Children’s Story

Story – Mary’s Two Bibles

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Mary was the daughter of a missionary couple in India. She was born in India and lived there until she was six years old. When it was time for her to start school, her parents sent her back to America to live with her grandmother. Mary’s grandmother was very kind to her and often told her Bible stories and did many things to make her happy.

As Mary learned to read and write, she would send letters back to her parents in India. They sent many letters to her, too, which she loved to receive. At first, her grandmother would have to read them to her. But it wasn’t long before she could read them herself.

One day when she was almost seven, she received a letter from her father. In it he included some money and a note which said, “You will soon be having your seventh birthday, Mary. I have enclosed some money for you to buy yourself a new Bible as your birthday present.”

“That’s just what I wanted!” exclaimed Mary happily.

A few days later, on her birthday, Mary and her grandmother went to a bookstore. They looked at all the different kinds of Bibles. There were big ones and little ones, some had gold edges on the pages, and some had leather covers which cost more. It was hard to make a decision. After looking at them for almost fifteen minutes, Mary told the saleslady how much money she had and asked if it would buy two Bibles.

“Yes, it could,” replied the saleslady, “but not the nice ones you’re looking at.”

Mary’s grandmother heard this and asked, “Mary, why do you want two Bibles?”

“Because I want one for myself and one to send to a girl in India who is my age, so that she may learn about Jesus, too,” answered Mary.

So Mary bought two Bibles. They didn’t have gold-edged pages or soft, leather covers. But the saleslady told Mary, “The inside is just the same!”

As soon as Mary got home, she printed her name in one of them. Her grandmother helped her carefully wrap the second Bible to be sent with a letter to her parents. She thanked them for her Bible and asked them to please give the second Bible to a seven-year-old girl in India.

Mary read her Bible every day and learned more and more of the love of Jesus. Her favorite verse was, “We love Him, because He first loved us.” 1 John 4:19. She read in a letter from her father that the second Bible had been given to a seven-year-old girl, just as Mary had asked. Each day Mary prayed for her unknown friend in India, that she also might learn to know all about the love of Jesus and how He had died on the cross for her, too.

Many years later, after Mary finished going to school, she went back to India to be with her father and mother and to help them in their missionary work. Not long after she arrived, she met a young Indian girl and learned that she was a happy Christian.

“How did you learn about the Lord Jesus?” Mary asked her one day.

“When I was seven years old, I was given this Bible,” answered the girl. “I read it and learned how Jesus loved me and died for me.”

Mary had found her unknown friend! This was the seven-year-old girl who had received Mary’s second Bible and for whom Mary had been praying all these years.

Do you have a Bible? If you will read it, you will learn about God’s love and how He sent His only Son, Jesus Christ, to die for your sins. If you already know Him as your Saviour, why not do what Mary did—pass on God’s word to others, so that they, too, can learn of God’s love.

“Heaven and earth shall pass away, but My words shall not pass away.” Matthew 24:35

Source: WholesomeWords.org from Messages of God’s Love published by Bible Truth Publishers.

Story – Missing Grandpa

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Rebecca loved her grandpa! How many of you have to travel quite a ways to see your grandma and grandpa? And some of you can only go to visit them for a vacation or for Christmas? Well, Rebecca was fortunate because her grandma and grandpa lived in the same town she did. In fact, the school bus dropped her off at their house after school every day to wait until her mom got off work and picked her up.

The best thing about Grandpa was he had time. Grandma was often busy preparing dinner, doing church work, or tidying up the house. But Grandpa would always put down whatever he was doing when she arrived, pour her a big glass of lemonade, and just look her in the eye and listen to whatever she had to tell him about her day. Then some days they worked on the big puzzle they were putting together, some days they washed the car, some days they went to the library and then curled up to read, some days they ran errands, whatever, Grandpa was always there.

One morning Mother told Rebecca that she would not be going to Grandpa and Grandma’s after school. Grandpa wasn’t feeling well, she said. He was going to see the doctor. Rebecca was sorry Grandpa was sick, but she wasn’t too concerned. She got sick sometimes, but with a day or two in bed or perhaps a quick trip to the doctor, she was all right. She never even thought about how she would feel if Grandpa didn’t get better. Well, Grandpa did get better, for a while, but soon there were many days when Rebecca couldn’t go to Grandma and Grandpa’s after school, because Grandpa just needed to rest.

One afternoon, just before school let out for the day, the teacher called Rebecca to the door of the classroom. Standing just outside, she saw her pastor waiting. The teacher said that Mother had called and told her that the pastor was going to pick Rebecca up after school and take her home. Rebecca thought this was strange, but since her mother had called the teacher, she thought everything was okay. Rebecca liked the pastor, and they talked all the way home. But when they arrived, Rebecca saw several cars parked in the driveway. There was Grandma’s car, and Aunt Suzie’s car, and Daddy’s car. What were all these people doing over in the middle of the afternoon, Rebecca wondered. When she went into the house, she met Mother in the hall. Her eyes were red like she had been crying. She put her arm around Rebecca and pulled her close. “You know that Grandpa has been very sick,” she said. “Well, today his heart just couldn’t pump any more blood so it stopped. Grandpa died this afternoon. He will sleep now until Jesus comes to wake him up. Then we will all go to heaven together.”

Then Rebecca began to cry, too. She knew Grandpa loved Jesus, and she knew that she loved Jesus, so she was sure they would be together in heaven. But she still felt sad about not having Grandpa with her right now. Who would have time for her every day after school? Mother said it was all right to cry. It was all right to miss Grandpa now. Someone in everybody’s family dies sooner or later, because death is a very sad part of living in a sinful world. But Rebecca was sure glad for Jesus.

Now she was beginning to understand more about why He came to die on the cross. The pastor said at Grandpa’s funeral that Jesus died so that everyone who dies but who loves Him will only sleep for a short time until Jesus wakes them up.

Some of you may know how Rebecca was feeling. Maybe someone close to you has died. Aren’t you glad for Jesus, too? Jesus is always with us when we feel sad. When we cry, the Bible says Jesus cries, too. That’s because He loves us so much. He came here to be with us because He wanted to share in our troubles. And now He is making preparation to come again so that everything that makes us sad will be wiped away, and everything will be made new. I’m looking forward to that day, aren’t you?

Adventist Family Ministries, By Karen Flowers.

Story – William Miller’s Dream

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I dreamed that God, by an unseen hand, sent me a curiously wrought casket about ten inches long by six inches square, made of ebony and pearls curiously inlaid. To the casket there was a key attached. I immediately took the key and opened the casket, when, to my wonder and surprise, I found it filled with all sorts and sizes of jewels, diamonds, precious stones, and gold and silver coins of every dimension and value, beautifully arranged in their several places in the casket; and thus arranged they reflected a light and glory equaled only by the sun.

I thought it was not my duty to enjoy this wonderful sight alone, although my heart was overjoyed at the brilliancy, beauty, and value of its contents. I therefore placed it on a center table in my room, and gave out word that all who had a desire might come and see the most glorious and brilliant sight ever seen by man in this life.

The people began to come in, at first few in number, but increasing to a crowd. When they first looked into the casket, they would wonder and shout for joy. But when the spectators increased, everyone would begin to trouble the jewels, taking them out of the casket and scattering them on the table.

I began to think that the owner would require the casket and the jewels again at my hand; and if I suffered them to be scattered, I could never place them in their places in the casket again as before; and felt I should never be able to meet the accountability, for it would be immense. I then began to plead with the people not to handle them, nor take them out of the casket; but the more I pleaded, the more they scattered.

I then saw that among the genuine jewels and coin they had scattered an innumerable quantity of spurious [fake] jewels and counterfeit coin. I was highly incensed at their base conduct and ingratitude, and reproved and reproached them for it; but the more I reproved, the more they scattered the spurious jewels and false coin among the genuine.

I then became vexed in my very soul, and began to use physical force to push them out of the room; but while I was pushing out one, three more would enter, and bring in dirt, and shavings, and sand, and all manner of rubbish, until they covered every one of the true jewels, diamonds, and coins, which were all excluded from sight. They also tore in pieces my casket, and scattered it among the rubbish. I became wholly discouraged and disheartened, and sat down and wept.

While I was thus weeping and mourning for my great loss and accountability, I remembered God and earnestly prayed that He would send me help. Immediately the door opened, and a man entered the room, when the people all left it; and he having a dirt-brush in his hand, opened the windows, and began to brush the dirt and rubbish from the room.

I cried to him to forbear, for there were some precious jewels scattered among the rubbish.

He told me to “fear not,” for he would “take care of them.” Then, while he brushed the dirt and rubbish, false jewels and counterfeit coin, all rose and went out of the window like a cloud, and the wind carried them away. In the bustle I closed my eyes for a moment; when I opened them, the rubbish was all gone. The precious jewels, the diamonds, the gold and silver coins, lay scattered in profusion all over the room.

He then placed on the table a casket, much larger and more beautiful than the former, and gathered up the jewels, the diamonds, the coins, by the handful, and cast them into the casket, till not one was left—although some of the diamonds were not larger than the point of a pin.

He then called upon me to “come and see.” I looked into the casket, but my eyes were dazzled with the sight. They shone with ten times their former glory. I thought they had been scoured in the sand by the feet of those wicked persons who had scattered and trod them in the dust. They were arranged in beautiful order in the casket, every one in its place, without any visible pains of the man who cast them in. I shouted with very joy, and that shout awoke me. Hurdles, True Education Series, ©1912, 13–15, taken from Early Writings, 81–84

“Not only the wise, the great, the beneficent, will gain a passport into the heavenly courts—not only the busy worker, full of zeal and restless activity. No; the pure in heart, in whose lips there is found no guile; the poor in spirit, who are actuated by the Spirit of an abiding Christ; the peacemaker, whose highest ambition is to do God’s will—these will gain an abundant entrance. They are God’s jewels… .” That I May Know Him, 123

“And they shall be Mine, saith the Lord of hosts, in that day when I make up My jewels; and I will spare them, as a man spareth his own son that serveth him.” Malachi 3:17

Story – Telling Mother

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A cluster of young girls stood about the door of the schoolroom one afternoon, engaged in close conversation, when a little girl joined them, and asked what they were doing.

“I am telling the girls a secret, Kate, and we will let you know, if you will promise not to tell anyone as long as you live,” was the reply.

“I won’t tell anyone but my mother,” replied Kate. “I tell her everything, for she is my best friend.”

“No, not even your mother, no one in the world.”

“Well, then I can’t hear it; for what I can’t tell mother, is not fit for me to know.”

After speaking these words, Kate walked away slowly, and perhaps sadly, yet with a quiet conscience, while her companions went on with their secret conversation.

I am sure that if Kate continued to act on that principle, she became a virtuous, useful woman. No child of a pious mother will be likely to take a sinful course, if Kate’s reply is taken for a rule of conduct.

As soon as a boy listens to conversation at school, or on the playground, which he would fear or blush to repeat to his mother, he is in the way of temptation, and no one can tell where he will stop. Many a man dying in disgrace, in prison or on the scaffold, has looked back with bitter remorse to the time when first a sinful companion gained his ear, and came between him and a pious mother.

Boys and girls, if you would be honored and respected here in this life, and form characters for heaven, make Kate’s reply your rule: “What I cannot tell my mother, is not fit for me to know;” for no other person can have as great an interest in your welfare and prosperity as a true Christian mother.

Every child and youth should always remember that a pious mother is their best earthly friend, from whom no secret should be kept.

Sabbath Readings for the Home Circle, Vol. 1, ©1877, 220, 221

Story – Living in a Lighthouse

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How would you like to live in a lighthouse on a rocky island several miles out in the ocean? The island is so rocky, and the wind sweeps over it so fiercely, that not even a tree can find a place to grow. Wild storms dash the waves up on the rocks until they have worn great chasms in the cliffs.

No one lives on the island except the one family who keeps the lighthouse. You would have no children to play with except your own brothers and sisters. There is no schoolhouse, no store, no church—not another house but the one in which you live with your father and mother. Would it be a lonely place?

Yet, when Celia Thaxter was a little girl, she lived in just such a place as this. Her home was on one of the Isles of Shoals, a few miles off the coast of New Hampshire, one of the New England states. The lighthouse towered ninety feet above the waterline. Celia with her two younger brothers came to live here when she was five years old, and this was her home until she grew to womanhood.

But these children were not unhappy. To them the lighthouse seemed like some tall black-capped giant. They were filled with wonder when the lamps in the great tower were lighted and the red and gold lights swung round and round high up in the air.

Everything was strange and fascinating to the children. They liked to be lulled to sleep at night by the murmur of the great sea that encircled them. Sometimes for months, the waves dashed so furiously upon the rocks that no boat could land. So it was necessary to have enough food in the house to last the family until they could go to the stores on the mainland and buy more.

As there was no school on the island, Celia and her little brothers were taught by their father, who was a fine scholar. Often in the long winter evenings, he read to them from the best literature, and in this way Celia learned to love good poetry.

On warm spring days, the children played on the beach and gathered shells and wildflowers. Celia soon learned to know the name of every flower that bloomed on the island. They were her dearest friends. There was just one fern on the island, and this she tended with loving care.

Not many birds built their nests on the island, because there were no trees. But the little sandpipers built their nests on the ground. They were Celia’s playmates. They looked upon her as a friend. In one of her poems she tells about one of these birds that ran back and forth on the beach with her as she gathered driftwood for a fire (see on this page).

Celia spent many happy hours in watching the sailing vessels. The fascination of their wondrous grace and their mystery never lost its thrill for her. She seemed to absorb the beauty of her surroundings—the ever-changing colors of the sea; the soft skies overhead; the pools that were like bits of fallen rainbow; the wealth of the sea; filled with wonderful treasures—starfish, sea anemones, fairy shells, and all the interesting sea life.

Once after a storm the sun suddenly broke forth, and a rainbow seemed to stretch right out of heaven into the sea. Celia’s heart swelled almost to bursting with the glory of it, and she hid her face from the wonder. It was more than she could bear. She longed to speak the things which made life so sweet—to speak of the wind, the clouds, the birds’ flight, the sea’s murmur. The wish grew, and so it was that she became a poet, expressing all these things in word pictures so beautiful that they are like the work of an artist’s brush.

Celia married a man who was a missionary to the fishermen. Then, after a wonderful year of travel in Europe, she went to live on Appledore, another of the Shoal Islands. Here she had the most wonderful garden. Artists came to paint it, and she wrote a book about it called “My Island Garden.” Once, a great army of bugs and slugs descended upon her garden and began to eat it up. She wrote to some children who were her friends, to catch some toads for her. One day, a big box arrived, and when she opened it, there sat one toad in a box of dirt! She thought there must be a scarcity of toads on the mainland, or else it was a joke. But she carried the box out to her garden and put it down. In a few minutes little bright eyes began to poke up out of the dirt. There were ninety toads in the box! And they ate up all the bugs.

Celia Thaxter sleeps now on lonely Appledore, with the music of the waves always sounding over her grave. But the music of her poems about the sandpipers and the sea still lives to charm us with their beauty. As we read them, let us think of the little girl who lived in the lighthouse long ago.

Goals, True Education Series, Book 5, ©1933, 34–37

 

The Sandpiper

Across the lonely beach we flit,

One little sandpiper and I;

And fast I gather, bit by bit,

The scattered driftwood, bleached and dry.

The wild waves reach their hands for it;

The wild wind raves, the tide runs high,

And up and down the beach we flit—

One little sandpiper and I.

I watch him as he skims along

Uttering his sweet and mournful cry;

He starts not at my fitful song

Nor flash of fluttering drapery.

He has no thought of any wrong;

He scans me with a fearless eye;

Stanch friends are we, well tried and strong.

The little sandpiper and I.

 

Comrade, where wilt thou be tonight

When the loosed storm breaks furiously?

My driftwood fire will burn so bright!

To what warm shelter canst thou fly?

I do not fear for thee, though wroth

The tempest rushes through the sky;

For are we not God’s children both,

Thou, little sandpiper, and I.

Celia Thaxter

Story – The Sunshine Basket

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Jennie Grant lay on a cot near the window. She had been lying in that same place for many weeks. One of her legs was shorter than the other, and the doctor had fastened a heavy weight to it in order to make it grow. But she must be still all the time.

Every morning before her father went to work, he moved her cot close to the window so she could look out. There was not much to see, for the buildings were high. But she loved to watch the swallows against the sky, and there was a flock of doves that often alighted on the roof across the way. Still she became very tired with nothing to do and no one to play with.

One day Mrs. Brightly came to see if she could help her. On the way home, she was busy thinking about Jennie. Suddenly she said to herself, “I know what I’ll do. There are my two little sisters who have plenty of money and hardly ever think of anyone but themselves, and there are some other little neighbors. We will have a little ‘Sunshine Band,’ and make her happy, and the children will enjoy doing something for someone who needs help. They will find that ‘it is more blessed to give than to receive.’ ”

She wrote notes to the girls, asking them to come to her house Monday afternoon. Then she told them the plan. They decided to fill a pretty basket to stand by Jennie’s bed, and take it to her on her birthday. Everything was to be put in packages, so her pleasure would last a long time, and everything was to be something for Jennie to do. Week after week they met and worked on the articles for the basket. They enjoyed it so much that they could hardly wait for Jennie’s birthday to come.

In the basket was a little jointed doll, and in the box with her were bits of bright silk and muslin, a little needlebook, thread, needles, and scissors, so that Jennie could make doll’s clothes. In another package were a box of paints and a book of pictures to color. They knew that Jennie would like to do something for someone else, so they made some little books of cotton fabric, and all the girls brought pictures for Jennie to cut out and paste in the books. When the books were made, they were to be sent to the hospital for sick children. One girl brought some sheets of paper dolls for her to cut out. Another brought a puzzle to be put together. They wrote a note to go with each package.

One bright morning when Jennie opened her eyes, she remembered it was her birthday. The first thing she saw was a big basket beside her bed, and on top a label that said, “Reach in and take out a package when you don’t know what else to do. From ‘The Sunshiners.’ ”

Just then Jennie’s mother came in with her breakfast.

“Oh, Mother!” exclaimed Jennie, “how can I wait till after breakfast before I reach in my hand? What do you suppose is in the basket?”

I am afraid Jennie did not eat much breakfast, but she waited until Mother had washed her face and brushed her hair, and father had moved her cot to the window.

At last the time came when she had “nothing to do.” Then she put her hand under the cover of the basket and felt the bundles. She took out the first one she felt; and which do you suppose it was? It was the little box that held the doll. On the top it said, “I am little orphan Arabella, and I am looking for a mamma to dress me.”

Jennie had a delightful time cutting out patterns and making clothes for little orphan Arabella. She did not open any more of her bundles for a day or two, for she wanted to make them last. And they did last for several weeks.

The girls enjoyed their giving so much that they decided to be “Sunshiners” all the year round, and they asked Jennie to be a member of the society. She could quickly think of nice things to do. Months later, when the weight was taken off her foot and she was able to walk, she was always finding someone to help and make happy, as every true “Sunshiner” should.

True Education Reader, Fourth Grade, ©1931, 272–275.

Story – Michael the Upright

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More than three hundred years ago there lived in Holland a little boy named Michael. His parents wished to bring him up to some trade; but Michael’s heart was set upon being a sailor and nothing else would please him. So he was allowed to have his way, and his father got a berth for him in a vessel about to sail for Morocco, in the north coast of Africa.

The ship belonged to a merchant who was in the habit of taking bales of cloth to sell to the natives of that place. During the voyage, he was able to see what kind of boy Michael was.

Not only was Michael quick at learning his duties, but he was a boy to be trusted. Whatever he had to do, he did as well as he could, whether anyone was looking at him or not. “This is just the boy I want,” thought the merchant, and Michael was soon raised to a higher place.

One day the merchant fell sick, and he could not go with his vessel, which was loaded and ready to sail for Morocco. What could he do? He knew of only one person to whom he could trust his cargo, and that was Michael. So he sent for him, and told him that he must take charge of it.

Michael was young, and it was a difficult task he had to face; but it was his duty, and he did not flinch from it. The ship sailed with Michael in charge, and in due time he was arranging his cloth in the marketplace in Morocco.

Now the city was ruled by a cruel tyrant called the Bey, who could do whatever he liked without anybody daring to find fault with him. On this very morning he came into the market, and after seeing the various pieces of cloth which Michael had for sale, he fixed on one and asked the price. Michael told him. The Bey offered half the sum he named.

“Nay,” said Michael, “I ask no more than it is worth. My master expects that price, and I am only his servant. I have no power to take less.” The Bey’s face grew dark with anger, and the bystanders trembled, for they knew that if the lad opposed the wishes of the cruel governor, he would be put to death. “I will give you till tomorrow to think about it,” cried the Bey, and he walked away.

Michael put back the cloth, and began calmly to wait on his other customers. Those around him begged him to give in to the Bey and save his life. But Michael replied, “My life is in God’s hands. If my master loses one penny through me, I am not a faithful servant.”

The morrow came. The Bey appeared as before; but, besides his other servants, the public executioner followed behind him. He again asked Michael the price of the cloth, and he got the same answer. “Take my life if you will,” added the brave Michael, “but I shall die as an honest man, and a true servant of my master.”

Everybody expected to hear the order, “Strike off his head!” and in a moment the executioner would have done it. But the order was not given. The face of the Bey suddenly changed.

“Thou art a noble fellow!” he cried. “Would that I had such a servant as thou art. Give me thy hand; thou shalt be my friend. I will make of the cloth a robe of honour in memory of thy faithfulness.” And the Bey threw a purse of gold upon the table, told his servants to take up the cloth, and went away.

The upright young man rose step by step till he became an admiral, and he fought the battles of his country as nobly as he sold his master’s cloth. The name of Michael Ruyter is still honored in his native land. And the chief reason why his countrymen love him so much is just this: that in the very face of death he dared to do what was right.

Storytime Treasury, Harvestime Books, compiled by P.G. Temple, ©2008, 305–308.

Story – Following Our Own Desires

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Like many people, I am an animal lover. I have had many pets during my life—dogs, cats, birds, a turtle, even a baby raccoon for a short time. We had a cat several years ago, Lukie, who proved out the scripture James 1:14, 15. Let me tell you how she did it.

Lukie was a sealpoint Siamese. We brought her home when she was just a couple months old, lovable and feisty, and barely bigger than my hand. At the time, we also had a Terrier/Schnauzer mix dog named Dixie. These two grew up together and got along quite well. But when we added Chuck, our Labrador mix, to the family, Lukie became a bit grumpy and decided that she would be the alpha animal in the family pecking order, at least where Chuck was concerned—but that is another story.

As she grew, it became apparent that she also loved food very much. Some of that came as a result of having had her spayed, and she never passed up the opportunity to eat when it presented itself.

One night on the way home from vespers, we spotted a couple of black kittens in a tree. Someone had just dumped them at the side of the road and left them to fend for themselves. It was going to be a cold night, so we stopped and brought them home, and our family grew by two.

Booker and Little Britches (or LB as we called her) were affectionate and all kitten. This displeased Lukie a great deal until she discovered that their food could be a potential source of food for her. We had to watch very carefully because Lukie could be very sneaky in finding ways to get to their food. Interestingly, they showed no interest in hers, but Lukie wanted theirs and hers as well, even knowing that she would get in trouble if she ate their food. So this is where Lukie would put James 1:14 and 15 into practical application.

You could enter our kitchen from two sides. Booker and LB’s food was on the floor on the side of the kitchen that led to the back door. Lukie knew we were always watching and she knew the consequences if she ate their food. Still, she would nonchalantly sit at the opposite entrance to the kitchen, casually looking everywhere but at the food. Literally after about ten minutes, she would move a short distance into the kitchen, closer to the food, again, gazing around as if she had no particular purpose in mind, though occasionally snatching a quick glance at the food bowls. This went on for about half an hour. I’m serious. She took a half an hour looking at that food, sneaking, she believed, closer, and weighing the possibility of being able to snatch some of it without getting caught. She would sneak closer and closer until she was sitting directly in front of the food. She would sit there for some time, just looking at it, and then, you could see her make the decision: “I’m here, I might as well help myself.”

By continually eyeing that food, continually moving closer and closer, Lukie tempted herself and was drawn by her desire for the food until she made the decision to do the very thing she knew was wrong in spite of the consequences. This was very evident when I stepped to the other side of the kitchen and said, “Hey Lukie, what ya doin’?” She responded in a splayed, four-legged attempt to get away on a linoleum floor as quickly as possible.

Another scripture that can be combined with these texts in James is Romans 13:14, which says, “But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh [sin], to fulfill its lusts.” [Emphasis supplied.] Lukie made provision for sin. Let’s not be like her. When we are drawn to do things that we know are wrong, let’s put on Christ, resist the pull of our human nature and the enticements of the devil, and do what is right instead.

“For he who sows to his flesh will of the flesh reap corruption, but he who sows to the Spirit will of the Spirit reap everlasting life. And let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart.” Galatians 6:8, 9

Story – The Greatest Love Story Ever Told

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The Magi were philosophers from the East and wise as man reckons. They studied for long years the heavens and the stars, and as they observed these marvelous things they beheld the glory of the Creator.

Even though they were considered heathens, in their wonderment they turned to the Hebrew Scriptures and learned that there were prophesies that had been handed down century after century regarding a Messiah. Even in their own land there were treasured prophesies regarding a divine Teacher. And as they studied, they learned that His coming was near.

One night they noticed an extremely bright star in the heavens, one they had not observed before. They consulted with priests and philosophers and searched the ancient records. Balaam of the Old Testament had been one of their number and they found that he had declared “There shall come a Star out of Jacob, and a Scepter shall rise out of Israel.” Numbers 24:17. Some were given dreams and in this way instructed to go in search of the newborn Prince.

They did not know that the star they beheld was actually a company of angels declaring the birth of the Messiah in a manger, in a stable, to the shepherds upon the hills outside Bethlehem. An angel had appeared to the shepherds and said, “Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people. For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Saviour who is Christ the Lord. And this will be the sign to you: You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manager.” And then this angel was joined by a multitude of angels and they all sang together, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men!” Luke 2:10–14

When that company of angels had faded away, a luminous star appeared and lingered in the sky.  This was the star observed by the Magi and we are told that once they set off, it led them each night closer to the Christ child. They brought with them rich gifts from their land, as was their custom, to bestow upon the Child. It is a beautiful thought that while the Magi had not only the physical star in the sky to guide their way to the manger, they were also given inward evidence by the Holy Spirit. And though the journey was long, this impressed their hearts and filled them with hope.

The star ultimately led them to the manger in Bethlehem and they were able to bow before the Prince of heaven and to give Him their gifts and worship and praise.

The Spirit of Prophecy says that sin had become very bad and had even found its way into the religious practices of the day. It caused rebellion in the hearts of men and made them hate God, all the while claiming to be His children. “It was demonstrated … that, apart from God, humanity could not be uplifted. A new element of life and power must be imparted by Him who made the world.” The Desire of Ages, 37

Even the inhabitants of the unfallen worlds thought that God would rise up and sweep the earth clean of sin and sinners. But this would have given Satan the opportunity to declare again that God’s government could not be both just and merciful.

But instead of destroying the world, God sent His Son to save it and though sin was everywhere, God made a way for its recovery. “At the very crisis, when Satan seemed about to triumph, the Son of God came [as an emissary] of divine grace.” Ibid.

The angel who came to tell Mary that she would give birth to the Messiah said, “[Y]ou shall call His name Jesus, for He will save His people from their sins.” Matthew 1:21. And verse 23 declares further, “ ‘and they shall call His name Immanuel … God with us.’ ”

So herein lies the greatest love story ever told. The story of a God who wanted children so much that He created worlds until one chose not to be His. Yet, His love for them was so great that instead of abandoning them, leaving them to die alone, He made a plan to send His Son to pay the price they could not pay. He came to die for their sins and to show them how to live their lives so that they could one day be restored again to their heavenly home, to live for all of eternity with their Father.

“Through every age, through every hour, the love of God had been exercised toward the fallen race. Notwithstanding the [wickedness] of men, the signals of mercy had been continually exhibited. And when the fullness of the time had come, the Deity was glorified by pouring upon the world a flood of healing grace that was never to be obstructed or withdrawn till the plan of salvation should be fulfilled.” The Desire of Ages, 37

When the need was the most dire, Jesus came. He lived. He died. He rose again. He lives. He forgives. He saves. This is love.

Adapted from The Desire of Ages

Story – At the First Thanksgiving

by

The summer days were full for the busy Pilgrims. In the fields there were only twenty men and a few boys to do all the work. There was corn to hoe, and there were gardens to weed and care for. When time could be spared from this work, there were barns to be built, and the fort to finish.

The brave men worked from morning till night preparing for the next long winter. The sun and the rain helped them. The crops grew wonderfully, and soon the hillsides were green with growing corn, and wheat, and vegetables.

When the warm days of early summer came, there were sweet wild strawberries on the sunny hills. A little later, groups of boys and girls filled their baskets with wild raspberries and juicy blackberries from the bushes on the edge of the forest. Sugar was too scarce to be used for jellies and preserves, but trays of the wild fruits were placed in the sun to dry for winter use.

The fresh green of the wheat fields began to turn a golden brown. The harvest was ripening. Before long the air rang with the steady beat of the flail, as the Pilgrims threshed their first crop of golden grain.

Soon the corn was ready to be cut and stacked in shocks. Then came the early frosts, and the Pilgrims hurried to gather the sweet wild grapes from vines which grew over bushes and low trees near the brook. The frost had opened the prickly burs and hard brown coats of the nuts, and every day Squanto went with a merry group of boys to gather chestnuts, hickory nuts, beechnuts, and walnuts.

At last the harvest was all gathered in. The Pilgrims rejoiced as they saw the bountiful supply of food for the winter. Some of the golden ears of corn they hung above the fireplace to dry for seed. The rest they shelled and buried in the ground, as Squanto showed them how to do.

As the evenings grew longer and cooler, the Pilgrims often went in to spend an hour or two at Elder Brewster’s. The men piled great logs upon the fire. Then the girls and boys drew the chairs and benches nearer the huge fireplace, and all would sit in the twilight and talk.

Sometimes they spoke of old times in England, or Holland, but usually it was of their work and the life in their new home. On this November evening everyone talked of the harvest which had just been stored away.

“Friends,” said Governor Bradford, “God has blessed our summer’s work, and has sent us a bountiful harvest. He brought us safe to this new home and protected us through the terrible winter. It is fit we have a time for giving thanks to God for His mercies to us. What say you? Shall we not have a week of feasting and of thanksgiving?”

“A week of thanksgiving!” said the Pilgrims. “Yes, let us rest from our work and spend the time in gladness and thanksgiving. God has been very good to us.”

So it was decided that the next week should be set aside for the harvest feast of thanksgiving, and that their Indian friends should be asked to join them.

Early the next morning Squanto was sent to invite Massasoit with his brother and friends to come the following Thursday.

When he returned, a party of men went into the woods for two days of hunting. They would need many deer and wild ducks to feed so large a company. When the men came back from their hunt they brought a bountiful supply of deer, rabbits, wild ducks, and turkeys.

The next few days were busy ones in Plymouth kitchens. There were the great brick ovens to heat, and bread to bake and game to dress.

“Priscilla shall be chief cook,” said Mistress Brewster. “No one can make such delicious dishes as she.”

As soon as it was light on Wednesday morning, a roaring fire was built in the huge fireplace in Elder Brewster’s kitchen. A great pile of red-hot coals was placed in the brick oven in the chimney.

Then Mary Chilton and Priscilla tied their aprons around them, tucked up their sleeves, and put white caps over their hair. Their hands fairly flew as they measured and sifted the flour, or rolled and cut cookies and tarts.

Over at another table Remember Allerton and Constance Hopkins washed and chopped dried fruits for pies and puddings. Out on the sunny doorstone Love Brewster and Francis Billington sat cracking nuts and picking out the plump kernels for the cakes Priscilla was making. What a merry place the big kitchen was!

In the afternoon all of the girls and boys went to the beach. While they were gone, some of the men, brought boards, hammers, and saws and built two long tables out-of-doors near the common-house. Here the men would eat, and a table would be spread in the elder’s house for the women and children.

It was Thanksgiving morning, and the Pilgrims were up early to prepare for the guests they had invited to the feast of thanksgiving. The air was mild and pleasant, and a soft purple haze lay upon field and wood.

“We could not have had a more beautiful day for our feast,” thought Miles Standish, as he climbed the hill to fire the sunrise gun.

Just then wild yells and shouts told the astonished Pilgrims that their guests had arrived. Down the hill from the forest came Massasoit, his brother, and nearly a hundred of his friends, dressed in their finest skins, and in holiday paint and feathers.

The captain and a number of other men went out to welcome the Indians, and the women hurried to prepare breakfast for them.

Squanto and John Alden built a big fire near the brook, and soon a broth was simmering in the great kettle.

The roll of the drum called all to prayers, for the Pilgrim’s never began a day without asking God’s blessing upon it. “The white men talk to the Great Spirit,” Squanto explained to Chief Massasoit. “They thank Him for His good gifts.” The Indians seemed to understand, and listened quietly to the prayers.

They all sat down at the long tables. The women were soon busy passing great bowls of broth to each hungry guest. There were piles of brown bread and sweet cakes; there were dishes of turnips and boiled meat, and later, bowls of pudding made from Indian corn.

While they were eating, one of the Indians brought a great basket filled with popped corn and poured it out upon the table. The Pilgrims had never seen popcorn before. They filled a large bowl with this new dainty and set it on the children’s table.

When breakfast was over, there was another service of thanksgiving, led by Elder Brewster. Then Governor Bradford took his friends to the grassy common where they would have games.

A number of little stakes were driven into the ground, and here several groups of Indians and Pilgrims played quoits, the Indians often throwing the greater number of rings over the stakes.

Then the Indians entertained their friends with some wonderful feats of running and jumping. After this Governor Bradford invited the Indians to sit down on the grass and watch the soldiers drill on the common.

The Indians sat down, not knowing what to expect, for they had never before seen soldiers drill. Suddenly they heard the sound of trumpets, and the roll of drums. Down the hill marched the little army of only nineteen men, the flag of old England waving above their heads.

To right and to left they marched, in single file or by twos and threes, then at a word from the captain, fired their muskets into the air. The Indians were not expecting this, and some sprang to their feet in alarm. Many of the Indians looked frightened.

“The white men are our friends,” Massasoit told them. “They will not harm us.”

Soon the last day of the feast arrived. How busy the women were preparing this greatest dinner! Of course the men and boys helped too. They brought water from the brook, and wood for the fire.

You should have seen the great dishes of purple grapes, the nuts and the steaming puddings. The table seemed to groan under its load of good things, The Indians had never seen such a feast. “Ugh!” said Massasoit, as he ate the puffy dumplings in Priscilla’s stew. “Ugh! The Great Spirit loves His white children.”

So the happy day ended, and the Indians returned to their wigwams. The Pilgrims never forgot their first Thanksgiving day. Each year when the harvests were gathered, they would set aside a day for thanking God for His good gifts, and for years their Indian friends joined in this feast.

Stories of the Pilgrims, Margaret B. Pumphrey, ©1991, 155–163.