Paul wrote that "we have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us" (Romans 12:6). God does not ask us to be someone else. He asks us to offer what we have, flaws and all.
These nine stories about spiritual gifts and ministry, retold in our own words, include legends from music history, a few well-loved parables, a surprising roll call from the Bible, a nurse's poem and a preacher's upside-down altar call. Each ends with a takeaway for sermons or reflection.
Stories in this collection:
- "I Can't Sing, But I Can Carve": Stradivari Finds His Gift
- "You Should Have Seen This Garden When God Had It"
- The First Car: Small Beginnings
- The Cracked Pot
- "Don't Quit, Keep Playing": Paderewski and the Child
- The Kind of People God Uses
- "Paganini and One String"
- "See Me": The Poem That Asks Carers to Look Closer
- "Go to Jesus!": Will Campbell's Upside-Down Altar Call
"I Can't Sing, But I Can Carve": Stradivari Finds His Gift
A legend told about the great violin maker. The historical details are uncertain, as we note below.
Antonio Stradivari grew up in Cremona, in northern Italy, in the middle of the seventeenth century. It was a town that loved music, where musical ability was highly prized.
According to the story, young Antonio loved music as much as anyone, but he was not much of a musician. When he tried to sing, his friends teased him and called him squeaky voice. When he tried to learn the violin, he was all thumbs. About the only thing he could do well was whittle a block of wood with his knife.
One day Antonio sat by the roadside whittling while three of his musical friends sang and played in the street. The air filled with their music. One well-dressed gentleman stopped and listened longer than anyone else, and even asked them to sing a song again. When they had finished, he dropped a gold coin into the singer's hand and walked on.
A gold coin was a fortune for street musicians. Who was that? Antonio asked. His friends told him proudly that it was Nicolò Amati, the greatest violin maker in all of Italy.
That planted an idea in Antonio's mind. The next morning he went to Amati's house and waited for the master to come out. When Amati opened the door, the boy rushed up to him and said he wanted to make violins. I cannot sing and I cannot play, he said, but I can carve. Would Amati take him on as an apprentice?
In the story, Amati agreed, and the boy went to work in his workshop, eventually becoming the master's successor.
Historians are less certain. There is no firm record that Stradivari was ever formally apprenticed to Amati, and Amati's workshop actually passed to his own son. But Stradivari's early instruments clearly show Amati's influence, and what is beyond doubt is that he became the greatest violin maker who ever lived. His instruments are still played by leading musicians more than three hundred years later.
Antonio could not sing, and he could not play. But he could carve. And that was his gift.
Takeaway: God has not given everyone the same gift. Our task is not to envy someone else's but to discover and offer our own.
Source: Traditional legend; historical background on Stradivari and Amati.
"You Should Have Seen This Garden When God Had It"
A traditional story; its author is unknown.
A newly appointed pastor went to visit one of his church members at home. When he arrived, he discovered that his host was a keen gardener, who was only too delighted to show him round.
The garden was magnificent, a sea of greens and purples, blues and whites, yellows and pinks.
Wanting to start their relationship on a warm and positive note, the pastor said, Praise God for the beauty of his handiwork!
But the gardener looked a little offended. Now, pastor, he said, don't go giving all the credit to God. You should have seen this garden when the Almighty had it to himself!
It is a joke, but the gardener actually had rather good theology. God has made the world in such a way that he works in partnership with us, and we with him, to achieve his purposes. He gives the soil, the seed and the rain. But he also gives us hands, skills and gifts, and he invites us to use them in his service.
Takeaway: God could do everything alone, but he chooses to work through us. Paul called us "co-workers in God's service" (1 Corinthians 3:9).
Source: Traditional story; author unknown.
The First Car: Small Beginnings
For most people living in the West, life would be very difficult without motor vehicles. Whatever their cost to the environment, they have brought enormous convenience and benefit.
But it was not always so. In 1769 and 1770 the French military engineer Nicolas-Joseph Cugnot built a huge, three-wheeled, steam-powered vehicle for the French army. It was designed to haul heavy cannon.
It was noisy and expensive, and in practice it crawled along at only a few kilometres an hour, slower than a person walking briskly. It was hard to steer, and according to a popular story, one version even crashed into a wall.
It is hard to imagine many people at the time seeing much of a future in Cugnot's horseless carriage. It could not keep pace with even the oldest horse.
Yet Cugnot's machine is often called the world's first automobile, the clumsy ancestor of every car on the road today. From that awkward beginning came a revolution.
Sometimes we need to remind ourselves that it is all right to start small, with an idea that seems a little crazy, and to wait and see whether something great might grow from it.
Takeaway: "Do not despise these small beginnings" (Zechariah 4:10). A ministry that starts small and awkward may be the start of something God will grow.
Source: Historical accounts of Cugnot's fardier à vapeur; illustration by Scott Higgins.
The Cracked Pot
A parable, usually set in India; its author is unknown.
A water carrier had two large pots. Each hung from one end of a pole that he carried across his shoulders.
One of the pots was perfect. At the end of the long walk from the stream to his master's house, it always arrived full of water. The other pot had a crack in it, and by the time it reached the house it was only half full.
For two whole years this went on every day. The carrier delivered only one and a half pots of water to his master's house.
Naturally, the perfect pot was proud of its achievements. It did exactly what it had been made to do. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its flaw, and miserable that it could only do half of what it was made for.
After two years of what it saw as bitter failure, the cracked pot spoke to the water carrier one day beside the stream. I'm ashamed of myself, it said, and I want to apologise to you.
Why? asked the carrier. What are you ashamed of?
For these two years, said the pot, I have only been able to deliver half my load, because this crack in my side lets the water leak out all the way back to your master's house. Because of my flaw, you do all this work and don't get the full value of your effort.
The water carrier felt sorry for the old cracked pot. As we go back to the master's house, he said kindly, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path.
As they climbed the hill, the cracked pot noticed the sun warming the lovely wild flowers beside the path, and that cheered it a little. But at the end of the journey it still felt bad, because once again it had leaked out half its water, and it apologised again.
Then the carrier said, Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of the path, and not on the other pot's side? That's because I have always known about your crack, and I made use of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day, as we walked back from the stream, you watered them. For two years I have been able to pick those beautiful flowers to decorate my master's table. If you were not just the way you are, he would not have had that beauty to grace his house.
Each of us has our own flaws. We are all cracked pots. But if we allow him, God can use even our weaknesses to bring beauty to others. In his economy nothing is wasted. We need not be afraid of our flaws. As Paul discovered, God's power is made perfect in weakness.
Takeaway: God's power "is made perfect in weakness" (2 Corinthians 12:9). The very cracks we are ashamed of may be the places where his grace flows out to others.
Source: Traditional parable; author unknown.
"Don't Quit, Keep Playing": Paderewski and the Child
A much-loved story whose details cannot be confirmed. It is often told about the great Polish pianist Ignacy Jan Paderewski.
A mother who wanted to encourage her young son's progress at the piano bought tickets for a concert by Ignacy Jan Paderewski, the famous concert pianist.
When the evening came, they found their seats near the front of the hall and gazed up at the magnificent grand piano waiting on the stage.
Soon the mother spotted a friend and began chatting, and the boy slipped away from his seat.
At eight o'clock the spotlights came on and the audience fell quiet. Only then did they notice the little boy sitting on the piano stool on stage, innocently picking out Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.
His mother gasped. But before she could retrieve her son, the great pianist himself walked onto the stage and went straight to the piano.
Don't quit, he whispered to the boy. Keep playing.
Leaning over, Paderewski reached down with his left hand and began filling in a bass part. Then he reached his right arm around the other side of the child and added a running accompaniment. Together, the old master and the young beginner held the audience spellbound.
In our lives, however unpolished we may be, it is the Master who surrounds us and whispers in our ear, again and again, Don't quit, keep playing. And as we do, he adds to and fills out what we offer, until something beautiful is created.
Takeaway: Our efforts in ministry are often as simple as a child's tune. But the Master sits beside us, fills in what is missing and whispers, "Keep playing."
Source: Widely told story, reported in Leadership magazine (Spring 1983).
The Kind of People God Uses
What sort of person does God use? Imagine a group of people gathered in front of you, and your task is to choose those most likely to play a key role in God's plans for the world.
They feel so at ease with you that they open up and share their darkest secrets.
One tells you that he got drunk and lay exposed in his tent, bringing shame on his family (Genesis 9).
Another admits that, to save his own skin, he passed his wife off as his sister and let another man take her into his household (Genesis 12).
Another cheated his brother out of their father's blessing (Genesis 27). Another killed a man and fled the country to escape the consequences (Exodus 2).
One of them is a prostitute. Another has a life marked by violence and a fierce temper; he once killed thirty men to pay off a bet he had made at his own wedding feast (Judges 14).
And one committed adultery with another man's wife and then arranged for her husband to be killed in battle to cover it up (2 Samuel 11).
Could you use people like that? I hope so, because God did. They are Noah, Abraham, Jacob, Moses, Rahab, Samson and David, all named among the heroes of faith in Hebrews 11.
Scripture shows again and again that God uses deeply flawed people. That is not an excuse for sin, but it is great news for the rest of us.
Takeaway: God's people have never been qualified by their record. If he could use them, he can use you.
Source: Illustration by Scott Higgins, based on Hebrews 11.
"Paganini and One String"
A famous legend; the details below cannot be confirmed.
The Italian violinist Niccolò Paganini is thought by many to have been the greatest violinist who ever lived. As he toured Europe in the early nineteenth century, he caused a sensation, and audiences flocked to hear him.
His skill was so astonishing that rumours spread that he had gained it by making a pact with the devil.
According to the story, one evening Paganini was performing before a packed house. As he launched into the final piece, one of the strings on his violin snapped. Undeterred, he kept playing.
A few moments later a second string broke. Again Paganini kept going, now playing a demanding piece on just two strings. Then, unbelievably, a third string snapped. Still he carried on, and finished the piece on a single string. His performance was so brilliant that the audience rose to their feet in a standing ovation.
But Paganini was not finished. There was still the encore. Lifting his violin above his head, he called out to the audience, Paganini, and one string! Then the orchestra struck up, and he played his encore on that one remaining string.
Paganini really did become famous for pieces written to be played on a single string, which may be how the legend grew.
That night, if the story is true, he was playing a magnificent but damaged instrument. Yet even with three strings broken, the master was able to draw beautiful music from it. We are like flawed instruments in God's hands. However broken we are, he can still make something beautiful through us when we offer ourselves to serve him and others.
Takeaway: We may feel like a violin with broken strings. In the hands of the Master, even what remains can make beautiful music.
Source: Traditional anecdote about Paganini; reported in Sermon Notes.
"See Me": The Poem That Asks Carers to Look Closer
This story is often told with a legend attached: that the poem was found among the belongings of an elderly woman after she died in a nursing home in Ireland or Scotland. That is almost certainly not true. We tell what is known, and summarise the poem in our own words rather than quoting it.
The poem is usually known as "Crabbit Old Woman", though it has circulated under other names, including "See Me" and "Kate". It is written in the voice of an elderly woman in a care home, speaking directly to the nurses who look after her.
She begins by asking what they see when they look at her. A grumpy old woman, perhaps, not very wise, with a faraway look; someone who dribbles her food, does not answer when spoken to loudly, keeps losing a sock or a shoe and lets them bathe and feed her without protest as the long days pass.
Then she tells them who she really is. Sitting there so quietly, she is still a girl of ten with a mother, a father and brothers and sisters who love one another. She is a teenager dreaming of the love she will soon meet, and a young bride making her wedding vows. She is a mother building a safe and happy home, watching her children grow and leave, and then a grandmother with little ones playing round her knees once more.
She speaks of the dark days that followed her husband's death, and her fear of the future, as her own children became busy with families of their own. Her body has grown old and frail, she says, and its strength and grace have gone. But inside that worn-out body, a young girl still lives. Now and again her heart still leaps as she remembers the joys and the pain of her life, and lives and loves it all over again.
She ends with a plea to the nurses: to open their eyes and look more closely, and to see not an empty old woman, but her.
For years the poem was passed around nursing homes and printed anonymously. The legend of its discovery after an old woman's death made it even more moving. But according to research summarised on Wikipedia, it was actually written in 1966 by Phyllis McCormack, a nurse at Sunnyside Hospital in Montrose, Scotland. It first appeared anonymously in a small hospital magazine and was later printed in the Nursing Mirror in 1972, after which it spread around the world. It was written, in other words, by a carer who had learned to see her patients as people.
The poem has been used for decades in training nurses and carers, because it puts into words what so many older people feel. It is a reminder to everyone who serves others, whether in a hospital, a church or a family, that behind every frail body and every difficult manner there is a whole life, and a person who longs to be seen.
Takeaway: Ministry begins with seeing people as God sees them. Jesus noticed those others overlooked, like the widow at the temple treasury (Mark 12:41–44). Who might you need to look at more closely?
Source: Phyllis McCormack, "Crabbit Old Woman" (1966); background from Wikipedia.
"Go to Jesus!": Will Campbell's Upside-Down Altar Call
An imagined scene attributed to Will Campbell, retold here in our own words.
Will D. Campbell was a Baptist minister, writer and civil rights activist from Mississippi. In the 1950s and 1960s he worked alongside the civil rights movement, and his outspoken ministry earned him death threats as well as deep respect. He also became known for befriending people on every side, including members of the Ku Klux Klan, because he believed that Christ died for everyone. His memoir Brother to a Dragonfly became a celebrated book.
As a Baptist, Campbell knew all about the altar call, the moment at the end of an evangelistic service when people are invited to walk to the front of the church to show that they want to respond to Christ.
But in one sermon, the story goes, Campbell turned the altar call on its head. He said he hoped that one day there would be an evangelistic meeting where, when the preacher gave the invitation and people started coming down the aisle, he would shout back at them: Don't come down the aisle! Don't come to me! Go to Jesus!
In Campbell's imagined scene, the people who were coming forward turn round, walk out of the building, get into their cars and drive away. Then the preacher turns to everyone else. Why are you still sitting here? he asks. Why don't you go to Jesus too? So the whole congregation gets up and hurries out, and soon the car park is empty.
About half an hour later, Campbell imagined, the phone at the police station starts ringing. The caller is at the local old people's home. Some strange people are at the door, he says, shouting that they want to come in and visit Jesus. He keeps telling them Jesus isn't there, that there are only some old women inside who are barely alive. But they keep insisting: We want to visit Jesus!
The next call comes from the governor of the prison. Send some officers, he says. There are people at the gate shouting to be let in because they want to visit Jesus. He keeps telling them that there are only murderers, rapists and thieves inside. But they won't go away. Let us in, they keep shouting. We want to visit Jesus!
Then the phone rings again. This time it is the head of the state psychiatric hospital. A crowd of odd people is outside, begging to be let in, saying that they too want to see Jesus. He keeps telling them Jesus isn't there, that there are only patients inside. But still they say, We want to see Jesus.
Campbell's point was simple and searching. Jesus said that whatever we do for the hungry, the sick, the stranger and the prisoner, we do for him. If we really want to go to Jesus, we will find him among the people the world has forgotten.
Takeaway: "I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me" (Matthew 25:35–40). True ministry sends us out to find Christ in the least of these.
Source: Attributed to Will D. Campbell; widely retold in sermon collections.
Final thoughts
A whittling boy, a proud gardener, a clumsy steam engine, a cracked pot, a child at the piano, a roll call of flawed heroes, a violin with one string, an old woman asking to be seen and a congregation sent out to find Jesus. Each says the same thing: God uses ordinary, imperfect people who offer what they have.
For further reading, Sopranu reviews Cal Newport's So Good They Can't Ignore You, on developing skills and finding meaningful work, and James Martin's Work in Progress.
What gift have you been hesitating to offer?
More stories you may like:
These stories are retold in our own words for teaching and reflection. Sources are credited under each story.