My Heart—Christ's Home Retold for Children Read online

  My Heart–

  Christ’s Home

  Retold for Children

  Robert Boyd Munger

  with Carolyn Nystrom

  InterVarsity Press

  P.O. Box 1400

  Downers Grove, IL 60515-1426

  World Wide Web: www.ivpress.com

  E-mail: [email protected]

  Text Second edition ©2010 by Marilyn Munger Wuertz, Monica Munger and Carolyn Nystrom

  Illustrations ©2010 by Kristen Funkhouser

  Text First edition ©1997 by Robert Boyd Munger and Carolyn Nystrom

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from InterVarsity Press.

  InterVarsity Press® is the book-publishing division of InterVarsity Christian Fellowship/USA®, a movement of students and faculty active on campus at hundreds of universities, colleges and schools of nursing in the United States of America, and a member movement of the International Fellowship of Evangelical Students. For information about local and regional activities, write Public Relations Dept., InterVarsity Christian Fellowship/USA, 6400 Schroeder Rd., P.O. Box 7895, Madison, WI 53707-7895, or visit the IVCF website at www.intervarsity.org.

  Design: Cindy Kiple

  Cover image: Kristen Funkhouser

  Salzman International

  Interior images: iStockphoto

  ISBN 978-0-8308-6161-3

  Robert Boyd Munger:

  To Marilyn and Monica,

  who taught me how early and sensitively

  children respond to God’s love

  Carolyn Nystrom:

  For David, who learns with me

  Jesus came to my house. He walked up the steps and knocked softly at the door.

  I peeked out. “It’s Jesus!” I shouted. “Come into my house.”

  I opened the door and Jesus stepped in. “Hello, Peter,” he said. His smile was as warm as sunshine, his hug as big as the summer sky.

  I led Jesus to our back porch. Mom was putting lunch there—juicy peaches and crispy celery and mushy peanut butter with currant jelly.

  Mom looked up and smiled. “Please eat lunch with us,” she said.

  Jesus prayed, “Thank you, Father, for our food.”

  “Amen,” we all said. Then we ate.

  “Let me show you our house,” I said. I took Jesus’ hand and led him inside and down the hall.

  “This is my room,” I said. “I sleep here. I do my homework at this desk. I play with my LEGOs on this rug. Sometimes my friends sleep over on that bed.”

  Jesus put his arm on my shoulder and looked all around my room. “I like your room,” he said. “It looks like you.”

  Just then I noticed a small wooden box peeking out from under the bed. I tapped it with my heel and pushed it further underneath. I hoped Jesus didn’t see it.

  “This is our living room,” I said next.

  My sister Janet was watching TV. She smiled and patted the seat next to her. I sat down but Jesus kept standing in the doorway. On TV, I saw one man shoot another. I looked at Jesus. His eyes were sad. So I got up and headed outdoors. Jesus followed. Janet didn’t seem to see Jesus at all. I wondered why.

  Jesus and I played all day. Then I showed him my favorite place by the stream. We held tadpoles in our hands. A huge frog boomed, “CROOOAK!” We laughed.

  “Oh, Peter,” Jesus said, “I’m glad I made frogs.”

  That evening, Mom invited Jesus to spend the night. “You can stay in my room,” I said.

  We climbed into bed and turned off the lights. I tried not to look too hard at all the shadows in the room. I knew I was too old to worry about that.

  “Peter, are you afraid?” Jesus asked.

  “N-n-n—,” I started to say. But I could feel Jesus looking straight at me through the dark.

  “Yes,” I whispered. “I’m afraid a lot.”

  We talked a long time. We talked about scary dreams and monsters and fingers tapping at my window and making mistakes that make people laugh at me.

  With Jesus in the bed next to mine, none of that seemed very scary.

  In the morning Jesus waited by the door to walk to school with me. Nobody noticed Jesus sitting beside me at my desk. I liked having him there.

  The teacher began to explain our work. I tried to keep up, but I couldn’t watch and write and listen at the same time. Maybe I’d get everything wrong. Maybe she would ask me a question. Maybe I would say something dumb and everyone would laugh. “Help me, Jesus,” I whispered.

  Jesus put his hand over mine. “Just listen now,” he whispered back. “Listen and think. You can write later.”

  After that, I didn’t get everything right, but I got most of it. “Thank you, Jesus,” I said.

  After school my friends and I played soccer. Jesus watched from the sidelines, like a coach.

  I was the goalie, and I had a good game. The ball kept coming at me, but I stopped it with my hands, knees, feet. I even got a header.

  Suddenly the ball came at me again—fast. There must have been eight guys behind it. I slammed my whole body down on the ball. But the ball was just inside the goal. I scrunched a little to the outside. The ball came too. Then I jumped up.

  “It’s out,” I yelled.

  “Is not,” the other team yelled back. “You moved it!”

  My best buddy, Jake, was on the other team. “Cheat!” he screamed right into my face.

  Then everything got quiet. I walked home hot and tired and dirty. I didn’t say much to Jesus on the way.

  At home, I found my darkest pencil. I wrote something on a small piece of paper. I burrowed under my bed and dug out my box. I lifted the lid and looked inside. Yes, it was all still there. I threw in the paper and snapped the lid shut. Then I kicked the box back under my bed.

  Mom and Jesus were talking in the kitchen. I heard Mom say to Jesus, “I’m so glad you are here. Will you live with us always?”

  I liked having Jesus visit my house, but living with us was something else. It felt funny having Jesus watch everything I did.

  “I will be glad to make my home with you,” I heard Jesus answer.

  I dug my box out from under my bed. I buried it in the darkest corner of my closet. Then I closed the door tight.

  I dug my box out from under my bed. I buried it in the darkest corner of my closet. Then I closed the door tight.

  That night Jesus slept on the bed in my room again. We didn’t talk much. I noticed that he didn’t sleep very well. Neither did I.

  I got up early and ducked out the door. I wanted to walk to school by myself.

  As I crossed the schoolyard, I thought I saw a shadow next to me. It didn’t look like mine. When I looked again, the shadow was gone.

  At recess Jake said, “Hi.” I acted like I didn’t hear him.

  After school I pretended I was a football player carrying the ball. I put my head down and ran for home.

  Suddenly I felt a strong arm pull me backward. I sat down hard on the sidewalk. A truck thundered past just inches from my shoes.

  “Jesus,” I gasped. “Have you been with me all day?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “But I didn’t see you.”

  “Did you want to see me, Peter?” he asked quietly.

  “No,” I answered. I felt embarrassed, but I had to tell him the truth.

  “I knew you wanted to be alone,” he said.

  “Thanks for keeping me safe,” I whispered.

  That night as I climbed into my bed, Jesus sat down on the edge of his bed. “I don’t think I can stay in this room,” he said. “It smel
led so awful last night that I couldn’t sleep. I think it’s coming from the closet.”

  “Maybe it’s my sneakers,” I said.

  “It’s not sneakers,” Jesus said. “I don’t mind the smell of sneakers at all. It’s time to tackle your closet.”

  “But it’s my closet.” I tried not to yell. “Those are my things. I like them just the way they are.”

  “If you want me to live with you,” Jesus said, “we will have to get rid of that stink.”

  Slowly I brought out the wooden box. Together we opened the lid. I wished no one had to see what was inside:

  Two shiny wings I pulled off a live butterfly.

  A small car I took from Jake’s house two years ago.

  A scribbled note in dark angry letters. I hate you, Jake, it said.

  Jesus looked a long time at all the things in my box. His face was sad. But in a funny way, he looked like he loved me.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “I forgive you,” Jesus answered. And he held me with a huge hug.

  “We will give the car back to Jake,” Jesus said. “But you must let me keep the box.”

  “That’s all right,” I said. “I don’t want it anymore.”

  That weekend I showed Jesus some of my bike tricks outside our house.

  “When I am with you, other people may not see me,” Jesus told me.

  “I know.”

  “Here is the hard part,” Jesus said. “Sometimes you won’t see me either—even when you want to.”

  “I want you to stay with me always.” This time I was sure.

  “Then I’ll make my home with you.” Jesus smiled.

  “Even when I am afraid?”

  “Especially when you are afraid,” Jesus said. “I will live with you forever,” he added.

  “Forever,” I echoed.

  NOTE TO THE PARENT

  Carolyn Nystrom

  The sermon “My Heart—Christ’s Home” was first preached by Robert Boyd Munger in 1947. Some months later Munger preached it in chapel at Wheaton College. Someone recorded it, then transcribed it and copies began to circulate among a few friends. In 1948 it found its way to an editor at InterVarsity Press and was published as a booklet. Now over ten million copies of the booklet My Heart-Christ’s Home have been distributed around the world.

  This children’s edition follows the original idea of the believer as host to the indwelling Christ in the home of the heart. I hope that this adaptation of Robert Boyd Munger’s powerful sermon will provide an opportunity for you to talk with your child about what it means to give our lives to Jesus.

  First, just enjoy the story. Of course it is layered with meaning, but for the first several readings just have fun with it. Some of those meanings will soak in even without full explanation.

  Then begin to talk about Jesus as this story reveals him. Your child may notice that Jesus made frogs (Jesus was present at creation). Jesus hugs Peter and plays with him (Jesus loves us). Jesus felt sad about the violence on TV (Jesus hates sin). Jesus helped Peter at school (Jesus helps us through hard times). Jesus saved Peter from the truck (Jesus can protect us). Jesus went to school with Peter even when Peter didn’t want him there (Jesus stays with us no matter what). Some people could not see Jesus (not everyone believes in Jesus).

  Jesus told Peter to get rid of the box of sins (Jesus expects his people to be holy). Jesus helped Peter open the box (Jesus will help us to stop doing what is wrong). Jesus took the box and forgave Peter (Jesus erases our sins and forgives us). Jesus will live with Peter forever (Jesus is making an eternal home for us in heaven).

  But will a real, live, visible Jesus come and knock at our door someday? Most children will see that this part of the story is imagination—just as Munger’s story imagined that Jesus lived in his house. But it is an imagination that helps us see how real and how personal is the relationship that Jesus invites. May this retelling of Munger’s story encourage you and your child in your walk with him.

  Robert Boyd Munger

  was a Presbyterian pastor and a professor at Fuller Theological Seminary. Ten million copies of his story My Heart—Christ’s Home are in print.

  Carolyn Nystrom,

  mother of four, has written over fifty Bible study guides and children’s books. She lives in St. Charles, Illinois, with her husband, Roger, and assorted cats.

  Also Available from

  InterVarsity Press

  Hardcover 8 ½ x 10

  with full-color illustration.

  ISBN 0-8308-3395-1

 

 

  Robert Boyd Munger, My Heart—Christ's Home Retold for Children

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