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NO RUNS, NO HITS, NO ERRORS
In one little Midwestern town, Miss Jones had the distinction of being the oldest resident in town. So when she died, the editor of the local paper wanted to print a little article remembering this dear old lady, except he couldn't think of anything to say when he sat down to write the article. Miss Jones had never done anything terribly wrong. She had never spent a night in jail or had ever been drunk. On the other hand, she had never done anything significant.
With this still on his mind, the editor went down to the local café, and there, ran into the local funeral director. He too was having the same trouble. He wanted to put something on Miss Jones' tombstone besides "Miss Nancy Jones, born such-and-such a date and died such-and-such a date," but he couldn't think of anything to write either.
The editor decided to go back to his office and assign the job of writing up a small article for both the paper and the tombstone to the first reporter he saw. When he got to the office, he ran into the sports editor, who got the assignment. So somewhere in some little community in the Midwest there is a tombstone which reads:
Here lie the bones of Nancy Jones,
For her life held no terrors.
She lived an old maid. She died an old maid.
No hits, no runs, no errors. (C. C. Mitchell, Let's Live!)
I'm afraid to say, "That's the way many Christians live their lives." They've never done anything terribly wrong, but they never accomplish anything significant for the Lord.
(From a sermon by C. Philip Green, Take a Risk, 5/25/2012)
HOW TO GIVE THANKS IN THE MIDST OF LOSS
When you've lost something or someone precious, it is easy to forget that "the Lord gives and the Lord takes away." He doesn't owe us a reason.
John Claypool was a pastor in Louisville, Kentucky many years ago. He and his wife lost their daughter, Laura Lou, to leukemia. He later explained his loss by telling a story from his childhood.
During WWII his family didn't own a washing machine, and since gas was rationed, they couldn't afford to drive to a laundry. Keeping their clothes clean became a challenge. John's neighbor went into the service and his wife moved in with her family. They offered to let John's family use their Bendix wringer washer while they were gone. They reasoned it would be better for it to be used than to sit rusting on the porch.
John helped with the family's laundry, and he said he developed a fondness for that old green Bendix. When the war ended his neighbors returned, and they reclaimed their washing machine. Over the course of the war, young John had actually forgotten the machine was loaned to them, so when the neighbors removed it, John was upset and angry that they would take his washing machine. His mother sat him down and said, "John, you must remember that the washing machine never belonged to us in the first place. That we ever got to use it at all was a gift. So, instead of being mad at it being taken away, let us use this as an occasion to be thankful that we ever had it at all."
John Claypool would say years later he struggled with the death of eight-year-old Laura Lou, until he remembered that old green Bendix. He wrote: "When I remember that Laura Lou was a gift, pure and simple, something I neither earned nor deserved nor had a right to; and when I remember that the appropriate response to a gift, even when it is taken away, is gratitude, then I am better able to try and thank God that I was ever given her in the first place." (Steps of a Fellow Struggler)
That's exactly how Job felt. He knew every good thing in his life had come from God, and God had the right to take anything away. That's the kind of attitude that will keep you from becoming bitter when you face loss.
(From a sermon by Fred Markes, Praise God, 8/30/2011)
My brother served his first parish in Massillion, Ohio, as an associate pastor, with the late Pastor Maurice "Mo" White. Pastor White was a very large, strong and vibrant man. During one Lenten season, one of the older, but faithful members of the church came with her husband to an evening Lenten service. As they were leaving the service, the woman somehow fell down the outside flight of steps and broke her hip. For some unknown cause, she did not recover from the hip surgery and died in a few short days. Pastor White stood with the bereaved husband by the casket the night before the funeral. Many people came to offer their sympathies. Some were saying to the sorrowing husband,"God must of had a plan for this, so accept it." Another said,"It was God?s will and we must live by it." Still another said,"Somehow God planned this to test your faith!!" And still another said,"There is a sliver lining in every cloud, you will find God?s reason behind this eventually."
Pastor White left that funeral home filled with a very strong emotion of anger at the "babbling", as he put it, he heard that evening. He went to the study and rewrote the beginning of his funeral sermon.
Pastor White began his funeral sermon with this phrase:"My God does not push old ladies down church steps!!!" Then he proceeded to explain that God cannot be blamed or accused for all the brokenness of this world. If God is the author of death, how, how can He be at the same time the author of life as shown through the resurrection we celebrate each Sunday and especially on Easter. Is God the God of the living, or the God of the dead? You cannot have it both ways.
SOME THOUGHTS ON FORGIVENESS
Bernard Meltzer was a United States radio host for several decades. His advice call-in show was called "What's Your Problem?" Meltzer said, "When you forgive, you in no way change the past--but you sure do change the future."
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Mark Twain had some sour thoughts about Christianity, but he had this much right: "Forgiveness is the fragrance that the flower leaves on the heel of the one who crushed it."
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Forgiving is hard but it is essential to spiritual and mental well-being. Noted religious author Agnes Sanford said, "As we practice the work of forgiveness we discover more and more that forgiveness and healing are one."
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A woman testified to the transformation in her life that had resulted through her experience in conversion. She declared, "I'm so glad I got religion. I have an uncle I used to hate so much, I vowed I'd never go to his funeral. But now, why, I'd be happy to go to it any time."
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Here is a sad story: A childhood accident caused poet Elizabeth Barrett to lead a life of semi-invalidism before she married Robert Browning in 1846. There's more to the story. In her youth, Elizabeth had been watched over by her tyrannical father. When she and Robert were married, their wedding was held in secret because of her father's disapproval.
After the wedding the Brownings sailed for Italy, where they lived for the rest of their lives. But even though her parents had disowned her, Elizabeth never gave up on the relationship. Almost weekly she wrote them letters. Not once did they reply.
After 10 years, she received a large box in the mail. Inside, Elizabeth found all of her letters; not one had been opened! Today those letters are among the most beautiful in classical English literature. Had her parents only read a few of them, their relationship with Elizabeth might have been restored.
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The story is told in Spain of a father and his teenage son who had a relationship that had become strained. So the son ran away from home. His father, however, began a journey in search of his rebellious son. Finally, in Madrid, in a last desperate effort to find him, the father put an ad in the newspaper. The ad read: "Dear Paco, meet me in front of the newspaper office at noon. All is forgiven. I love you. Your father."
The next day at noon in front of the newspaper office 800 "Pacos" showed up. They were all seeking forgiveness and love from their fathers.
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A man, who was telling his friend about an argument he'd had with his wife, commented, "Oh, how I hate it. Every time we have an argument, she gets historical." The friend replied, "You mean 'hysterical.'" "No," he insisted, "I mean historical. Every time we argue, she drags up everything from the past and holds it against me."
We call that "gunnysacking" -- packing up everything in this argument so you can dump it out during the next one. But things that have been dealt with in forgiveness should not be carried forward.
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Two little brothers, Harry and James, had finished supper and were playing until bedtime. Somehow, Harry hit James with a stick, and tears and bitter words followed. Charges and accusations were still being exchanged as mother prepared them for bed.
The mother instructed, "Now, James, before you go to bed, you're going to have to forgive your brother." James was thoughtful for a few moments, and then he replied, "Well, OK, I'll forgive him tonight, but if I don't die in the night, he'd better look out in the morning."
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Adults sometimes act childish. Rabbi David A. Nelson likes to tell the story of two brothers who went to their rabbi to settle a longstanding feud. The rabbi got the two to reconcile their differences and shake hands.
As they were about to leave, he asked each one to make a wish for the other in honor of the Jewish New Year. The first brother turned to the other and said, "I wish you what you wish me." At that, the second brother threw up his hands and said, "See, Rabbi, he's starting up again!"
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An anonymous story: I was assisting another pastor in a revival meeting when we visited a man who had been active in the church, but, due to a dispute with a fellow member, he had quit attending church. We reasoned with him at length about the need for forgiveness and returning to church. Reluctantly, he agreed, and we had prayer together. When we were leaving, he followed us to the car and said, "Now, I'll forgive him, but all I want is for him to stay on his side of the road, and I'll stay on mine."
Contrast that attitude with this familiar story: Clara Barton, the founder of the Red Cross, was never known to hold resentment a...
When DL Moody was a young man, he was suddenly called on to preach his first funeral. He searched all through Matthew, Mark, Luke and John trying to find a funeral sermon that Jesus preached. He made a wonderful discovery. Jesus never preached a funeral.
“Artesian Forgiveness!” Matthew 5: 43-48 Key verse(s): 46 “If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that?”
Here at Beech Springs one of the things that sets these few acres apart is the artesian well that highlights our front yard. Beneath the spreading branches of the ever present beech trees which surround it, the spring is free-flowing year-round. When the original owner of the property had the well drilled several decades ago, he had know idea that, when the aquifer was pierced some one hundred or so feet below, he would create a free-flowing artesian spring. But that is precisely what happened. Since the flow could not be capped, a shallow basin was installed to catch the well-head flow with a drain that would take the water underground to Your Creek some fifty or so yards away.
As is so often the case with wells of this type, there is always the ever present danger of a clog in the drain pipe which flows underneath our house. Should that happen, the water has no place to go but overflow the basin and drain into the driveway. Over the years we have become accustomed to these blockages. Whether it is leaves, sand, or the buildup of beech nut husks, something always seems to get into the pipe and dam up the flow. Even though it can be a bother (especially in the winter) to be confronted with water in the driveway, one thing always strikes me when I resort to plunger and hose in an effort to blast through the subterranean clog. The well just keeps chugging away. Despite the fact that the precious water slowly seeps away into the gravel of our driveway, there is always more where that comes from. With a little help from a plunger and hose, the creek inevitably resumes its drink while the driveway awaits for another opportunity. There is always plenty of water for the creek to greedily consume and the spring never seems unwilling to forgive the consumption even when it is worthlessly poured out upon the driveway. It just keeps giving despite the taking.
And so it is with forgiving. I recall the story of Abraham Lincoln when he was running for president of the United States. Lincoln had many enemies but none more virulent than Edwin Stanton. Stanton went around the country calling Lincoln a fool, a buffoon and a , “tall, lanky, ignorant man.” When Lincoln was finally elected president, he did not forget about Mr. Stanton. When the time came for him to choose his cabinet, Lincoln decided that the best man for the job of Secretary of War was Edwin Stanton. With that choice many of Lincoln’s advisors raised a hue and a cry. They told him: “Mr. Lincoln, are you a fool? Do you know what Mr. Stanton has been saying about you? Do you know what he has done, and is trying to do to you? Do you know that he has tried to defeat you on every hand? Do you know that, Mr. Lincoln? Did you read all of those derogatory statements that he made about you?” After listening to their harangue, Lincoln arose and made this rather perfunctory statement: “Oh yeah. I know about it; I read about it; I’ve heard him myself. But after looking over the country, I find that he is the best man for the job.” Stanton accepted the nomination and soon became a very good secretary of war. Although throughout the early years of that service their friendship was never more than cordial, he gradually learned to appreciate, even admire the president. When Lincoln was assassinated in April of 1865, Stanton was deeply grieved. The man who had once hated Lincoln more than any man, had learned, through Lincoln’s grace and kindnesses, what true friendship was all about. At the president’s funeral Stanton delivered a very different kind of oratory than that which he had become so famous for but five years prior. After a moving and salutary address he made this now famous statement: “Now he belongs to the ages.” Because of Lincoln’s free-flowing and never-ending willingness to forgive and forget, he had turned a bitter enemy into a devoted friend.
Lincoln understood the concept of, what might be called, artesian forgiveness. No matter how much you pour out you must never expect it to return to you. You just need to be a free-flowing source of precious life-giving forgiveness. If you stop to examine where that forgiveness is going or find yourself focusing on how often that forgiveness is not returned but is simply soaked away without recompense, you might as well be a mud puddle whose worth is spent when the sun has dried its substance and turned it into a hardened patch of common dirt. Martin Luther wrote, “A Christian should have a well which cannot be dried up or exhausted, even if his charity is poured out like water into sand.” (Sermon on the fourth Sunday after Trinity, 1533. W.A. 37.101.) Christians like you and I must never be compared to mud puddles. That is the worth of the world and the amount of forgiveness an unbeliever might contain. It is never the source of our forgiving balm. We need to love without condition and forgive without the hope that what we give will be given back in full measure. We must never grow weary of doing good for our Savior has never grown weary of us.
My brother served his first parish in Massillion, Ohio, as an associate pastor, with the late Pastor Maurice "Mo" White. Pastor White was a very large, strong and vibrant man.
During one Lenten season, one of the older, but faithful members of the church came with her husband to an evening Lenten service. As they were leaving the service, the woman somehow fell down the outside flight of steps and broke her hip. For some unknown cause, she did not recover from the hip surgery and died in a few short days. Pastor White stood with the bereaved husband by the casket the night before the funeral.
Many people came to offer their sympathies. Some were saying to the sorrowing husband, "God must of had a plan for this, so accept it." Another said, "It was God’s will and we must live by it." Still another said,"Somehow God planned this to test your faith!!" And still another said,"There is a sliver lining in every cloud, you will find God’s reason behind this eventually."
Pastor White left that funeral home filled with a very strong emotion of anger at the "babbling", as he put it, he heard that evening. He went to the study and rewrote the beginning of his funeral sermon.
Pastor White began his funeral sermon with this phrase: "My God does not push old ladies down church steps!!!" Then he proceeded to explain that God cannot be blamed or accused for all the brokenness of this world. If God is the author of death, how, how can He be at the same time the author of life as shown through the resurrection we celebrate each Sunday and especially on Easter. Is God the God of the living, or the God of the dead? You cannot have it both ways.
SARAH'S VASE
Just like life comes in the place of death, so honor comes in the place of service.
Pediatrician David Cerqueira tells the story of a little girl in his wife's Sunday School class. His wife had prepared a lesson on being useful and told the children that everyone can be useful in serving God. There was a short moment of silence, and a little girl named Sarah spoke up. "Teacher, what can I do?" she said. "I don't know how do to many useful things."
Mrs. Cerqueira had not anticipated that kind of response, but she quickly looked around and spotted an empty flower vase on the windowsill. "Sarah," she said, "you can bring in a flower and put it in the vase. That would be a useful thing."
Sarah frowned. "But that's not important."
"It is," her teacher said, "if you are helping someone."
Sure enough, the next Sunday Sarah brought in a dandelion and placed it in the vase. In fact, she continued to do so each week. Without reminders or help, she made sure the vase was filled with a bright yellow flower, Sunday after Sunday. When her pastor found out about it, he put the vase in the main sanctuary next to the pulpit. That Sunday he gave a sermon on the honor of serving others, using Sarah's vase as an example. The congregation was touched by the message, and the week started on a good note...
But during that same week, Sarah's family discovered she had leukemia. David Cerqueira was her pediatrician, and he did his best to explain to Sarah's parents that nothing could be done to save her life. He says, "I don't think I have ever had a more difficult conversation than the one that night."
Eventually, Sarah became confined to bed and to the visits that many people gave her. She lost her smile. She lost most of her weight; and then, the end was near.
That Sunday, at the end of his sermon, the pastor suddenly stopped speaking. His eyes wide, he stared at the back of the church, and everyone turned to see what he was looking at. It was Sarah! Her ...
New Sick Leave Policy
1. SICKNESS: No excuse. We will no longer accept your doctor’s statement as proof, as we believe that if you are able to go to the doctor, you are able to come to work.
2. LEAVE OF ABSENCE (for an operation): We are no longer allowing this practice. We wish to discourage any thought that you may have about needing an operation.
We believe that as long as you are employed here, you will need all of whatever you have and should not consider having anything removed. We hired you as you are and to have anything removed would certainly make you less than we bargained for.
3. DEATH (other than your own): This is no excuse. There is nothing you can do for them, and we are sure that someone else in a lesser position can attend to the arrangements. However, if the funeral can be held in late afternoon, we will be glad to let you off one hour early, provided your share of work is ahead enough to keep the job going in your absence.
4. DEATH (your own): This will be accepted as an excuse, but we would like a two-week notice, as we feel it is your duty to teach someone else your job.
(Galaxie Software: 10,000 Sermon Illustrations. Biblical Studies Press, 2002; 2002)
H. YOU HAVE PROBABLY HEARD THE OLD STORY ABOUT THE LATE, GREAT DR. A. J. GORDON, A FAMOUS PREACHER FROM ENGLAND WHO CAME TO A VERY DEAD, DULL, FORMAL, CHURCH IN DOWNTOWN BOSTON, MASS. I. HE WAS A FIERY PREACHER, WHO REFUSED TO WEAR A ROBE, WHICH WAS MANDATORY IN THAT CHURCH AND HE PREACHED “JESUS” TO THOSE PEOPLE WITH SUCH FERVOR, THEY SAT OUT THERE SHELL-SHOCKED, AND AFTER A MONTH, THEY WERE READY TO FIRE DR. GORDON. J. ONE SUNDAY HE PREACHED A SERMON CALLED “THE FUNERAL OF THE CHURCH” AND THIS IS WHAT HE SAID, “ECCLESIASTICAL CORPSES LIE ALL AROUND US. THE CASKETS IN WHICH THEY REPOSE ARE LINED WITH SATIN AND ARE DECORATED WITH SOLID SILVER HANDLES AND ABUNDANT FLOWERS. LIKE ALL CASKETS THEY ARE JUST LARGE ENOUGH FOR THEIR OCCUPANTS WITH NO ROOM FOR CONVERTS. THESE CHURCHES HAVE DIED FROM THE DISEASE OF FORMALISM AND HAVE BEEN EMBALMED IN COMPLACENCY. IF BY THE GRACE OF GOD THIS CHURCH HAS ANY LIFE LEFT IN HER, I WARN YOU THAT THOSE THAT BURIED THY SISTER CHURCHES WILL BE AT THY DOOR TO CARRY THEE OUT, BECAUSE I PREDICT THIS CHURCH, WILL BE DEAD SOON, BECAUSE I HEAR THE DEATH RATTLE” M. AFTER HE PREACHED THAT SERMON, SIX MEN CAME THROUGH THE BACK DOORS CARRYING A CASKET, AND HE HAD THEM PUT IT AT THE FRONT OF THE CHURCH AND OPEN IT AND THEN HE ASKED EVERYBODY IN THE CHURCH TO WALK BY AND SEE THEIR DEAD CHURCH. O. AS THEY WALKED BY, THEY LOOKED IN THE CASKET AND YOU GUESSED IT–THEY WERE LOOKING AT THEMSELVES, IN A MIRROR
