Category Archives: Short Stories

The Little Drummer Boy

Isaac woke with a start.  But what had awakened him?  He had heard a noise, something unfamiliar in the sound of the night.  He struggled to focus and he heard it again.

Full consciousness returned and with it came the realization that the noise he had heard was voices.

He crept from his sleeping mat to the edge of the camp.  He could see two figures in the darkness.  The tall one was Lucas but the smaller one was a stranger.  He crept closer until he could hear what they were saying.

“You’re mad man!” Lucas sounded angry.

“No, sir, we are not mad.  All the signs point to the new King being in Bethlehem,” said the stranger.  “So to Bethlehem we must go.”

“Bethlehem!”  The word escaped Isaac’s lips before he could stop it.  He hadn’t meant to say that out loud but the name of the town where he had been born has surprised him.  He clamped a hand over his mouth hoping against hope that Lucas hadn’t heard him.  But he had.

Lucas turned to where Isaac lurked behind the nearest tent.

“What are you doing there boy?” yelled Lucas.  “This is nothing to do with you.  Now go back to your bed and mind your own business.”

Isaac knew better than to argue with Lucas.  He had done that once and learned just how cruel Lucas could be.  Lucas had been so angry he had almost broken Isaac’s hands.  As it was, his hands had been so damaged from the beating that he hadn’t been able to play his drum for two months.

Isaac had been with Lucas and the travellers for almost three years.  Lucas said they had found him half dead on the side of the road – just him and his drum.

Isaac recalled how he had been travelling with his parents when they had been set upon by robbers.  Something hit him and he didn’t remember anything until after he woke in the back of Lucas’ cart.  Lucas said they had found him almost dead on the side of the road – just him and his drum.

According to Lucas there had been no sign of his parents.  But Isaac didn’t believe his parents would have fled and left him there alone.  There were times he wondered if Lucas hadn’t had something to do with the robbers who had attached him and his parents.

Lucas’ wife, Sarah, had cared for him, bathed and bandaged his wounds and nursed him until he was well enough to be put to work.

Everyone had to earn their keep.  Isaac’s job was to help care for the animals.  Sometimes Lucas would let him play his drum when people came to hear Lucas sing and the others play.

But Isaac still remembered his parents and how happy they had been together.  They came from Bethlehem and he wondered if maybe they were still there, waiting for him to come home.  Or were they still searching for him.

Isaac had asked Lucas once if they could go to Bethlehem but Lucas had gotten angry.  That was the time Lucas had hurt his hands.  Isaac had never asked Lucas about Bethlehem again.

So for now he would do as Lucas said, or at least appear to do so.  But somehow he would find out why the stranger and Lucas had been talking about Bethlehem.

Isaac walked around behind the tent and carefully crept to across the camp to the next tent.  Now he was behind Lucas and he prayed he was far enough away not to be seen.

“But you should come with us,” continued the stranger.  “It’s not that far.  And the new King IS there.”

“I don’t like the old one, so what makes you think I’d want anything to do with the new one!” Lucas turned and walked away from the stranger.

The stranger turned to walk back to his friends.  “He wouldn’t even let me speak to the others,” he said.

“Never mind Caspar,” called his friend.  “At least you tried to tell him.”

The men began to walk toward their camels.

Isaac watched Lucas walk back to his tent and then he made his decision.  As quickly and quietly as he could, he crept back to his sleeping place.  He didn’t own much, just his drum.  He carefully pulled his drum from its night time hiding place and crept back to the edge of the camp.  He could no longer see the strangers, but he headed in what he thought was the direction they had taken.

Isaac secured his drum tightly across his back and then set off on his quest to follow the strangers.

He wasn’t sure how they would react to his following them, especially after the one named Caspar had heard Lucas tell him to mind his own business, so he was careful not to get too close.

But apparently he had not been careful enough.  As Isaac passed an outcropping of rocks, a man jumped from behind them and grabbed his arms.

“What are doing following us?” the man demanded.

“P-p-p-please sir, I-I-I didn’t mean any harm,” stammered Isaac.  “It was just that I head you tell Lucas you were going to Bethlehem and I wanted to go with you.”

“Why do you want to go to Bethlehem boy?” gently asked the man named Caspar.

“I think my parents may be there,” replied Isaac.

“Your parents?  But wasn’t that man back there your father?” asked Caspar.

“No sir, that was Lucas.” Said Isaac and proceeded to tell Caspar and his friends his story.

“Well now, that’s an interesting story,” said the first man.  “Should we let him come with us?”

“Why not,” said a third man.  “Welcome boy.  I’m Mechior, this is Caspar and that there is Bathasar.  Now what should we call you?”

“I’m Isaac,” he replied.  “Thank you for letting me travel with you.”

“Let’s be on our way then,” said Bathasar.

The group mounted their camels and continued their journey to Bethlehem.

Isaac rode with Caspar and during the journey Caspar told him they were Magi.  He explained to Isaac about the new King they were travelling to Bethlehem to visit.

Isaac listened in awe to Caspar’s story and he began to grow just as excited about seeing the new king as he was about the possibility of finding his new parents.

“But how will we know where to find this new king?” he asked.

“Well, you see that bright star up there?” asked Caspar.

Isaac nodded and Caspar continued, “We are following that star and it will lead us right to the place where the new King can be found.”

About that time they came upon some shepherds tending their sheep.

The Magi stopped to enquire the nearest place to find a meal and bed for the night.

“I’m Benjamin, and this is my brother Adam.  We don’t have much, but if you’re happy to camp out then you’re welcome to join us for the night,” said the first shepherd.

“We would be honoured,” replied Caspar.

Over the meal that night Caspar, Melchior and Bathasar explained to the shepherds the reason for their journey to Bethlehem.

“Are you on your way to see the new King?” asked Benjamin.

“Yes,” replied Bathasar.  “We have been studying the heavens and our studies show that God’s chosen Saviour would be found in Bethlehem.  We go there to pay our respects to the new King.”

“We saw angels,” stated Benjamin.

“That we did,” added Adam.  We were out minding our own business, making sure the sheep didn’t get into no mischief when suddenly this bright light appears in the sky.

“We were pretty scared,” admitted Bejamin.  “But then this angel appears and tell us not be afraid. He says, ‘I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all people.  Today in the town of David a Saviour has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord.  This will be a sign to you:  You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger’.

Then Adam continued, “Yeah, and then all of a sudden this gang of angels appears in the sky and starts singing ‘Glory to God in the Highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favour rests’.”

Isaac stood by listening to this exchange, his eyes wide open.  He couldn’t believe he was on his way to see the same child the shepherds spoke of.  A child God sent angels to tell the shepherds about.  A child God sent a special star to guide the Magi and help them find him.

After a good meal and a restful night the Magi and Isaac were ready to resume their journey.

“You’re on the right path,” Benjamin told them.  “But the child and his circumstances may not be what you expect.”

“Thank you for your kindness,” replied Caspar, “and the meal, but we had best be on our way.”

The group continued their journey following the star until they entered the outskirts of Bethlehem and the star appeared to stop above what appeared to be a workshop.

“This can’t be right Caspar,” called Bathasar.  “Are you sure we followed the right star.”

“Yes,” replied Caspar.  “There is no mistake.  The star is telling us we will find the new king in this simple dwelling.”

“It doesn’t seem right to find a king in such a simple dwelling,” said Isaac.

“Ah, but this is no ordinary king Isaac,” said Mechior.  “This king is chosen one.  God’s promised Saviour.”

Isaac’s eyes opened wide.  He wasn’t exactly sure what Mechior was talking about, but now he was even more excited to meet the new king.

The Magi and Isaac dismounted from their camels and approached the workshop.

The door was open and the scene before them unusual.

A man was at a work bench.  He appeared to be smoothing down the legs of a chair.  He was a carpenter!

Behind the man a doorway led to another room  The curtain was pulled aside and through the open doorway Isaac could see a woman nursing a child.

The man approached the Magi, “I am Joseph the carpenter.  Can I help you?” he asked.

“We are looking for the new King,” answered Capsar.  “We have followed God’s star to your dwelling and accordingly the new King is to be found here.”

“Ah, you must mean Jesus,” replied Joseph.  “He and my wife Mary are through here.”

The Magi followed Joseph into the small room behind the workshop.

Then Isaac watched as the Magi bowed before the child and handed gifts to the child’s mother.

“Please accept this gift of frankincense for our new king,” said Bathasar.

“And this gift of myrrh,” added Mechior.

Finally it was Caspar’s turn.  He knelt before the child lying in the manger and said to the mother as he handed her his gift, “A gift of gold for our Lord’s Saviour.”

The woman smiled at Caspar and nodded her head as she accepted his gift, just as she had done with the other two Magi.

The man standing behind her smiled at the Magi and then spoke, “My name is Joseph, and this Mary.  We thank you on behalf of our Lord God and this special child he has blessed us with for your generosity.  This child is Jesus, God’s Saviour of His people.”

The Magi bowed before the child.  Isaac wasn’t sure what he should do so he knelt next to Caspar.

Isaac looked at the gifts the Magi had given the child.  He wished he could give something too, but he had nothing to give.  Nothing but himself and his music.

Very quietly he rose to his feet and timidly approached the woman.

“Excuse me,” he stammered.  “I would like to give the king a gift too, but all I have is my drum.  Would it be okay if I play him a song?  Do you think he would like that?”

“That would be lovely,” replied Mary.  “I’m sure he would enjoy it.”

So Isaac took his drum and began to softly play for the baby Jesus.  As he played, the baby smiled and waved his little fists.

When Isaac finished the baby had fallen asleep.

“I think he really enjoyed that gift Isaac,” said Caspar as he patted the boy on the shoulder.

“Do you really think so?” asked Isaac.

“Yes, and we enjoyed it to,” added Joseph. “You play well young Isaac.  Thank you for honouring our son in this way.”

“We should be leaving now so the young king can sleep,” said Mechior.  “We’ll make camp outside and see you tomorrow morning.”

The Magi found shelter in a nearby inn that night and Isaac stayed with them.  He fell asleep with a smile on his face as he thought of the baby Jesus smiling at him, and the fact that Caspar had promised to help him look for his parents the next day.

© 5 December 2007

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The Little Red Bird

The little red birth strutted along the top of the wall behind centre field.  He really enjoyed his perch there watching all the action out on the field.

But today was different.  Today he was going to go down on that field.  His mother had tried to talk him out of it.  She was worried he’d be hurt or embarrassed by the bigger birds that always tried to steal the show.  But his courage wasn’t going to fail him.  He needed to be tough it he was going to go through with his plan.

Today there was a competition.  His favourite baseball team were looking for a mascot…and he wanted desperately for them to pick him.  After all, they were called the Cardinals and he was a Northern Cardinal wasn’t he.  Who could possibly be a better mascot than him!

Today was tryout day.  It was supposed to be a secret, but he had been playing hide and seek with his friends when he heard two of the bigger birds whispering about it.

He watched from the top of the wall as one bird after another strutted their stuff around home plate.  First there was Oscar the Barn Owl with his big round glassy eyes still half asleep.  “There’s no way he can stay awake for a whole game,” thought the little red bird.

Then came Harold the Rough-Legged Hawk, his beady eyes darting back and forth.  “There’s no way he can get the job, he only visits here in the winter,” thought the little red bird, “and baseball’s a summer sport!”

Next it was billy the Yellow-Headed Blackbird with white patches on his wings.  “He’s very pretty,” thought the little red bird, “but he’s the wrong colour for my team!”

Bird after bird paraded from home plate to first base and back again, but none of them seemed to fit the bill.

“Is that the last one?” yelled a man with a clipboard.  “Surely there must be someone better than this lot!”

The little red bird puffed out his chest and let out the loudest whistle he could.

“Hey you up there!” shouted the man with the clipboard.  “Yeah you.  Are you trying out?  If you are you’d better hurry up, we’re almost finished.”

The little red bird flew down to home plate.

“Now show us what you’ve got,” said the man.

The little red bird’s skinny legs began to shake.  He opened his beak…nothing came out.  “Maybe my mother was right,” he thought.  “Maybe I am too small for this job.  There’s no way they’ll pick me.”

The man with the clipboard knelt down beside him and ever so gently and kindly said, “Now little fella, there’s no need to be shy.  Just pretend we’re not here and show us what you can do.”

The man stood up and moved away, then the little red bird stuck out his beak, puffed up his chest and strutted to first base as though he owned it, all the while whistling as he went.  Next he did a cartwheel, then a somersault.  He flew over their heads and dive-bombed the bases.  Finally, he landed back on the home plate and stood before the men.

He stood there silently, watching and waiting as the men began to whisper.  Pick me, pick me, his heart thumped as he waited to see what they would say.

Finally the men walked back over to the little red bird.

“We’ve made our decision,” the man with the clipboard announced.  “We’d like you to be our new mascot.”

“Me!” exclaimed the little red bird.

“Yes you.  But first we need a few details.  What’s your name?” he asked.

“R-r-r-r-red bird,” stammered the little red bird.

“Great,” said the man as he wrote on the form.  Next he got the little red bird to give him his address and his parents’ names, then his age, his height and his weight.

The man wrote all of these details on the form.  When he had finished, he handed the form to the little red birth and asked him to sign it.

The little red bird looked at the form and saw what the man had written against his name.  “But that’s not my name,” he said.  “I’m just little red bird.”

“But you have to have a name,’ said the man.  “You can’t work for us if you don’t have a name.”

So the little red bird signed the form and from that day on became known as ‘Fred Bird’.


8 February 2007

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We Love Because He First Loved US

The woman had watched, her eyes full of sadness as she had gazed longingly at the figure struggling to make his way through the crowd.

So much had happened in such a short time.

That amazing scene as he arrived in Jerusalem just a few short days ago.  Crowds going wild as he made his way riding on a borrowed donkey.

Then that strange Passover meal where he had served his disciples, washing their feet.  Then the strangest part of the night when he had broken the bread and told them “this is my body, broken for you” and as he passed the cup and told them “this is my blood, poured out for you”.

She wasn’t sure what it all meant, but somehow felt everything had been leading up to this day.

She’d felt so alone all her life – until she’d met him.

He’d treated her like a real human being.

She couldn’t remember how long it had been before him that someone, anyone had spoken to her as though she mattered.

But he’d been special.  She’d realised that the moment he had bent down and begun writing those names in the dirt when they’d brought her to him.  Instead of looking at her with hate and disgust as all the others had, he had just bent down and started writing.  While he was writing he had told them “Let the one without sin cast the first stone”.

But when he had stood up, all bar herself were gone.  Not one of them had had the courage to stay and condemn her.

She remembered the way he had looked at her.  The gentleness, the love, the acceptance in his eyes.  He’d looked at her and told her that she was special, told her that God loved her.  Then he’d hugged her and told her to go in peace and not live in sin any longer.

She’d followed him ever since.  Sat and listened whenever he’d had an opportunity to teach.  Learnt from his teaching.  Shared his fellowship.  Grown under His guidance, faith, compassion, grace and love.

They’d become friends.  He as her first male friend.  The first who had never expected anything more than friendship from her.

But then that friendship had come under threat.  He had been sentenced to death.  Death by crucifixion.  She shuddered when she thought about him suffering the most horrible of deaths.  But he’d told them not to worry.  Told them not to grieve for him.

He’d said that this was the Father’s will.  That he needed to go through this to fulfil his purpose in life.  He’s said that the Father sent him to suffer on our behalf.

But how could that be?

Why would God allow him to suffer this way?

He had told her God had forgiven her her past, that she didn’t need to be punished because she was truly sorry for the things in her past which had shamed her and her family.  So why did he have to be punished for her sins?  What had he done to deserve this?

She found it hard to comprehend.  He had done nothing.  Absolutely nothing!  Yet he had been nailed to the cross for her sake.  For Peter’s sake.  For John’s sake.  For all our sakes.

She had whispered to him as he stumbled past her that she didn’t deserve this.  That he didn’t have to do this for her, for anyone.

But he had looked at her with those eyes always so full of compassion, full of kindness, full of love.  And he had told her “I do it because I love you.  I love them all.”

Then he had touched her gently on the cheek and said “Don’t forget to keep loving them on my behalf.  Love them because I first loved you.”

Then he was gone.

She had stayed with his mother as they had crucified him.  Stayed while they waited for his body to be returned for burial.

A few days later she had gone back to the tomb with his mother.  But the stone had been rolled away and the tomb was empty.

At first they had thought that someone had stolen his body.  But why?

Then they had come across a gardener who had told them not to be afaid and they knew it was him.

He wasn’t dead!  He had risen just as he had promised them he would.  She clasped his hands and gently kissed his wounds.

Then she had hurried with his mother to find Peter and the others.  They had to tell the disciples what had happened.

But Peter didn’t believe them.  He thought they were made – gone out of their minds with grief.

Eventually they had managed to convince Peter to go with them to the tomb.  TO see for himself that it was empty.

He was still there when they got back.  He had been waiting for them.

He spent many days with them after that, before leaving them to go and prepare a place for them.

But she still remembered his words to her that day, “I do it because I love you.  Remember to always Love them because I first loved you.”


April 2004

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The Little Donkey

The little donkey trudged wearily on.  It had been a long trip from Nazareth and he was really looking forward to a warm stable and a meal of fresh hay.

His load was heavy for such a small donkey.  But he didn’t mind.  The man had been kind – concern for his wife urging them on.

The woman had spoken softly to him every so often, grateful she had not needed to walk the entire way.  The baby she carried, although now due, had caused her no problems or worries on this trip.

The little donkey sensed there was something special about this trip.  His desire to know what it was had kept his feet moving one in front of the other for many miles now.

But their trip was almost at an end.  The little donkey could smell the familiar odours of the town as they drew closer.  The stench of stale ale.  The smell of food and spices.  A nearby stable.

For a reason he didn’t understand, the little donkey felt excitement begin to rise and he increased his pace.

“Steady now Little One,” gently whispered the man.  “It’s not much further now.”

A short time later the man drew him to a stop outside a noisy Inn.

“Look after Mary now Little One,” he urged, “while I find the Innkeeper.”

With that the man disappeared inside only to reappear a short time later shaking his head.

“They don’t’ have any room for us,” he told Mary.  “We must try somewhere else.”

Little One trudged from Inn to Inn carrying his burden as the scenario was repeated over and over again.

Just then the opened and an elderly man stepped outside with a lantern in one hand and a basket in the other.

As he handed the basket to Joseph he explained, “My wife thought you might be hungry.”

“Please thank your wife for her kindness,” Joseph replied as he took the basket and handed it to Mary.

The man then led them by lantern light along a path that wound behind the Inn to a small stable.

“I’m sorry it’s not more comfortable,” the man apologised as he lit another lantern.

“This will do just fine,” replied Joseph.  “Thank you for your kindness.”

Little One watched patiently while Joseph settled Mary on a bed of hay and blankets.

“Okay Little One,” said Joseph as he gently stroked Little One’s nose.  “Your turn now.  How about some nice fresh hay and a long rest?”

Little One nuzzled Joseph’s hand in response.

Mary and Joseph ate the bread and cheese from the basket the Innkeeper’s wife had given them before settling down for the night.

Little One watched and waited.

He could sense something special was going to happen.  He just didn’t know when.

Little One woke with a start.  He must have fallen asleep, but what had woken him.

He moved closer to where Mary and Joseph sat whispering near the manger.

It was then he noticed the manger no longer held the hay he’d been nibbling last night.

Instead, lying there in the manger was a sleeping baby.

“Don’t worry Little One,” smiled Mary.  “Meet your new King.  This is Jesus, the Son of God.”

Little One looked at Mary and then back at the baby sleeping so peacefully.

“Well?” asked Joseph.  “What do you think of your new King?”

Little One nodded his head and brayed softly in approval.

IN the days that followed, Little One saw a procession of visitors to the baby Jesus as he lay quietly in the manger.

First there were some shepherds.  Little One was amazed when he heard them say they had left their flock to look after itself because an angel had appeared in the sky and told them to go and visit their new Saviour.

Then there was the Innkeeper and his wife who brought a beautiful blanket for the baby and some more food to help Mary get her strength back.

After that there were the wisemen who had come from the East.  They had brought special gifts for the little baby.  They called him a ‘King’ and gave him gifts of frankincense, gold and myrrh.

Little One remembered Mary had told him the baby was a King.  She had also said he was ‘Jesus, the Son of God’.

During all this time, Little One had stood patiently and protectively beside the manger, watching and listening.

It seemed he’d been right.  Something special had happened.

This little baby Jesus was God’s very own son.

He would grow up and one day he would save the world from sin and corruption, death and disease, war and famine, hatred and spite.

Little One felt so proud, he had helped the baby Jesus.  He had carried Mary safely from Nazareth to Bethlehem where baby Jesus had been born.

And in a few more days he would carry Mary and the baby Jesus on the next leg of their journey.


Margaret Holahan

December 2005

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I Wonder Where He Is?

Isabel crawled out from under the bed.  She sat cross legged in the middle of her bedroom floor, a puzzled expression on her face.

Isabel’s mother walked past the open door and glanced inside, then backtracked to her daughter’s bedroom door.

She studied Isabel’s face.

“What’s the matter honey?” she asked her daughter.

“I can’t find Him,” Isabel replied, “and I’ve looked everywhere, even in my wardrobe.”

“Who can’t you find sweetheart?” her mother questioned.

“Jesus,” replied Isabel innocently.

Her mother stifled a laugh, “What made you think you’d find Him in here?” asked her mother.

Isabel cocked her head to one side and looked at her mother.  “Cause Daddy said he was in here,” she answered.  “But I can’t find Him.”

“Are you sure Daddy said He was in your bedroom?” questioned her mother.

“Yes,” she replied matter of factly.  “Daddy said, go to your room and talk to Jesus, but I can’t find Him anywhere.  I wonder where He is?”


5 April 2006

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A Cricket Ball and The Cross

In 1995, NSW played the West Indies in a cricket match in Newcastle.  A friend of mine umpired the game and gave one of the game balls to my stepson, Shane.  Shane absolutely hates cricket and was going to throw it away and at my gasp of horror offered it to me instead.  Later I got the ball signed by Sir Wes Hall (West Indian team manager) and plays Ian Bishop (West Indies) and David Freedman (NSW).  David had taken 8/49 in the WI first innings and ended the match with figures of 10/93.

In 1997 I volunteered to work with Cape Town City Mission in South Africa for 12 months.  To help raise funds for this trip, some friends arranged a fundraising dinner and auction, with George Capsis (Cronulla Rugby League team Chaplain) as the speaker.  The auction items included an autographed Cronulla jersey, an autographed Newcastle Knight’s jersey and an autographed pair of Andrew Gaze’s basketball boots.

After much debate and arguing with myself, I decided to add the cricket ball to the list of auction items.  After all, I couldn’t let my friends do all that work if I wasn’t prepared to make some sacrifices.

My brother Fred, knowing how hard that decision was, offered to drive up from Sydney to attend the dinner – just to offer some moral support.

The dinner went well and the auction started.  The cricket ball was the last item up for bid.  It was a sad night, in just a few more moments this ball – one of my prized possessions – would no longer be mine.

Bidding started slowly, but excitement and tension increased as everyone realised there were only two bidders, each one pushing the other higher.  Seated at the front of the room I couldn’t see who was bidding.

When the final bid was made and the auctioneer called ‘GONE’ the winning bidder was revealed.  It was my brother!  I was so glad it was him and not someone I didn’t know.

Fred came to the front with all the other successful bidders, handed over his cheque and claimed his prize.  He then came over to where I was standing, and with hands behind his back smugly said, “Guess what I got?”  I told him I knew what he had and was glad if I had to give the ball up it was going to someone who would value and appreciate it as much as I did.  He then told me to hold out my hand. I figured he was going to tease me further by letting me ‘hold’ what was now his ball.  But as I held out my hand he carefully and very gently placed the ball in it.  As he did so he added the words “Happy Birthday – it’s yours!”

That was a very emotional moment for both of us!  I don’t cry in public.  I don’t show my vulnerability in front of people – not even those I know.  But on this occasion there was no helping it.  As he said those words I threw my arms around him and the tears started.  I asked if he knew how much I loved him.  He assured me he did.  His gift told me how much he loved me.

“So how does this relate to the Cross?” you ask.

Well, that simple.  It’s a reminder that I belong to HIM.  The first time the ball belonged to me because it was given to me – a gift from my son to do with as I choose.  In just the same way, my life was a gift from God – a gift to do with as I choose, which is why He gave us all a free will.

Then the ball was lost to me when I decided to include it in the auction and it was bought by someone else.  In the same way, we are sometimes lost and separated from God by our sins and the choices we make in life.

But then the ball belonged to me a second time because it was bought for me when my brother paid a price for it – the price he paid to purchase the ball at the auction.  In the same way, I belong to God because Jesus Christ bought my life by paying a price – His Life – when He died for me on the cross!

My brother died in a hit and run accident in July 1998.  That ball is no longer one of my prized possessions.  Instead, it’s my ‘most treasured possession’.  It’s a constant reminder of the brother I loved and lost – but more importantly, it’s a reminder of his love for me in the same way that the Cross is a reminder of Christ’s love for me.


March 2002

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