Jack and the Beans Talk

Once upon a time there was a poor widow who had an only son named Jack. Jack was a hair stylist and worked at Goldilocks, in Stiltskin’s Retail Park. All they had to live on was Jack’s earnings which didn’t amount to much, and he had quite a bit of credit card debt. Still living with his mother in his twenty-second year wasn’t ideal either, but needs must.

Every Sunday, Jack took his mother to the church on the hill in his Vauxhall Corsa. Each week he winced as she put their contribution on the plate during the service, for they had so little to spare, but he was too afraid to tell his mother. Jack had been reckless with money when he was a boy (something to do with selling a cow) and it had taken years to regain his mother’s trust. His mother was serious about contributing generously to church funds because she was a big believer in sacrificing things dear to her as an act of faith, reminding her that God is sovereign and everything is really His. Jack struggled with this, being rather too fond of money to happily give it up.

Today Jack didn’t feel like after-service coffee so he left his Mother to chat with Mrs Hubbard and he took a wander around the cemetery behind the church. He wanted some space. He hadn’t gone far when he met a funny-looking old man, who said to him: “Good morning, Jack.”

“Good morning to you,” said Jack, and wondered how he knew his name.

“Well, Jack, and where are you off to?” said the man.

“Nowhere really, just wandering.” Jack sat on a bench under a giant tree and absentmindedly checked his phone to see if he had any new followers on Twitter. He hadn’t.

The funny-looking old man, who had a crooked nose and crooked legs and crooked stick, walked straight up to him and sat beside him on the bench, sucking in the cool morning air. A moment or two passed in semi-awkward silence. The old man broke it by slapping his thigh and exclaiming,

“Oh, you look the proper sort of chap who’s concerned about this and that,” Jack looked up from his phone. “Tell me about your giving.”

“Excuse me?” said Jack, taken aback. What a personal question, he thought. Who does he think he is? I always attract weirdos. I must have a sign on my forehead that says “Talk to me if you’re…”

The man interrupted his train of thought.

“Your giving. What do you give? How do you feel about it?” said the man, and as he did he offered a brown paper bag to Jack. It was full of assorted beans coated in chocolate, salted caramel and icing sugar. They looked delicious and expensive. “Here you are, Jack, help yourself,” and he presented Jack the paper bag.

Jack paused, irritated and a bit unsure of accepting sweets from strangers, which he was fairly sure he’d been told not to do, but he could see they were from Thornton’s and the packet was newly opened, so he picked a few out and popped them into his mouth. He crunched on his beans and his irritableness seemed to disappear like the fog that had been lingering in the cemetery and was vanishing in the weak sun. With his mouth full, he asked the old man, “So, what do you want to know?”

“I want to know why you find giving hard,” said the man.

“We’ve hardly got anything to give,” he mumbled, still chewing on the beans.

“Yes, thought so,” said the old man looping strands of his wispy beard around his forefinger and staring in the distance. Jack took another handful of beans. He couldn’t help himself. This one was gingerbread flavoured.

“When we give our money to the church, I’m worried we won’t have enough for ourselves.”

“Giving is always an act of faith Jack. But more so when you have little to start with. You show great faith by what you give. But what if I told you about a very special gift? How would you like to give something away and still have just as much of it?”

This man’s insane, thought Jack. But he was curious and he wanted another gingerbread bean. He reached into the paper bag and took another handful.

“Whaddya mean?” spluttered Jack, showering his lap with gingerbread bean crumbs.

The old man emptied what was left of the bag of beans onto the bench and counted them. Twelve beans. Jacks eyes widened. He’d eaten at least a dozen beans, possibly twice as many. But the small bag, which, Jack was very familiar with by now, couldn’t have held that many. Yet here they were on the bench. How could this be? Was it a trick? He’d eaten so many beans.

As Jack’s stared in disbelief, the old man scooped up all the beans, popped them back into the paper bag and slid them into an inside pocket of his tatty jacket.

“Never mind all this beans-talk Jack, let’s talk about the greatest gift you can give.”

Jack didn’t feel like he had any great gifts at all, apart from styling hair. The old man went on, “You have a great gift dear Jack, but you keep it all to yourself. You fret and you worry about giving, and yet all the while you are hoarding great treasure.”

Jack was irritated by this strange man and his beans and his talk of great treasure that Jack was absolutely sure he did not possess.

“So what’s this great treasure I have then? How can I give it away and still have it? What are you on about?”

“You can give it away and not just have it, but have more of it. It grows!”

This is exactly what happens, thought Jack, when you talk to strangers in cemeteries. He’d had quite enough and unless this man was going to open that bag of beans again, he was off. He got to his feet and was about to go but the man leapt up and implored him,

“You have a gift Jack! You have faith,” he pointed his stick back towards the church. “You have the greatest story ever told. You’ve heard it since you were a boy and yet you never share it with anyone. It’s treasure Jack. You talk and talk all day at work but you never share the story of your faith. This is the gift you have Jack and when you share it, you don’t lose a bit of it. You give it away and you still have all of it left. It’s the most special treasure of all. In fact you don’t only get to keep what you started with Jack, but your treasure grows. Your faith gets stronger.”

Jack was stunned. He didn’t know what to say.

“You’re not poor Jack. You’re rich. And you can give it all away without worrying about bills. Give away the story. Tell all your friends. Tell your clients. Tell your neighbour’s dog.” Jack still wondered how this man knew so much about him. “And the Good News is that it’s for ever and it’s for everyone.”

BEFORE YOU GO! You are very welcome (and indeed encouraged!) to use these blogs in parish magazines or as content for Home Groups etc. 
Please cite the website so others can find their way here. 

The Three Little Pigs

Once upon a time there were three little pigs. They decided to set out on their own and leave their mother pig to find their fortunes. They had always enjoyed sports at school so each decided to set up a gym. The first little pig built a gym in the town centre and invited lots of woodland animals to use it. They did and he was very happy. But this little pig was so embarrassed about talking about money that he never charged his members. They used all his facilities and attended his step classes and got healthier and fitter and they never paid a penny.

Within months of opening, the first little pig was in financial ruin and he couldn’t keep the wolf from the door. One day he saw a debt collector van outside his gym. It said Wolf Collections and his heart sank because he’d read fairy tales as a piglet, and he knew he was the first pig. Luckily Mr Wolf, of Wolf Collections, had attended “Mission England” at Roker Park in 1984 and found faith in God. He was now a committed and practising Christian and had really changed his ways. He paid off the outstanding debt on the rented premises, shut the gym and took the little pig back to his home, giving him some sound financial advice on the way. The little pig felt ashamed but Mr Wolf told him not to worry, and he’d always look out for him. The little pig slept in the spare room of Mr Wolf’s flat. 

The second little pig set up a gym on an industrial estate. He always thought of himself as the smartest pig so he charged £200 a month for membership. Unfortunately the creatures living in this area were really poor and couldn’t afford to pay the membership fee. They thought the gym looked great and they really wanted to be part of it, but it was just too exclusive, too expensive. Within weeks the pig was in financial ruin and he didn’t know how he’d keep the wolf from the door. Letters from the bank were left unopened because this little pig hated thinking about debt.

Soon enough he saw the debt collector van outside his gym. He’d also read fairy tales as a piglet and thought nothing could save his bacon. Luckily Mr Wolf of Wolf Collections explained to the second little pig that he only wanted to help. He opened up the letters with the pig and helped him pay off the debt. The second little pig felt so bitterly sorry for his greediness. Mr Wolf patted his pink shoulder and said, ‘There, there. Don’t worry. I’ll always be here to help,’ and the little pig moved into Mr Wolf’s flat just like his brother.

The third little pig was a sensible pig. He wasn’t foolish or greedy. He thought long and hard about opening his gym. He really wanted it to bring the community together so he gathered all his friends and prospective members. He held a meeting in the old school hall that he planned to rent for his gym. He told the crowd about all the weekly classes he planned to run, the personal training he would offer, the healthier lifestyle and all the other benefits of being part of his gym.

Because he wanted to avoid the mistake of his youngest brother, he decided to be upfront about money. It made him really uncomfortable but he felt it was sensible and right. He told them that whilst he wouldn’t charge for membership and there would be no huge joining fee, like at his middle brother’s gym, he did expect his friends to contribute to the running of the gym. Some of the poorer creatures looked at their hooves in embarrassment. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘Just give what you can.’ They loved his gym and his whole ethos and they could see the benefits of being part of it. They were generous in their giving.

Some of the other creatures had plenty of cash and were a bit embarrassed about handing it over publicly as it looked a bit crude. They stared at their paws in embarrassment. The little pig said they could easily set up a standing order through their bank and that everyone was free to pay as much or little as they were able, and that it was all gratefully received, as after all, the only way the gym could stay open was if all its members gave what they could. The animals liked this very much, and no matter what their species, whether they were big or small or herbivores or carnivores, they were ALL welcome to train at the third pig’s gym. They didn’t have to train on their own anymore, they could do it together or even join in classes on an evening. 

When Mr Wolf heard about it, he paid the third little pig a visit. The pig was shaking from his snout to his tail when he saw Mr Wolf as he’d read his fairy stories, but couldn’t quite remember what happened to the third little pig. Luckily, before he fainted in terror, the first and second little pig jumped out of the van to congratulate their kind and sensible brother. Mr Wolf offered to run a spin class free of charge at the gym, and he suggested that the younger brothers ought to help with refreshments and cleaning up. The gym went from strength to strength because all the animals felt part of it and gave generously to its running costs. The third little pig even won a special award for business enterprise and they lived happily ever after. The end.

From the author: Some people might find the third pig’s story a little unrealistic but, then, so much of what we believe and teach as Christians is unrealistic. So much of what Jesus taught was unrealistic. Funnily enough, though, whenever people have taken Jesus’ teaching seriously, amazing things have happened. I guess the question we have to ask is whether the third pig’s story looks like the kind of unrealistic thing Jesus talked about. In this story we probably all see ourselves and our churches reflected in some way in all three pigs and deep down we probably want to be the third pig. We don’t all know a Mr Wolf who can pay off our debt but we do know Jesus who can do rather a lot more than that.

BEFORE YOU GO! You are very welcome (and indeed encouraged!) to use these blogs in parish magazines or as content for Home Groups etc. Please cite the website so others can find their way here.