Easter 4
“We love as we are loved by the Shepherd”
PREACHER: Pastor Erik Zingelman
Acts 4:5–12,
1 John 3:16–24, John
10:11-18
This morning I want to share two Stories
with you; they are not my own.
Babs Miller was bagging some early potatoes
for me. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean,
hungrily apprising a basket of freshly picked green peas.
I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn
to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new
potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation
between Mr. Miller and the ragged boy next to me.
"Hello
Barry, how are you today?"
"H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. Sure
look good." "They are good,
Barry. How's your Ma?" "Fine.
Gittin' stronger alla' time."
"Good. Anything I can help you with?" "No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas."
"Would
you like to take some home?"
"No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with." "Well, what have you to trade me for
some of those peas?" "All I
got's my prize marble here."
"Is that right? Let me see it."
"Here
'tis. She's a dandy." "I can
see that. Hmmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do
you have a red one like this at home?"
"Not zackley, but almost."
"Tell
you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me
look at that red marble."
"Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller."
Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby,
came over to help me. With a smile she said, "There are two other boys
like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just
loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever. When they
come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't
like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green
marble or an orange one, perhaps."
I left the stand smiling to myself,
impressed with this man who did more than sing in the church choir. A short
time later I moved to Colorado but I never forgot the story of this man, the
boys, and their bartering. Several years
went by, each more rapid that the previous one. Just recently I had occasion to
visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there learned
that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his viewing that evening and knowing
my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon arrival at the church
we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever
words of comfort we could.
Ahead of us in line were three young men.
One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and
white shirts - all very professional looking.
They approached Mrs. Miller, standing
composed and smiling by her husband's casket. Each of the young men hugged her,
kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the
casket. Her misty light blue eyes
followed them as, one by one; each young man stopped briefly and placed his own
warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left awkwardly, wiping
his eyes.
Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told
her who I was and mentioned the story she had told me about the marbles. With
her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket.
"Those three young men who just left
were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the
things Jim "traded" them. Now,
at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size....they came to
pay their debt."
"We've
never had a great deal of the wealth of this world," she confided,
"but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho
" With loving gentleness she lifted
the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three
exquisitely shined red marbles.
Hear the words of 1st
John again: “Little children,
let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” It really doesn’t take all that much to make
a profound impression and difference in the life of another person.
A
short story shared by a hospital chaplain.
Liliana called me to her room at three that afternoon. "Chaplain," she said, "can I
bother you to come and give me and my family communion tomorrow afternoon at
two?"
Liliana
and I had had a great relationship since she had been admitted into the
hospital five days ago. She had talked
endlessly of her children -- all eleven -- and their spouses and children. Two were already widowed and one was divorced. She knew what all the "grands" and
"greats" were up to. Liliana
was a proud shepherd of her flock.
She
was also very honest about what was happening to her body and what her future
held. She was firm in her faith. Liliana loved the Lord. "He loves me
because he sure hears enough from me," she would always say. She felt good about her faith.
But
she didn't feel good about her present condition. Her dialysis sessions didn't go well and she
had made a decision to stop treatments.
She had her daughter call the family; they would gather tomorrow and
have communion as a family for the last time.
I
was nervous. I wanted it to go just
right. I prepared the elements, prayed,
and read a meditation I would share.
The
service at Liliana's hospital bed was beautiful. Thirty-eight of us were crammed into her
private room. Tears flowed freely as
Liliana told her children she was so blessed to see that they had all made it
with so many of the "grands" coming also. My own tears fell as I considered the words
of institution.
I
looked at Liliana and she smiled at me.
"Thank you so much for doing this," she whispered. She winked at me. I continued, choking back tears as I
considered Liliana, her family, and the words of holy communion.
We
all took communion. We all shared the
peace. And we all cried. As I blessed the group, I turned to Liliana
and asked her if she had anything to say.
She lifted her hand, looked around, and said, "You have all been
wonderful to me. I love you so much and
you have loved me so much. God will
bless you forever for that."
To
this day, I cannot preside over communion without recalling the feeling I had
giving communion to Liliana and her family.
Liliana, the shepherd, had blessed us all by her request, by her faith,
and by her words. God, the shepherd of
all, was surely present in this place.
Listen to John’s words
once again: “And this is his
commandment that we should believe in the name of his Son Jesus Christ and love
one another, just as he has commanded us. All who obey his commandments abide
in him, and he abides in them. And by this we know that he abides in us, by the
Spirit that he has given us.”
Each
of you has been given the gift of the Shepherd’s love. Now go and share that love so that all may
come to know Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior.
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