Lost and Found, Stories of Christmas Read online

  “Bob, we’ve already gone through this,” interrupted a Board member. “Get on to the report!” Everyone began shouting, “The report! The report!”

  “All right, all right,” said Mr. Winstead. “If that’s what you want. I now call on Phil Nebble to give us the report — Mr. Nebble.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Chairman and friends. First of all, I would like to say that being chosen to chair this committee was, indeed, the work from above, considering that I am an efficiency expert and quite capable in handling this sort of thing. I want to thank the committee for its tireless work. Some of us haven’t had any sleep in the past few nights. I’m sorry that all the committee isn’t here tonight. A few, I’m sorry to say, stayed home. They didn’t make it. Well, on to the report.”

  “First of all let me share with you the way in which we arrived at the system for determining the selection of the ticket holders. Because we don’t know what’s in a person’s heart we tried to stay away from one’s religious qualifications. The only things we took into account were the visible things. So we listed attributes that we felt it would be necessary for a person to possess, and then assigned points based on that list of items. After we did this for every name given to us, and I might add that we had over 2,000 names to process, we tallied up the scores and the top 253 scores will be recommended by this committee to get a ticket.”

  Mr. Nebble then brought out a chart on which there were the headings: Church Attendance, Financial Support, Special Gifts, Attendance at Meetings, Jobs in Church, Boards, Sunday School Teachers, Ushers.

  “Now as you see on this chart, we have listed all the attributes that we consider our ‘point items.’ When all points were tallied up, the number of years that the person has been active in the church was used as a multiplier and that gave us our final total. Mr. Chairman, I have here the list of the top 253 scores.” The people attending the Business Meeting began to stir and talk among themselves. There were groans of disappointment and shouts of joy as the list passed among the people. On this night there were more groans than shouts of joy.

  “Come to order! Come to order, please!” shouted Mr. Winstead. “Thank you, Mr. Nebble. Are there questions about the 253 people who will get these tickets, or the report by Mr. Nebble and his committee ... yes, Connie?”

  “Well, Mr. Winstead. My name isn’t on here, and that’s understandable since I have only been a member here for six months, but I am disturbed about the omission of Miss Dorsey.” Everyone looked at the list and gasped when they could not find Miss Dorsey’s name. “If there is anyone deserving a ticket, it certainly should be Miss Dorsey,” continued Connie. “She is the person who led me and many others to the Lord through her sweet and patient witness.”

  “Yes! Yes!” said the others

  “In her way, she has done more for the church than anyone I know. Helen, you said yourself the other day that if Miss Dorsey wasn’t in Heaven, you didn’t want to go.” Helen looked down in shame. Connie sat down, emotionally upset.

  “Mr. Nebble,” said Mr. Winstead. “Connie has a point. Would you care to speak to that?”

  Mr. Nebble stood up. Looking serious, he said, “Let me point out again, that type of judgment can only be made by God. I may give someone ten points for patience, another may think it is worth eleven, or maybe eight. If we had taken into consideration things like faith, hope, and love, there would have been screams of outrage. So we stayed away from those things ...”

  The discussion of the Business Meeting faded in the background and the two angels, Sigmund and Mortimer, began to walk to the exit shaking their heads.

  “Well, Mortimer, if I may be allowed to say something without fear of being hit by lightning, the front office has really made a mess with this one. Why, this is the worst thing that could have happened to these people. Look at them! Faces twisted in anger, hands clenched in greed ... wanting to go to Heaven should inspire people to do good things, not this.”

  “Yes, I agree, Sigmund, but it isn’t our job to criticize. We are merely to report. But I must agree with you. These tickets have turned them into a bunch of greedy people.”

  “I suppose the front office knows what it’s doing. I’m sure they took into account everything that could go wrong down here. I just don’t know, Mortimer, I just don’t know. I suppose the risk that is being taken is worth it, but I sure could have thought of a better ...”

  Sigmund was interrupted by a ball which bounced up into his arms. Two little boys came running after it. Mortimer reached down and handed the ball to its owner, little Tommy Jergenson. “Gee, thanks,” Tommy said as he took the ball and ran off with his little friend, Eddie.

  “It sure doesn’t seem like they are affected by all this, does it, Sigmund?”

  “No, it seems as though they are the only sane people around here! They are also the only ones who can see us.”

  Act Vl

  December 25th

  The big day finally arrived, December 25th. At one minute past midnight they came: Roundbottom, Percy, Winstead, Nebble, the Jergenson family, Rev. Holtman, and all the rest. Their number: 253. They didn’t know for sure how or where it would happen, but they thought the church building would be their best bet. So, for twenty long, squirming hours they sat in the sanctuary. No one dared move. It could happen in the twinkling of an eye.

  At first, everyone tried to do the thing they thought would be the thing to do when entering Heaven. Some bowed their heads and prayed, some looked at the ceiling and grinned, some knelt, others raised their hands in praise. Still others said memory verses from the Bible (specifically learned for this occasion). Most, however, just looked around at their friends doing things they had never seen them do before. This lasted about an hour. Arms got tired, necks got stiff, memory verses ran out, and the children got hungry.

  No one had brought any food. Twenty hours of waiting. Imagine that with hungry, tired children.

  Finally, one of the ticket holders stood up and said, “Look at us! Does this look like we are about to enter Heaven? It’s Christmas! Let’s sing a Christmas carol ... Joy to the World, that’s it! Let’s go to Heaven singing Joy to the World!”

  Well, that got the troops stirred up and on their feet. However, after the fifteenth round of Joy to the World they began dropping like flies. On the twentieth attempt, only the children were singing.

  “Hush!” said Miss Percy, and once again silence fell upon the room.

  This was supposed to be a joyous occasion. Christmas! Soon everyone would be in Heaven! Guaranteed! What more could one want for Christmas? A ticket to Heaven! That’s all they talked about, thought about. That’s all they’d lived and fought for these past weeks, a ticket to Heaven! Now they each had one. They each had what they wanted more than anything else in all the world, and there they sat. Twenty-one hours of misery!

  Twenty-one hours of thinking about what had happened in the past several weeks. Twenty-one hours of thinking about the lives they had lived. First on the list, 53rd on the list, 242nd on the list — it made no difference. They each held their ticket in their hand and thought of its price and the price they had paid for a lot of things in life. By worldly standards, they deserved a ticket to Heaven, but what about God’s standards? And worst of all, was this the way Heaven was going to be? Gloomy people sitting around thinking such thoughts? Was this going to be their eternal Home?

  It was now December 25th at 11:55 p.m. Just five more minutes and this day would end. Was God making fools out of them? No, they had already done that themselves. Was this some kind of practical joke after all? Perhaps it really was a sales gimmick. No, they held the tickets and knew they were from God, and they believed that in the next five minutes they would enter Heaven. The time had finally come. They all fixed their eyes on the Sanctuary clock. They leaned forward in their pews. Four minutes. Three minutes.

  Suddenly, down the center aisle came a figure. A long and eerie shadow ran before it.

  “
It’s time! It’s time!” shouted a few hysterical ticket holders.

  “I’m going to faint!” said Miss Percy as she slumped back into her seat.

  “Praise God! Oh, Lord, take me!” shouted some others.

  Soon the shouting was over and the people were silent. Nothing had happened. The figure that had walked down the aisle was now standing before them ... little Tommy Jergenson!

  “What’s he doing here?” yelled an upset ticket holder.

  “Scaring us like that!” gasped Miss Percy as she straightened her dress and hat.

  Little Tommy tugged on Rev. Holtman’s sleeve. “Tommy!” said Rev. Holtman. “You better go back to your seat! There is only a minute left.”

  “It can’t wait,” said Tommy.

  “All right, what is it?”

  “Rev. Holtman,” said Tommy, “I want to give my ticket to my friend, Eddie.”

  As his words carried throughout the sanctuary, the other ticket holders gasped in disbelief. “Where are his parents?” they screamed. “Does he know what he’s saying?”

  “You see, Rev. Holtman,” continued little Tommy, “I want Eddie to have my ticket so he can be with his mommy and daddy in Heaven. Can I give him my ticket?”

  The clock in the sanctuary struck midnight and one-by-one the people stood on their feet after hearing little Tommy’s request. One-by-one they looked at their tickets and thought about what Tommy had just said. Everyone was quiet. One-by-one all 253 ticket holders pondered within their hearts the true meaning of Christmas. Heaven was within each of them all along. They didn’t have to die to get there. They entered it the moment they brought Jesus into their lives.

  When the church chimes struck twelve, the Christmas spirit entered the lives of those people in a mighty way. A lady in the back began to sing, then someone up front, then someone over to the side. Soon everyone in the sanctuary was singing as they had never sung before, Joy to the World, the Lord Has Come.

  Rev. Holtman stood up and said, “Yes, Tommy. You may give your ticket to little Eddie. And we shall do likewise.”

  With that a loud “Hurrah” went up from the people. They left the sanctuary, hugging and kissing and singing and laughing. They ran into the streets of Commonsville, USA and they, too, began giving their tickets away to the people who were looking in from the outside to see what would happen. As quickly as it had filled up, the sanctuary was emptied.

  In all of the excitement little Eddie was left behind in the back of the church. Alone again, he began to cry.

  “Don’t cry,” said a voice from the shadows. “Come here, Eddie. Don’t be afraid.”

  Little Eddie walked slowly toward the shadow as he wiped the tears from his eyes. Eddie stepped back as the person stepped into the light. “Mr. Roundbottom!” Eddie said with a measure of fear in his voice.

  “Yes, Eddie, it’s Mr. Roundbottom.” Kneeling down, he continued, “You know, Eddie, I never had any children. And I’ve got a big house that gets awfully lonely. Eddie, do you think you could come and live with me and Mrs. Roundbottom? I don’t know much about raising little boys, but ...” Before Mr. Roundbottom could finish, little Eddie put his arms around Mr. Roundbottom’s neck and gave him a big hug.

  “Eddie,” said Mr. Roundbottom, “I want to give you my ticket.” Mr. Roundbottom then took Eddie home and it is said that no man was ever a better father.

  Mortimer and Sigmund stood by, wiping tears of joy from their eyes. “It took a child, didn’t it, Sigmund?”

  “Yes, it did, Mortimer. Heaven is not something you get. It’s something you give away. Just as God gave to the world His Son, Jesus. Heaven did come to this place tonight, and I’m glad that we were here.”

  “Yeah, the front office really knew what it was doing. I’ve enjoyed this visit to Mother Earth. Well, I suppose it’s back to work we go.”

  “Yeah,” said Mortimer. “To those blasted computers! I tell you, Sigmund, when we get back there, there are going to be some changes made ...”

  About the Author

  Reverend Wendell Mettey grew up in Cincinnati, OH. After obtaining a Bachelor’s Degree in Economics from the University of Cincinnati, he spent several years as a social worker.

  When he felt God calling him to the ministry, he enrolled at Southern Baptist Theological Seminary where he earned a Master of Divinity Degree (M.D.I.V.). Reverend Mettey has served as Pastor for several churches in the Cincinnati area. In 1991, after visiting war-torn Nicaragua and witnessing the poverty and devastation, he felt called by God to resign from his church and begin Matthew 25: Ministries.

  Matthew 25: Ministries, a top-ranked international humanitarian aid and disaster relief organization, rescues and reuses 14,000,000 pounds of excess corporate products each year and redistributes them to people in need throughout the US and the world. Matthew 25: Ministries celebrated twenty years of service and the shipment of their 100,000,000th pound of aid in 2011.

  Reverend Mettey and his wife Mickey (Michelle) have three children; Tim, Clare and Aaron. They are also the proud grandparents of Ethan, Sidney, Olivia, Cora, Noel and Ashlyn.

  Reverend Mettey is the author of numerous devotional & inspirational publications. These include “Are Not My People Worthy? The Story of Matthew 25: Ministries” (released in 2004); “What God Desires The Story of the Center for Humanitarian Aid and Disaster Relief” (released in the 2008); “On Which Side of the Road Do the Flowers Grow?” (released in 2009) and “Meet Those Who Met the Master” (released in 2012). In addition to these books, Reverend Mettey has published several compilations of stories, sermons and reflections.

  In June of 2003, Reverend Mettey received the Jefferson Award for Outstanding Public Service from the American Institute for Public Service and the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Award for Outstanding Public Service Benefiting the Local Community.

  ###

  Additional Works by

  REV. WENDELL E. METTEY

  Are Not My People Worthy? The Story of Matthew 25: Ministries

  What God Desires: The Story of the Center for Humanitarian Aid and Disaster Relief

  On Which Side of the Road Do the Flowers Grow?

  Meet Those Who Met the Master

  Lost and Found: Stories of Christmas

  The above titles are available at major online book retailers and at

  Matthew 25: Ministries, 11060 Kenwood Road, Cincinnati, OH 45242

  www.m25m.org

  Interested in more inspirational works by Reverend Mettey?

  Visit www.wendellmettey.com for a collection of his devotions, books and sermons.

  For more information visit:

  www.theleastofthesepublishing.com

  Read On for a Special Preview of

  ON WHICH SIDE OF THE ROAD DO THE FLOWERS GROW?

  By Wendell E. Mettey

  “As I read this book, my soul was instructed, encouraged, and inspired.”

  -Pete Hood, Pastor

  Mt. Pleasant Baptist Church

  St. Paris, Ohio

  Prologue

  The Carrier of Water

  There once lived a very unhappy man who was a carrier of water. He hated carrying water and despised his master for giving him such a lowly job. “Carrying water is a job for women,” he complained. “It certainly is not a job for a strong and capable servant.”

  To escape the giggling and whispers of the women who gathered at the well each morning, he would arrive at first light, draw his water and be on his way. To lessen the number of trips to the well, he tied a large clay jar to each end of a long, sturdy pole. After lifting the pole over his head, he would rest it on his shoulders. He could now carry twice as much water. The extra weight, however, made the journey twice as strenuous. Regardless of the ancient curse Joshua placed on his ancestors, the Gibeonites, the water carrier remained hopeful that one day the curse would be broken and the master would recognize his many talents.

  When the days grew hot and the jars heavy, he’d
say, “Someday I’m going to be my master’s wine steward, or perhaps . . . yes, the treasurer of his vast estate. I’m going to have an important job, and then I’ll be an important person.”

  Unfortunately, that day never came. He would never be able to break the curse. He would always be a carrier of water. His master, who he knew to be a wise and just man, for whatever reason, chose not to give him a job of greater importance. The man’s constant complaining made it most evident to his master and to the entire household that he did not want to be a carrier of water. They all heard him say countless times how overqualified he was for the job and that other servants with half his abilities were promoted past him. Greatly discouraged, his performance began slipping. His lowly job was completely draining his last ounce of self-worth.

  Then one day it happened. It had been there all along, but he hadn’t noticed it before. A little thing actually, yet big enough to completely change his life forever. Looking down at it, he smiled. At that very moment, he realized that while he could not change his job, his job did not determine who he was as a person. He had no control over the job the master gave him, only how he would perform it. There it was at his feet—a delicate, beautiful example of how any job given by the master, if he was obedient, could bring about something wonderful.

  From that day on, his job did not change, but he certainly did. He could now see that the job the master gave him had the importance he gave it. His job was no longer just a carrier of water, but one that brought beauty and joy into the lives of the countless people who traveled that dusty road.

  He no longer went to the well before first light, but arrived with the others. Soon the giggling and whispering were replaced with meaningful conversations and the sharing of life’s concerns. With his changed attitude came peace and joy. People were attracted to him and would seek him out for advice and direction for their lives. He still carried the large, clay jars to and from the well each day, but now with new meaning and added purpose.