As “Papa” to eight grandkids, I’ve rediscovered the joy of a great story. I am well aware that these little rugrats’ efforts to get Debby and me to read them not one, but several, stories before their bedtime is more of a devious ploy to stay up longer than to be enthralled with our skills in oral interpretation. Still, I find it one of my current challenges to be on the lookout for new material, hoping that someday soon they’ll discover the profound lessons to be learned in a good ‘yarn.’
As I sat out in the congregation Sunday, not as a leader but as a participant, one of my favorite childhood stories came to mind: “Stone Soup.” And I quickly thought of two things: 1) I need to add this to the little “nose-miners” bedtime repertoire, and 2) it actually has something to say about corporate worship. For those of you unfamiliar with this little gem, here it is:
There once was a traveler who came to a small village, tired and weary from his long journey. The traveler did not have anything to eat and hoped that a friendly villager would be able to feed him. He came to the first house and knocked on the door. He asked the woman who answered if she could spare just a small bit of food as he had traveled a long journey and was very hungry. The woman replied, “I’m sorry I have nothing to give you. I can barely feed my own family.”
So the traveler went to another door and asked again. The answer was the same: “I have nothing to give you.” He went from door to door and each time was turned away. Undaunted, the traveler went to the village square, took a large tin cooking pot, filled it with water, started a fire and dropped a stone in the pot. As he boiled the water, a passing villager stopped and asked him what he was doing. The traveler replied, “I’m making stone soup. Would you like to join me?” The villager said yes, and he asked if carrots were good in stone soup. “Sure,” said the traveler. The villager went home and returned with carrots from his garden to add to the boiling water. Soon, another curious villager came by and was invited to join them. She went home and returned with some potatoes. A young boy passed by and soon joined the group, bringing his mother and dinner plates from their home.
In time, a crowd gathered with everyone offering their own favorite ingredient: mushrooms, onions, salt, black pepper, acorn, squash. Everyone wanted to be part of the creation. Finally, the traveler removed the stone and declared, “The stone soup is ready!” And the whole community joined in a feast where there was none before.
To point one, I thought the kids would enjoy the kind of “magic” that takes place when plain water “turns into” soup! And kids like stories about cooperation. And if they’re anything like me, they also like to hear about food. If you don’t believe that, talk to the creators of VeggieTales. Finally, there is a great before and after quality to this illustration: Apart from each other—living in isolation, so to speak, everyone struggled with a sense of poverty and want. But when they decided to work together and pool their collective resources, a banquet awaited them.
As to my second point about public worship, here’s what I observed. As I looked down on the congregation last Sunday (not condescendingly-I took in the service from the tech balcony), I was struck by how many of the “worshipers” seemed disconnected from each other. You get the sense in Scriptures that God intends for His people to accomplish something collectively and connected-ly (not a word) in corporate worship that is impossible anywhere else. There should be a sense of synergy in our corporate praise, and that the whole should be greater than the sum of its parts. By observation at least, many in attendance were not engaged at all—not singing, looking around, easily distracted, appearing to be alone in a crowded room, so to speak. I realized how challenging it is for us up-fronters to help engage such a diverse and potentially disconnected lot.
But like the “magic” that took place in Stone Soup, I believe we in the local church, can begin to “taste and see that the Lord is good” when we come to worship seeking to contribute what we have to the mix. What is that, you ask? Our life experience, our faith, our spiritual gifts, our honesty, our sense of need. But we must acknowledge that at its core, worship is a giving. In the process, we get many things, but only in proportion to our desire to contribute to God and one another. David says in Psalm 116:
What shall I return to the LORD for all his goodness to me?
I will lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the LORD.
I will fulfill my vows to the LORD in the presence of all his people.
The One we come to worship, who calls us to enjoy the collective “soup” of His goodness, is no mere stone. The apostle Peter reminds us:
As you come to him, the living Stone—rejected by humans but chosen by God and precious to him—you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. For in Scripture it says: “See, I lay a stone in Zion, a chosen and precious cornerstone, and the one who trusts in him will never be put to shame.”
Stone soup, anyone?
tad