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Fruitcake Of The Spirit

Mrs. Tribbett was handing out coloring sheets when Chelsea and Lynn entered the Sunday School room. “Hi, Lynn. Who’s your friend?”

“Hi, Mrs. Tribbett. Chelsea is my best friend from school.”

“It’s so nice to meet you Chelsea. Here’s a coloring sheet and Lynn can show you where the crayons are.” Mrs. Tribbett said with a smile.

Lynn led Chelsea to her usual spot and grabbed enough crayons for both of them.

“Is this really like school?” Chelsea asked, studying the paper.

“Well, we learn stuff but there aren’t any quizzes.”

“What stuff?” Chelsea looked at the other kids.

“Bible stuff and being nice.” Lynn said as she began coloring the details of the border.

“You have to learn how to be nice?”

“No, but it’s good to practice.” Lynn colored a shape on the border of the picture as she studied the block letters on the page. “What’s that one?”

“That’s a P for pink.” Chelsea said as she grabbed a pink crayon to color it in.

“Oh, right. I forgot. P, e, a, c and e again.”

“Who knows what today is?” Mrs. Tribbett asked.

“I thought you said no quizzes.” Chelsea whispered.

“Any ideas, Chelsea?”

“Sunday?”

“That’s right. It’s the Second Sunday of Advent. The Sunday of Peace. Who knows what peace is?” She looked around. ”Luke?”

“Not war.” A boy to the right of them said.

“That’s true, but God’s peace is more than just not being at war. Real peace comes from knowing and loving God and each other. Did you ever have a time when you felt scared?”

Hands went up.

“And how did that compare to times when you felt so comfy and secure and taken care of that you could just stay there forever? That’s what God’s peace is like. It’s like sitting in your mom’s or dad’s lap, all warm and wrapped in their arms, just being loved. Isn’t that nice?”

“Sounds nice.” Chelsea said, coloring her words in pink. “Like staying over at your house.”

“What about your house?” Lynn asked, working on her border in a repeating pattern of colors.

“Sometimes, I guess.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll have to pray harder.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re my friend and I want you to be happy.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Chelsea said, not understanding at all. “Mrs. Tribbett, what’s this tree for? It doesn’t look like a Christmas tree.”

“That’s a fruit tree. Do you like fruit, Chelsea?”

“I like fruitcake, a lot.”

“So did Saint Paul. Do you know who he is?” Mrs Tribbett asked.

“No, but I go past a church called that on the way to school.”

“Saint Paul traveled all over the place back in his time. When he went to all of these places, he’d tell people about God’s love. He wanted everyone to feel God’s peace. When they made churches, he would keep writing letters to them from wherever he was so they wouldn’t forget what he taught them.”

“Why didn’t he just call? My daddy calls us on the TV when he’s away.”

“This was a long, long time ago, Chelsea. They hadn’t invented video calls or even telephones back then. So, when these churches got letters from Paul, they’d keep them and study them very closely. In one of those letters, he talked about the Fruit of Righteousness that comes from faith. In another letter, he talked about the Fruit of the Spirit. That’s how people see your faith.”

“They didn’t have video calls or telephones but they had fruitcake?”

“Well, not exactly fruitcake like we have today with the green cherries and the candied citrons but the Romans had something called Satura. It was like one of those energy bars with all of the nuts, grains and fruit mushed together. The fruitcake that Saint Paul liked was when the churches he helped to start mixed all of the Fruit of the Spirit together in their lives like a living fruitcake.”

“Oh, I get it.” Chelsea smiled.

“You do?” Lynn whispered.

“I think so.”

“Good, you can explain it to me later. I never heard of a living fruitcake.”

“The Fruit of the Spirit that Saint Paul was talking about, he mentioned in a letter to another church. Those are hanging from the limbs of the trees on your worksheets. They are love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. You wouldn’t want to eat just one or two of those. It’s better to make a fruitcake so you can have them all together.”

“Okay, that makes sense.” Chelsea said. “I’m hungry again.”

“We’ll have snacks in a moment. First, let’s talk a little bit more about Advent.”

“I don’t know what that is.” Chelsea said.

“Advent is a season of getting ready for a miracle.”

“My daddy had a miracle last Christmas.”

“He did?”

“Mm-hmm.” Chelsea nodded.

“Can you tell us about that?”

“He was coming back from a business trip and it was snowing and he slid off the road and he couldn’t get moving again. He was stuck and he couldn’t go at all.”

“That must have been scary for him.”

“He said he had blankets and stuff. He was just annoyed.”

“Well, that’s good. What happened?” Mrs. Tribbett asked.

“Some guy in a truck pulled up and got some straps and pulled him back on the road.”

“That was very nice of him. It’s good to have a truck sometimes.”

“Oh, he didn’t use his truck. This guy hooked up my daddy’s car and pulled him onto the road by hand.”

“Chelsea, are you sure you understood that correctly?”

“Oh my, yes. He wouldn’t stop talking about it for weeks.”

“Well, that’s quite a thing to have happen. People get excited about unusual events like that. Saint Paul got so excited about meeting Jesus that he wouldn’t stop talking about it until the day he died.”

“I’m pretty sure Daddy wouldn’t either, but Mommy said, ‘Oh, Frank. Will you shut up about it already?’.”

“A lot of people tried to get Saint Paul to shut up, too, but he wouldn’t.”

“Well, I guess meeting Jesus is more important than getting pulled out of the snow by a superhero. I’m just glad he made it home in time for Christmas.”

“You’re right, Chelsea. That is a miracle. Thank you for sharing that with us.” Mrs. Tribbett smiled.