Bobby and his mother had been for a walk. On their way home they passed their church. "Bobby, There is a beautiful new window in our church" his mother told him. "It is a window with a picture made right into the window. Would you like to go in to see it?"
Bobby wanted to see it, so he and his mother went into the church quietly. The sun was shining through the glass of the window. And they saw the picture. It was a picture of Jesus.
Bobby and his mother looked at the picture-window of Jesus for a long time. Then they went out of the church and walked toward their own street.
"I wish Jesus lived on our street," Bobby said, as they turned their corner toward home.
People have often felt that way about Jesus, dear."
"Then we could always ask him," Bobby said. "He could tell us what to do."
"I think we can learn to know how he would answer many of our questions." his mother suggested.
"How can we? How can he tell us?" Bobby asked.
"Well Bobby, You see for many, many years people have been wanting Jesus to help them know how to live. And he has helped them."
"How did he help them?" Bobby wanted to know.
"Once, long ago, he really did live among his neighbors in a land called Palestine, very much as we live among our neighbors today. He visited them. He went to church with them. He was friends with them."
"That is the way I would like it," Bobby said. "So we could be friends."
"Those who knew Jesus told others about him," Bobby's mother went on. "And they told others."
"And so he had lots and lots of friends," Bobby added.
His mother nodded her head. "And then, after awhile, his friends wrote down what he did. They remembered to use the very words he used. What they wrote was carefully kept."
