Sunday School Lessons Part 1

Sunday School Lessons
Part 1

A Bag of Potatoes

One of my teachers had each one of us bring a clear plastic bag and a sack of potatoes to class. For every person we’d refuse to forgive in our life experience,
we were told to choose a potato, write on it the name and date, and put it in the
plastic bag. Some of our bags, as you can imagine, were quite heavy. We were
then told to carry this bag with us everywhere for one week, putting it beside our
bed at night, on the car seat when driving, and next to our desk at work.

The hassle of lugging this around with us made it clear what a weight we were
carrying spiritually, and how we had to pay attention to it all the time to not forget,
and keep leaving it in embarrassing places. Naturally, the condition of the potatoes deteriorated to a nasty slime. This was a great metaphor for the price we pay for keeping our pain and heavy negativity! Too often we think of forgiveness as a gift
to the other person, and it clearly is for ourselves! So the next time you decide you can’t forgive someone, ask yourself -- isn’t MY bag heavy enough?

~ Author Unknown ~

Catch of a Lifetime

He was 11years old and went fishing every chance he got from the dock at his
family’s cabin on an island in the middle of a New Hampshire lake. On the day
before bass season opened, he and his father were fishing early in the evening, catching sunfish and perch with worms. Then he tied on a small silver lure and practiced casting. The lure struck the water and caused colored ripples in the
sunset, and then silver ripples as the moon rose over the lake.

When his pole doubled over, he knew something huge was on the other end.
His father watched with admiration as the boy skillfully worked the fish alongside
the dock. Finally he very gingerly lifted the exhausted fish from the water. It was
the largest one he had ever seen, but it was a bass.

The boy and his father looked at the handsome fish, gills playing back and forth
in the moonlight. The father lit a match and looked at his watch. It was 10 p.m. -
two hours before the season opened. He looked at the fish, then at the boy. “
You’ll have to put it back, son,” he said. “Dad!” cried the boy. “There will be other
fish,” said his father. “Not as big as this one,” cried the boy. He looked around
the lake. No other fishermen or boats were anywhere around in the moonlight.
He looked again at his father.

Even though no one had seen them, nor could anyone ever know what time he
caught the fish, the boy could tell by the clarity of his father’s voice that the decision was not negotiable. He slowly worked the hook out of the lip of the huge bass
and lowered it into the black water. The creature swished its powerful body and disappeared. The boy suspected that he would never again see such a great fish.

That was 34 years ago. Today the boy is a successful architect in New York City.
His father’s cabin is still there on the island in the middle of the lake. He takes his
own son and daughters fishing from the same dock. And he was right. He has
never again caught such a magnificent fish as the one he landed that night long
ago. But he does see that same fish - again and again - every time he comes up against a question of ethics. For, as his father taught him, ethics are simple matters
of right and wrong. It is only the practice of ethics that is difficult.

Do we do right when no one is looking? Do we refuse to cut corners to get the
design in on time? Or refuse to trade stocks based on information that we know
we aren’t supposed to have? We would if we were taught to put the fish back
when we were young for we would have learned the truth.

The decision to do right lives fresh in our memory. It is a story we will proudly tell
our friends and grandchildren. Not about how we had a chance to beat the system
and took it, but about how we did the right thing and were forever strengthened.

~ James P. Lenfestey ~

I Am the Clay

The Bible says that God is the potter and I am the clay and I picture myself as a
lump of dry clay. The potter gently picks me up with his warm, strong hands. He
adds drops of water, to make me flexible and easier to work with. Then, after I
am of the correct texture, the potter lifts me higher... higher... and then PLOP!
He throws me down hard to remove all of my air bubbles and flaws.

Next he puts me on the wheel and I turn and turn. He shapes me exactly as he
wants me, pushing and molding me. Sometimes the pushing hurts, but I know
that when he is finished, I will be a beautiful creation. All of this pain, this turning
in circles, will be worth it!

As the potter pulls and stretches, I start to take on the shape he wants me to
be. And when the potter has me as he wants me, he places me in the kiln to
be fired...“It’s hot in here!” Now my time in the kiln is done. “Hurry potter, take
me out of here! But no, He knows that if I cool too fast I’ll crack. He knows what
he is doing!

Now it’s time... the potter reaches into the kiln and gently lifts me out. I’m solid,
strong and stable. My walls are perfect and I have no flaws. The potter uses a
glaze to make me beautiful both inside and out. All that I have been through
- being thrown onto the table, the monotony of going round and round on the
wheel, the force of his hands, the heat in the kiln -- has been worth it! The potter
has made something wonderfully special!

Isaiah 64:8
O LORD,
You are our Father;
We are the clay, and You our potter;
And all we are the work of Your hand.

Lessons about Life
1

Many years ago, when I worked as a volunteer at a hospital, I got to know a little
girl named Liz who was suffering from a rare and serious disease. Her only chance
of recovery appeared to be a blood transfusion from her 5-year old brother, who
had miraculously survived the same disease and had developed the antibodies needed to combat the illness.

The doctor explained the situation to her little brother, and asked the little boy if
he would be willing to give his blood to his sister. I saw him hesitate for only a
moment before taking a deep breath and saying, “Yes, I’ll do it if it will save her.”

As the transfusion progressed, he lay in bed next to his sister and smiled, as we
all did, seeing the color returning to her cheeks. Then his face grew pale and his
smile faded. He looked up at the doctor and asked with a trembling voice, “Will
I start to die right away?” Being young, the little boy had misunderstood the doctor;
he thought he was going to have to give his sister all of his blood in order to save
her.

You see understanding and attitude,
after all, is everything you have.

During my second month of nursing school, our professor gave us a pop quiz. I
was a conscientious student and had breezed through the questions, until I read
the last one: “What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?” Surely
this was some kind of joke. I had seen the cleaning woman several times. She
was tall, dark-haired and in her 50s, but how would I know her name?

I handed in my paper, leaving the last question blank. Just before class ended,
one student asked if the last question would count toward our quiz grade.
“Absolutely,” said the professor. “In your careers, you will meet many people.
All are significant. They deserve your attention and care, even if all you do is
smile and say ‘hello’.” “I’ve never forgotten that lesson. I also learned her name
was Mary.”

Always remember those who serve you. In the days when an ice cream sundae
cost much less, a 10 year old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table.
A waitress put a glass of water in front of him. “How much is an ice cream sundae?”
he asked. “Fifty cents,” replied the waitress. The little boy pulled his hand out of
his pocket and studied the coins in it. “Well, how much is a plain dish of ice cream?” he inquired.

By now more people were waiting for a table and the waitress was growing
impatient. “Thirty-five cents,” she brusquely replied.” The little boy again counted
his coins. “I’ll have the plain ice cream,” he said. The waitress brought the ice
cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream,
paid the cashier and left. When the waitress came back, she began to cry as
she wiped down the table. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were
two nickels and five pennies.

You see, he couldn’t have the sundae,
because he had to have enough left to leave her a tip.

Once a king had a great highway built for the members of his kingdom. After
it was completed, but before it was opened to the public, the king decided to
have a contest. He invited as many as desired to participate. Their challenge
was to see who could travel the highway the best.

On the day of the contest the people came. Some of them had fine chariots,
some had fine clothing, fine hairdos, or great food. Some young men came in
their track clothes and ran along the highway. People traveled the highway all
day, but each one, when he arrived at the end, complained to the king that there
was a large pile of rocks and debris left on the road at one spot and this got in
their way and hindered their travel.

At the end of the day, a lone traveler crossed the finish line warily and walked
over to the king. He was tired and dirty, but he addressed the king with great
respect and handed him a bag of gold. He explained, “I stopped along the way
to clear a pile of rocks and debris that was blocking the road. This bag of gold
was under it all. I want you to return it to its rightful owner.” The king replied, “You
are the rightful owner.” The traveler replied, “Oh no, this is not mine. I’ve never
known such money.” “Oh yes,” said the king, “you’ve earned this gold, for you
won my contest.”

~ Author Unknown ~

He who travels the road best is he
who makes the road smoother for those who will follow.
Every obstacle presents an opportunity to improve our condition.

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