Rev. E. Anderson

The story is taken from a book compiled by the late Rev. Gerald Chamberlain, a great children’s story teller and a person who inspired and influenced many young people. With kind permission from his son, Paul.

WHO FLIES THE KITE?

Text:       “For we are labourers together with God: ye are God’s husbandry, ye are God’s building” - 1. Corinthians. 3. 9.

What a wonderful sight it is to see on a clear, windy day, a boy with a Kite in full flight.   How it rises, controlled as if by magic, and then suddenly it dips almost to the ground only to leap and leap and leap back toward the clouds.

But who really flies the Kite?????

Who gets the credit for such an exhilarating experience???

By the way, I’m always a great admirer of a Gcod, Kite Flier, because when I was a lad, my Kites never seemed to go very high and when they did, (being a City boy) they got caught in the telephone wires or dived to destruction, to be annihilated by a passing lorry….   so three cheers, for Good Kite Fliers, I say, but get out into the Park, or wait until you go into the country or sea-side, its very dangerous in the streets!!!!

Well really KITE FLYING IS A TEAM EVENT . . . .  You see there’s the BOY WHO FLIES THE KITE…………..

Then there’s the KITE ITSELF, the main body……

Then there’s the TAIL, which is vitally important, for balance. . . . . .  . . . .

Then there’s the CORD, that controls and empowers the Kite……..

Then there1s the WIND, whose power is vital. . . . . . . .

They are all really vital to Good Kite Flying.   Which one can you do without??

Not a single one.

Christianity is rather like that. While we come to the Lord as individuals and He saves us as individual characters, we become part of a great team.  We’ are co-workers together.   

God is calling together a great company of people to do a job for Him throughout ETERNITY…….

                                                    E   T   E   R   N   I   T   Y

And that is going to be a very important and a very, very long job.

At the moment He is calling us, training us, and equipping us for that big job……………..Now you may feel that you are like the Tail, always the one that is coming in behind the others.  Rather a bit of a no-body. ….But you will know if you’ve ever tried Kite Flying, that TAILS HAVE TO BE JUST RIGHT.   Not too long, not too short, Not too heavy not too light……Just right.

In contrast you may feel you’re like the string.   Just a long, monotonous business is life to you.   Christmas comes so slowly and then its a long wait until next Christmas.   Don’t worry,  wont seem like that in 30 years time. Don’t worry, when you get older they will fly by like Telegraph Poles, when you’re in a car going at 60.m.p.h. But you are very vital to the Lord.   Your   plodding, (the Bible calls it faithfulness) your stability (the Bible calls that enduring) is noted by the Lord and He will make something very important out of you.

Or perhaps you’re like the Boy, who just holds on…He is right at ground level.   No Cloud Skimming for him.  Right down to earth sort of character.   But the Lord wants this sort as well.  Joseph was a dreamer and got places…He stacked up the wheat into the Storehouses of Egypt, but someone had to grow the stuff and someone had to Harvest it.  If you feel left on the ground.  You’re one of team, mate, and the L0rd has a good place in Heaven for you.

Or perhaps you’re a bit of a Wind-bag.   Always wanting to talk. Beware, when you get older you may become a Preacher…………… But, of course, God wants talkers as well.   Jesus was a Wonderful Talker and He used His ability to talk a lot of people right into the Kingdom.   Yes, there’s a place for the windy ones.

Or you may feel like the Kite itself.   Always being blown around. Someone always putting the brake on you.  Tugging you this way and that.    Why doesn’t God leave me alone…you’ve often felt like this.   It’s a good job He doesn’t else maybe you’d beat the Americans to Mars!!!   But that restriction in your life is really your place of power.   When you feel the tug on you,     you know someone has got a vital interest in your progress.

I say, this is supposed to be a story book and here I am preaching at you.  Sorry about that, but then this is another of my “stories” and people know if there’s anything that fits the ediitor its Wind. But I hope a little of the Wind of the Holy Ghost as well.

Rev. E. Anderson

The story is taken from a book compiled by the late Rev. Gerald Chamberlain, a great children’s story teller and a person who inspired and influenced many young people. With kind permission from his son, Paul.

THE BUSY ANT

Text: “Go to the ant,  thou sluggard consider her ways, and be wise: which having no overseer, or ruler, provideth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest.” Proverbs. 6. 6-8.

When God wanted to give a startling picture of industry, activity and usefulness, He used one of His tiny creatures…..THE ANT.….   You’ve possibly got some in your garden…. Study them….  I was at a Zoo not so long ago, and there they had a “Penny in the Slot” exhibition of real labouring.    You placed your penny in, and a light came on, a trap door opened and there was a colony of the most energetic workers under the sun!!!!

The ant is made in three parts - head, chest and stomach, and it has six legs coming from its’ middle.   It wears its’ bones: outside. These bones are tough and springy like hardened glue.  An ant can fall out of the tallest tree and never break a leg!!!   A better achievement than many boys I know of at Harvest time!!!

Living right on the ground, ants get dirty and every spare moment they spend in cleaning and polishing their bones.  God has given them combs and hairbrushes on their two forelegs, for this purpose.

Their two eyes under the microscope look like round windows with as many as 200 windowpanes in them.  Besides these two eyes, there are three more on their foreheads.   An expensive business when you need glasses!!!

Ants build wonderful houses.   But where do they get the material for the building?  To build a house you have to have tools, and God has given the ant just the tools he needs to build his house.

On both sides of the ant’s mouth there are mandibles, which are a whole tool set in themselves.   They open and shut as scissors and sometimes they are used as  a saw or chisel, or a hammer, a knife, a pick, a hoe, a rake, Or a trowel.  When they are closed the teeth make a VERY GOOD WHEELBARRCW.

The saliva of the ant comes in very handy for building purposes. When it is mixed with dirt, it makes cement that is shaped into what might be called tiny ant bricks.    We are acquainted with tiny ant hills, with a hole in the middle of the pile of earth crumbs, but there are some ant hills in Africa that are THREE TIMES AS TALL AS A MAN!!!!    In these large ant hills they have real ventilating doors at the bottom of the hill, but ants have enemies so they have guard duty and when there is danger they put tiny beams across the door way, piling bits of chips and straw upon them.     Sometimes in a violent storm they form a door by piling their own bodies in the gap and completely stopping it.

The leaf-ants build their houses BY SEWING LEAVES TOGETHER… Where do they get the thread for sewing???? Out of the mouths of their babes!!!!  Yes, a baby ant has a spinner in their mouth, and a tiny silken’ thread proceeds from the babies mouths.   When the mothers want to do any sowing they just use Baby Ant as a sewing machine passing its’ mouth from one edge of the leaf to the other.

Farmer ants, who live on the Prairies build large nests surrounded by clear ground.  Their cities are as wide across as your living room.     They dig deep into the earth, making their rooms, passage-ways, storehouses, nurseries and other rooms.  They make a tiled roof with tiny stones.  The stones being placed edge to edge and make a perfectly waterproof roof.  Some of them build wide roads, and have a ONE WAY TRAFFIC SYSTEM!!!

When the grain ripens the ants go out to the fields.  Some carry the grain that has fallen to the ground, others climb the stalks, cut of the tops and a gang of carriers below complete the harvesting. There is perfect co-operation in an ant colony.  Our Churches ought to be like this. Pity they can’t talk our language, I’d invite them to speak at my Convention!!

With the Grain stored in their homes the ants make bread!!! First they break the grains and crush them into powder, moisten and make little round cakes.  They take the ‘loaves’ up into the sunshine to bake.

The Honey Ants build rooms with high ceilings, for they hang some of the living ants from the ceiling and STORE THE HONEY IN THEM!!! The worker ants go out and gather honey and then feed the liquid to the “jars” who open their mouths to receive it.  The hanging ants begin to swell, sometimes 2O times their natural size.   Sometimes an ant falls from the roof & smashes on the floor.  The other ants come running from all directions to lap up the honey.  If the ants that fall do not break, the other ants hang them back up to the ceiling!!

Some ants keep cows!!!  They are tiny plant lice.  Perhaps you have seen them on rosebushes.   We call them APHIDS.    During the winter the ants get the APHID EGGS and care for them.  In the Spring, the eggs have hatched int9 YOUNG APHID CALVES.  Ant Cowgirls take them up into the sunshine and place them on fresh green grass.  Some ants …… always stay with them guarding them from the thieves which often attack the herd. When this happens the ANT COW GIRLS FIGHT BRAVELY FOR THE HERD …. The Cow girls milk their cows by gently stroking the aphid’s backs. The aphid lets drops of honey come ooze out, and the ant drinks as much as he can hold. Then they stagger back to the nest with the ‘Milk’ supply for the growing ants. The next time you look at an ant, remember that they are just not tiny creatures that do not know what they are doing.

No wonder the Bible tells us to study the way of ANTS ….. GO TO THE ANT and learn how great God  the Creator is …..and HE IS OUR SAVIOUR AND FRIEND

.

Rev. E. Anderson

The story is taken from a book compiled by the late Rev. Gerald Chamberlain, a great children’s story teller and a person who inspired and influenced many young people. With kind permission from his son, Paul.

GREYFRIARS BOBBY

Text: “It is required of a man that he be found faithful.” 1. Corinthians. 4.2.

How many of you have ever visited Edinburgh?    I wonder which of the sights of the famous city you enjoyed the most? Perhaps it was Arthur’s Seat, or Holyrood Palace; or maybe it was Edinburgh Castle, or Princes Street. A place in the city not so well known as the others but which has a wonderful story attached to it is Greyfriar’s’ Church. Next time you are in Edinburgh, take a walk along the George 1V Bridge, and look out for a little bronze statue Of a dog sitting on top of a drinking fountain.

Just over out the hour of noon, Auld Jock went to a place called Traills Dining Room for lunch.    With him went BOBBY, his little Scotch terrier, whose dinner was a bun and a bone.    They became a familiar sight, the old man and the little dog wandering in the churchyard.    But Auld Jock was getting really old and one day he died and was buried in Greyfriar’s Churchyard.  Bobby came to the funeral but no one took any notice of him.

Three days after the funeral, as the big gun went off, Bobby turned up at the Restaurant looking thin and hungry. The kindly owner recognising Bobby gave him his usual bone and bun.  Bobby gripped them tightly in his mouth and went out.   Next day he returned at the same time and again he was given his lunch.   Then he came the third day, precisely at noon, the restaurant owner a hundred years ago, an old man named Grey, or as he was better known, Auld Jock, carried on his business in the market near the churchyard.   Every day as the big gun in the castle boomed became curious and followed him.

Where do you think Bobby went???????????

Yes, back to the Churchyard, right to his master’s grave; where he ate his bun and then lay down to keep Watch.

Hearing about the little dog, some people took him home, but three times he escaped and returned to the grave. Although no dogs were allowed in the Churchyard, the old keeper was too kind-hearted to turn Bobby out, so he stayed there day and night, keeping watch and sheltering under a stone during storms. No one could get him away, so finally, a little house was built for him and every day, as the gun went off, Bobby trotted along to the restaurant for his daily bun.

About that time a new law was passed which stated that all dogs must be licensed and wear a collar.     But Bobby had no license and no collar so he was picked up and taken to court,   What do you think happened?   Was Bobby sent to gaol?  No, the mayor of Edinburgh, or as the Scots call him, the Lord. Provost, paid for the license that year and every year and also bought Bobby a brand new collar.    You can see this collar in the museum and on its little brass plate are the words,

“GREYFRIARS BOBBY from the LORD PROVOST. LICENSED.”

Bobby went back to his watch by the grave, and except for his daily walk to the restaurant, never left it until he died.   He was buried in the same churchyard as his old master and some American lovers of Bobby erected a stone to his memory and to the memory of Auld Jock.

On this little fountain, the bronze statue of Bobby still keeps watch and by it you can read these words,

“A tribute to the affectionate fidelity of Greyfriar’s Bobby.   In 1858, this faithful dog followed the remains of his master to Greyfriar’s Churchyard and lingered near the spot until his death in l872.”

From 1858 to 1872 - fourteen years Bobby kept watch, day and night, summer and winter.

Think of that.

That’s what a faithful dog can do for love’s sake.

Surely when God made a dog like that, He made the most wonderful thing next to a little child.

Many children have not the respect for their parents that Bobby had for his master.    His love and devotion puts to shame all men and women and young people who break their vows to one another, to Christ and to their Church.

Bobby’s faithfu1nes reminds us of the words Of our text for this Sunday, “It is required of a man that he be found faithful.”

Rev. E. Anderson

The story is taken from a book compiled by the late Rev. Gerald Chamberlain, a great children’s story teller and a person who inspired and influenced many young people. With kind permission from his son, Paul.

GREYFRIARS BOBBY

Text: “It is required of a man that he be found faithful.” 1. Corinthians. 4.2.

How many of you have ever visited Edinburgh?    I wonder which of the sights of the famous city you enjoyed the most? Perhaps it was Arthur’s Seat, or Holyrood Palace; or maybe it was Edinburgh Castle, or Princes Street. A place in the city not so well known as the others but which has a wonderful story attached to it is Greyfriar’s’ Church. Next time you are in Edinburgh, take a walk along the George 1V Bridge, and look out for a little bronze statue Of a dog sitting on top of a drinking fountain.

Just over a hundred years ago, an old man named Grey, or as he was better known, Auld Jock, carried on his business in the market near the churchyard.   Every day as the big gun in the castle boomed out the hour of noon, Auld Jock went to a place called Traills Dining Room for lunch.    With him went BOBBY, his little Scotch terrier, whose dinner was a bun and a bone.    They became a familiar sight, the old man and the little dog wandering in the churchyard.    But Auld Jock was getting really old and one day he died and was buried in Greyfriar’s Churchyard.  Bobby came to the funeral but no one took any notice of him.

Three days after the funeral, as the big gun went off, Bobby turned up at the Restaurant looking thin and hungry. The kindly owner recognising Bobby gave him his usual bone and bun.  Bobby gripped them tightly in his mouth and went out.   Next day he returned at the same time and again he was given his lunch.   Then he came the third day, precisely at noon, the restaurant owner became curious and followed him.

Where do you think Bobby went???????????

Yes, back to the Churchyard, right to his master’s grave; where he ate his bun and then lay down to keep Watch.

Hearing about the little dog, some people took him home, but three times he escaped and returned to the grave. Although no dogs were allowed in the Churchyard, the old keeper was too kind-hearted to turn Bobby out, so he stayed there day and night, keeping watch and sheltering under a stone during storms. No one could get him away, so finally, a little house was built for him and every day, as the gun went off, Bobby trotted along to the restaurant for his daily bun.

About that time a new law was passed which stated that all dogs must be licensed and wear a collar.     But Bobby had no license and no collar so he was picked up and taken to court,   What do you think happened?   Was Bobby sent to gaol?  No, the mayor of Edinburgh, or as the Scots call him, the Lord. Provost, paid for the license that year and every year and also bought Bobby a brand new collar.    You can see this collar in the museum and on its little brass plate are the words,

“GREYFRIARS BOBBY from the LORD PROVOST. LICENSED.”

Bobby went back to his watch by the grave, and except for his daily walk to the restaurant, never left it until he died.   He was buried in the same churchyard as his old master and some American lovers of Bobby erected a stone to his memory and to the memory of Auld Jock.

On this little fountain, the bronze statue of Bobby still keeps watch and by it you can read these words,

“A tribute to the affectionate fidelity of Greyfriar’s Bobby.   In 1858, this faithful dog followed the remains of his master to Greyfriar’s Churchyard and lingered near the spot until his death in l872.”

From 1858 to 1872 - fourteen years Bobby kept watch, day and night, summer and winter.

Think of that.

That’s what a faithful dog can do for love’s sake.

Surely when God made a dog like that, He made the most wonderful thing next to a little child.

Many children have not the respect for their parents that Bobby had for his master.    His love and devotion puts to shame all men and women and young people who break their vows to one another, to Christ and to their Church.

Bobby’s faithfu1nes reminds us of the words Of our text for this Sunday, “It is required of a man that he be found faithful.”

Rev. E. Anderson

The Wasp Which Went to church

It was a beautiful Sunday morning when an adventurous little wasp left his home in the hollow trunk of a tree, and excitedly flew over the fields. He was at peace ‘with the world, for the warm sunshine made him feel particularly pleased with himself. Here and there he paused to examine tree trunks and plants, but an undeniable urge forced him onward. And then quite suddenly he saw a church. Its lofty steeple pointed heavenward, and everything about the building suggested solidarity and calm. Almost without realizing he was changing the direction of his flight, the wasp veered from his course and approached the house of God. He felt ashamed; he had not been in church for ages! His exhilarating buzzing became less audible as he admitted, “Yes, I have been very wicked. I must alter my ways”; and as determination shone in his eyes, he added, “And I’ll start now.”

The minister was preaching; his audience was enthralled and captivated by his brilliant oratory: this was a magnifi­cent sermon!  Alas, it was soon to be ruined by an unexpected visitor. The well-meaning wasp flew in through the open window, and as he circled the congregation, many eyes followed his flight. The minister frowned!  The people should learn to concentrate! The wasp seemed to be looking for a seat.  His intentions were sound; he desired to be friendly. After all, this was the house of God, where all people were brethren. Ah! the very place. The young ladies were most attractive. They were youth­ful and pretty; their dresses were most colourful, and the flowery patterns made him think of green meadows filled with daisies and buttercups. Yes, it would be wonderful to sit beside these girls. The young lady at the end of the seat shuddered, and moved nearer to her companion. Oh! the wasp was down!  Good gracious, the thing was crawling along the seat! She clutched her hymnbook, and the minister frowned again. His audience was becoming restless. And the wasp crawled on. Bang!

Of course, the girl missed, and the startled wasp hurriedly made off toward the ceiling. What was this? She bad tried to kill him, and he only wanted to be friendly. Were all church people hypocrites? He sighed and said, “Certainly not. She was but a child. Forget her, little wasp, and try again. Ah, that Granny. Isn’t she nice? So quiet and dignified-a veritable mother in Israel. Her smile would be a benediction. I’ll sit by her.” When Granny saw him, she nervously placed her back against the wall, and wished she could escape through a non-existent door. That wasp was coming along the seat. Dear, dear me!  She clutched her umbrella; no, that would be useless. She seized her bag-no, that would be inadequate. Her hymn book- ah. She prepared to defend her territory, and in blissful ignorance of the reception awaiting him, the wasp crawled nearer. Fortunately he paused, and as he did so the silence of the sanctuary was shattered by the crashing hymnbook. Indeed, the draught lifted him from his feet. Granny’s face was flaming and so also was his own heart as he flew against the ceiling.

Furiously he buzzed around the church.  This was maddening; even the minister resented his coming to the service-and he was supposed to shepherd the flock of God. Buzz, buzz, buzz, went the overworked wings. And then a still small voice seemed to say, “Calm yourself. That old woman belied her appearance. She’s old and cantankerous. She’s peevish and hard to live with. Forget her, and try the patriarchs of the church. See those deacons all sitting together in the front row.

What a fine lot of holy gentlemen! They pray like angels, and lead most of the meetings.” The wasp calmed down. Yes, he had been somewhat rash. He circled twice over the heads of the benign old men, and then came in to land. Horror of horrors! They were striking while he was still in mid-air. One after the other, they almost flung their books at him, and the service was in an uproar. The young people were giggling; the children were openly laughing. 

Even the minister had placed his hand upon a hymnbook. This was an anti-aircraft unit! Swish, whizz, bang, went the books; and suddenly the little visitor lost his temper. If this were God’s house, He could keep it. If these were God’s people, He was welcome to them.  Bah!  Infuriated, he flew through the window; but he made one mistake. He blamed the young lady, the old Granny, and especially the deacons; yet all the time, the cause of the trouble lay in himself.

The wasp seems to have many cousins!  People who spend their time criticizing others generally possess the greatest of all stings!

Ivor Powell

Rev. E. Anderson

The story is taken from a book compiled by the late Rev. Gerald Chamberlain, a great children’s story teller and a person who inspired and influenced many young people. With kind permission from his son, Paul.

LARRY THE LARK

Text  ‘Watch and pray that you enter not into temptation’.

The sign of the Spring is the Song of the Sky-lark, and young Larry was just about as merry a sky-lark as shewed a pretty feather. There he was flying high over the meadow, singing to himself . . . . . ‘What a happy bird am I ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘No Income Tax . . . No Traffic . . . . . No School . . . . . No Policemen . . . . No Washing Up . . . . .My word, life is wonderful for a Young Lark like me.

But what was that unusual sight in Farmer Hill’s Meadow? . . . . . I’ll go in o land and have a look. My it was a funny little man . . . . He had BLUE TROUSERS . . .RED BOWLER HAT . . . .and a GREEN CART FULL OF WORMS . . . . .On the cart was the notice ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘’Who’ll buy my worms ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘Two worms for Three Lark’s Feathers!!!’

My thought Larry, that means to say that for three of my feathers I can get a ready-hunted meal. And worms are not like the worms of yesterday. Dad told me, that in his day the worms used to come out of the ground, raise their caps and beg to be eaten!!!! No, things are not the same as the old days!!!  I’ll try a sample of the LITTLE Man’s Worms. So he pulled a feather out of each wing and one out of his breast and said, ‘Here you are little man, three super lark’s feathers, give me my juicy, steaky wormburger’.

Away he went with his two fat worms dangling from his beak, and home to a meal and then a nice long nap. My, he thought, this is good, no digging, no searching, no tugging now; just worms for feathers, it couldn’t be better.

This continued daily, until Larry no longer felt he wanted to dig for worms. His beak was weak, and the local worms mocked him, and he found it much easier to go to the little Multi-Coloured man with his fabulous Worm cart. Three Feathers for Two Juicy Worms . . . It couldn’t be better.

But as July, gave way to August and then the boys and girls went back to school and September arrived he found he was getting a little short of feathers and one morning there was an EARLY FROST!!!!!!! How, Little Larry shivered. He pulled his few remaining feathers around him and very much regretted parting with so many beautiful, warming bird blankets . . . . .  Well I’ll dig for a few worms, he thought, to warm my shivering body and then I’ll swop them for a few feathers and stick them back wit Bostik!!  But the old man wasn’t interested . . . . . ‘I only  buy feathers. I DON’T SEEL THEM’. 

Larry was so depressed he could hardly get airborne and after flying for half a mile he went into somebody’s backyard, and sheltered behind a dustbin . . . . .But who was coming up the yard . . . .Whiskers, Evil Eye, Silent Tread, Four Wicked Paws . . . . It was Tommy . . . . .Larry was mesmerised as Tommy fixed him with that hypnotic stare. It was all over in thirty seconds flat. And Larry didn’t even have a decent funeral. PRAYER AND THE BIBLE ARE YOUR GREAT WINGS THAT LIFT YOU TO GOD. DON’T BE LAZY . . . . WATCH AND PRAY . . . . . .

The story is taken from a book compiled by the late Rev. Gerald Chamberlain, a great children’s story teller and a person who inspired and influenced many young people. With kind permission from his son, Paul.

THE KING’S GARDEN

Text:       “Thou shalt be like a watered Garden.” Isaiah 58: 11

There once lived a great and powerful King who ruled over a very large and beautiful country.   He had a most marvellous garden of glorious design, colour and breathtaking beauty.   In the corner of the garden was a little house with every requirement to make the person to whom he gave the charge of his garden completely happy..

At length the King chose a boy named “Will”.   He took him and showed him every part of it: the fertile soil in which to plant his seed, the little house in the corner in which he was to; live, the big walls all round, and the gate with the bolts and bars which was to make him secure to all comers.

“The garden is to be yours”, said the King “To till and plant trees and shrubs, which shall yield good fruit, which one day I will come and gather.”  “Whatever seeds and. roots you desire to plant you have only to ask and they will at once be sent.”

“You see there is a little wire from your house to my great Castle on the hill by which you can send messages to me if you wish.”

The King departed and left Will standing proud and happy. “See,” he cried aloud “All this is mine. I am Master of it all.”

“Oh no, you’re not.”  The voice startled Will.  Looking round in surprise Will saw a tall stranger, with dark face and eyes. “Oh no you’re not” the stranger repeated, “as I will very easily show you; you are only the servant of the King who put you here, and who is a cruel hard master, who does not love you or wish you well.”  “After you have toiled hard, tilling his ground and planting his seed, he will come and gather all the fruit himself, and you will have nothing at all for your trouble and labour.”

“Oh,” said Will, “I never thought of that.”      

The Stranger continued,.” Why should you serve him??? Why not be your own master?? You have a strong gate and high walls round your garden and could easily rebel against the king and take the garden as your own. And besides, if you open the gate and let me in, I will be your servant.”

How nice and pleasant this sounded to Will.   Before long the Stranger was through the open Gate and for a time all seemed just as pleasant as the Stranger had promised.  Will 1ived at ease in his little house and the Stranger did all the work.   And how hard he did work to be sure… In a very little time the garden was planted with all kind of trees and shrubs that Will had never seen before.   The soil was so fertile that in a very short time the garden was yielding new fruit.

When the fruit was ripe the Stranger took Will around the garden and Will ate freely of all the sparkling  new fruit.   Will ate greedily and found the new fruit very sweet to his taste.    Afterwards he found what he had eaten turned very bitter and made him ill.  And yet he found he couldn’t leave the fruit alone, he had a craving for it day and night . . . . .

Another curious effect the fruit had on him was to change the appearance of his face.,   From a bright, honest, open face to a face very similar to the Stranger’s. Will often asked him the names of the plants but the Stranger always refused but the Stranger gave in one day and told him . . . . There was a Flaming Red Plant named ANGER . . . .A Rough Rambler called  SELF-WILL . . . A Tall Fast Growing Plant ca’lled PRIDE  . . . . A ROCK PLANT calIed LYING . . . . A Lovely Plant with a Bitter Sting called CHEATING . . . . A Mammoth Prickly Annual called . . . .UNKINDNESS…and a Plant with a Powerful Dye in its leaves called. UNCLEANNESS . . . . .

The ugly names frightened Will, but the craving for the fruit continued. One day he found stored away in a drawer of a desk a very ANCIENT MIRROR . . . . .He was glad to find it, for he had no mirror of his own.   As he gazed in to the mirror he was utterly shocked . . . .

He saw a Gruel, Hard Bitter and Deceitful Face very much like the Strangers’

Rushing out into the garden he seized an axe and started hewing away at the devilish plants with all his might.   “The axe” had on its blades the two words, “GOOD RESOLVE” . . . . . “Now”, thought Will, “‘there is an end for ever of all that bad and wicked fruit. 11   But foolish Will had forgotten that the roots were still there.    And so the Plants began to sprout again, stronger than they were before.

One evening as he walked around the Garden in great despair he heard a gentle knocking at the gate, and heard a sweet voice say, “Behold I stand at the door and knock, if any man hear My Voice and open the door I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me.” Looking round Will saw at the gate ONE standing so quiet and patient and with a loving gentle face and poor Will’s heart went out to Him at once. “This patient, loving One will make all things different in your garden, HE HAS OVERCOME’ THE STRANGER AND IS STRONGER THAN HE” said a Voice.

Will opened the door, and welcomed the Saviour in.

Will watched the Saviour go to work on the terrible plants.  He pulled them out with consummate ease and before long the ground was cleared and the Terrifying Plants burned..   Then the Saviour planted Nine Beautiful Plants that spread all over the Garden.   The Saviour had changed the Garden completely.   It was a real Conversion.    

                        With acknowledgements to Montague Goodman.

Rev. E. Anderson

THE RUINED PHOTOGRAPH

Johnny’s mother was dressing up and he was greatly interested.   Where was he going? Why was she so excited? He waited expectantly, and soon heard,   Son, I want you to be a good boy.   I am going out on special business, and I want you to promise to stay in the house and look after your baby sister. Will you be a good boy? “Yes, Mum.” “You really promise? You will not go out until I return?” Johnny nodded.

His mother looked at the sleeping baby, and saying farewell to her little son, pulled on her gloves and went down the front steps. Johnny climbed to the window to watch her. He was so interested by all this mystery. Where was she going? With his nose pressed against the window he watched until she had passed from sight; then he ran to the steps, and saw her disappearing round the corner at the bottom of the street. This was very exciting. Where was she going? Hurriedly he looked at his baby sister, and believing all would be well, he ran down the street- to see his mother entering the big gateway of a large house.

The boy felt he was a detective about to solve a great mystery. He listened and heard voices. A\strange man was saying something, and his mother’s whispered reply suggested she was frightened. She was very quiet; he would need to be careful, for ther might be danger. He looked for a foothold in the wall, and skilfully climbed and looked into the garden. His mother was sitting with her back toward him, and in front of her was a man who crouched behind a funny thing on legs. He heard the man saying, “Now,” and an ominous click followed. Then all kinds of wild thoughts flew through his mind, and he half expected his mother to sink to the ground. Instead, she stood and shook hands with the stranger. When she turned toward the gate, Johnny dropped to the roadway and ran as fast as he could, to get round the corner before his mother reached the street. He was quite breathless when he reached his home, but by the time his mother arrived he had fully recovered, and was sitting quietly beside his baby sister.

“Well, Johnny, have you been a good by since I left”? “Yes, Mum.” “You haven’t been outside?” “No, Mum.” “Are you sure?” “Yes, Mum.”

She smiled, gave him a kiss, and placed three new pennies into his hand. She said he could keep these all for himself. The lad looked at the new coins and his eyes sparkled with delight- he had the best mother in the world. He felt a little guilty because he had deceived her, but there was no need to worry about it. His bay sister was quite safe, and no harm had been done.

As the days passed by, his mother seemed to be expecting a very special letter. When it arrived she was excited, and once again Johnny wondered what had happened. He saw her carefully removing the soft wrappings, and behold, there lay the photographs. She studied them for a moment, and then slowly turned to her boy. Most of the pictures she laid aside, but one remained in her hand. Johnny looked a, and saw his mother sitting on a chair in a beautiful garden; she was smart and smiling. He looked into her face, but his words died on his lips- she wasn’t smiling now.

She seemed upset, and again he failed to understand her. She turned him round and asked, “Did you really stay with your sister the other day?” “Yes, Mum.” “And you didn’t go out at all?” “No, Mum.” “Johnny, you tell lies.” “No, Mum.” “But you do. Look at this.” She showed him the final photograph-and there, behind the chair on which she was sitting, could be clearly seen a little boy looking over the wall. He finger slid over the proof until it rested beneath the place where his eyes were peering into the garden, and she asked, “Isn’t that you? You followed me to see where I was going. You climbed the wall and looked into the garden just when the gentleman was taking the photograph. You naughty little boy, you tell lies.” And poor Johnny was crestfallen. He had discovered the message of the Bible was true-“Be sure you sin will find you out.”

Rev. E. Anderson

The story is taken from a book compiled by the late Rev. Gerald Chamberlain, a great children’s story teller and a person who inspired and influenced many young people. With kind permission from his son, Paul.

JACKIE AND THE SMUGGLER’S CAVE

It was a blistering hot day and Jackie had just finished a smashing sand-castle and after having had a very hectic time bathing in the sea.

Suddenly she heard a voice . . . . . ‘TAKE TWO STEPS FORWARD AND THREE STEPS TO THE RIGHYT AND YOU’LL FIND THE KEY TO TREASURE UNDER AA HEART SHAPED STONE’. Jackie was startled and thrilled. .A key to treasure, indeed . . . . He was on his feet in no time.

TWO STEPS FORWARD . . . . EXCITEDLY Jackie fulfilled the instructions of the Voice . . . . THREE STEPS TO THE RIGHT . . . . .He looked down . . . .Sure enough, there was a great-heart shaped stone. Jackie struggled and struggled and eventually . . . .success . . . .the stone moved and there was THE KEY TO THE TREASURE.

He moved again back to his original position . . . .  But where was the Treasure? He’d got the key, but where was he to put it. He had been leaning against a cliff side . . . . very, very rocky and he guessed it must be there somewhere that the Treasure was hidden.

He peered closely at the Rock face and then, sure enough, he saw the key-hole. In a flash the key was into the lock and little Jackie struggled to open the lock, but it mut have been years since the lock had been used for he went red in the face and the veins stood out on his temples as he sought to turn that key. Eventually it yielded to the strength of our Midget Adventurer. He pulled and with a creek the Rock Door swung open and there was a SMUGGLER’S CAVE.

Everything was coated din dust of centuries. There was an old table with a Candlestick on it and a Candle in the Candlestick. Have I a match? He was a wise lad and didn’t smoke but he happened to have his camping shorts on and there in the pocket was ONE MATCH> He mustn’t let it go out. He struck the match . . . .It spluttered and faded, he quickly inverted it and it survived and now the Candle Light was casting eerie shadows around the Cave. There was a sword on the wall and a few old Muskets and there . . . .  over the other side  . . . .was surely . . . .THE TREASURED !!!!! Three Huge, Old Battered Chests. Jackie placed the key on the Table by the Candlestick and dashed over to the First Treasure Chest. After a great struggle, the lid began to creak and groan to reveal, hundreds and thousands of Copper Coins . . . . .

This is it thought Jackie…..Lollies for life.   Ice Creams for ever.  Bubble Gum till I stop chewing.   He crammed his pockets with the coins, thought of all the machines he could play on, of the great times he was going to have and with a chortle of glee moved over to the Cave Entrance with his rich hoard of Copper Coins.

He was about to jump from the Cave  on to the Sands when the same VOICE spoke again . . . .

‘Jackie, YOU’VE LEFT THE BEST BEHIND’.

‘Left the best behind,’ said Jackie out aloud.  ‘What could be better than all this lovely money.      But he didn’t jump and after a while, he dragged himself, loaded down with Copper Coins back to the other Chest.

He began to struggle with this lid . . . . It opened rather easily . . . . and in a moment the Cave was ringing with his shouts of delight. Guess what was inside??????

It was packed with Silver Coins . . . .  In a jiffy the Copper was thrown into the dust of the Cave.  ‘Anyone can have that lot,’ said Jackie, ‘Its’ Silver for me’.   Now he was thinking of Ten Geared Cycles, Smashing Electric Railways, World Cup Football. Games, Action Space Games, Full Sets of Lego, “Cheyenne” Cowboy Outfit and, of course a Super Mobo Track Master !!!     He loaded. himself with Silver and made again for the Cave Door . . . . .but the VOICE spoke again . . . . .

‘Jackie, YOU’VE LEFT THE BEST BEHIND’.

‘But there can’t be anything better than this’, thought Jackie. Perhaps if he went again, this wonderful exciting adventure would come to an end.  But he’d done well obeying the VOICE before”, he’d try again.

The third chest was forced open. Jackie, gasped, gulped and gurgled “Oh Boy, Oh Boy, Oh Boy, I’m a millionaire”, he yelled.    And sure .enough Jackie was right.   There. in the third chest was Sparkling Jewels, Solid Gold ornaments, Costly Diamonds and Rubies. Jackie was wealthy.  Out! Out! Out! with the Silver.  And he crammed every pocket with the Treasure.  As he staggered to the Door the third time, he thought ‘of touring; the World, of owning Manchester United, of a Pleasure’ Yacht better than Burton’s etc., etc. BUT THEN THE VOICE AGAIN! ‘You’ve left . . .’  ‘Oh shut up’, shouted Jackie and with a bound leaped out into the sunshine but as he landed he twisted his ankle and lay in agony.  After a time the pain eased and he began to rise.

BUT . . . . THE TREASURE . . . .IT HAD GONE . . . .  A PRECIOUS PIECE LEFT . . . . .  ‘I’ll get some more, if I can climb up’,  thought Jackie . . . .But the Key, he’d left it on the table AND THE CAVE DOOR SLAMMED BEHIND HIM . . .

The story is taken from a book compiled by the late Rev. Gerald Chamberlain, a great children’s story teller and a person who inspired and influenced many young people. With kind permission from his son, Paul.

THE CABBAGE

Text  ‘Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, o visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world’ - James 1: 27

He was nursing a cabbage!!!!!!!!!

As soon as I boarded the bus, however, he rose. ‘There’s a seat here,’ he murmured politely. I shook my head. ‘No, no,’ I said. ‘I’m alright: I’m not going far’. ‘You keep your seat’. But he would not.

So I took his seat and he stood by me, swaying slightly with the cabbage in his arms. ‘That’s a big cabbage you’ve got there,’ I remarked.

The grave laddie of eight or nine years permitted himself to smile. ‘Yes,’ he agreed: adding shyly: ‘I grew it myself’.

‘Well done,’ I exclaimed, ‘’And now you are taking it home for dinner?’

‘Yes. My allotment is a good way from home, but I usually come and go on my bicycle. It is being mended just now’.

‘I see. Well, anyhow, your mother will be glad to have a home-grown cabbage’.

‘Yes’. He was looking dreamily out of the window. ‘I expect so’.

‘You’re not sure?’  ‘Oh she’ll be glad, of course. But she won’t each much. She never eats much now. I try to coax her. I have to do my best, you know’.

‘Of course,’  I said.

He sighed. But I don’t seem to be able to take care of her just as Daddy used to’.

‘He’s away,’  I asked.

The polite little gentleman nodded. ‘Yes, I promised before he went that \i would take care of Mum. I’m trying to.’

‘I’m sure you are. And when your daddy comes back….’ He winced. ‘He won’t……………..’ He said simply.

‘But God will take care of us’.  ‘Amen’ I whispered,