Tiny Ministers

A few years ago when I was babysitting for Ashlyn and Emily, I was amazed at what they taught me. Emily was not happy that her parents left for the evening and started crying. Nothing that I did made her stop so Ashlyn said she would “read” the story before bed. After we finished a book, Ashlyn announced that Emily wanted a Bible story. Four year old Ashlyn selected the children’s Bible from the basket of books.
“Emily, what story do you want?” she asked. It was obvious that she knew the stories as she thumbed through the pages.
“Here is one about David and Goliath. Goliath was a giant. David was a small boy. David used his sling shot with a stone and hit Goliath. God was with him,” she stated matter-of-factly.
“Emily, let’s pray.” As she prayed she said each word slowly so that Emily could repeat them.
“Jesus, thank you for David. Thank you for Goliath. Amen,” they both said.
I understood why she prayed for David but why Goliath? Then I remembered Ephesians 5:19-20 …Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord, always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”
Without a Goliath, David may have only been an unknown shepherd. The difficult people and situations in our lives shape us and prepare us for God’s special plans. That was my first sermon from the small minister.
The next story that Ashlyn chose was the one about Mary and Martha.
“Martha wanted to clean the house and fix food,” she said while studying the brightly colored pictures. Then she looked at her little sister, cupped her hand over her ear, and proclaimed, “But Mary listened to Jesus. Emily, she listened.”
Emily cupped her hand over her tiny ear as she imitated her big sister.
“Let’s pray. Emily, say this. Jesus, thank you for Martha and her sister, Mary.” Again, Ashlyn spoke slowly and distinctly so that Emily could repeat every word.
The second sermon that I heard was the importance of really listening to those around us. What a joy to see both girls grow physically and spiritually. When Jesus said to let the little children come to Him, He knew how important they were and that they could teach in their own sweet, precious way. Grandma was certainly learning from the tiny ministers.

Mismatched Creature

Like a set of Tinker Toys, it seemed God picked random body parts to form an outlandish bird. A tiny, splotched head stuck onto a large white body. Black tinged feathers appeared at the tail section. He must have laughed when he picked up bright orange feet and fastened them to the ends of gangly, pencil thin black legs. He screwed the spindly legs into the hefty, white body. A very long, slight, curved beak completed the unusual creation.
As I pondered the features of the stork behind my house, the bizarre bird rose into the air and gracefully soared above the lake. It landed softly on the smooth bank and surveyed the dark water. With a nod, he stuck his head under the water and came up with breakfast again and again. The peculiar parts taken together produced a delightful surprise that was both graceful in the air and competent at getting food from the water. God took the ugly parts and used them in wonderful ways.
God can also take the pain and ugliness of our lives that seem to have no meaningful purposes and use them in astonishing ways.
Romans 8:28 And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God and are called according to His purpose.

A Delightful Mistake

Following several intense days of touring, I needed time alone to rest, reflect, and write. The Garden Tomb had been a refuge for me on previous trips so it seemed the perfect spot. While Alan meandered around the bustling, noisy Old City, I would retreat to the Garden.
From our hotel, we walked along the congested street toward the Old City of Jerusalem. The Garden Tomb was just off the mayhem behind a high wall. The door was closed, but a man came along, inserted a key in the lock of the gate, and started to enter. When I informed him that I wanted a quiet place to write, he motioned for me to follow him. Alan left, and I went off with a man I had never seen before.
I found out that he had been there for forty years, and I told him I was part of a group from America. We ambled up a long path to the top of a small hill. He pointed out a bench under a tree where I could sit. Then he disappeared into a stone building, and I was alone. Even though I had been to the Garden Tomb several times, I had never been in that section. It looked totally different from what I remembered.
Quietness surrounded me as I began to write. Tension from the past few days melted away while I put my thoughts on paper. I noticed two or three cats lounging along the walkway. Two men appeared and talked for a few minutes. Behind the building were several cars which surprised me. The Garden Tomb had always seemed isolated from the traffic and outside influences. Perhaps I was in an out of the way area. However, when I noticed a few more people come from the path and go into the building, I had a strange feeling.
I picked up my belongings and followed the trail toward another wall. Rising above the wall I saw the outside of a large church. I continued my exploration and entered a courtyard with flowers and statues. The doors to the church were all shut. A man quietly came out of a small, wooden door so I decided to see what was inside. Gingerly, I pushed the door open and was overwhelmed by the gorgeous, marble sanctuary. Stripes of rust and white marble framed the gigantic arches and columns. High stained glass windows lined both sides. Arched niches beneath the windows contained sizeable pictures of various saints.
Three huge paintings adorned the altar area. The prominent, center one was Jesus welcoming me with an outstretched hand and holding the Scriptures in the other one. It was like He knew that I needed a place of solitude and invited me to join Him in the lovely, majestic church. A comforting tranquility surrounded me as I rested and prayed.
It was obvious that I had stopped at the wrong gate and entered the grounds of a Catholic Church instead of the Garden Tomb. The man who had graciously allowed me to enter had helped me find my quiet place. The “mistake” of not finding the Garden Tomb was no mistake at all. In its place I had been given a glorious gift—of encouragement, peacefulness, and thanksgiving.

I laughed to myself as I gathered my things and left the church. I hoped that I could find a way to leave through the locked gate and find the Garden Tomb before Alan returned for me. Fortunately, I had seen a young couple turn a lever to get out. Then I quickly walked a short distance to the sign that plainly said “Garden Tomb”. I could not wait to tell Alan about my morning “mistake”.

The Strange Bird

I peered out the window, opaque from condensation. Cool morning air had caused me to remain inside instead of sitting at my favorite place on the patio. My view of the scenery was limited, but I spotted a large bird at the edge of the lake.
His stark white body and long, spindly legs reminded me of a graceful great white egret. That was where the similarity ended. His pencil like black legs ended with bright orange feet. Black edged tail feathers gave the impression that he was dingy and dirty. His small head looked like the wrong one had been affixed to his body. A bizarre black and white mottled face gave him an even more peculiar look. A long, curved dark beak overpowered his tiny head and made him look top heavy. The odd, mismatched appearance of the wood stork was perplexing.
I watched his antics as he thrust his tiny head into the dark water. Using his thin beak, he snatched a fish and stepped toward the shore as he finished his meal. Only then did I recognize that his dark legs and spattered face had camouflaged him in the dark lake. The seemingly mismatched body parts were actually carefully assembled for his habitat and livelihood. Even though it seemed very strange to me, God had a special plan in creating the atypical bird.
Likewise, each person has unique abilities and skills which may not initially appear to be relevant or significant. However, God has a purpose in creating every individual instead of making clones. As we accept and utilize our specific gifts, we can use them to benefit ourselves and others.

Gethsemane

Two thousand year old olive trees stood guard at the Garden of Gethsemane. Splashes of red, pink, yellow, and purple flowers colored the ground beneath the ancient, gnarled trees. An iron fence surrounded the portion of garden remaining from long ago. Our tour group strolled along the walk bordering the fence and headed into the Church of the Nations. Catholics from around the world contributed to the building and upkeep of the church on the Garden grounds.
Gray clouds and a light mist added to the somber mood of the site where Jesus prayed before He was arrested. A silence fell over visitors when they entered the dark, solemn church.
In front of the altar a gigantic, gray rock protruded from the floor. An iron crown of thorns circled the rock as a reminder of Jesus’ torture. Group members surrounded the rock and knelt to touch it. As I touched the rock, I thought of the agony Jesus endured that night as He prayed in the Garden. I looked up at the huge painting behind the altar. It depicted Jesus lying against a rock and praying. We were feeling the rock that tradition says is the one where Jesus prayed.
My hand slipped to the iron spikes, and I grabbed the thorns. To me the crown of thorns was more significant than the rock itself. What horrible cruelty He suffered to save us.
Silently our group filed into the first two pews of the church and began singing Amazing Grace. After the first verse we stopped singing and sat in reverent silence. Directly in front of us by the rock, a lady from India, in her traditional clothing, continued the song. In her clear, sweet voice she sang to Jesus. Our group joined her on the next verse.
What a perfect way to close our time in the Church of the Nations. Christians from widely different cultures and parts of the world united in praising God.