Graeme loved his house. Their house was on a bluff that overlooked the ocean where his dad was the lighthouse keeper. He loved it during a storm. The waves crashed against the rocks, and sometimes the spray even hit the house. Following a summer storm, when the waves where still high, Graeme would sit on the porch and see how long it would take him to get completely soaked. On a good day, he could come in dripping wet within 15 minutes.
Because his dad had a very important job of making sure the light in the lighthouse was always working, Graeme had a very important job too. During a storm, his dad would have to be in the lighthouse a lot, and if the power went out the steps up to the light were very dark. His dad needed to always have the oil lamps ready so that he could see where he was going. It was Graeme's job to make sure the lamps were always clean and ready to use.
Graeme was listening to the weather report and heard the news that a really bad storm was coming. He decided he had better make sure the oil lamps were all ready for use. He went down to the cellar and brought up the box with the lamp supplies and he started to work.
Graeme put the big blanket on the table, and then went around the house and gathered up all the oil lamps. One by one he took each lamp apart and checked to make sure the burner stem was working smoothly. If the stem was sticking they would not be able to change the wick. Next he cut a nice long wick for each lamp, trimmed the top edge so that it would give a nice even glow, and put a new wick in each lamp. Finally, Graeme knew that a clean chimney gave off a nice bright light, so he carefully cleaned and polished so that not a streak could be found. Then Graeme put all the lamps away and checked to make sure there was a full box of matches near each lamp.
With his job done, Graeme looked forward to the big storm coming. Usually he could watch the storm roll in over the ocean. The waves would grow larger even before the storm arrived.
Today Graeme could see kids laughing and playing in those large waves and he wondered why their parents did not take them home. He knew that those waves were dangerous. A few years earlier he had seen a man drown because of the power of the waves, and he knew the warning signs were up because he had seen the red flag flapping in the wind.
Suddenly a crack of thunder closely followed by a blinding flash took Graeme's attention. The storm had arrived. Graeme knew it was going to be a good one. Already the spray from the waves was hitting the front window, and he could see the wall of rain coming closer. His mom called for Graeme to help close the windows.
While Graeme was upstairs, he heard his dad come in and the teakettle whistled. His dad must have come in to get some tea. Graeme quickly finished closing the windows, so he could find out what his dad thought about the storm.
Just as he was entering the kitchen, Graeme heard his dad say, "This is expected to be a bad one. The worst we have had this season. Already there has been power outages down the coast, so I may have to spend quite a bit of time up in the light just to make sure the new generator does its job."
Graeme knew that people's lives depended on his dad making sure the light kept shining. If the light went out many people out at sea could lose their lives by crashing into the rocks below the house.
Turning to Graeme, his dad asked, "Well, son, are the lamps ready in case of a storm?"
Reaching onto the shelf by the back door, Graeme replied, "Yes, Dad, I cleaned them when I heard the storm was coming. The one for the lighthouse is right here." He handed his dad the clean lamp with a box of matches.
Knowing his house chores were done his dad said that Graeme could join him up in the light. As they opened the door to the tower, a crash of thunder shook the house and everything went dark. The power was out. Not waiting to light the lamp Graeme's dad ran up the stairs, the light came first. Slowly Graeme walked up the dark tower, keeping a hand on the wall. There were no windows in the tower so he could not see and in his dash up the stairs, Graeme's dad had taken the lamp with him.
As he grew nearer the top of the tower he could see light. The new generator was working! The light would shine clear. Graeme stuck his head up through the opening of the tower and almost laughed at the look on his dad's face. For so long his dad would have to start up the generator whenever the power went out, and then sit by it until the power returned, eating and sleeping in the tower. This new generator must have started as soon as the power went out, without his dad. His dad's face showed that he was still in shock.
Looking at Graeme, Dad said, "Well son, this generator seems to be doing just fine. Let's go downstairs and have some supper."
Graeme took the lamp and lit it. Something was wrong. The light was there but it was small, sputtering and there was lots of smoke. He could not understand it. Why was it not burning properly? Dad suggested they make their way down to the kitchen and then they could find the problem. Carefully they climbed down the tower stairs and arrived in the dusky kitchen, only to be met with another surprise.
There on the kitchen table was the lamp blanket and ALL the house oil lamps. The kitchen lamp was already apart and they could hear someone coming up the cellar stairs. Mom came into the kitchen with a flickering candle stub in one hand and a container in the other.
Then Graeme remembered. Although he had checked the burner, replaced the wick and cleaned the chimney, he had forgotten the most important part of the process. He had not filled them with oil. Of course it could not burn very well; it needed the oil to keep the flame burning bright.
After they filled all the lamps and put everything away, Mom said, "Graeme, this reminds me of how some Christians try to live. They try to live the right way under their own strength, never asking if there is a better way. But when we turn our lives completely over to Jesus, and welcome the Holy Spirit to be a part of our every day lives, then we have the power to live God's way."
"Jesus told us that when He went away He would send Someone else back so that we would have boldness and power to witness for Him. The Holy Spirit is like the oil, He wants us to shine strong and bright."
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(c) 1997, Mary Heimbecker
Wednesday, February 19, 2003
Tuesday, February 18, 2003
The Church Bus
He isn’t the first, and probably won’t be last. Blown in from the briny ocean, cod cheeks and hard tack, his eyes were lifted up and his heart filled with the bright hopes of the big buck. So here he came from the top of the rock to rock bottom. His hopes weren’t the only things dashed upon the rocks; his relationships were also floundering. Clinging to the lifeline of security were three children hoping against hope that this rope which they clung to was anchored to something. . .
It was tied to something. Not the rock - but the bottle. Not the Saviour - but the suds. Even though on the main land, he had the shifting, bragging heart of a sailor and the only place that would resemble home and the sea was the Great Lakes.
The jig "What do you do with a drunken sailor? You get him to church and get him saved." should have happened but it hadn't. Into this tempestuous, sin driven life, rolled the church bus. Its blue and white paint announced the church. The chipped and rusted vehicle was in no way any indication of the worker’s hearts. The shaky rumbling, rusted bucket of bolts stood in sharp contrast to the unshaking, redeemed and renewed lives of the bus workers.
On Saturday morning, over the blaring noise of Bugs Bunny, the smell of good strong coffee, and bacon and eggs frying in the pan, came a timid knock. The kids slowly unlocked the door and cracked it open.
"Hi," said a shaky voice, "I’m from the church. We have a big blue and white bus that comes around on Sunday mornings to pick up boys and girls, just like you, for Sunday School. Would you like to come?" The lady at the door handed the children a leaflet telling them the time of the pick up and who to call if they wanted to ride the bus.
With a booming voice, the sailor yelled, "Who is it?"
The kids just stood there, staring in silence at the person at the door. Finally one of them piped up, as Dad moved closer to the living room, "I-i-i-it’s a lady from the church. Sh-sh-she wants us to ride the bus to S-s-sunday School."
By now the sailor had made it to the door. It was obvious that there was too much party, and not enough sleep, the night before. He read the leaflet. He hadn’t said no, the kids were starting to get hopeful. He thought, "Sunday morning, peace and quiet with a strong cup of coffee, I might even be able to make it through the day."
Striking up the chord of a confident braggart, "Sure! Sure! They can go. After all, I went to Sunday School back home in Newfoundland. Didn’t do me no harm." So thus began the exciting adventure of the Church Bus.
To encourage the children, look for more riders, and to see the lost saved, the bus workers would visit each home every week. It was on one of these eventful Saturday mornings that -THE KNOCK CAME!
The kids bolted to the door, as Wile E. Coyote fell to his demise for the fourteenth time. Over the tumult of the household, in came the faithful bus workers for their weekly visit.
The kids were excited about Sunday School and Jesus, but Hangover Henry was trying to make a hasty exit out the backdoor. He was planning on taking the stack of empties back for a refund. He only wanted to make one trip to the beer store, but the trunk was already half full, and the stack in the kitchen was still piled high. the bus worker saw him struggling with the closed door and the armful of cases of brown bottles.
"Here let me help." The bus worker held the door open then to the sailor's amazement, the bus worker even picked up a couple of cases of empties and helped load them into the car.
And there standing in track pants, T-shirt and runners, the sailor began to hear about a Saviour. The more they talked, the clearer the picture became. the Spirit-filled Christian painted a word-picture of a life tossed to and fro by the winds and waves of sin, thinking that he was securely moored to the pier, only to find that he was adrift in the open sea without a motor.
But the lighthouse of God’s Word, the anchor of God’s grace, the mercy of the Captain, and the ropes of truth and love that holds securely in any wind stuck fast in the mind of this one who has moved from the port.
After a lengthy visit in the cool morning air, the bus worker heard some news that made his heart skip a beat. "Buddy," the sailor said, "my kids won’t be riding the bus tomorrow. I’m going to be driving them myself. I’ve been watching them, and since they started to Sunday School they’ve changed. I’ve been giving it some thought and like I said, I used to go to Sunday School and it did me no harm. Maybe it’s time to go back."
Sure to his word, the sailor, his wife and kids were in Sunday School the next day, and there they found the Wonderful Counsellor, the Prince of Peace, Almighty God and the Everlasting Father, the Captain of their Salvation.
Why the change? What was it attributed to? The mercy of God, faithful workers and.... the Church Bus.
Jesus said, "If you have done it unto the least of these you have done it unto me."
What happened to the sailor and his family. The church accepted them. They grew in knowledge and understanding of God. Then he became the director of the bus ministry, and he was a great director. But then, he knew what the Church Bus meant to him.
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© Joel Heimbecker, 1995
It was tied to something. Not the rock - but the bottle. Not the Saviour - but the suds. Even though on the main land, he had the shifting, bragging heart of a sailor and the only place that would resemble home and the sea was the Great Lakes.
The jig "What do you do with a drunken sailor? You get him to church and get him saved." should have happened but it hadn't. Into this tempestuous, sin driven life, rolled the church bus. Its blue and white paint announced the church. The chipped and rusted vehicle was in no way any indication of the worker’s hearts. The shaky rumbling, rusted bucket of bolts stood in sharp contrast to the unshaking, redeemed and renewed lives of the bus workers.
On Saturday morning, over the blaring noise of Bugs Bunny, the smell of good strong coffee, and bacon and eggs frying in the pan, came a timid knock. The kids slowly unlocked the door and cracked it open.
"Hi," said a shaky voice, "I’m from the church. We have a big blue and white bus that comes around on Sunday mornings to pick up boys and girls, just like you, for Sunday School. Would you like to come?" The lady at the door handed the children a leaflet telling them the time of the pick up and who to call if they wanted to ride the bus.
With a booming voice, the sailor yelled, "Who is it?"
The kids just stood there, staring in silence at the person at the door. Finally one of them piped up, as Dad moved closer to the living room, "I-i-i-it’s a lady from the church. Sh-sh-she wants us to ride the bus to S-s-sunday School."
By now the sailor had made it to the door. It was obvious that there was too much party, and not enough sleep, the night before. He read the leaflet. He hadn’t said no, the kids were starting to get hopeful. He thought, "Sunday morning, peace and quiet with a strong cup of coffee, I might even be able to make it through the day."
Striking up the chord of a confident braggart, "Sure! Sure! They can go. After all, I went to Sunday School back home in Newfoundland. Didn’t do me no harm." So thus began the exciting adventure of the Church Bus.
To encourage the children, look for more riders, and to see the lost saved, the bus workers would visit each home every week. It was on one of these eventful Saturday mornings that -THE KNOCK CAME!
The kids bolted to the door, as Wile E. Coyote fell to his demise for the fourteenth time. Over the tumult of the household, in came the faithful bus workers for their weekly visit.
The kids were excited about Sunday School and Jesus, but Hangover Henry was trying to make a hasty exit out the backdoor. He was planning on taking the stack of empties back for a refund. He only wanted to make one trip to the beer store, but the trunk was already half full, and the stack in the kitchen was still piled high. the bus worker saw him struggling with the closed door and the armful of cases of brown bottles.
"Here let me help." The bus worker held the door open then to the sailor's amazement, the bus worker even picked up a couple of cases of empties and helped load them into the car.
And there standing in track pants, T-shirt and runners, the sailor began to hear about a Saviour. The more they talked, the clearer the picture became. the Spirit-filled Christian painted a word-picture of a life tossed to and fro by the winds and waves of sin, thinking that he was securely moored to the pier, only to find that he was adrift in the open sea without a motor.
But the lighthouse of God’s Word, the anchor of God’s grace, the mercy of the Captain, and the ropes of truth and love that holds securely in any wind stuck fast in the mind of this one who has moved from the port.
After a lengthy visit in the cool morning air, the bus worker heard some news that made his heart skip a beat. "Buddy," the sailor said, "my kids won’t be riding the bus tomorrow. I’m going to be driving them myself. I’ve been watching them, and since they started to Sunday School they’ve changed. I’ve been giving it some thought and like I said, I used to go to Sunday School and it did me no harm. Maybe it’s time to go back."
Sure to his word, the sailor, his wife and kids were in Sunday School the next day, and there they found the Wonderful Counsellor, the Prince of Peace, Almighty God and the Everlasting Father, the Captain of their Salvation.
Why the change? What was it attributed to? The mercy of God, faithful workers and.... the Church Bus.
Jesus said, "If you have done it unto the least of these you have done it unto me."
What happened to the sailor and his family. The church accepted them. They grew in knowledge and understanding of God. Then he became the director of the bus ministry, and he was a great director. But then, he knew what the Church Bus meant to him.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
© Joel Heimbecker, 1995
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