Thanksgifting

[Alcott]

As there have been a few threads about spiritual gifts recently, and that has been the subject of our LIfe Goup's Bible study for the past few weeks, I have decided to share the story I have written in support of this topic, using the characters I have written about for over 20 years.

Thanksgifting
Part 1​

Timothy Daniel Rockfort picked his page of folded paper as Randy Klemm, teacher of the Singles I class of the Capernaum Baptist Church of Sandville, Texas, began distributing them around the circle of attendees. The subject of the class discussion on this early November Sunday was Spiritual Gifts, which the class had started the previous week, with consensus agreement that every Christian has at least one gift and all are for the building up of the body, which is the church. But any tests or evaluations to determine one's own gift had not taken place. Instead, Randy's approach had been to open today's class with the question, "What would you do with the gift of-- fill in the blank-- if you had it?" This did not produce any answers, which Randy had expected, so he immediately went into this exercise. A practical illustration was often an element of his teaching style.


Tim unfolded his page of papers and saw it contained a picture of a big bowl of cornbread dressing. Tim held it up for the class to see, though he did not yet know what was coming. At Tim's left, Cheryl Johnson, with whom Tim had an ongoing, though indefinite, relationship, picked and unfolded another page and it was a picture of a small, boneless ham. "Well, I'm not exactly sure what to think about this," she remarked to a few chuckles, while holding up her photo.

The next to pick and show a picture was Ken Marcum, Tim's friend who worked as a salesman. The subject of his photo was a big ear of corn. A few more chuckles were heard as Ken said, "This seems to be a corny way to learn about spiritual gifts."

Randy finally spoke up about getting to the point of the exercise. "Just let everyone get a page and show it, and then we'll get to how this relates to spiritual gifts."

There was only one visitor in class this day, and expectedly he was seated next to Annie Green, who always seemed to manage to put herself next to any new male visitors in class. Randy reread the guy's name tag and said, "Jason, go ahead and take one. It should make sense before long here." So Jason reached out his hand started to take the page on the bottom. But Randy pulled back his hand which held the papers and said, "I'm sorry, Jason, but that one is the only one we wouldn't want a visitor to take. Please don't be offended, but there is a reason. I was hoping you would select another one, so I wouldn't have to say that.” So Jason grinned and picked another page.

"Well," said Annie, "then I'll take that one." But before she finished pronouncing the last L in well, Randy had begun to shuffle the pages. "Awe, Randy," Annie lamented, "Jason may like that one, so if he can't have it, maybe I could like it for him." She smiled at Jason, who looked down with an embarrassed grin. Annie then picked another page which was a picture of stuffed celery. Realizing that she had not looked at Jason’s new selection, she leered over and saw it was deviled eggs glittering with paprika.

There were more jokes and chuckles as the rest of the class picked a page and held it up. Vicki Reyes showed dinner rolls. Tim's best friend, Eddie Alcott, showed a roast turkey. Kim Morast, the youngest of the class regulars, showed giblet gravy. The remaining four displayed sweet potatoes, a glass of iced tea with a cup of coffee, a pumpkin pie, and finally one with a photo of an entire dining room with a table and cloth. There remained four pages "unclaimed," as Randy had prepared for as many as sixteen.

 

[Alcott]

"Alright," began Randy, getting back behind the podium, "I presume that all these printed pages represent something that is very familiar that we'll probably be experiencing in a few weeks."

"Thanksgiving dinner" muttered most of the class, in anything but unison.

"Very good," said Randy, a bit smugly. "But now, how might this apply to our subject of spiritual gifts?"

Members of the class turned their head one way, then the other. "We're thankful for our spiritual gifts;" said Ken, "and that's not corny."

Eddie added, "With ham, turkey and corn, maybe this means our gifts are not necessarily-- uh complimentary?—or at least, they don’t all look to be.”

"Well," considered Randy, "both you guys may be right, in a way. But that's not the gist of it."

"Spiritual gifts are supposed to be balanced," said Vicki. "You know, all the different parts add up to make the whole thing, like the parts of a Thanksgiving feast."

Randy held up his index finger. "That's getting there."

"That," said Tim, "plus the perception that some may be seen as more important than others-- like the turkey is usually the 'star' of the Thanksgiving meal, while corn, green beans, carrots-- they might be a go or a no-go."

"Hmm," mused Randy, "I suppose that may have some comparative truths, especially since you said perception of these levels of importance. But where we’re ultimately going today-- there's still one significant part that hasn't been mentioned."

Whether it was by his own volition or by his long experience as a teacher who really knows his class members, Randy's eyes turned straight in the direction of Cheryl, who nearly always had the best answers in a serious discussion. Cheryl did not disappoint Randy as she responded, "If we go to a feast, such as at Thanksgiving, that has all these selections, we'll take and appreciate what we like best. But somebody has to prepare all this-- hopefully a number of somebodies. So if we want to contribute-- present our gift or gifts-- what's needed may not be what we like, or what we think we're good at."

Randy smiled, and Tim touched Cheryl's hand with his own. "Need I say she got the point?" said Randy. "Jason," he added, "Cheryl's the one with the best answers in this group. Although we're not talking about our individual gifts today, Cheryl is like wisdom personified."

"Don't I know it," commented Annie. "I've had to ask her advice so many times I think she ought to start a Q & A column in some online publication."

"Anyway," Randy cut in, not willing to let his compliments about Cheryl become a distraction, "this is where it's all been leading. If that feast is like the result of all our efforts to build an assembly of praise, then all of us will have a part in the preparation. But maybe-- just maybe-- that gift we are to work on and share may not be what we would like. And the same may be true for our spiritual gifts. It can be like opening a present wrapped in colorful paper, and then wondering either what it is, or why it was given to you-- perhaps you would hope you can exchange it. But regarding our spiritual gifts, we wouldn't be given one that we can't use. So, one point about these gifts is that they are not necessarily-- maybe not at all-- given to us on the basis of what we like or want."

"That's good," remarked Eddie. "I don't even like turkey very much; not as good as chicken, anyway."

"I'm glad you admitted that," replied Randy, "because that furthers our illustration here. Have you ever cooked a turkey, Eddie?"

"No," Eddie answered.

"Ken, how well do you cook ears of corn?" inquired Randy.

"Good enough for me," Ken replied. "Maybe I'd look up a new method if it’s also for somebody else."

"I do hope you guys give it your best effort--" said Randy, "because, when we have our class Thanksgiving dinner three weeks from today, those are going to be your parts."

The class seemed to snap to attention at this, most looking again at their own pages they had drawn. "Now wait a minute--" said Eddie, "I've never cooked a turkey before in my life. Do you really expect--"

"That's right," said Randy. "I'm sure several here have some research to do. And Jason, that page you started to pick was the one with the picture of the dining room-- which means the one who gets it has to contribute hospitality. Depending on that person's own situation, we may or may not have it at his or her home; but he or she is still responsible for plates, cups, being the one to call with questions, and-- well, a big responsibility. And we didn't want to put a visitor on the spot with that."

"Thank you," said Jason, very emphatically.

"I'm sure you could pull it off anyway, Jason," said Annie, with her admiring smile. "You look like a wonderful host to me." By this time Jason had learned to laugh with the rest of the class at Annie's flirtatious lines.

"If I have trouble with the corn," said Ken, "I'll write to the Jolly Green Giant."

"I hardly ever eat ham myself," said Cheryl, "but I'll have it for y'all who must have heard that you are what you eat."

"I'll be there with the dressing" added Tim. "And that really is my line-- I don't think I've ever shown up at a class activity without dressing."

"And I'll show up with the rolls," said Vicki." But I guess I'll have to rent one-- I still drive a Nissan."

Randy got a bit of a charge out of these quips, which seemed to affirm that his idea for an illustration of more than just words was developing meaning, and in a fun way. Yet, he had been concerned that this “illustration” might be going out on a limb, knowing that there would likely be a few no-shows who might refuse to be part of it, in addition to legitimate reasons that the Thanksgiving dinner might be without certain parts. But it also occurred to him that could be part of the illustration, also— how if some do not exercise their spiritual gifts, the body will be short a few things, though it would still get by. So he made up his mind to go through with this. But now he was concerned that, while the visitor, Jason, did not get the hospitality page, he hardly knew the one who did get it-- a guy named Dennis Bryan, who did not attend very often and rarely took part in class discussions. Possibly this could be worse than a visitor getting the hospitality page.

Nevertheless, the class continued on talking about spiritual gifts and “hamming it up” and “rolling along.” Fortunately, it had been announced the previous week that the Lunch Bunch—anyone in the class and guests thereof who wished to go-- would meet at the Coahuila Café after church, and these issues could be discussed. Randy would make it a point to invite Dennis personally, although he had never gone to lunch with the class before.

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Does anyone care to read the rest of the story?