Scout Sunday 1 Cor 13
Prologue...I'm in a quandary. Series on Mark, Scouts present, Valentine's Day, want to inspire, what to do?
Tell this story:
It was...well...a dark and stormy night. Thunder echoed from mountain to marsh as sheets of rain descended on the sleepy village of Saint Horribleburg. A flock of bats flapped into the gloom; the red eyes of unknown creatures glowed in the darkness. But the most frightening sight of all stood miles past the burghermeister's cottage at the edge of town, high on the brink of a forbidding cliff.
It was a castle--a castle whose cold, gray stones flashed white with each explosion of lightning. It was...the Castle Van Gelical!
Somewhere a wolf--or something--howled. Chains rattled, trees shivered, and even the wind seemed to moan over what was about to happen.
Inside the castle dungeon, an eerie light began to glow. A long, bony hand adjusted the flame of an oil lamp. The glow increased, dimly revealing a profusion of bottles, flasks, test tubes and retorts that bubbled foul liquids over Bunsen burners. An odor of madness seemed to hang in the air, because this -- this was the laboratory of the maddest scientist of them all. This was the laboratory of the infamous
Dr. Emil Van Gelical!
A rat scrabbled across the granite floor as a gaunt figure stepped into the light. It was Dr. Van Gelical himself, wearing a once-white laboratory coat now stained with the evidence of his notorious experiments. His cheek twitched; his wide eyes gleamed as he gazed at the sheet-covered table in the center of the room.
Under the sheet lay a human form. Or
was it human? The crazed surgeon seemed to contemplate that question as he approached the table, rubbing his hands together, his mouth awry with a twisted grin.
Suddenly he turned toward the door. "Igor!" he shouted. "Come quickly. There is much work to be done!"
Irregular footsteps descended the dungeon staircase. In moments a shuffling, hunchbacked ragbag of an assistant appeared, carrying a candelabrum and a large cardboard box.
"Yes, master," Igor replied, groveling. "Here are the materials you ordered. All is in readiness!"
"Good, good," the doctor breathed. "Bring the materials to the table, Igor. It is time to begin...the experiment!"
The crash of a thunderbolt was heard as Igor dragged his box to the side of the table. "I
love experiments, master," he said, fawning. "Even though the villagers say you are crazy---"
The doctor whirled. "Crazy, am I?" he bellowed, his cheek twitching furiously. "I'll show them who's crazy. Those fools in the village, calling me mad -- how dare they? I'll show them -- I'll show them all! I'll --"
"Of
course you will, master," Igor soothed, bowing deeply. "Everyone knows you are a genius. The name of
Van Gelical is known throughout the district, throughout the province --"
"And soon throughout the world!" the doctor declared.
"Yes, master," said Igor. "Perhaps your fame would have spread sooner if you hadn't borrowed the burghermeister's cerebellum before he was finished with it --"
"Silence!" shouted the doctor, glowering at his assistant. "That was a trivial matter, Igor, and one soon to be forgotten. For tonight I will conduct the greatest experiment of my career. Tonight will be.....my ultimate triumph!"
"Oooh," Igor murmered. "I
love triumphs!"
The doctor raised his fist heavenward. "I am going to achieve what no man has done before," he announced. "Tonight I create ..... spiritual
life!"
Barooom, roared the thunder. Igor cringed. Flashes of lightning illumined the doctor's wild and slightly crossed eyes. "This is my finest hour, Igor," he cried over the din of the storm. "For tonight I create .....
Christianstein!"
A deafening thunderclap rocked the dungeon. Igor swallowed. "C-C-Christianstein?" He repeated.
"Yes, Igor," the doctor hissed, grasping his assistant's misshapen shoulders. "They call me a madman, an evil genius, a tamperer with nature. But tonight I will prove them wrong. Christianstein will be the greatest specimen of spiritual life the world has ever known! He'll have everything, Igor. Everything!
Igor nodded vigorously. The doctor drew back. "Very well, Igor," he said. "Let the operation begin!"
"I
love operations," Igor said, positioning himself at his master's side. He gasped as the doctor pulled the sheet from the table, uncovering the inanimate form of a young man who was dressed in a white shirt, gray tie, and blue polyester suit.
"The moment has come," the doctor intoned. "Give me my surgical gloves."
"Yes, master," Igor said and complied.
"Scalpel," came the next command. Again the assistant did as he was told. In rapid succession the forceps, sponges, clamps and tubes followed. At length the perspiring doctor took a deep breath and consulted a clipboard; it was time to equip his creation.
"Give me the voice of a great evangelist, Igor!" he ordered.
"Yes, master," Igor replied and handed him a jar from the box.
"The courage of Stephen!" came the next instruction. Igor produced a dusty vial.
"The patience of Job!" the doctor commanded and was rewarded with an ancient-looking flask.
After what seemed like hours, the doctor straightened from his labors. "Now, the hypodermic," he ordered, "and the serums I distilled."
Igor's hands trembled as he presented a long, steel syringe. From the box he brought a tray of bottles filled with weirdly colored fluids.
"Double doses of daily prayer and Bible reading," the surgeon murmered, withdrawing liquid from one of the bottles and injecting it into the lifeless figure's arm. "Then faithful church attendance...generous giving...temperance...volunteer work...ability to resist temptation...witnessing..." He paused, then filled the syringe with fluid from the final container. "And last -- but not least -- a triple injection of.....
orthodoxy!"
Thunder boomed again as the doctor reread his clipboard list. "Examine the box, Igor," he said. "Have we forgotten anything?"
"Oh, no, master," his assistant answered, turning the carton upside down and shaking it. "Everything must be in place!"
"Excellent!" the doctor cried, yanking off his rubber gloves and fastening a pair of power cables to his creation's neck. "This is the moment the world has waited for. This is the moment for...Christianstein!"
He dashed to the nearest wall, where an electrical control panel waited. "A million volts of lightning will bring my creation to life," he declared. "Now stand back, while I throw the power switch...and prepare to meet the perfect Christian --
Christianstein!"
Igor covered his eyes with his hands. With a flourish the doctor threw the massive switch from OFF to ON as an avalanche of thunder shook the castle. Lightning burst around them like a thousand suns; showers of sparks cascaded from the control panel as raw energy surged through the wires.
Smoke began to rise from the form on the table. Igor coughed, waving the fumes away. When they cleared, he beheld a heart-stopping sight.
The figure was quivering.
"Doctor!" Igor shouted. "He -- he's moving!"
The surgeon rushed to see the figure raise its hand. "Yes, Igor, yes!" he cried. "My creation is -- alive!"
Master and servant watched breathlessly as the thing called Christianstein slowly pulled itself to a sitting position. Then, stiffly, it climbed from the table and stood to its full height.
"Oooh," Igor breathed. "You've done it, master! He's perfect -- the perfect Christian!"
"Oh, my creation," the doctor said, transfixed. "Speak to me!"
The figure looked down at the doctor and frowned. At last it began to speak -- in a low and hostile growl:
"If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love..."
"
Love?" said the doctor, scanning his clipboard with puzzlement.
Slowly the creature raised its arms in the direction of the doctor, who continued to consult his list. "If I have the gift of prophecy," it growled, "and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love..."
"
Love?" the doctor said impatiently. "Igor, what is he talking about?"
"I -- I don't know, master," Igor answered, dropping to his knees and hiding under the table.
"If I give all I possess to the poor," the creature said, his voice building to a roar, "and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love..." Suddenly he grabbed the doctor's laboratory coat and lifted him off the floor. "I...gain...
nothing!"
The doctor gulped. "N-nothing?" he repeated. "N-not even a little something?"
"
Aaarrggghhh!" the creature bellowed, dropping the doctor and reaching for his throat.
"Igor, you fool!" the doctor shouted, stumbling backward and scrambling for the door. "I knew we'd left something out!" He clambered up the stairs as his creation lumbered after him. "Such a little thing," the doctor cried, his voice fading into the distance.
Several minutes passed before Igor could find the courage to move. Slowly he looked out from under the table -- first one way, then the other. Finally he spoke.
"I--I think we've created a monster," he whispered.
Somewhere a wolf -- or something -- howled.
Love is the ultimate thing that matters...God is love. If you provide your kids a car at age 16 -- so what? without love. If you buy everything for your spouse, if you spoil the grandkids, if you hire people in your business, if you leave money to the church in your will.....................
Re-read verses 4-7.
Story of Woody.
May our God who is abundantly able, grant you a heart filled with love in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen
