feeling slowly rose like the waters during the Great Flood.
"Is church going to start yet?" a black-haired girl with pig tails named Rhonda asked.
"Are we going to have homework like in real school?" a boy with glasses wondered.
"No, Sunday School isn't really like school. It's more fun. And we'll be starting soon, Ruby."
"Rhonda!"
"Right. Rhonda. Sorry about that." Mary flipped through her papers of notes, putting them in chronological order when she was interrupted again by Lori, who had asked her before where was the bathroom was.
"Ms. Mary? Todd is standing on the table." Her small fingers pointed to a boy in a green-striped shirt, the other twin, who was stomping back and forth along the table.
"Hey, get down!" Mary set her papers on the floor to carry Todd off the table. "You're not allowed to climb on furniture."
"But it's fun!"
"I'm sorry, but I make the rules. Stay off."
She returned to find her papers disarranged again after Daniel stepped on them as he was running after the glasses kid. She quickly started picking them up but was forced to stop when she heard an argument break out over the crayon box. They had gotten into her bag and had started coloring the activity sheets she had been saving for later. After she was able to pull the kids apart and take away the source of the argument, she saw the mess the children had created in less than the ten minutes she had been there.
"Sunday School isn't supposed to be stressful!" she cried internally. "It's supposed to be fun. They're just little kids." Mary kept the tears back and whispered a little prayer.
"Ms. Mary?"
"Yes, Lori?" she sighed.
"Can we sing a Bible song?"
A song! Mary had forgotten the CD she had packed. Where was it? Oh, in the bag with the cookies! Mary practically ran to it, pulled out the CD player and CD, and plugged everything in.
"Okay, everyone!" she called. "It's time to get started! Come sit down in your seats! Let's start by singing a song." She quickly looked on the back CD cover. " 'Jesus Loves Me!' "
She pressed play and encouraged the kids to sing along with her while she cleaned up. Only a few kids listened to her, but at least their energy died down. Once everything was picked up good enough, she stood in front of the chairs and led them through the body movements for "Father Abraham," which encouraged more children to participate. By the third song, she had everyone's attention. It warmed her hearts to see their smiling, innocent young faces singing about Jesus.
"This is why I wanted to teach Sunday School," she thought peacefully.
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Day 37: XG7
The Prompt: The lights go off as the pastor is beginning his sermon. What happens?
A few women shrieked, and a couple of men exclaimed, "What's going on?"
Pastor Reynolds laughed for a minute. "Well, I guess God wanted us to have some mood setting for tonight's sermon. Don't panic, everyone. I'm sure we can get this worked out in no time. It's probably just a short circuit or something. Is our electrician here?"
"I'm here, pastor!" he called from the center of the pews. "I'm going to look at it right now." He managed to weasel his way down the pew with only stepping on two toes. Then he pulled out a flashlight he had handy to guide his way to the fuse box outside.
A few people were using their phones as flashlights and discussing the oddities of the experience. Esther, the woman who had recently celebrated her 72nd birthday, was telling the man seated next to him how something like this happened to her when she was a girl at a church service during a terrible storm and that they had to light candles. She continued by saying that the night sky was clear, so that couldn't be the problem. She mused aloud whether Pastor Reynolds would have enough candles to light the way.
Jim was at the fuse box now. He found what the problem was after a brief inspection. He flipped a few switches and saw a bright light peek out from the window over his head and cast his shadow on the glass. He was about to go back inside when he saw to shadows ahead of him run off towards the parking lot.
Rather than shout, Jim quietly followed them. He cautiously shined his flashlight over the cars. The light reflected off their metal sides and blinded him, but he was able to catch a glimpse of two dark-colored heads duck behind a red car. Jim increased his steps as he went to follow them. Before he caught up however, the car started and drove away. It was a car he'd never seen before. His flashlight revealed the license started "XG7." Jim shook his head. There was no way the fuses tripped by themselves. They had help. He wasn't sure who those people were, but he hoped that was the last he'd see of them.
But will it be? You'll have to keep reading and perhaps, just maybe, they'll pop up again.
A few women shrieked, and a couple of men exclaimed, "What's going on?"
Pastor Reynolds laughed for a minute. "Well, I guess God wanted us to have some mood setting for tonight's sermon. Don't panic, everyone. I'm sure we can get this worked out in no time. It's probably just a short circuit or something. Is our electrician here?"
"I'm here, pastor!" he called from the center of the pews. "I'm going to look at it right now." He managed to weasel his way down the pew with only stepping on two toes. Then he pulled out a flashlight he had handy to guide his way to the fuse box outside.
A few people were using their phones as flashlights and discussing the oddities of the experience. Esther, the woman who had recently celebrated her 72nd birthday, was telling the man seated next to him how something like this happened to her when she was a girl at a church service during a terrible storm and that they had to light candles. She continued by saying that the night sky was clear, so that couldn't be the problem. She mused aloud whether Pastor Reynolds would have enough candles to light the way.
Jim was at the fuse box now. He found what the problem was after a brief inspection. He flipped a few switches and saw a bright light peek out from the window over his head and cast his shadow on the glass. He was about to go back inside when he saw to shadows ahead of him run off towards the parking lot.
Rather than shout, Jim quietly followed them. He cautiously shined his flashlight over the cars. The light reflected off their metal sides and blinded him, but he was able to catch a glimpse of two dark-colored heads duck behind a red car. Jim increased his steps as he went to follow them. Before he caught up however, the car started and drove away. It was a car he'd never seen before. His flashlight revealed the license started "XG7." Jim shook his head. There was no way the fuses tripped by themselves. They had help. He wasn't sure who those people were, but he hoped that was the last he'd see of them.
But will it be? You'll have to keep reading and perhaps, just maybe, they'll pop up again.
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Day 33: Praying in Church
The Prompt: Watch a few people praying in church. What are they praying and why?
The first man looks to be about 40. He wears an pristine, seemingly unused dark suit with a blue and yellow striped silk tie and shiny black shoes. He smells of expensive cologne. I've talked to him once or twice before, and he questioned everything the pastor said. He never sings the worship songs or looks up Bible passages during the sermon. He simply sits in the pew with his arms crossed, listening intently. Now, this balding man is kneeling at the altar, unafraid of getting his pants wrinkled, with his hands clasped close under his chin and lips moving fervently. Not a sound can be heard from him. He's soul-searching, wondering if this God that everyone loves so much is real, wondering if He is the final answer that can bring meaning into his life.
Nearby is a young boy, I'd say about fourteen, who is also kneeling. He practically grew up in the church, as both of his parents are heavily involved in serving at church. His head is bowed, his hands folded neatly in front of his chest and his eyes shut tight. His life is still so young that his worries are few. He starts off by praising God for the message he heard in the sermon and then branches into praising God for his family, friends, for helping him win the game at school yesterday. Then he asks that God will help him practice the things that he learned today and keep them in his heart. He quickly adds that God will help him do well on his test in science class tomorrow.
In the first pew, not far from the altar, is a white-haired little woman wearing a pale pink dress suit and matching hat. We just celebrated her 72nd birthday on Tuesday. It's been years since she's been able to kneel, so she prays in her seat. She softly whispers her prayers to God. The deep wrinkles in her face show that she has seen many tribulations in her life, but her face is serene. She's been through this process a thousand times before. All she has to do is pray to God and let Him handle the rest. She has already prayed to Him about her normal prayer requests for her brothers and sisters in Christ. This time she has a special request for her grandniece. She's worried the teenager is slipping too far away from her parents and that it won't be long before she gets herself in real trouble. The old woman knows Her Father loves this girl and will protect her from harm. She humbly petitions that God will soften her grandniece's heart and eventually prod her to accept Him, whether it's through a family member or a stranger. She ends with praising God for all His blessings for which she is an unworthy recipient. This makes her even more grateful.
The first man looks to be about 40. He wears an pristine, seemingly unused dark suit with a blue and yellow striped silk tie and shiny black shoes. He smells of expensive cologne. I've talked to him once or twice before, and he questioned everything the pastor said. He never sings the worship songs or looks up Bible passages during the sermon. He simply sits in the pew with his arms crossed, listening intently. Now, this balding man is kneeling at the altar, unafraid of getting his pants wrinkled, with his hands clasped close under his chin and lips moving fervently. Not a sound can be heard from him. He's soul-searching, wondering if this God that everyone loves so much is real, wondering if He is the final answer that can bring meaning into his life.
Nearby is a young boy, I'd say about fourteen, who is also kneeling. He practically grew up in the church, as both of his parents are heavily involved in serving at church. His head is bowed, his hands folded neatly in front of his chest and his eyes shut tight. His life is still so young that his worries are few. He starts off by praising God for the message he heard in the sermon and then branches into praising God for his family, friends, for helping him win the game at school yesterday. Then he asks that God will help him practice the things that he learned today and keep them in his heart. He quickly adds that God will help him do well on his test in science class tomorrow.
In the first pew, not far from the altar, is a white-haired little woman wearing a pale pink dress suit and matching hat. We just celebrated her 72nd birthday on Tuesday. It's been years since she's been able to kneel, so she prays in her seat. She softly whispers her prayers to God. The deep wrinkles in her face show that she has seen many tribulations in her life, but her face is serene. She's been through this process a thousand times before. All she has to do is pray to God and let Him handle the rest. She has already prayed to Him about her normal prayer requests for her brothers and sisters in Christ. This time she has a special request for her grandniece. She's worried the teenager is slipping too far away from her parents and that it won't be long before she gets herself in real trouble. The old woman knows Her Father loves this girl and will protect her from harm. She humbly petitions that God will soften her grandniece's heart and eventually prod her to accept Him, whether it's through a family member or a stranger. She ends with praising God for all His blessings for which she is an unworthy recipient. This makes her even more grateful.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Day 31: God's Calling
The Prompt: God calls Tim to be an usher, but he's afraid of people. What happens?
I was surprised when my husband told me about what he thought God was telling him to do. He had always been a shy person. How he ever gathered up the courage to ask me out on our first date is a miracle in itself. I knew my husband was sure about this though. He always prayed to God and thought seriously about any situation before he made big decisions. Tim told me that this is something he didn't want to do, but he felt that if he didn't do it, he would feel like something was missing in his life.
Tim talked with the pastor after service that Sunday. He's one of the few people Tim isn't afraid of. The pastor was very receptive to the idea and prayed with Tim to give him strength for his journey ahead. Tim hardly spoke a word the first couple of times he did it. He just did his work with a smile on his face, the joy of the Holy Spirit shining through him. It was interacting with the congregation that gave him the confidence he needed. He hasn't regretted his decision, and now he never stops talking!
I was surprised when my husband told me about what he thought God was telling him to do. He had always been a shy person. How he ever gathered up the courage to ask me out on our first date is a miracle in itself. I knew my husband was sure about this though. He always prayed to God and thought seriously about any situation before he made big decisions. Tim told me that this is something he didn't want to do, but he felt that if he didn't do it, he would feel like something was missing in his life.
Tim talked with the pastor after service that Sunday. He's one of the few people Tim isn't afraid of. The pastor was very receptive to the idea and prayed with Tim to give him strength for his journey ahead. Tim hardly spoke a word the first couple of times he did it. He just did his work with a smile on his face, the joy of the Holy Spirit shining through him. It was interacting with the congregation that gave him the confidence he needed. He hasn't regretted his decision, and now he never stops talking!
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Day 24: Pastor's Secret
The Prompt: Pastor has a secret, and if anyone finds out, it could ruin him. What is it?
My fiction professor asked us to write opening sentences that give as much information as possible. I tried to do that with today's prompt.
He paced back and forth inside his office for who knows how long, the carpet showing a distinct groove from the path his lean yet youthful legs had made. He always did this when he was deep in thought, and the staff knew by this time to keep leave him alone when they saw him like this. Consequently, the pastor usually left his door slightly ajar. This time, however, he had it closed. The burden in his heart was just too great.
It had seemed so innocent the first time he said it. It just...happened. He meant to correct what he said the first time it slipped out, but he never got around to it. Then, when he thought about correcting himself, he thought that it was no longer relevant. Then, the situation came up again, and like all white lies, he had to give another small one to cover it up. Pretty soon, his white lies had become as the groove his feet were making now, a steep trench that was quite hard to get out of.
He had thought of telling the truth about four months ago, but so much time had gone by that telling his congregation the truth was harder than it had to be. Each Sunday that passed without his confession left an even heavier burden on his heart. It didn't help matters much when three months ago his daily devotions took him through the book of Exodus, and he stumbled upon the Ten Commandments. "Thou shalt not lie." This situation had pushed him quite close to telling the truth, but the same thing held him back each time.
Telling the truth could ruin his whole reputation as a preacher. He knew he wasn't supposed to put value on human esteem, but he cared deeply about his congregation's feelings. They loved his stories, and telling them the truth would ruin him. Over the course of his sermons, he had unintentionally worked this white lie into his sermons until his congregation expected it from him almost weekly. It was his running joke. He had even started elaborating on the lie.
The situation only got worse when members of the church started asking him about it, wanting to see proof of his stories. Another lie had to be fabricated to excuse himself from obliging them, and he could feel God's disappointment in him grow. It had gotten so bad he could barely preach a decent sermon these past couple of weeks, let alone pray to God. How could he pretend with God nothing was wrong? He'd be hypocritical!
He stopped pacing now and stared at the colored sheet of paper that was still clutched in his hands. Kourtney, one of his oldest members, had given him the flyer right after service that day, overjoyed to tell him the great news. She had signed him up for the event that the flyer was advertising for; he was going to be one of the featured judges because of his "vast experience with that sort of thing." Now he was pushed into a corner with nowhere else to run. This situation demanded him to produce proof of his lie, and he could not deliver. This was his last and only chance to tell the truth now. He took a deep inhale and exhale, bracing himself for the decision he knew had to be made. He had to tell them the truth, today. He had to tell them that he had actually never owned a dog.
My fiction professor asked us to write opening sentences that give as much information as possible. I tried to do that with today's prompt.
He paced back and forth inside his office for who knows how long, the carpet showing a distinct groove from the path his lean yet youthful legs had made. He always did this when he was deep in thought, and the staff knew by this time to keep leave him alone when they saw him like this. Consequently, the pastor usually left his door slightly ajar. This time, however, he had it closed. The burden in his heart was just too great.
It had seemed so innocent the first time he said it. It just...happened. He meant to correct what he said the first time it slipped out, but he never got around to it. Then, when he thought about correcting himself, he thought that it was no longer relevant. Then, the situation came up again, and like all white lies, he had to give another small one to cover it up. Pretty soon, his white lies had become as the groove his feet were making now, a steep trench that was quite hard to get out of.
He had thought of telling the truth about four months ago, but so much time had gone by that telling his congregation the truth was harder than it had to be. Each Sunday that passed without his confession left an even heavier burden on his heart. It didn't help matters much when three months ago his daily devotions took him through the book of Exodus, and he stumbled upon the Ten Commandments. "Thou shalt not lie." This situation had pushed him quite close to telling the truth, but the same thing held him back each time.
Telling the truth could ruin his whole reputation as a preacher. He knew he wasn't supposed to put value on human esteem, but he cared deeply about his congregation's feelings. They loved his stories, and telling them the truth would ruin him. Over the course of his sermons, he had unintentionally worked this white lie into his sermons until his congregation expected it from him almost weekly. It was his running joke. He had even started elaborating on the lie.
The situation only got worse when members of the church started asking him about it, wanting to see proof of his stories. Another lie had to be fabricated to excuse himself from obliging them, and he could feel God's disappointment in him grow. It had gotten so bad he could barely preach a decent sermon these past couple of weeks, let alone pray to God. How could he pretend with God nothing was wrong? He'd be hypocritical!
He stopped pacing now and stared at the colored sheet of paper that was still clutched in his hands. Kourtney, one of his oldest members, had given him the flyer right after service that day, overjoyed to tell him the great news. She had signed him up for the event that the flyer was advertising for; he was going to be one of the featured judges because of his "vast experience with that sort of thing." Now he was pushed into a corner with nowhere else to run. This situation demanded him to produce proof of his lie, and he could not deliver. This was his last and only chance to tell the truth now. He took a deep inhale and exhale, bracing himself for the decision he knew had to be made. He had to tell them the truth, today. He had to tell them that he had actually never owned a dog.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Day 22: Dresses Vs. Jeans
Today was my first day back at school, so in the future, my posts might
look shorter. I might also switch the prompts out if I can use this
blog to help me in my Fiction Writing class I'm taking.
The Prompt: Mary thinks a woman should wear dresses to church, while Emily says it's okay to wear jeans. Write only their conversation, no narrative.
"Emily, the Bible clearly states that women should not wear mens' clothes, and a man should not wear a woman's clothing. I think it's not only Biblical but proper that women wear dresses."
"Mary, I don't like to disagree with you, but I must. That argument makes it sound like we're back in the '20s. Once women got the right to vote, they could wear pants. Our culture has made it that it's acceptable to wear pants, just as in Scotland it's okay for men to wear skirts or kilts. It's not cross-dressing but part of the norms in our society."
"Okay, you're right about that, I suppose, but I just can't imagine wearing jeans to church. Dress pants is one thing but jeans?"
"And what's wrong with jeans? They're not revealing like shorts are."
"But they could be tight-fitted. It can distract men from the purpose of going to church."
"And so can short, tight-fitting dresses, Mary. It's all how each woman chooses to dress. Both types of clothes offer modesty or immodesty."
"I guess I can't make you agree with me. Everyone is entitled to their opinions."
"Thank you for saying that."
"But what about tradition? You can't think that maybe it's nice to wear dresses out of tradition?"
"There's nothing wrong with tradition, but I don't think women should feel bad because they refuse to wear jeans sometimes."
"No, but it's just...showing respect. I think traditions like that are a lost art. Plus, it gives women an extra occasion to dress up. I look forward to Sundays for that reason."
"A woman can feel pretty in a comfy pair of jeans and a frilly top too. Mary, let's say we just end our discussion here? There's no point in continuing."
"You're right. It's getting us nowhere. No hard feelings?"
"None whatsoever."
The Prompt: Mary thinks a woman should wear dresses to church, while Emily says it's okay to wear jeans. Write only their conversation, no narrative.
"Emily, the Bible clearly states that women should not wear mens' clothes, and a man should not wear a woman's clothing. I think it's not only Biblical but proper that women wear dresses."
"Mary, I don't like to disagree with you, but I must. That argument makes it sound like we're back in the '20s. Once women got the right to vote, they could wear pants. Our culture has made it that it's acceptable to wear pants, just as in Scotland it's okay for men to wear skirts or kilts. It's not cross-dressing but part of the norms in our society."
"Okay, you're right about that, I suppose, but I just can't imagine wearing jeans to church. Dress pants is one thing but jeans?"
"And what's wrong with jeans? They're not revealing like shorts are."
"But they could be tight-fitted. It can distract men from the purpose of going to church."
"And so can short, tight-fitting dresses, Mary. It's all how each woman chooses to dress. Both types of clothes offer modesty or immodesty."
"I guess I can't make you agree with me. Everyone is entitled to their opinions."
"Thank you for saying that."
"But what about tradition? You can't think that maybe it's nice to wear dresses out of tradition?"
"There's nothing wrong with tradition, but I don't think women should feel bad because they refuse to wear jeans sometimes."
"No, but it's just...showing respect. I think traditions like that are a lost art. Plus, it gives women an extra occasion to dress up. I look forward to Sundays for that reason."
"A woman can feel pretty in a comfy pair of jeans and a frilly top too. Mary, let's say we just end our discussion here? There's no point in continuing."
"You're right. It's getting us nowhere. No hard feelings?"
"None whatsoever."
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Day 20: A New Season
The Prompt: Why would a pastor think of leaving the pulpit?
I look back on that time of my life and part of me feels ashamed. Another part of me welcomes the memories that I am only human. Sometimes I can't believe I could actually fall into such a web of thinking. It's not a black and white decision like you would think. It's easy for the devil to attack you when you are weak, and that is exactly how I was.
It can get discouraging when you come into church to preach two and three sermons at least once a week, sacrificing your time and energy, and your congregation doesn't seem to appreciate it. They accept it. I know I shouldn't do it for them but for God, so I put the feeling out of my head. It's another matter though when you work hard all week on a sermon, trying to give a good message, make it relatable, and sprinkle it with humor, and it hardly seems to affect your audience. You start to question yourself, your qualifications to preach, your inspiration, your messages. You start to doubt if there is someone else out there better for the job.
These are the seeds of doubt that I let seep into me over the last few months. I don't blame any of you, so please do not feel guilty. There is nothing to be guilty for. I am sharing this to you all now because I want you to not make the same mistake I did. A Christian should recognize the truth from the lies Satan tells, but he enters you when you are weak. That is why I implore to pray about your doubts and fears. Let God cast them from your mind. Don't let them sit and fester as I did. Nip them in bud as soon as the first tiny lie creeps into your head. The Lord will help you.
After I went through that period in my life of questioning, I came out a stronger Christian and a stronger pastor. My reason for being your pastor has been made new to me. I am rejuvenated and ready for the next season serving you. I am just truly sorry I ever considered letting you all down by thinking about leaving.
I look back on that time of my life and part of me feels ashamed. Another part of me welcomes the memories that I am only human. Sometimes I can't believe I could actually fall into such a web of thinking. It's not a black and white decision like you would think. It's easy for the devil to attack you when you are weak, and that is exactly how I was.
It can get discouraging when you come into church to preach two and three sermons at least once a week, sacrificing your time and energy, and your congregation doesn't seem to appreciate it. They accept it. I know I shouldn't do it for them but for God, so I put the feeling out of my head. It's another matter though when you work hard all week on a sermon, trying to give a good message, make it relatable, and sprinkle it with humor, and it hardly seems to affect your audience. You start to question yourself, your qualifications to preach, your inspiration, your messages. You start to doubt if there is someone else out there better for the job.
These are the seeds of doubt that I let seep into me over the last few months. I don't blame any of you, so please do not feel guilty. There is nothing to be guilty for. I am sharing this to you all now because I want you to not make the same mistake I did. A Christian should recognize the truth from the lies Satan tells, but he enters you when you are weak. That is why I implore to pray about your doubts and fears. Let God cast them from your mind. Don't let them sit and fester as I did. Nip them in bud as soon as the first tiny lie creeps into your head. The Lord will help you.
After I went through that period in my life of questioning, I came out a stronger Christian and a stronger pastor. My reason for being your pastor has been made new to me. I am rejuvenated and ready for the next season serving you. I am just truly sorry I ever considered letting you all down by thinking about leaving.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Day 17: The Note
The Prompt: Someone gives the pastor a note while he's preaching. What does it say?
Pastor Reynolds did the best he could to stifle another yawn. He only had to preach this last sermon, and he would be done for the day. For a split second, he regretted staying up past 2:00 in the morning to revise his sermon, but after the reception it had gotten in the first two services, he knew he would do it all over again. That was part of his job description, after all. He had a duty to his congregation, and he was willing to make whatever sacrifices necessary to serve them.
The final hymn ended, and Pastor Reynolds rose to face the congregation. It was a nice full service again, but the third service usually was. People liked staying up late on Saturday nights and slept in on Sundays as much as they could. Pastor Reynolds thanked the worship team and opened his Bible to begin with the sermon. His notes laid next to the worn Good Book on the pulpit, but he was barely referring to them. By this time, he had the whole sermon practically memorized.
No one could guess that the pastor had slept for only three hours. His eyes still twinkled with the joy of his message to deliver, and the sermon was as animated as it normally was. It was undeniable that Pastor Reynolds was running on pure Holy Spirit by this time. The church was quiet, save for the occasional coughs and sneezes. They gave their pastor their undivided attention.
Just as Pastor Reynolds was getting to the climax of his final point in the sermon, Becky, one of the worship leaders nudged her husband's arm. He looked at her confused. She pointed at her watch then glanced at Pastor Reynolds. Her husband nodded, as realization hit his face, and he rose from his seat at the far right of the front pew. Becky had turned around for a minute and stared at the back door. A few nodding heads reassured her that she was doing everything according to plan.
Pastor Reynolds was not phased by any of the actions thus far. He was quite use to any distractions in church and simply focused on those who were still listening to him. He was confused when Becky's husband walked up the steps to the platform, but he still continued preaching. Then he was tapped on the shoulder. Slightly irritated, he covered up the microphone, leaned over, and whispered, "What is it, Todd?"
"I'm sorry, Pastor Reynolds," he whispered sincerely, "but I needed to give you this. It's urgent." With that, Todd passed him a folded-up piece of paper and went back to his seat.
Pastor Reynolds quickly unfolded the paper, while part of the congregation started wondering in hushed tones what was going on.
"Look outside the church," the note read.
Pastor Reynolds stared at the paper, as if expecting that this would make more writing appear on it. He looked at Todd and Becky for help, who were staring expressionless back at him. With a slight sigh, he announced, "Please excuse me, everyone, for just one moment. I need to step outside."
Embarrassed, the pastor stepped down from the pulpit and walked out the side door. As soon as he had his back turned, those that knew what would be waiting for him rose excitedly and walked out the front doors of the church, hoping they would make it in time to see the pastor's reaction.
"Livvy, what are you doing here?" Pastor Reynolds asked, sliding his hand through his graying hair as he often did when he was nervous. "I thought you went home after the second service. You said you were ill."
His wife smiled. "I had to tell you that, otherwise you would have suspected."
"Suspected what?"
Olivia turned around and called towards a tree, "You can come out now!"
There, emerging behind the tree, was a shorter man of about 24. He was still wearing his uniform that he had flown back in, and walked with a slight limp over to the astonished man. "Happy Birthday, Dad."
"Evan, you're home!" Pastor Reynolds cried as he held his son in a tight hug. "I thought you said you couldn't be on leave until next month!"
"Uncle Rick was bale to pull some strings for me. You didn't think I'd miss my own dad's fiftieth birthday, do you?"
"This is the best birthday present you could ever give me." He squeezed his son tighter.
"Dear, I think you should turn around."
Pastor Reynolds did as his wife advised and saw a large banner along the side of the church that read, "Happy 50th, Pastor Reynolds!". Balloons were tied in the bushes, and Pastor Reynolds could see picnic tables with food and more balloons set up behind the church. By this time, the whole congregation was outside, standing either in the front or the back of the building.
"Happy Birthday, Pastor Reynolds!" they cried in unison.
The pastor was speechless.
Becky walked up. "Pastor Reynolds, you're a wonderful man. You have done so much good for us, the church and this town, and we wanted to do something for you for a change."
"Sorry we had to interrupt the sermon," Todd added, "but we didn't want to keep Evan waiting any longer."
Pastor Reynolds wiped away the tears. "I am overwhelmed with such a gesture of kindness and love from you all. Thank you," he addressed the crowd. "Thank you from the bottom of my heart!"
Pastor Reynolds did the best he could to stifle another yawn. He only had to preach this last sermon, and he would be done for the day. For a split second, he regretted staying up past 2:00 in the morning to revise his sermon, but after the reception it had gotten in the first two services, he knew he would do it all over again. That was part of his job description, after all. He had a duty to his congregation, and he was willing to make whatever sacrifices necessary to serve them.
The final hymn ended, and Pastor Reynolds rose to face the congregation. It was a nice full service again, but the third service usually was. People liked staying up late on Saturday nights and slept in on Sundays as much as they could. Pastor Reynolds thanked the worship team and opened his Bible to begin with the sermon. His notes laid next to the worn Good Book on the pulpit, but he was barely referring to them. By this time, he had the whole sermon practically memorized.
No one could guess that the pastor had slept for only three hours. His eyes still twinkled with the joy of his message to deliver, and the sermon was as animated as it normally was. It was undeniable that Pastor Reynolds was running on pure Holy Spirit by this time. The church was quiet, save for the occasional coughs and sneezes. They gave their pastor their undivided attention.
Just as Pastor Reynolds was getting to the climax of his final point in the sermon, Becky, one of the worship leaders nudged her husband's arm. He looked at her confused. She pointed at her watch then glanced at Pastor Reynolds. Her husband nodded, as realization hit his face, and he rose from his seat at the far right of the front pew. Becky had turned around for a minute and stared at the back door. A few nodding heads reassured her that she was doing everything according to plan.
Pastor Reynolds was not phased by any of the actions thus far. He was quite use to any distractions in church and simply focused on those who were still listening to him. He was confused when Becky's husband walked up the steps to the platform, but he still continued preaching. Then he was tapped on the shoulder. Slightly irritated, he covered up the microphone, leaned over, and whispered, "What is it, Todd?"
"I'm sorry, Pastor Reynolds," he whispered sincerely, "but I needed to give you this. It's urgent." With that, Todd passed him a folded-up piece of paper and went back to his seat.
Pastor Reynolds quickly unfolded the paper, while part of the congregation started wondering in hushed tones what was going on.
"Look outside the church," the note read.
Pastor Reynolds stared at the paper, as if expecting that this would make more writing appear on it. He looked at Todd and Becky for help, who were staring expressionless back at him. With a slight sigh, he announced, "Please excuse me, everyone, for just one moment. I need to step outside."
Embarrassed, the pastor stepped down from the pulpit and walked out the side door. As soon as he had his back turned, those that knew what would be waiting for him rose excitedly and walked out the front doors of the church, hoping they would make it in time to see the pastor's reaction.
"Livvy, what are you doing here?" Pastor Reynolds asked, sliding his hand through his graying hair as he often did when he was nervous. "I thought you went home after the second service. You said you were ill."
His wife smiled. "I had to tell you that, otherwise you would have suspected."
"Suspected what?"
Olivia turned around and called towards a tree, "You can come out now!"
There, emerging behind the tree, was a shorter man of about 24. He was still wearing his uniform that he had flown back in, and walked with a slight limp over to the astonished man. "Happy Birthday, Dad."
"Evan, you're home!" Pastor Reynolds cried as he held his son in a tight hug. "I thought you said you couldn't be on leave until next month!"
"Uncle Rick was bale to pull some strings for me. You didn't think I'd miss my own dad's fiftieth birthday, do you?"
"This is the best birthday present you could ever give me." He squeezed his son tighter.
"Dear, I think you should turn around."
Pastor Reynolds did as his wife advised and saw a large banner along the side of the church that read, "Happy 50th, Pastor Reynolds!". Balloons were tied in the bushes, and Pastor Reynolds could see picnic tables with food and more balloons set up behind the church. By this time, the whole congregation was outside, standing either in the front or the back of the building.
"Happy Birthday, Pastor Reynolds!" they cried in unison.
The pastor was speechless.
Becky walked up. "Pastor Reynolds, you're a wonderful man. You have done so much good for us, the church and this town, and we wanted to do something for you for a change."
"Sorry we had to interrupt the sermon," Todd added, "but we didn't want to keep Evan waiting any longer."
Pastor Reynolds wiped away the tears. "I am overwhelmed with such a gesture of kindness and love from you all. Thank you," he addressed the crowd. "Thank you from the bottom of my heart!"
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Day 16: It's Just a Song
The Prompt: The worship team has a fight over a particular song. Some want to sing it, while others think it's too secular. What happens?
Matthew sighed and looked at his watch again. It was five after 2:00. "At this rate, I doubt anyone is going to show up."
Just then, he saw a red car drive up to the front of the youth worship center parking lot. Two teenagers, one with long brown hair and one with a blonde bob, stepped out and walked towards him.
"Hi, Matthew," the taller brunette greeted. There was a sense of awkwardness in her tone.
"Hello, Julie. Hi, Molly," he greeted the blonde, to which she acknowledged with a small smile.
"We're sorry we're a little late," Julie began. "Where's everyone else?"
"Robert said he would be here later because his shift didn't end until five minutes ago. Javier should be here any minute. I don't know where Donna is."
Molly bit her lower lip. "Donna is the lead female singer. If she doesn't show up, what's the point of this meeting?"
"She'll show up," Matthew stated firmly, more for himself than for Molly.
Javier drove up a minute later, and the four decided to wait inside for the rest of the worship team to show up. They started a light conversation, ignoring the problem that had prompted them all to meet on a Tuesday afternoon instead of their usual practice days. Robert came at 2:15, and just when they had almost given up all hope on her, Donna showed up. She didn't offer an apology but looked vexed and anxious to settle their disagreement.
"Alright," Matthew said, resuming his role as their unofficial leader, "now that everyone is hear, we can begin our discussion. We had a night to cool off, pray, and clear our heads. How does everyone feel about the song?" He asked the last question firmly, but inside he was nervous hearing what everyone thought.
Donna opened the discussion with her usual direct opinion. "I still feel what I felt before. The song is too secular, and I refuse to sing it."
Matthew's spirit dropped. With that kind of close-minded attitude, their meeting was going to be a waste of time.
"I'm still in agreement with her," Julie added. "I listened to the words again, and while the song might draw more kids to church, the message that the words say is not something I think a church should give."
Donna grinned and nodded her approval. "Exactly what I think. Is it worth it to have a bigger crowd of kids when they're just going to be non-believers? The church won't be a safe haven for Christians anymore."
"A church isn't just for Christians," Matthew countered quickly. "It's for everyone, and sometimes we need to appeal to the outside world to draw them to church." He was starting to regret he'd ever suggested the idea in the first place.
"You're wrong!"
Javier joined in. "The pastor has a great series of sermons lined up, and I think the children would benefit from hearing them. The point of church is to save those which are lost. I say, the more the merrier."
"But the point of a worship service," Donna argued, "is to draw everyone to worship God. We would be hypocrites if the lyrics contradicted what the pastor just preached about."
"The lyrics can be interpreted any way you want," Matthew countered.
"What if we have the pastor announce our interpretation of the song beforehand?" Molly piped up.
"The Bible says, 'do not be conformed to this world,' " Donna quoted in a know-it-all tone.
"But that doesn't mean we should shun anything that doesn't mention God," Matthew continued.
"If it gives people wrong thoughts, then it is bad," Donna stated simply.
"Maybe we should just not worry about the song and stick to our old routine," Molly tried again.
"No," Donna turned to her. "We need to have this sorted out now. If we don't deal with the problem now, the same situation is going to come up later."
There was silence for a few moments before Robert spoke. "I prayed about this situation last night, and this is what I think. I don't care for the song myself, but I am not letting that sway my decision. The point is not whether or not the song is secular. We sing 'Happy Birthday,' and that could be secular. It is the sentiment behind the song. Remember how last year our church sung that song 'He Lives in You' from the second Lion King movie? The writers intended that to be about how the lion king's spirit lives in all the animals, but the words can be associated with God's spirit living in us. It stirred us to want to worship Him. We should be listening to the Holy Spirit when we choose our songs. If the song can draw us closer to Him, I say, let's sing it. If not, we should sing something else."
Everyone was quiet.
"I don't think of God very much when I hear the song," Javier admitted.
"Neither do I," Julie said.
"Same here," Molly agreed.
"I still feel the song is wrong, but now I don't want to sing it for different reasons," Donna said in an uncharacteristically subdued tone.
"I agree with you too," Matthew said guitily. "I guess I was so concerned about getting new people to come to church, I didn't care how we did it. I"m sorry, guys."
"And I'm sorry too." Donna added, looking mainly at Matthew. "I was acting self-righteous, and I said some pretty mean things to you. Will you forgive me?"
"Of course," Matthew said with a smile.
"I'm glad we got that worked out," Molly exhaled.
"Me too," the rest of the team said in unison.
With the shroud of anger and bad feelings lifted, everyone felt jovial again, and they wasted no time in beginning to decide what songs they would be singing for the worship service on Sunday.
Matthew sighed and looked at his watch again. It was five after 2:00. "At this rate, I doubt anyone is going to show up."
Just then, he saw a red car drive up to the front of the youth worship center parking lot. Two teenagers, one with long brown hair and one with a blonde bob, stepped out and walked towards him.
"Hi, Matthew," the taller brunette greeted. There was a sense of awkwardness in her tone.
"Hello, Julie. Hi, Molly," he greeted the blonde, to which she acknowledged with a small smile.
"We're sorry we're a little late," Julie began. "Where's everyone else?"
"Robert said he would be here later because his shift didn't end until five minutes ago. Javier should be here any minute. I don't know where Donna is."
Molly bit her lower lip. "Donna is the lead female singer. If she doesn't show up, what's the point of this meeting?"
"She'll show up," Matthew stated firmly, more for himself than for Molly.
Javier drove up a minute later, and the four decided to wait inside for the rest of the worship team to show up. They started a light conversation, ignoring the problem that had prompted them all to meet on a Tuesday afternoon instead of their usual practice days. Robert came at 2:15, and just when they had almost given up all hope on her, Donna showed up. She didn't offer an apology but looked vexed and anxious to settle their disagreement.
"Alright," Matthew said, resuming his role as their unofficial leader, "now that everyone is hear, we can begin our discussion. We had a night to cool off, pray, and clear our heads. How does everyone feel about the song?" He asked the last question firmly, but inside he was nervous hearing what everyone thought.
Donna opened the discussion with her usual direct opinion. "I still feel what I felt before. The song is too secular, and I refuse to sing it."
Matthew's spirit dropped. With that kind of close-minded attitude, their meeting was going to be a waste of time.
"I'm still in agreement with her," Julie added. "I listened to the words again, and while the song might draw more kids to church, the message that the words say is not something I think a church should give."
Donna grinned and nodded her approval. "Exactly what I think. Is it worth it to have a bigger crowd of kids when they're just going to be non-believers? The church won't be a safe haven for Christians anymore."
"A church isn't just for Christians," Matthew countered quickly. "It's for everyone, and sometimes we need to appeal to the outside world to draw them to church." He was starting to regret he'd ever suggested the idea in the first place.
"You're wrong!"
Javier joined in. "The pastor has a great series of sermons lined up, and I think the children would benefit from hearing them. The point of church is to save those which are lost. I say, the more the merrier."
"But the point of a worship service," Donna argued, "is to draw everyone to worship God. We would be hypocrites if the lyrics contradicted what the pastor just preached about."
"The lyrics can be interpreted any way you want," Matthew countered.
"What if we have the pastor announce our interpretation of the song beforehand?" Molly piped up.
"The Bible says, 'do not be conformed to this world,' " Donna quoted in a know-it-all tone.
"But that doesn't mean we should shun anything that doesn't mention God," Matthew continued.
"If it gives people wrong thoughts, then it is bad," Donna stated simply.
"Maybe we should just not worry about the song and stick to our old routine," Molly tried again.
"No," Donna turned to her. "We need to have this sorted out now. If we don't deal with the problem now, the same situation is going to come up later."
There was silence for a few moments before Robert spoke. "I prayed about this situation last night, and this is what I think. I don't care for the song myself, but I am not letting that sway my decision. The point is not whether or not the song is secular. We sing 'Happy Birthday,' and that could be secular. It is the sentiment behind the song. Remember how last year our church sung that song 'He Lives in You' from the second Lion King movie? The writers intended that to be about how the lion king's spirit lives in all the animals, but the words can be associated with God's spirit living in us. It stirred us to want to worship Him. We should be listening to the Holy Spirit when we choose our songs. If the song can draw us closer to Him, I say, let's sing it. If not, we should sing something else."
Everyone was quiet.
"I don't think of God very much when I hear the song," Javier admitted.
"Neither do I," Julie said.
"Same here," Molly agreed.
"I still feel the song is wrong, but now I don't want to sing it for different reasons," Donna said in an uncharacteristically subdued tone.
"I agree with you too," Matthew said guitily. "I guess I was so concerned about getting new people to come to church, I didn't care how we did it. I"m sorry, guys."
"And I'm sorry too." Donna added, looking mainly at Matthew. "I was acting self-righteous, and I said some pretty mean things to you. Will you forgive me?"
"Of course," Matthew said with a smile.
"I'm glad we got that worked out," Molly exhaled.
"Me too," the rest of the team said in unison.
With the shroud of anger and bad feelings lifted, everyone felt jovial again, and they wasted no time in beginning to decide what songs they would be singing for the worship service on Sunday.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Day 13: The Thump
The Prompt: You are the last one to leave church, and you hear a loud thump between the aisles. What happens?
I stood motionless for a second, too terrified to move. I thought I was the last person to leave. Was it an animal? Did something fall? I listened carefully to see if I could hear any other noises. It was quiet. Cautiously, I turned around and took one small step towards the noise. My heart pounded loudly, and I tried to steady my breath in order to be as silent as possible. I rounded the corner of the pews and peered down the aisle. There was a book lying in the middle of it. This did not steady my mind. Sure, it was only a book, but how did it get there? It was in the middle of the aisle, not near a bench. I looked around to see if I could see anyone. No one.
I walked closer to the book, feeling like an animal who was walking towards a disguised trap in the woods. One of the church windows that was hanging open creaked in the gentle breeze. I was next to the book now, which turned out to be a Bible, and a very worn one at that. I stooped down, gingerly picked it up, and started flipping to the cover. I thought maybe it was the pastor's, but there was no name or inscription found. I sighed at the dead end. My hand was still holding the spot where the Bible had been lying open to, so I flipped back to the pages. There was a single line highlighted in green, 1 Peter 5:7. Casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you.
I slumped down in the pew and read the tiny verse over and over again. Peter was telling me to give God my burden, the things that had been weighing my heart down for weeks. They were personal problems that couldn't really share with anyone else. I felt they were sort of my private cross to bear. I tried to be strong, praying to God about them and reading my Bible, but the burden seemed to be getting heavier and heavier. This past week, I had grown miserable from the weight of them. I had hoped today's sermon would help, but nothing the pastor said today had been relative to me.
And now, here, sitting open my lap, was the very thing I had been searching for. God was saying I didn't have to struggle with this alone. I didn't have to try to fix it. I was to give it to him, just a small child would give his father a toy that needed fixing. God would fix it for me because He cared about me. He loved me. I stared at the large wooden cross that was affixed above the pulpit onto the wall in front of me and was reminded of Jesus. Even He couldn't carry His cross alone. Once all this fully sank in, a gush of tears flowed, releasing all the stress and pain I had been holding onto for weeks. I embraced the relief I felt as my body shook from the crying. I prayed aloud that God would release me from my burden and carry it for me.
Once I stopped crying, I sat there with my eyes closed. Even though I had no idea how my problems would be fixed, I was at peace knowing I had left them in capable hands. I could sense God's presence with me in that lonely church, and I wanted dwell near Him as much as I could. Suddenly, I felt something light touch my shoulder. I opened my eyes and looked at my shoulder and around me. Nothing was there. It was curious. I still didn't know where the Bible came from later. It didn't matter. I warmly touched the verse, which was a little wet from my tears, before I closed the Bible and placed it next to me on the pew. Someone would claim it. As I rose to go, something caught my eye under the pew in front of me. I bent down to take a closer look. It was a feather. A long, pure white feather.
I stood motionless for a second, too terrified to move. I thought I was the last person to leave. Was it an animal? Did something fall? I listened carefully to see if I could hear any other noises. It was quiet. Cautiously, I turned around and took one small step towards the noise. My heart pounded loudly, and I tried to steady my breath in order to be as silent as possible. I rounded the corner of the pews and peered down the aisle. There was a book lying in the middle of it. This did not steady my mind. Sure, it was only a book, but how did it get there? It was in the middle of the aisle, not near a bench. I looked around to see if I could see anyone. No one.
I walked closer to the book, feeling like an animal who was walking towards a disguised trap in the woods. One of the church windows that was hanging open creaked in the gentle breeze. I was next to the book now, which turned out to be a Bible, and a very worn one at that. I stooped down, gingerly picked it up, and started flipping to the cover. I thought maybe it was the pastor's, but there was no name or inscription found. I sighed at the dead end. My hand was still holding the spot where the Bible had been lying open to, so I flipped back to the pages. There was a single line highlighted in green, 1 Peter 5:7. Casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you.
I slumped down in the pew and read the tiny verse over and over again. Peter was telling me to give God my burden, the things that had been weighing my heart down for weeks. They were personal problems that couldn't really share with anyone else. I felt they were sort of my private cross to bear. I tried to be strong, praying to God about them and reading my Bible, but the burden seemed to be getting heavier and heavier. This past week, I had grown miserable from the weight of them. I had hoped today's sermon would help, but nothing the pastor said today had been relative to me.
And now, here, sitting open my lap, was the very thing I had been searching for. God was saying I didn't have to struggle with this alone. I didn't have to try to fix it. I was to give it to him, just a small child would give his father a toy that needed fixing. God would fix it for me because He cared about me. He loved me. I stared at the large wooden cross that was affixed above the pulpit onto the wall in front of me and was reminded of Jesus. Even He couldn't carry His cross alone. Once all this fully sank in, a gush of tears flowed, releasing all the stress and pain I had been holding onto for weeks. I embraced the relief I felt as my body shook from the crying. I prayed aloud that God would release me from my burden and carry it for me.
Once I stopped crying, I sat there with my eyes closed. Even though I had no idea how my problems would be fixed, I was at peace knowing I had left them in capable hands. I could sense God's presence with me in that lonely church, and I wanted dwell near Him as much as I could. Suddenly, I felt something light touch my shoulder. I opened my eyes and looked at my shoulder and around me. Nothing was there. It was curious. I still didn't know where the Bible came from later. It didn't matter. I warmly touched the verse, which was a little wet from my tears, before I closed the Bible and placed it next to me on the pew. Someone would claim it. As I rose to go, something caught my eye under the pew in front of me. I bent down to take a closer look. It was a feather. A long, pure white feather.
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