The young, African boy peaked his head around the side opening of his hut. As the early morning warmth from his Creator soaked into his face, he picked up a small tin pail and set out to get water for his family’s early morning meal.
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| Just One Verse at a time |
Walking along the Creator’s presence wrapped around him through fierce wind like he was a package getting ready to be sent away. He trotted on imagining what it would be like to be swept up by the wind. Lost in his thoughts, he caught a glimpse of something move. It was from the corner of his eye, almost behind him. Then it caught up and passed him, swirling and turning high in the wind’s grip. The boy began to run to catch up to it, his pail bouncing side-to-side clanging against his leg. What is it? What is it? He could not tell.
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| that’s all it takes |
As the wind settled he moved in closer. It was almost at arm’s reach. It was a page – a page from that big book the pastor held in his hand a few days ago under the hanger. The wind started up again and carried the page further whipping and swirling, high and low, high and low, so that the boy could not get it. “One verse”, he thought. “Just one verse. If only I had one verse.”
Finally the wind settled again and the page landed calmly on the ground. The boy reached out his foot to hold it in place. Picking up the page he looked at it, and his head immediately drooped low. Only one verse. But the words he did not know.
“If only I had one verse, then I could feel my Creator’s warmth and strength through His Word.”
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| to bring the Word of God |
The next morning the boy set out just like the day before. Except on this day his Creator was in the rain that fell from the sky. Soft and steady the rain fell, and the boy turned his head towards Heaven and gave thanks for the earth’s nutrition. After walking almost a mile the rain slowed to a trickle, and the boy sat down for a rest under a bush. He glanced at the dirt around him still packed tight despite the moisture from the rain, and looking to his right he saw something similar to the day before – another page from that big book the pastor held in his hand. The boy picked up the paper still damp and a little smudged, but maybe this time, just maybe. “Only one verse is all I need.” So he pierced closely at the words on the page, and this is what he saw.
He was so close two days in a row. The young boy stood up, discouraged and sad, and continued his journey taking the page with him. “Maybe one day I will have just one verse.”
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| to children |
The next morning came just as quickly as the day before. The young boy set out on his daily trek for water at the well. Today His Creator was in thick, soupy mud that stuck to his sandals as he walked. He was so grateful for the rain from the day before. As he walked along the familiar path he saw something white sticking out of the mud. Excitement overtook him. “Maybe, just maybe, this will be it, and I will get one verse from my Creator.”
He walked over to the page and slowly pulled it out of the mud. The young boy sat down and cried. All he wanted was one verse. One verse from the mouth of his Creator, the Creator he sees in the sun and the wind and the rain and the mud. The Creator that gives him hope. Just one verse. Just one verse from God. But again this is what he saw.
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| who otherwise may never read It. |
That evening the boy was ready to sleep for the night. He looked out of the opening of his hut and saw the moon reflecting all the glory from the day. He knew his Creator made that moon, but he wanted so desperately to read His Word.
The boy went back inside the hut and took out the three pages he found over the last several days. He put them on his cot, one beside the other, and stared at the message they held. His eyes opened wide. He could not believe what he saw. Words he could understand.
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