from the pastor

September 8, 2002

On Friday morning I took the train to Chicago to spend the day with Alison and see how she is getting along at DePaul University in her first week after leaving home. I was able to get to Chicago by 9:30 a.m. and stay until 8 p.m., when last train heads back to Champaign. We spent most of the day walking, riding the CTA train, and catching buses. A more enjoyable walking part was about a mile and a half along Lake Michigan, ending up in the Field Museum of Natural History. Alison decided she wanted to check out the displays on chocolate and pearls that the museum is featuring these days. I must confess that through the years I have paid more attention to chocolate than I have pearls. I never realized, for instance, that most pearls aren’t round. In the first 10 minutes of the display, I must have shook my head and said a half dozen times, "I sure didn’t know that not all pearls are round." At that point Alison threatened to send me outside if I didn’t think of something more intelligent to say. The entire display was very inspiring, but I still didn’t buy her the pearl choker in the gift shop at the end of the tour.

The chocolate display provided a glimpse into the production of chocolate: from the bean trees of Central America, through the roasting, the grinding, and the recipes. Today the continent of Africa exports the most chocolate. There was also a history of chocolate. It has varied from being an exclusive drink to being a popular drink. Prior to the Spanish conquests of Latin America, it was very popular in regions where the cacao plant grows. But in areas far from the cacao crops, it was only a drink for royalty. When the Spaniards discovered it in the 16th century, they didn’t let the rest of Europe know for a while. But you know the rest of the story.

The rest of our day Friday consisted of a trip to Target, (a ritual for all college freshmen), the grocery store for dorm-room supplies, a sandwich shop for lunch, and a Mexican restaurant for dinner.

When I got up this morning, I altered my routine. Usually the first thing I do on a Sunday morning is make the coffee. This morning, however, I poured a cup of milk, squirted some chocolate syrup into it, stuck it in the microwave for a couple minutes, and enjoyed a drink of the ‘frothy brew,’ just like the museum display said was the custom of Native American royalty. It was very satisfying.

And I am reflecting that stories can be transforming. Advertisers know that. In the short stories told in commercials, merchants hope we will be subtly persuaded to buy their products. Parents know that. Ever since my dad told me about the guy who stuck his arm out the car window and got it knocked off by an oncoming car, I have never stuck my own arm out the window--when a car was coming. And in church we know that stories are transforming. That is why we tell our stories of love and mercy, forgiveness and transformation, the power of God and the gifts of the Holy Spirit. We want to wake up each morning and drink in the power, blessing, and grace of THAT life. And by the way, when we were at the grocery store, I did offer to buy Alison some chocolate milk, but she preferred to wait for the pearl necklace. --Mike

Archive of sermons and Sunday morning letters by Pastor Mike     Grace Home Page