What is there about the David and Goliath story that fascinates children? Maybe it’s the giant. Start a story with “Once upon a time, there was a giant” and you have their total attention. Kids are well-acquainted with giants, living as they do in a world populated by them. Everyone around them is a veritable Shaquille O’Neal.

Goliath stood over 9 feet tall, his body armor as heavy as a man. The day he appeared in the valley of Elah and dared the Israelis to send their best warrior for a winner-take-all showdown, Goliath struck terror in the hearts of the Jews. No one was anxious to commit suicide, try as he may to goad them into action.

Twice a day for weeks the armies of the Philistines and Israelis lined up across their respective hillsides with the great valley stretching before them. Then, Goliath would stride down the incline toward the battle line, every step bumping the seismograph. A frantic shield-bearer ran in front of him, like a high school kid toting a door to protect Goliath. Like someone is going to harm this giant.

Maybe the children are fascinated by the adults in the story. The soldiers do some truly weird things. Even though they have no intention of fighting anyone, they dutifully line up for battle every morning and every evening. Then the big giant appears, bellowing threats and belching curses, and the soldiers panic all over again and scurry under the nearest shrubbery. You would think that sooner or later, they would figure this thing out.

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Johnny Depp stares at you from the cover of May’s “Esquire” magazine, framed on one side by “How to be a better man (17 new ways to live longer and stronger)” and on the other by “Dude, Where’s My Jesus?” I read the latter standing at the news-stand in the drug store. I’m always curious and rarely hopeful about what secular magazines do with Jesus. I ended up buying the magazine. It was impressive.

“Who is Jesus?” Writer Tom Junod answers, “Jesus is a man who called himself the Son of God and a god who called himself the Son of Man.” Pretty good. “Where is Jesus?” Junod writes, “Jesus is everywhere.” That’s how the article opens. This clearly is not another put-down of my Lord and a smirk at those of us who worship Him.

“The president is one of the millions of Americans who call themselves evangelical Christians. What does that mean, exactly?” Junod answers, “It means that he has accepted Jesus Christ as his lord and savior. It means that he has a personal relationship with Jesus.” Well, okay, but what does that mean? Junod responds, “It means he acknowledges that he, like all the rest of us, falls short of the glory of God. He acknowledges what Gary Bauer…acknowledges: ‘As a sinner, I have no right to stand in front of God.’ Our sins are indeed repellent in the eyes of God, but he loves us so much that he sent his only begotten son to suffer the torment that is rightfully ours…We either accept the gift of his sacrifice and join him in heaven, no questions asked, or we refuse it and suffer the torment he suffered, but eternally. ‘He’s either your savior or your judge’ is how Anne Graham Lotz…puts it.”

Now, I know these things and we say them around the church all the time, but I can’t ever remember a magazine like Esquire proclaiming the gospel of Jesus to the world. Not that most of us will agree with everything in the article, although my own complaints are minor. The writer also drops in some profanity occasionally (hey, it’s Esquire and the writers have to appear cool to keep their audience). But considering the source, this is incredible.

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My dream started in the middle of a story. It was like opening a book in the middle or walking in on a movie half over. I was striding down the corridor of a high school headed for the principal’s office to introduce myself as a new teacher. I remember thinking that it’s important to walk with confidence around all these young people and not look like a lost puppy. Inside the school office, clusters of people milled around, working, talking, waiting. I finally located the principal’s office and wound up interrupting the man himself who was talking with another man. “How can I help you?” he said, all business. I said, “I wanted to introduce myself. I’m a new teacher.” “Well,” he said, “we don’t mind this preaching silliness….” I was stunned. His remark caught me off guard. Apparently, in my dream I was a teacher during the week and pastored churches after hours and on weekend. That, incidentally, was precisely my plan back in 1961 when, as a college senior majoring in history, God called me into the ministry.

Obviously, the principal in my dream had no use for preachers and spiritual matters. I said to him, “Well, sir, right now, I’m doing this education silliness. You know, this silliness called teaching.” Even in my dreams, I have a smart mouth.

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