From the vaults of the 1940s airwaves: An adaptation of Ethel Barrett’s radio script, tracking a timeless story of hidden choices and monumental consequences.

“The wages of sin is death.”

It is an ancient, heavy truth, sounding out like a funeral toll—that slow, single iron strike that echoes through a valley to mark the end of a life. It is a sound that vibrates in your chest, unhurried and absolute. This is the story of a man who heard that warning, looked that truth in the face, and chose to look away. He disobeyed. He didn’t slip, he didn’t stumble; he knowingly, deliberately disobeyed a solemn command of God. This is the story of what happened to him. This is the story of Achan.

The grand, miraculous drama of the conquest was over. The Israelites had taken the city of Jericho in a way that defied all military reason. For seven days they had marched—once a day for six days, and then a roaring seven times on the final day—with the priests blowing ram’s horns and the entire army raising a mighty shout. Then, the impossible. The massive walls had crashed outward, collapsing into heaps, dragging the inner structures down with them as the army surged forward to victory. Only Rahab—a prostitute living on the literal edge of a wicked city who had chosen to believe God and protect His spies—was saved, along with her family, behind the window marked by that single, bright scarlet cord.

But now, the thunder of falling walls had faded into a grim, busy silence. Jericho was a shattered ruin, some of it still smoldering, sending up lazy plumes of bitter smoke into the heat. The thrill of battle had dissolved into the hot, grueling business of salvage. Methodically, the soldiers went about stripping the city of its wealth.

Achan grunted, stooping low to duck under a massive, charred beam that had fallen diagonally across a doorway. He straightened up into the stifling heat, pushed a mat of sweaty hair off his face, and blew his nose. Phew. The dust was thick enough to choke a man. It coated his throat, stung his eyes, and mixed with the sweat trickling down his neck. It was hard, exhausting work.

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Everywhere around him, men were hauling out gold, silver, brass, and iron—every ounce of wealth that could be clawed out of the rubble. But none of it belonged to them. The orders from General Joshua had been absolute, echoed through every camp and line: No one is to keep anything for himself. Everything was set aside, strictly devoted to the treasury of the Lord.

Achan kicked idly through a pile of rubbish inside what had once been a wealthy estate. Most of the roof had burned away, and through the open gaps, he could hear the distant, muffled shouts of other soldiers calling back and forth to one another in the streets outside. He was entirely alone in the quiet wreckage.

Then, his foot struck something solid.

He looked down. Hmmm. What was this?

It was a beautiful cedar box, miraculously untouched by the fire. He knelt in the dust, his fingers tracing the smooth wood before he pried it open. Inside were books, fine clothes, and then—ahhhhh. He pulled it out, his breath catching in his throat. A robe. It was the most magnificent garment he had ever laid eyes on, imported from Babylon, embroidered intricately with pearls and glittering with precious jewels. It was a robe fit for a king.

Achan shot a quick, furtive glance over his shoulder toward the doorway. Nothing but the empty street. No one was watching. It was so lovely. Surely it wouldn’t hurt just to feel the weight of it? Just to sort of throw it over his shoulders for a brief second? He draped the heavy luxury over his dusty arms. Imagine wearing something like this! The sheer regal feel of it. For a moment, standing in the ruins, he didn’t feel like a weary soldier; he looked like royalty.

His eyes darted back to the open cedar box. What else was hidden under the silk? He reached deeper, his hands sweeping through the contents. His fingers wrapped around something heavy and smooth. A wedge of gold! It must weigh fifty shekels if it weighed a single one. And there, beneath it—his heart beat faster—silver! Not just a few loose coins, but a massive hoard of it. Two hundred shekels at the very least.

A thought crept into his mind, smooth and echoing like a physical voice in the quiet room. You are completely alone, Achan

.

No, no, he thought, his conscience putting up a weak, trembling defense.

The thought persisted, growing louder, bolder. Be still and look at it. If you had that money, if you kept that valuable mantle... you’ve never had anything like that in your life. Look at what you’re wearing.

I know... Achan stared at the gold in his hand.

You’ve always worn homespun, homemade clothes, the inner voice whispered, pressing into his deep-seated envy. If you take that and save it, some day when this campaign is over, you’d be a wealthy man. Maybe even a nobleman among your people.

Maybe a nobleman! Achan’s chest tightened with ambition. Yeah. It’s such a little bit to them. The treasury is going to be full to bursting with the riches of the whole city. The priests will never even miss it.

It’s such a little bit, the voice agreed, comforting him. Such a little bit. It couldn’t be too wrong, after all. It isn’t like you’re robbing your own brother or your neighbor. You’re just taking a tiny part of a massive pile that belonged to your enemies anyway.

A cold spike of reality hit him. But what if I’m caught?

You’re all alone in here, Achan. Hide it now. You can always come back for it later when the search parties are done.

It’s too heavy, he reasoned, his hands shaking. It’s too heavy to carry back to camp alone.

Your family will help you.

My family? The thought of involving Martha and his sons made him hesitate.

They will understand, the voice reassured him, soothing his guilt. It’s such a little bit. No one else in the whole camp will ever know, Achan. It’s your own personal business. Your own private affair.

Achan sucked in a breath, his moral resolve collapsing. Of course. My own affair. After all...

“Hooooooo!”

The distant shout from the street shattered the quiet. Someone was coming.

Make your decision now, Achan, the urgency screamed inside his head. Decide!

“Hooooooo—” the voice called again, closer this time. “Anything in there?”

Achan froze, swallowed hard, and forced his voice to sound casual. “No—not a thing! I—I’m coming right out!”

His mind was made up. With frantic, clumsy speed, he stuffed the heavy silver, the golden wedge, and the glittering Babylonian robe back into the chest. He shoved the box deeper into the dark corner, piled a heap of charred rubbish over it until it was completely hidden, and swung himself down through the broken masonry into the blinding sunlight of the street.

His heart was hammering so violently against his ribs that his chest ached.

All through the long afternoon, Achan worked alongside the other men, tugging at heavy treasures and carrying them off to the central depository. He said very little, keeping his head down. His mind wasn’t on the work. It was fixed entirely on what he had done, and what he must do next. There would be the telling of Martha and his sons. He would have to convince them, to make them see the gold and the robe exactly the way he did. That might be hard.

But the treasure was far too heavy for one man to move or hide alone. He remembered how the thought had started out as his own personal affair. Still, he needed them.

In the end, it hadn’t been nearly as difficult as he feared. His family had seen the logic in it too. It was only taking from an enemy, after all, and it was such a small amount compared to the rest. When they finally settled into their permanent inheritances in the Promised Land, they wouldn’t be poor farmers anymore; they would be rich.

Long after the great camp of Israel had grown quiet and the fires had died down to embers, the silhouettes of Achan and his family detached themselves from their tent. They moved like ghosts, losing themselves in the deep shadows, slipping back up the rubbish-filled street of the ruined city. They moved quickly past the wide, open spaces that were brightly illuminated by the cold moonlight, ducking from wall to wall until they reached the wreckage. Yes, this was the house.

Inside the family tent, far into the dark hours of the night, there was the faint, rhythmic sound of furtive digging. Scrape, dig, scrape. They worked in the dark, scooping out the earth beneath the floorboards until the hole was deep enough. Deep enough to bury the treasure. Deep enough to bury all trace of it. Deep enough to bury all knowledge of what they had done.

The morning sun arrived, and with it, the terror of the night seemed to evaporate like the mist. The bright daylight made the whole thing seem like a dream, rendering it reasonable, sensible—even safe. At least, it didn’t feel like some monumental crisis anymore. With the return of daily chores, military duties, and the ordinary business of camp life, the hidden box was pushed into the deep background of Achan’s mind. And his conscience, exhausted from the constant warnings, finally fell silent.

And then!

A sudden blast of a bugle shattered the morning air.

Orders had come down from headquarters: Prepare to attack Ai! Ai was the next stop on the campaign. The scouts had returned with glowing reports. It would be an easy victory, a total cake walk! The city was much smaller and far weaker than Jericho. Only a small detachment would even be necessary to take it. The groundwork was already laid, and a meager three thousand men were assigned to go up and take the gates. The rest of the vast army would stay behind in the comfort of the camp, relaxing while they waited for the inevitable news of victory.

But the news that came back wasn’t victory.

Somehow, incredibly, the disciplined men of Israel had broken. The armies of Ai had struck them at the gates, chasing them down the steep hill like sheep. The Israelites had panicked, broken ranks, and fled in absolute, chaotic disorder back to the safety of the main camp. Thirty-six Israelite soldiers had been cut down and killed.

The camp was paralyzed with shock. What had happened? How could this be?

Joshua fell face down in the dust before the Ark, tearing his clothes. All the elders of Israel joined him, weeping and praying through the long hours. What is wrong? Why did You bring us this far, only to give us over to defeat? What will the heathen nations think of Your great name when they hear of this? They will surround us and wipe us off the face of the earth!

And in the heavy silence of the sanctuary, God spoke. “Get up.”

Joshua lifted his face from the dirt.

I am a great God, the divine response came, terrifyingly clear. But I am also a holy God. And Israel has sinned.

The words hit like thunder.

Someone has taken what I have forbidden. Someone has taken what I explicitly set aside for Myself. Someone has disobeyed. Someone has stolen. Someone has lied. Someone has hidden the accursed thing among their own goods. Can I bless you and give you victory under a curse? No.

The next morning brought the most amazing, terrifying probe ever put on record. By divine command, the entire camp of Israel—thousands upon thousands of men, women, and children—was summoned to assemble by tribes.

The bugles blew a long, solemn note. Achan stood in the ranks, his palms sweating, his throat dry. He watched the massive lines begin to move past the elders and past General Joshua, who stood waiting for God to point out where the rot lay. Achan waited too, trying to maintain a calm expression. It seemed totally unreal, fantastic, impossible. It couldn’t be about his box. It couldn’t be about that. No. It was such a little thing...

The voices of the leaders echoed across the valley as the lots were cast, tribe by tribe.

“Reuben... Simeon... Levi...”

Achan watched them pass.

“Judah... Dan... Gad... Asher... Benjamin...”

And then the announcement cut through the air like a knife. Judah! JUDAH WAS THE TRIBE!

An ominous, suffocating dread settled over the assembly. The rest of the morning became a waking nightmare. The families of the great tribe of Judah were ordered to march past the elders, clan by clan, household by household.

Achan stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his family, staring straight ahead, his eyes fixed on nothing. His wife leaned in close, her voice a trembling whisper.

“Achan. I’m frightened.”

“Why?” he hissed through gnarred teeth, not moving a muscle.

“Achan... you’re frightened too.”

“Hush.”

“You are,” she whispered, her voice rising in panic. “The sweat is running right down your face. Achan... do you think that could be it?”

“Quiet, woman! I do not know what to think.”

“It was such a little thing—”

“Shut up!”

But the word echoed inside his own skull, mocking him. Such a little thing, Achan.

I know, I know...

Your family is next, Achan. Walk past with your head up. Keep your head up. Your head up...

The line moved. A voice called out from the front of the judgment seat. “This is the family.”

No. The world seemed to spin.

The crowd of onlookers began to buzz, a low, menacing murmur rising from the thousands of spectators.

“That’s the family...”

“Look, it’s Achan’s family!”

“They’re going to make them walk by separately now!”

The crowd noise suddenly drowned out into a dead, terrifying silence as Joshua looked directly at them.

Walk by now with your head up, Achan—with your head—

“Bring him to me,” Joshua’s voice rang out across the clearing. “This is the one.”

Achan’s legs turned to water. He stumbled forward, his voice dropping to a broken whisper. “Yes, Sire—”

Joshua looked down at him, his face etched with sorrow and gravity. “What have you done?”

The words spilled out of him in a desperate, broken torrent. “I have buried treasure in my tent! I will show you—silver, gold, I will show you! You can have it, it is accursed! I’ll show you, just take it back! I’ll show you my treasure... there was a robe, fit for a king...” He collapsed into loud, wretched weeping. “It... it was... such a... little thing.”

Joshua’s eyes were heavy with judgment. “You have not sinned unto yourself alone, Achan. Your family is involved. Because of this, thirty-six soldiers have been killed, and many more are wounded. You have not robbed Jericho. You have robbed God. Take them away—their punishment is death.”

Sometimes, when I think of the tragic story of Achan, I find myself thinking about the sins that creep so quietly into my own life. The subtle, hidden things that look so small but completely rob me of spiritual victory—sins that I comfortably label as “little things.”

Sometimes I think of tithing, and I look more diligently to my job as a steward, ensuring I give back to God what is already His—at the very least, a tenth.

And sometimes I think of obedience in things large and small alike, and what a solemn, terrible transgression willful disobedience really is.

What do you think of Achan’s sin? It was written down in the pages of Scripture for your example, so that you might profit by his failure, look to your own heart, and live.

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Behind the Script: Ethel’s Translation Style

Readers familiar with Ethel Barrett’s later books and recordings know she frequently quoted from the clear, contemporary language of The Living Bible. However, when this script was written and broadcast in the late 1940s, modern paraphrases did not yet exist. In this era, a Presbyterian influenced writer like Ethel would have studied the classic text of the King James Version, but dynamically translated the archaic phrasing on the fly into vibrant, dramatic American English to suit the fast pace of radio. The conversational language in this narrative prose is a direct reflection of that early, innovative storytelling craft.

Scriptural Foundations

The historical account and theological themes woven throughout Ethel’s original script can be found in the following biblical passages:

• The Narrative Outline: Joshua chapters 6 and 7

• The Stolen Hoard Details: Joshua 7:21

• The Opening Theme: Romans 6:23

Adapted from Radio Script by Ethel Barrett

Miss Jackson walked briskly across the big downstairs lobby of the hospital. She sailed right past the reception desk like a person well used to the place—sure of where she was going—and made straight for the elevators.

She got off at four. That was the children’s floor, and she automatically turned to the right. It was a familiar course. As she walked down the corridor, she could hear their noisy chatter. They were all behind glass cubicles, and the ones who were feeling pretty good were playing games back and forth... “I am thinking of an object. It’s round and smooth and—” “What color is it?” “Well, it’s... let’s see, it’s sorta—”

But oh, some of them weren’t feeling so frisky. They were sick, or lonely, or frightened.

She stopped in front of one of the cubicles. Um... that was a new boy. She started on—and stopped again. He was arguing desperately.

“But I’m not adopted! My name is Bill Thompson. William James Thompson. It’s ALWAYS been Bill Thompson. Ever since... ever since... well, ever SINCE! Ever since always. I’m not adopted. You call my mother. My name is Bill Thompson—”

Miss Jackson’s heart gave a little tug. She looked around for the floor nurse. “Miss O’Brien. Miss O’Brien... what’s wrong with the boy in 413?”

“413?” Miss O’Brien looked up with a weary sigh. “Oh. Yes. Poor kid. They’ve just told him he was adopted. His foster parents can’t keep him.”

“Can’t keep him?”

“No. They have a serious illness, and he’s developed an allergy... it’s going to take a lot of time and money to cure him and they felt that they couldn’t do right by him. Decided to give him up for his own good.”

Miss Jackson stood very still. For his own good. It was a phrase that sounded so right and felt so wrong. “His chances of being adopted again are small, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” Miss O’Brien replied. “They can’t put children up for adoption unless they are without blemish, you know... without any known handicaps.”

Without blemish. The words echoed in Miss Jackson’s mind like a bell. A lamb... without spot or blemish. She looked back at the cubicle where the boy was huddled. “May I have a little talk with him?”

“Sure. Why don’t you wait until he’s alone? There’s a social worker in there with him now. Might be better if you saw him alone.”

Miss Jackson waited. She visited other children—some were new, some were old friends. She talked with them and told them the story of the wordless book, leaving tiny copies behind, but she kept one eye on Bill’s cubicle. And as soon as the social worker had left, she slipped inside.

“Hello, Bill.”

The boy looked up, his eyes red and his face a mask of confusion. “Hello. Do you know me?”

“I’d like to. I know all the children here. I come every day. Don’t you want the rest of your dinner?”

“No,” Bill muttered, kicking at the sheets. “They said if I didn’t eat it all I couldn’t have dessert... and if I DO eat it all, I won’t have ROOM for dessert. They’ve got me comin’ and goin’.”

Miss Jackson let out a little laugh. “Ummmm. Look, I’ve broken a rule just for this once. I’ve already asked for your dessert. They’re sending it in.”

Bill’s eyes widened. “How did y—”

“I’ve had my eye on you for the last half hour. I just knew. It’s ice cream. Chocolate.”

And so the ice cream came, and Bill DID eat some and felt a little better—and a little warmer inside—because Miss Jackson was so kind and so nice. She helped take some of that numb feeling away... sorta made you feel as if everything was alright, even though you knew it wasn’t.

She came often after that—’most every day—and Bill came to look for her... wait for her. Boy, she was swell! It wasn’t just that she brought things; it was that she really cared. She wanted to know what needles they stuck him with that day... he was getting all sorts of tests to see what made him break out and get asthma and stuff. She explained why his mother never came... why it was better for her, and Bill too, if she didn’t.

After a while, he got to be quite cheerful. But then came the day when she found him, a dejected heap, on the foot of his bed.

“Hello,” she said softly. “Well... you’ve busted out before, and got over it. It’s a reaction, Bill. They’ll find it. Look... look what I’ve brought you.”

Bill didn’t even look at the package. “They’re gonna put me in a home for boys ’n girls.”

“Yes. I’ve talked to the social worker. I know.”

“Does that mean I’ll be adopted?”

Miss Jackson swallowed hard. She looked at him, broken out all over his little body. A lamb, without spot or blemish... the words kept running through her head. She couldn’t think of anything to say for a moment.

“I don’t ‘spose anybody’d want me, would they?” Bill asked, his voice trailing off to a whisper. “On account of I keep bustin’ out—”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Miss Jackson said, her voice growing steady and her eyes bright with a story. “Once there was a baby who was condemned to worse than just ‘bustin’ out.’ He was condemned to death, and wound up being adopted by a princess.”

Bill sat up, his interest piqued. “He WAS?”

“Yes. It was when the whole race of God’s people—the Israelites—were slaves in Egypt. They were beaten and treated very badly—but they still increased in number. And finally, the cruel Pharaoh ordered every baby boy that was born... to be killed.”

“Oh BOY,” Bill whispered, his own troubles forgotten for a moment.

“Yes, the soldiers searched the houses. They rooted out the baby boys and carried them away and killed them. It was a terrible time. But there was one family that hid their baby boy—and the soldiers didn’t find him. Finally, he got to be three months old, and he was getting... well, he was getting quite noisy! His family became afraid. They knew they couldn’t hide him in the house forever, so they began to plan how to save him.”

Miss Jackson leaned in closer. “His older sister, Miriam, kept watch. She would give warning signals when soldiers were about—but they knew they couldn’t keep that up. So one day, the mother and father wove a basket. They covered the outside of it with pitch to make it waterproof. Then, one morning, before it was even light, they stole out of the house and down a winding path to the river Nile.”

“The Nile?” Bill asked.

“The Nile. And there, in a spot where the Pharaoh’s daughter herself was in the habit of bathing, they put the little ark, with the baby in it, right in the bullrushes so it wouldn’t float away. When Miriam awakened, she was told about it—and was told to stay nearby—near enough to hear and see what was going on—to make sure her baby brother came to no harm in case they didn’t see him.”

Miss Jackson paused, picturing the scene. “So she did. And pretty soon, the beautiful princess came with all her lady slaves to bathe in the river. The Bible says she noticed something rocking gently back and forth in the bullrushes. She sent one of her slaves to get it.”

“Can you lift it?” the Princess called out. “What is it? Bring it here!”

“And when they brought the ark to her,” Miss Jackson continued, her voice dropping to a dramatic whisper, “and they uncovered it... the baby woke up. And he began to cry.”

“Oh,” the Princess said. “Why, it’s a baby. A beautiful child. A Hebrew. They’ve put it here so it wouldn’t be—” She stopped, for right then, Miriam came running down to the water’s edge. Her heart was beating so fast, and she was so excited about talking to a real Princess, that her legs got all tangled up like a pretzel when she tried to curtsey!

“Oh, Princess—” Miriam panted.

“Yes?”

“Princess... I—shall I go call a nurse to care for the baby for you?”

Miss Jackson chuckled. “Now, whether or not the princess was suspicious, we just don’t know. But anyhow, she told Miriam ‘Yes.’ and Miriam ran as fast as her legs would carry her and brought back—”

“The baby’s mother!” Bill shouted.

“Yes!” Miss Jackson laughed. “The baby’s own mother. And the Princess paid her to do it!”

Bill’s face was shining now. “I knew the minute you said ‘Bullrushes.’ It was Moses!”

“Uh huh. And he grew up to be a mighty man... wise and brave and destined by God to be a leader. He was adopted, Bill. And that’s really what I wanted to talk about. Being adopted. Lots of important people were adopted. Queen Esther... and Daniel, in a way. And I’m adopted.”

Bill looked at her in total surprise. “YOU are?”

“I’m a child of a King. Yes. And my Father is a millionaire, too.”

Bill laughed. “Well, He IS. He owns the whole world. He MADE it.”

“You see, Bill, when we believe on Jesus and trust our lives to Him... we become God’s adopted sons. It says so in the Bible. We’re delivered from the slavery of fear into the freedom of being sons of God.”

“You mean... I shouldn’t be afraid? But I AM afraid.” Bill began to weep. “I’m afraid nobody’s gonna want me. I’m afraid—”

“JESUS wants you. He wants you right now, just as you are—afraid. Tell Him you know He died for you. Ask Him to save you... and then call God ‘Father,’ Bill.”

They bowed their heads right there in the little cubicle—Bill’s tawny head and Miss Jackson’s dark head together—and the late afternoon sun came in through the window and touched them... and seemed to bless them.

“Are you afraid now?” she asked.

“No,” Bill whispered. “No. I’m not afraid. Not in the way I was before. I’m not afraid no matter what happens.”

“That’s what I wanted you to say. Now you’ve been placed as a son... and God is your Father.”

“God is my Father,” Bill repeated. “God is my Father.”

“I hoped you’d see it, before I told you,” Miss Jackson said, her own voice thick with emotion. “Now someone else is going to adopt you, too.”

Bill looked up, rapturous and unbelieving. “Who... who wants ME?”

“I do,” she sobbed. “I do, darling. Don’t cry, Bill.”

“YOU’RE crying,” Bill pointed out, though he was smiling through his own tears.

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“I know. Aren’t we silly? Look, there’s a lot of red tape. I can’t adopt you for a while, but I’m going to be responsible for you.”

“But my... this bustin’ out?”

“Oh, you’ll get over that. We all have blemishes, Bill. They just don’t all show on the outside. There’s only One without spot and without blemish... the Lord Jesus. Well... I’ll be back tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. We’ll have lots of time to talk about it.”

She gathered up her wraps and kissed him. “Nite, Bill. Don’t forget to pray before you go to sleep, son. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Goodnite, Miss—good-nite.”

She hurried out of the cubicle, and Bill scrambled up on his cot and pressed his flat little nose flatter against the glass, watching her go. He watched her disappear around the bend... out of sight.

“I’m a child of a King,” he thought. “God is my Father.”

No... he’d never be afraid again. Because she’d be back tomorrow... and tomorrow... and tomorrow.

THE PROMISE

If you have called upon Jesus Christ to save you, you have been born again into the family of God. These things are written that ye may KNOW...

Do you know? Do you know that you are a child of the King? If you are a child, then you are an heir of God, and a joint-heir with Christ. Only God could prepare such a destiny for you. You never had a plan that He didn’t have a bigger one for you. You never had a dream that He didn’t have a greater one for you.

Wake up to the great facts of God. Wake up to what is yours. And take it. Take it, and He’ll be always there... tomorrow, and tomorrow.

Publisher’s Note: In 1949, the recording of the Rahab story earned Ethel Barrett first place in a nationwide competition held by the National Religious Broadcasters. However, the award nearly slipped away during the live-to-disc session. As the story reached its fiery climax, the sound effects technician had fallen asleep at his post. Realizing the production was seconds from failure, Barrett delivered the climactic cry of 'FIRE!' with such bone-chilling intensity that it bolted the technician upright just in time to catch the cue. That moment of authentic 'enthusiasm' didn't just wake the technician—it defined the recording and later served as a powerful example of enthusiam during her storytelling seminars.

The Fall of Jericho, Rahab II

MUSIC: SET GAY MOOD: THEN OUT. NG fast

BOY: You promised. Now you have to do it.

MOTHER: Did I put it in writing?

BOY: Nope.

MOTHER: You mean about the other half of the story I started?

BOY: Yep.

MOTHER: Where’d we leave off? Or better still, let’s recapitulate.

BOY: Yes, LET’S—a—do that.

MOTHER: Once there was a wicked city -

BOY: Jericho!

MOTHER:—with walls around it—

BOY:—and houses on the walls—

MOTHER: God’s people, the Israelites were going to march on Jericho, and sent spies on a dangerous mission to search it out -

BOY: And a woman named Rahab hid the spies so they didn’t get caught -

MOTHER: Yes, Rahab chose the Israelites—and God.

BOY: Then the spies made a promise—they made a promise—

MOTHER: They promised that when the army came, Rahab and her family’d be saved, if she left a scarlet cord hanging from her window. And now they’re coming back! They got across the river Jordan. God parted the waters!

MOTHER: YES, and when we left the story, the Jericho soldiers were running like the wind back to the city to warn them the army was coming!

BOY: Well, go ON!

MUSIC: TENSE, EXCITED: THEN OUT (Hamlet (side #6) 1 1/2” in)

MOTHER: When the gates of Jericho were opened to the Jericho soldiers, they fell in, half dead with fright. “They’re coming! They stop for nothing! They walk across rivers! We are doomed!”

They were taken to the king. The news spread like wild-fire through the city. Rahab heard it when she went out to get water. She hurried home, went up to that certain window, felt the red cord, made sure it was still there, hanging from the window. That cord meant EVERYTHING. That cord was her—her family’s—salvation. Her heart beat fast. She shaded her eyes, peered across the plain toward the Jordan valley. Pretty soon now, they’d be coming. The Israelites and God. HER God—now—

MUSIC: TENSE: THEN OUT

Well, for several days, nothing happened. As far as they could find out, the Israelites were setting up camp and making preparations for the big attack. Meanwhile orders were flying thick and fast in Jericho. The gates were to be closed now at all times—not just at nite. (TRUMPET) A state of emergency was declared. No one was to come in without being questioned and searched—no one was to go out without permission from the king. The king himself was terrified. Everyone was terrified—but Rahab. She was a little frightened—yet filled with a strange new hope that made her eager for the great army to come. When she went to get water, she hurried back to the house—dashed to that upper window to see if anything had happened while she was gone. If any of the others wanted to go out—her mother or father or sisters or brothers—they had to answer to her first—she was so afraid they’d be gone too long—or perhaps wouldn’t come back at all.

It was hard to make them believe they HAD to be in her home when the attack took place—for she couldn’t tell them about the promise of the spies. Every morning she’d awaken, thinking “today’s the day!” And she’d rush to the window, and look toward the Jordan.

And one morning she saw them. Way across the plain, she saw them. Like specks in the distance, at first—they were coming!

Others had been watching too, and before she got downstairs to tell the family, the cry was going up all over the city! Everywhere people crowded to see—people at windows, people on roof-tops—watching, hardly daring to breathe. As they drew closer, close enough to fight, people scampered down from roof-tops—some to hide in the center of town, some to stay by their possessions and save them if they could—the armed men were stationed by the walls and gates. And so—they watched and waited.

MUSIC: HAMLET SIDE 6. FROM START. HOLD IN B/G

The Israelite army! The warriors came first, armed with swords and shields and spears! And then—Seven holy men all dressed in white—and they carried strange trumpets! Behind them were more men in white robes with something—something that glittered in the sun like gold! It WAS gold—it was the ark! That strange and beautiful box they carried by poles on their shoulders—it had two carved figures on top with outspread wings—all made of gold—it was dazzling in the sun! And then as far as they could see, more warriors.

MUSIC OUT SLOWLY

The first in the procession had already started around the city—outside the city wall—and the rest followed. It was so quiet! No shouting—no battle cry—no military orders—no call for a parley—no one even spoke!

Then suddenly, the men with the trumpets pulled them from their belts and—(LOUD TRUMPET SINGLE NOTE BLAST) it froze the blood in the veins of those inside Jericho’s walls. But then, nothing happened! They marched on in complete silence. All the way around the city, and then—when the first ones got back to where they’d started, they marched away in the direction from which they came! And the others followed—and without a word, without even an upward LOOK, they came and went! (PAUSE) It was a trick. It was a TRICK. A war of nerves, that’s what it was. They’d be back that nite for a surprise attack.

The guards were doubled. A watch was kept. No one dared sleep. All through the long nite, they waited. Nothing happened. Next morning—sure enough, way in the distance, the specks could be seen—the glitter of light from the gold ark could be seen—they were coming! This time to fight! But—no—without a word, they marched around the city again and after a blast from the trumpets (TRUMPET BLAST) they were gone as they had before.

For six days they did that, marched around once, and were gone. For six nites, all Jericho waited for some trick, some surprise attack—that never came. By the seventh day, they were exhausted—the tension was almost unbearable. They watched, from the top of the gate, from the outer wall—from all the windows in the houses along the top of the wall—

Rahab and her family were watching too. Sure enough, the Israelites came back—the priests with white robes and trumpets, the golden box shining in the sun—and began that march around the city walls. Rahab watched from her window until the first ones got to the starting point again—then started to turn away—but wait.

MUSIC: EXCITED: WELL UNDER: (Night in Bare Mountain)

The first ones weren’t starting back. They were—they were starting around the city wall again! She called to her father to keep watch—she was down the stairs in a flash—making sure everybody was in the house, bolting doors—closing windows—breathless, back up to the window, her family with her. She called out to her father—

RAHAB: What are they doing?

FATHER: They’ve started around yet another time. This is the third time.

RAHAB: Third time. This is the day, then. Something’s going to happen. Is the cord in place—in sight from the window?

FATHER: Yes, daughter. It’s here.

RAHAB: Then everything’s alright. We’ll just wait and see.

MUSIC: SWELL; THEN OUT

MOTHER: It seems like a foolish thing to do.

RAHAB: What, just wait?

FATHER: No—this marching around and around. What can they hope to accomplish? They are not setting up for a siege. These walls are double and thick and high.

RAHAB: I know. But their God doesn’t work in ordinary ways. He—How many times have they gone around now?

FATHER: It’s been six—no, seven—they started the seventh time around, I think.

RAHAB: Perhaps, perhaps the whole city will yet surrender. They’ve had ample time to surrender, haven’t they, father?

FATHER: They will never surrender. They—listen—

SOUND: TRUMPETS IN BG

FATHER: They’re blowing the trumpets again.

RAHAB: Yes—something will happen now. The trumpet blasts seem longer—and louder—and so—final. Somehow -

MOTHER: The rest of what she said was swallowed up in noise!

SOUND: TROUBLE CRASHING, CONFUSION ETC.

MOTHER (NARRATER): The rest of what she said was swallowed in the noise!

MUSIC: START BG OF TROUBLE, CRASHING, CONFUSION, ETC. UNDER THE FOLLOWING:

After the last long loud blast of the trumpets, Joshua gave the command to shout! Shout! Jericho is yours! And the great cry that went up from the multitude outside the city walls—was terrible to hear! Jehovah has given us this city! Jericho is ours in the name of Jehovah!

The roar was like thunder! It was more than shouting—it was the walls! THE WALLS! The very earth seemed to rent and give way beneath them! Big jagged cracks zig-zagged their way up the outer walls and they came crashing outward—dragging the inner walls with them and the houses that were built upon them—all came down—down—ripping, crashing, tearing, sprawling down the hillside. Homes turned inside out as if by some giant hand—insides of homes spilling—people leapt from windows, screaming—fought their way farther into the city, climbing blindly over rubble—through the confusion, the dust, the fire—

SOUND: FIRE BG

FIRE! It was springing up everywhere, choking—blinding—FIRE! (FADE)

MUSIC: SWELL: THEN DOWN UNDER

SOUND: SWELL: THEN DOWN UNDER (FIRE)

And the orders went forth, and the Israelite army went into the city, every man “straight before him”—and the word went forth:

ELLIS1 (NARRATOR #2): “Rahab shall live, she and all that are with her in her house, because she hid the spies that we sent!”

MOTHER: A little group, led by the two spies, started off, in the direction of the portion of the wall where Rahab’s house—there it was, beginning to sag—ugly, jagged cracks finding their way up toward it—the walls on both sides of it bending outward crazily—fire eating its way all around it—and there it was—the scarlet cord in the window!

Heads in the window disappeared when they saw the soldiers coming—the crack widened—the two spies hurried around to the other side, soldiers followed into the choking blinding dust and smoke. Pounded on Rahab’s door. It opened immediately and Rahab was framed in the doorway—her hair streaming down—her eyes swollen from the stinging smoke—and her family—their faces masks of terror—all with bundles—their precious possessions—

There was no time for words. The soldiers grabbed bundles and half dragged that frightened family over the debris—keeping a safe distance from that sagging wall—

When they were outside, they turned to watch, their faces white with terror. The last section of wall bent, lurched crazily, and then with a tremendous groan—plunged outward, dragging Rahab’s house and the inner wall with it!

MUSIC: SWELL TO DRAMTIC CLIMAX: THEN OUT

SOUND: CRASHING

The last thing Rahab saw before it crumpled into nothingness, was the window with the scarlet cord dangling from it. And as they stood and watched—the city was destroyed utterly—by fire—by the sword—every possession was destroyed—except the gold and jewels—things that were tried by fire. They were saved for the treasury of the Lord.

MUSIC: MOOD BG

“Believe on the Lord and Thou shalt be saved—and thy house.” Rahab was saved—by faith—because she believed. “To as many as received Him, to them gave He the power to become the sons of God.” Rahab was saved because she received the messengers of the Lord. She was not only saved from destruction—she was saved for a glorious destiny—for our God is always ready to do exceedingly abundant above all that we ask or think. And as she stood there, clutching her robes about her, hugging her bundle of possessions, pushing her streaming hair from her face—she could see only smoke and flames and a crumpled city wall—where she could NOT see—was down through the years when her name would be written in the most significant family tree of all times—Rahab, mother of Boaz who married Ruth, mother of Obed, whose son was Jesse, whose son was David the king. And on through the years—from David to Joseph, husband of Mary, of whom was born, by God’s Holy Spirit, Jesus, who is called Christ.

How could she know as she stood there, the glorious destiny that was hers? She only knew she was saved—by faith.

She wiped her face on her sleeve, turned wearily away—and, with her family, followed the soldiers who had charge of her—to safety.

“Eye hath not seen nor mind conceived the wonders that God hath prepared for those who love Him.”

If Rahab could choose to cast her lot with God—with nothing to go on—then you can choose to cast your lot with Him—you have the word of God to go on—and He says —”Whosoever believeth on Him should not perish but have everlasting life.”

As Rahab received the messengers—and knew she was lost without the scarlet cord— so you must receive Jesus—knowing you’re lost unless you take for your salvation, His sacrifice on Calvary’s Cross.

MUSIC: UP AND OUT TO FINISH

Introductory Comment

This installment of the Heritage Edition features a direct transcription of a mid-century radio script by Ethel Barrett. While the original broadcast dates for this particular episode remain unrecorded, the physical characteristics of the manuscript—from the heavy keystrokes of a manual typewriter to the specific production notations—place it firmly in the late 1940s to early 1950s.

Presented here in its original dramatic format, ‘Rahab I’ showcases the unique ‘story-within-a-story’ technique Ethel Barrett often employed, using a domestic dialogue between a mother and son to bridge the gap between the modern world and the ancient walls of Jericho. We have preserved the script exactly as it was found in the archives, including the technical cues and shorthand of a live radio era.

MUSIC: GAY MOOD: THE OPENING. N.G. Quick1

SOUND: CHILD IMITATING MACHINE-GUN FIRE

MOTHER: What’s going on?

BOY: Watch out! I’m on a secret mission for my country, and you’re under suspicion!

MOTHER: I am? Who’re you?

BOY: You’re not supposed to KNOW who I am.

MOTHER: May I ask WHAT you are?

BOY: I’m a secret agent for my country. Hand over these plans.

MOTHER: Ahaaa. NO. Oh, please, Mr. Secret agent - I’ll give you five thousand dollars to leave me alone.

BOY: No.

MOTHER: Ten million dollars?

MOTHER: Ten inconceivabledrillion dollars?

BOY: No.

BOY: (LAUGHING) Nope.

MOTHER: Would you settle for a molasses cookie and a glass of lemonade?

BOY: Nope. Ha? Do you have lemonade?

MOTHER: Well, you could force me into making some.

BOY: I’d sure like some.

MOTHER: You talked me into it.

BOY: (LAUGHING) I didn’t say anything. How many lemons?

MOTHER: Bring two. And an orange. I have the sugar, and the rest.

SOUND: GLASSES, WATER POURING, ETC., AS CONVERSATION PROGRESSES

BOY: Did I sound like one?

MOTHER: Did you sound like one what? Thanks. Those are nice lemons.

BOY: Did I sound like a spy?

MOTHER: Ohhhhhh. Yes. You were terrifying.

BOY: No kidding. Do you know anything about spies?

SOUND: POUR HERE

MOTHER: Mmmmmm. A little.

BOY: Could you tell me something? Do you have time?

MOTHER: Here.

BOY: Thank you. It looks good. (SIP) It is good.

MOTHER: You’re welcome. Mmmm. It’s good alright. I have all the time in the world. What do you want to know?

BOY: Anything you can think of about spies. So I can play it.

MOTHER: Well pull up a chair, I can’t do a thing until that tub of laundry’s finished. Anyhow I’d rather talk to you. Where do you suppose the safest place would be in a city that was going to be attacked by an enemy?

BOY: Boy. When you told the story of the Holy War, the Castle was the safest place to be.

MOTHER: Where was that?

BOY: Right in the middle of the city.

MOTHER: Well, I know a story about an attack on a city where the safest place to be was right in the city wall!

BOY: Is it about spies?

MOTHER: And it’s about spies. It’s made to order. It’s a tale of a city and of spies and a great army and a woman who was nobody, and who got to be… (FADE)

MUSIC: NARRATIVE BRIDGE DOWN UNDER FOR: NG2

It was a beautiful city there in the Jordan Valley - Jericho! Called the city of palm trees. It was heavily fortified with strong walls and a huge gates that were locked at nite and guarded - and indeed it might well be - for it was an important city - a strategic city the gateway to the west - a city to be envied for its riches - a city to conquer if one would advance into the land of Caanan - a city full of wickedness beyond words to tell. Jericho!

MUSIC: OUT

The two strangers walked along the busy market streets - minding their business - mingling with the crowds - and listening. Here they stopped at the edge of a crowd to watch a fight between two peasant boys - there they rested in the shade beside a well - pretending to snooze - and listened to the gossip of the people who came to get water and stayed to chat. The gossip was all about the one thing that was on everyone’s mind. The great and terrible army just across the Jordan river - the Israelites, led by Joshua! It was useless to fight them - they had a living God Who performed miracles. The old timers told how he had parted the waters of the Red Sea and they’d walked across it on dry land - forty years ago many of them remembered when it had happened! And now - this army of Joshua’s was on its way toward the city - almost sure to attack it. All they had to do was get across the Jordan river. Everyone was scared to death. The two strangers slumped, snoozed and listened. THEY WERE SPIES.

BOY: They were?

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MOTHER: They were spies from Joshua’s army, sent ahead to spy out the city and report what they found. When they’d heard enough - they got up (YAWN) - and moved on lazily - down the street - up an alley toward the city wall. It was getting along toward sundown.

MUSIC: NARRATIVE BRIDGE. NG

Now in that city lived a woman - who may have lived her life and died and never been heard of, except that God had singled her out to weave her into the pattern of His plans. Her name was Rahab. And the door that these two spies knocked on was hers.

SOUND: (KNOCK)

RAHAB: (OFF MIC) Just a minute. (ON MIC) Well?

SPY: May we lodge here?

RAHAB: Who are you?

SPY: We only ask shelter for the nite. Does it matter who we are?

RAHAB: Come in.

SPY: You seem frightened.

RAHAB: Who isn’t frightened? Everybody’s scared to death. With an army ready to march on us any - You’re not from Jericho. You’re not one of us. I knew there was something about you. You’re you’re Israelites. (WHISPER) Aren’t you?

SPY: Will you let us stay?

RAHAB: If you’re found here, I’ll be killed.

SPY: We won’t be found. Our God is watching over us. He has given us this city.

RAHAB: Your God. The living God of Israel. God in Heaven above - God of all the earth. I know.

SPY: You seem to know us very well.

RAHAB: It’s true that He parted the waters of the Red sea for His people isn’t it?

SPY: It is true.

RAHAB: Some don’t believe it. I believe it. I believe that He’s given you this city too. He must be a wonderful God.

SPY: Do we stay?

RAHAB: You stay. I’ll risk it. Out this way. You may wash, I’ll get you something to eat.

MOTHER: Rahab was risking more than she knew for the presence of the spies was known in the city already the news had reached the king!

MUSIC: OMINOUS KEY: DOWN UNDER FOR: Hamlet #6

MOTHER: It was evening now the city was restless and uneasy. There was fear in the very air, as people began to disappear from the streets and lights in the windows began to go on. In her house in the city wall, Rahab had gone upstairs to prepare a room for the strangers, when from an upper window she saw - far up the street - a small group of soldiers - the king’s guards - coming down the street - in the direction of her house! She whirled around, down the stairs -

RAHAB: Soldiers coming this way. Quickly.

SPY: Can you hide us?

RAHAB: There’s no place - they may search the house - except the roof! Come on! Oh - quickly!

MOTHER: They flew up the stairs, their feet scarcely touching the ground - to the roof. Rahab crouched - scooted over to where the stalks of flax were spread out on the roof to dry - began to scrape them together.

RAHAB: Come over here - lie down - over here - keep low! You can be seen from the street. Here. I’ll cover you up with flax stalks.

MOTHER: She did, working feverishly. Then, crouching, she crossed the roof to the stairs, brushing the flax fibers from her clothing - went back down stairs. She bent over a candle, lighted it - the light shot her shadow up the side of the wall, like a giant, when -

MUSIC: OUT

SOUND: LOUD KNOCKING

MOTHER: She opened the door. Yes - it was the soldiers.

RAHAB: Yes?

SOLDIER: We are searching for Israelite spies - they were soon coming this way, entering your house. Let us in - in the name of the king.

RAHAB: Oh THOSE men.

SOLDIER: Then you have seen them?

RAHAB: Yes they came here. Who were they?

SOLDIER: Spies. From Joshua’s army.

RAHAB: Spies! They’ve gone. They went toward the city gates. I’ll bet they got out just before the gates were closed.

SOLDIER: Did they say where they were going?

RAHAB: No but if you go quickly, you can overtake them. They can’t have gone far!

SOLDIER: Thank you.

RAHAB: That’s alright. I hope you catch them.

MOTHER: She closed the door, leaned against it, trembling. Then she carried the candle upstairs to her room. Forced herself to move slowly, casually. She set the candle down on a stand, blew it out then dashed for the stairs to the roof! Crouched, scooted over to the piles of flax.

RAHAB: They’ve gone!

MOTHER: The spies crawled out, followed the woman down from the roof. They went to an upper window that looked out from the city wall, and peered into the darkness. Even tho they knew the soldiers had gone, they still whispered.

RAHAB: I know that Jehovah hath given you this land. Your terror has fallen upon us - everyone in Jericho trembles because of you. I’ll let you down this window by a rope. You can hide in the mountains until they’ve given up the search. But first -

MOTHER: She anchored a red cord to the window, dropped the end out into the darkness turned to face them.

RAHAB: I pray you - since I’ve shown you this kindness that you will show my family kindness -

SPY: What would you have us do?

RAHAB: Spare our lives - my mother and father - my sisters and brothers - when you come back to take the city.

SPY: You ask a great deal.

RAHAB: I know. Will you promise?

SPY: We will promise. If you promise not to tell of our mission here.

RAHAB: No - no. I won’t tell.

SPY: When we come back leave a portion of this red cord hanging from your window and your family all into this house. Only those found in this house will be saved.

RAHAB: Alright.

SPY: If they or you go out from this house when the attack begins, or if you tell our secret your blood will be on your own head. We don’t have to keep the promise.

RAHAB: Alright. It will be as you say.

MOTHER: She held her breath as they let themselves out the window, down the rope - disappeared into the darkness. No one had seen them.

MUSIC: FORBODING: ESTABLISH: THEN OUT: Hamlet #6

The days that followed were busy ones for Rahab. She had to get her father and mother and brothers and sisters and all that they had. And she had to convince them that her house was the only safe place. The gates of the city were kept closed all the time now. And the fear grew and grew - and Rahab watched over the plains from the upper window - and made sure the red cord was still there. How would they get across the Jordan river? That was the question in Jericho. The Jordan river was deep and wide and right now it was over-flowing its banks. They might send a few men across but how could they send a whole army? The intelligence force of the king of Jericho was working overtime - watching every move the Israelites made. If they got across Jordan, believe me the folks in Jericho wanted to know how they did it! I imagine the day it happened, the Jericho soldiers on reconnaissance duty were out scouting - I’ll bet their eyes bulged when they saw the front ranks of that great army marching right up to the banks. I can hear them -

1st SOLDIER: Their leader is speaking to them!

2nd SOLDIER: What do you suppose they’re going to do?

1st S: He’s too far away to hear. They seem to be just waiting.

2nd S: What is the golden box they carry by poles on their shoulders?

1st S: It’s the Ark - I’ve heard it’s the most sacred place of the Spirit of their living God. It always goes with them. They -

2nd S: Wait! They’re stepping toward the water - No! The fools!

1st S: They’re walking right into the river!

2nd S: No they’re walking on a dry path THROUGH the river - the water on the north has stopped flowing down - the water on the south has gone on down to the sea - the river bed here is dry! They’re walking across the river!

1st S: Run - run - tell the king - run for your lives!

MUSIC: DRAMATIC BRIDGE (Hamlet P/2 in)

BOY: Well go ON.

MOTHER: I can’t. There’s no more time.

BOY: Oh NO. You couldn’t leave it in a worser place!

MOTHER: (LAUGHING) Couldn’t leave it in a BETTER place. I’ll tell you the rest, very next chance I get. And you remember the story so far, so you can piece it all together.

MUSIC: POLISH OFF

By October 1949, Ethel Barrett was a staple of the airwaves with her weekly radio show, Storytime, sponsored by the Albany Bible Institute. This particular broadcast captured her at a career milestone: having recently won first place in the National Religious Broadcasters' nationwide competition for her transcribed work, she was performing this original story live for her WPTR audience in Albany. Below is the high-fidelity transcription of the original October 11, 1949, broadcast script, including the original stage directions and musical cues.

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STORYTIME: THE STORM

Original Broadcast Date: October 11, 1949

Station: WPTR, Albany, NY | 7:15 PM

Author/Performer: Ethel Barrett

ANNCR: (COLD) It’s STORYTIME!

MUSIC: (x-1-3) ESTABLISH; THEN FADE AND HOLD UNDER:

ANNCR: It’s STORYTIME tonight, and every Tuesday evening at this hour with Ethel Barrett. It was a transcribed1 program written and presented by Ethel Barrett, that won first place in the National Religious Broadcasters’ nation-wide 1949 competition and now she’s here in person presented for you by the ALBANY BIBLE INSTITUTE.

MUSIC: OUT.

ANNCR: The staunchest tree is not found in the shelter of the forest, but out in the open where the winds from every quarter beat upon it, and bend and twist it until it becomes a giant in stature. It requires storms to produce the rooting. Ethel Barrett’s story tonite has to do with storms. It may answer a question in your heart. Let’s listen.

MUSIC: (w-38-5) ESTABLISH; THEN OUT.

BOY: Mother—Mother—

MOTHER: I’m in here.

BOY: Hi.

MOTHER: Hi. The fellows were looking for you.

BOY: They were?

MOTHER: They were. (PAUSE) Well—your enthusiasm is contagious.

BOY: Hm?

MOTHER: You don’t sound very excited. You don’t sound even curious. Don’t you want to know what they wanted?

BOY: What’d they want?

MOTHER: They’ve gone over to watch them tear up Main Street. There’s a very exciting steam-shovel over there, among other numerous and sundry gadgets that I can’t name.

BOY: Uh huh.

MOTHER: Saaaaay! Something IS wrong with you. Don’t you feel well? (PAUSE) I’m sorry.

BOY: That’s okay.

MOTHER: Want to talk about it?

BOY: I—can’t. I don’t have it figured out yet.

MOTHER: Well, maybe we can pray about it—and get it “figured out” together.

BOY: No—I’d rather wait ‘till I’ve straightened it out before I tell you about it. I’m ashamed to tell you now. I’m licked. I’m just licked.

MOTHER: No Christian is ever licked. Just because it isn’t “smooth sailing” doesn’t mean you’re licked. You’re just riding through a storm, that’s all. (Pause) There were some men once—who thought they were licked. They were riding through a storm. (Pause) Would you like to hear it?

BOY: No— I’m too busy thinking.

MOTHER: Well, maybe this story will help you think. Tell you what. I’ll just give you a preview of the story, and if you don’t want to hear it— I’ll save the rest ‘till some other time.

BOY: It’s about a storm?

MOTHER: Mmmmmm. A WICKED storm.

BOY: Go ahead.

MUSIC: SET SCENE FOR STORM; ESTABLISH, THEN DOWN UNDER FOR:

“It’s no use—the waves are too high—furl the sail!”

Furl the sail! The sail came tumbling down—CRASH!

“Don’t lash it down—just make the boom fast!”

They struggled with the heavy boom that held the sail, pulled it (HIKE) to the middle of the boat and (BUSINESS) lashed it fast with rope.

“Break out the oars! Look alive on that tiller—keep her headed into the waves! Don’t let her head slide off into the trough! If one of those waves catches her broadside, we haven’t got a chance!”

Yes, the way things looked, they DIDN’T have a chance. The little boat was being tossed about as if it were no bigger than a wall-nut shell. They were goners.

MUSIC: OUT (wait for cue)

MOTHER: Who were these men? That’s the exciting part of a real true story! Well I guess I got ahead of myself. Want to hear the rest?

BOY: Yep.

It all began really—back on land. The Lord Jesus Christ had been preaching and teaching—and oh—the people who followed Him! If it were today, you’d say he was a sensation! Wherever He went, multitudes followed Him to hear Him talk. And just before this story opens—He had fed way over five thousand people from just a few rolls of bread and a few fish! Why, people were in a fever pitch of excitement! They wanted to make Him King. It says in the gospel of John, they were ready to take Him by force—and insist that He be their King, then and there. But Jesus hadn’t come to set up an earthly kingdom—he’d come to pay the price for mens’ sin on Calvary’s Cross—He was no ordinary king—He was the lamb of God—and when He comes again He’ll be King—but that’s another story.

These people meant alright but they didn’t understand, and they wanted Him to be king. And He said to His disciples—”Get into your boat, and go across to the other side of the lake. After I send these people away—I want to stay here and pray.”

Oh—they didn’t want to go. They’d caught the excitement too—and they didn’t want to leave Him alone. But in the end, they did. They got in their boat hoisted—the anchor aboard—took an oar and shoved off—swung her about—and ran up the sail.

I think they were disappointed men, those disciples. It would have been wonderful for their Jesus to be a king. But right in the middle of all the excitement, He’d made them go away—and He had gone alone into the mountain to pray.

MUSIC: ( ) SNEAK IN SUITABLE B G UNDER FOLLOWING:

The sail bellied out—as the wind filled—and the boat started out from shore. Oh—it was beautiful—the moon made a path—like burnished silver across the water—and the boat was in that path, all splashed with moon-light—like a picture—and the water went slap-slap-slap-slap.

Then—Hmmmm. Straightened up. Wind started changing direction—it was coming TOWARD them, driving them back. The slap-slap-slap turned to chop-chop-chop-chop. They began to get busy.

What do you do in contrary winds? Why, that’s easy. You tack. You push that old boom around to get the sail in different positions—two points abaft the port beam, to go this way—then two points abaft the starboard beam, to go that way—to catch the wind—and you tack—you ZIG-ZAG along your course. And that’s what they probably did at first.

But the storm grew worse—the man at the stern-sheets hung on that old tiller for all he was worth. (STORM MUSIC) Their faces were worried now—they were drenched with spray—it had all happened so quickly! The swells were getting higher now—WHOP! That one almost swamped them! The wind was screaming—now they were terrified! This was no time for any mistakes!

“Furl the sail!”

They staggered as they went about doing it, grabbing things to keep from being washed overboard. CRASH! The sail collapsed.

“Don’t lash it down—just make the boom fast!”

They did—falling against each other.

“Look alive on that tiller! Don’t let her head slide off into the trough! Keep her headed into the waves!”

If the boat ever got pushed sideways, and got into the trough—into one of those gulleys, she was a goner! They headed into the waves—a wave would rise up like a mountain—like a giant wall—coming toward them—into it—right into it—right through it! Hang on—you couldn’t hear yourself think! It would break over them—then they’d be down—as if they were crouching—waiting for the next wave to come. The man at the tiller steered desperately. It was straight into the waves—or die! Then up, up, UP—P-l-u-n-g-e over the top of the next one! Now it wasn’t ‘get to the other side’—getting anywhere didn’t matter—it was just stay on top—just stay alive— They’d never make it—they were goners—

And then someone saw it.

He was pointing three points abaft the starboard beam—back toward the stern—they hardly heard his cry, the wind was so loud—but they saw his face—saw him point—and they all looked.

Oh NO. Were they losing their minds? What sort of nightmare was this? The waves, they could fight—but this!—Yea, it would be better to drown—this was a GHOST walking on the water! They cried out—and their cries were lost in the howling sea!

MUSIC OUT

And then—a voice came over the waves—how clearly they could hear THAT—”Be not afraid—it is I.” (OUT)

No—it couldn’t be—but—oh joy of joys, it WAS—it was Jesus! Now the boat was going aimlessly, up over the swells and down again—as they clung to the oars and watched Him coming toward them.

Peter clung to the edge of the boat—excitement had carried him beyond all reason—he called out, “Lord if it is You, tell me to come to You— on the water!”

And the Lord held out His hand and said, “Come!”

The other disciples were rooted to the spot. They watched in wonder as Peter hiked himself over the edge of the boat—let himself down to the water—and began to WALK —TOWARD—JESUS—ON—TOP—OF—THE—WATER!

No one spoke. They hardly breathed. Peter—walking on water! Peter went toward his Lord like a man in a dream, closer—closer—then, suddenly, like a person “coming to”—he felt the wind whipping his clothes about him, felt the spray in his face—saw the foaming waters—heard the howling wind—OHHHHHH—he began to sink—tread water to keep his head up—”MASTER, Lord, save—me!”

And the Lord stretched out His hand—lifted Peter up—and this time, he stayed up—his hand in the Lord’s hand.

“Peter, why didn’t you believe—that I could hold you up?” It was the Lord’s voice, scolding—but it was tender.

Together, they walked back to the boat—and somehow, where Jesus was, the waves were gentle swells, though the waters broke and crashed all about them. And when Jesus got in that boat—the waters became quiet—the wind stopped blowing—the storm had stopped!

MUSIC: OUT

We just can’t imagine how amazed and full of wonder those men were. They were too amazed to do much talking. They could only kneel before Him in the boat, and whisper, “Truly Thou art the Son of God.”

It doesn’t tell us in God’s word that they took to the oars, or hoisted the sail—or did any of the things they would ordinarily do to get the boat to shore. No—the master of the sea was in the boat. He guided it safely to the other side—and they found themselves right in the place where they wanted to be. They had wanted Him to be King—He had refused—but in His own way, He had let them know that He WAS a king—far greater than they knew. It tells us in one of the Psalms—

They that go down to the sea in ships, That do business in great waters; These see the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the deep. For He commandeth, and raiseth the stormy wind, Which lifteth up the waves thereof. They mount up to the heaven, they go down again to the depths. Their soul is melted because of trouble. They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, And are at their wit’s end. Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, And He bringeth them out of their distresses. He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. Then are they glad because they be quiet; So He bringeth them unto their desired haven. Oh that men would praise the Lord for His goodness, And for His wonderful works to the children of men!2

BOY: Then they cry to the Lord in their trouble and He brings them out of it. Thank you, mother.

MOTHER: Tell the Lord your troubles. Talk to Him about your storms. And ask Him to calm the storm and deliver you. I don’t know what your problem is, and I don’t want to, right now! But tell the Lord. If the class has gone on to something new that you can’t get through your head—long division—fractions—Ohhhh. I used to be dumb in fractions, ’till I got the hang of it—and you’re going to school with a lump in your chest because you don’t know the work—Talk to the Lord about it. Then ask for help—and the Lord will make that teacher patient. Or if somebody else got blamed for something you did—and you didn’t admit it right on the spot, and now it’s hard to—He’ll help you make it right.

Those things are STORMS—come into your life to make you grow and give you spiritual muscles! You’ll never be a man worth anything to God, without the storms. But He’s always there—waiting to help. All you have to do is call on Him. You don’t have to go down under the water and get licked. Just throw up your hands like Peter did and say, “Lord help me!” See?

BOY: (SIGH) Yep. I know what I have to do. I knew all along, but it’s going to be easier now to do it.

MOTHER: Going to take care of it now?

BOY: Yep. Right now. That’s funny—

MOTHER: What?

BOY: Before I wasn’t hungry. I felt kinda sick. But now I’m hungry. What’s for dinner? I’ll be back in time to get washed for dinner.

MOTHER: (LAUGHING) Nothing’s for dinner—if I don’t get busy. Be home by five-thirty!

BOY: Okay! Bye!

MUSIC: WIND UP

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CLOSING

ANNCR: STORYTIME, with Ethel Barrett is a presentation of the ALBANY BIBLE INSTITUTE.

Listen next week at this same time for another original story. The program you heard tonite is entitled THE STORM. And now, a final word from Ethel Barrett.

ETHEL BARRETT: It tells us in the New Testament, that the early Christians “received the word with all readiness of mind, and searched the scriptures daily, whether those things were so.”

There are many Christians “searching the scriptures” today—the enrollment at ABI evening school has been good.

Courses of real value are being offered—Old Testament History, Doctrine, Prophesy, Life of Christ, Old Testament Survey—and here’s something of interest to you Sunday School Teachers—an exposition of the current Sunday School lessons! Oh—pastors are bringing their young people—why don’t you enroll in a group? Call Albany—4 8863—tonite.

ANNCR: Next week, ALBANY BIBLE INSTITUTE will bring you Ethel Barrett with another original story. Don’t miss it—7:15, Tuesday. And don’t forget that phone number. Albany 4-8863.

Historical Note: The 1949 NRB Award

The National Religious Broadcasters (NRB) was founded in 1944 to protect the rights of evangelical broadcasters during a period when major networks (NBC, CBS, and Mutual) were increasingly restricting religious airtime.

By 1949, the year this script aired, the NRB had successfully lobbied the newly formed ABC network to reverse its ban on paid religious broadcasting.3 Ethel Barrett’s first-place win in the NRB’s nationwide competition that same year signaled a major shift toward professional excellence in Christian media.4

Copyright © 1949, 2026 by Barrett Enterprises, LLC. All rights reserved.

THE GIANT DESPAIR

By Ethel Barrett

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MUSIC SET GAY MOOD: THEN OUT

BOY: Mommie — Mommie — what’r you doing? (FADING ON MIC)

MOTHER: Hi.

BOY: Hi.

MOTHER: I thought you were playing with Richard.

BOY: I stopped. When I saw you. May I help?

MOTHER: No. I’m going to rake up some leaves and rubbish.

BOY: Well I could be a big help. I could —

MOTHER: I want to be alone.

BOY: We could get it done twice as fast and we could talk. We—

MOTHER: Bill. Go ’way. If you’ll just let me stay here alone and rake leaves and—

BOY: …and sulk.

MOTHER: —and sulk. NO. I’m not sulking.

BOY: Oh, Excuse me. I just thought - you always say I’m sulking when I do what you’re doing, so I thought when YOU’RE doing what you’re doing, you’re sulking too. Is it something else when you do it? When grown-ups do it, mmm?

MOTHER: You win. I’m sulking. I— I have a headache. And I’m cross. You stay if you like, but just don’t talk to me.

BOY: LOOK! It’s a worm! An honest-to-real worm!

MOTHER: So it is.

BOY: What d’you know? The very first worm I’ve seen this year! Could we give him a home? Ooops. He’s gone back in. He was a lovely worm. Those leaves are wet’n soggy — What’s this? Is it flowers?

MOTHER: It’s new clover. Baby clover—all snug underneath the soggy leaves. How fresh and green it is.

BOY: Nobody knew it was there! It was secret!

MOTHER: God knew. He brought it to life.

BOY: And Cynthia! The Cynthia bush over by the fence!

MOTHER: (LAUGHING) Forsythia. Yes. I didn’t notice it was blooming. It’s lovely.

BOY: And here in our own yard—Daffodils! Look! Winter was so long, I was beginning to think summer’d never come. I was discouraged!

MOTHER: Were you? (TO HERSELF) I was.

BOY: Do YOU get discouraged?

MOTHER: Mmmm. When you see—things coming to life again—we’ve no RIGHT to get discouraged!

BOY: Boy, you’re hanging on that rake like it was a weapon.

MOTHER: I was thinking—(QUICKLY) Would you like to hear a story?

BOY: Boy, WOULD I? But we won’t get the yard straightened up.

MOTHER: Maybe not. But I’ll get a few other things straightened up.

MUSIC - NARRATIVE BRIDGE

Once upon a time there were two men. They were traveling along the King’s Highway. One was well prepared for traveling—he had on the whole armor of God: Helmet of salvation - shield of faith, sword of the spirit - breast-plate of righteousness—all the rest of it. He even had a scroll with the word of God written in it—

BOY: He sounds like a Christian.

MOTHER: He WAS a Christian. That was his name. Christian. The other one had just become a Christian—he wasn’t a real warrior yet—his name was Hopeful.

Now, when our story opens, they’d been having a wonderful time together—the traveling was easy and pleasant—green meadows - rippling brooks - soft squashy grass for their feet—It was good. It was a little too good. Their feet got tender—and their spiritual muscles got soft and flabby—and then when the road got rough again—ouch. Hmmm. Sharp stone. Ooops. Scraped my elbow. That jagged rock stuck right out there. (SUCK IN BREATH)

MOTHER: And they did go on—but as they went and the road got rougher—they talked less and less about the goodness of God—-and more and more about how tough it was. They made their first bad mistake. They GRUMBLED.

CHRISTIAN: Oh, I could do big things for God if I weren’t tied down here. This road— (SIGH). I say—a sign. BY-PATH MEADOW. Hmmm.

HOPEFUL: Christian, it’s off the King’s Highway.

CHRISTIAN: And a smooth path.

HOPEFUL: We’re supposed to stay on the King’s Highway.

CHRISTIAN: It’s easy to get to, too. There’s a stile goes over the fence.

HOPEFUL: But it’s off—

CHRISTIAN: Nonsense. It goes along in the very same direction.

HOPEFUL: But it says “By-path Meadow,” Christian. I—don’t like the sound of it.

CHRISTIAN: Well, I like the “looks” of it. Come on. Let’s give it a try, anyhow.

MOTHER: And so they did. It was lovely! So easy—so pleasant—Christian beamed.

CHRISTIAN: And it DOES go right along toward the Celestial City. You see—we were on the right track. Oh oh. There’s a fellow up ahead. Let’s ask him—then you’ll feel easier. (CALLING) Hooooo!

VAIN-CONFIDENCE: (CALLING OFF MIKE) Hooooo!

CHRISTIAN: Wait up— (ON MIKE) Pardon me. I am Christian and this is Hopeful.

VAIN-CONFIDENCE: How do you do. I’m Mr. Vain-Confidence.

CHRISTIAN: We—were wondering where this path led to.

VAIN-CONFIDENCE: To the Celestial City.

CHRISTIAN: Good—good. We just wanted to make sure. Thank you so much.

VAIN-CONFIDENCE: That’s quite alright. Now, I’m in a bit of a hurry, as night is coming on—if you’ll pardon me—

CHRISTIAN: Yes, of course. And thank you again. (To HOPEFUL) See, Hopeful. We’re alright.

HOPEFUL: Yes, Christian. It is easy walking. I must admit that. I guess it’s alright.

MOTHER: And so they walked on the nice velvet grass—and they didn’t notice that the path gradually led away from the King’s Highway—the straight and narrow way they should have walked. Then the sun went down—it got dark—pitch dark—they couldn’t see the path ahead of them now—

MUSIC - OMINOUS

HOPEFUL: Christian—ought we to go on?

CHRISTIAN: We don’t dare go back. I don’t know the way. At least, going on, we can try to follow Mr.—er—whatever his name was. (CALLING) Hoooo!

FAINT ANSWER: Hoooooo.

CHRISTIAN: See. He’s answering. We’ll be alright.

HOPEFUL: I hope so. Call him again.

CHRISTIAN: (CALLING) Hoooo.

HOPEFUL: He doesn’t answer. Call again.

CHRISTIAN: (CALLING) Hooo.

SOUND: FAINT CRY, NOISE OF SOMEONE FALLING

HOPEFUL: Christian, did you hear that? He fell in something.

CHRISTIAN: (CALLING) Hoooo. He DID fall into something.

HOPEFUL: I’m scared.

CHRISTIAN: So am I. Thunder!

MUSIC & SOUND: STORM SOUNDS, THUNDER, LIGHTNING, WIND

MOTHER: (When the lighting flashed) They saw pits and caves and crevices ahead—then it was pitch dark again. They staggered along a few feet each time the lightning came— and finally — The found a fence and some boards leaning up against it. They crawled in out of the rain.

MUSIC AND START DIMINISHING SOUND

They didn’t see the gloomy castle standing nearby. They didn’t see the sign: DOUBTING CASTLE—OWNER, GIANT DESPAIR. They fell sound asleep, exhausted.

MUSIC OUT - SOUND OUT

In the morning, out of the castle came a horrible monster, GIANT DESPAIR—and began to look around his property, poking under things with his giant club.

GIANT: (EVIL LAUGH) Ah—what’s this? Come out from there. What are you doing on my property?

MOTHER: Ohhhh. Christian backed out. Then Hopeful. Ooops. Big feet. They looked up and up—Shhhh. Club. Ohhhh. What a horrible face!

GIANT: Ho ho ho ho... Who are you?

CHRISTIAN: (HARDLY ABLE TO SPEAK) Christian. My friend, Hopeful. We—

GIANT: Yes, I know. You wanted to dabble in doubting. Well, Christians don’t just dabble in doubting without answering to me!

MOTHER: Wop! He swung his club and they jumped! He chased them into the castle, up the steps, down a cellar stairway, and oof—pushed— them into a dungeon and locked the door!

MOTHER: The dungeon of despair! There were skulls and snakes and rats. Christian sat down on a bench. And there they stayed. The whole day went by. And the next day!

And then — a key turned in the lock!

CHRISTIAN: Perhaps it’s Giant Despair—with food!

GIANT: Hoh hoh — It’s Despair alright, but not with food! My wife’s been talking to me. Never met my wife, have you? She’s almost as ugly as I am. Name’s Diffidence—call her Distrust for short. She says you might as well do away with yourself. You’ll never get out of here. So I brought a rope, a knife, some poison. Here. Think it over.

MOTHER: And with that he was gone. Christian put his head in his hands.

CHRISTIAN: I’m licked. I’m just no good—I can’t see any way out—

HOPEFUL: No, Christian—No! You fought Apollyon and licked him in the valley of humiliation, remember? You were so brave at Vanity Fair— why, it was you who made ME believe on your Savior! You CAN’T give up!

CHRISTIAN: I DO give up. I give— Hopeful. We’ve been so busy feeling sorry for ourselves—why haven’t we asked God to deliver us?

HOPEFUL: Oh Christian. Do you suppose it’s too late to ask Him now?

MOTHER: And there—in the dungeon of despair, they knelt to pray. Far into the night, they prayed—they praised God because He was faithful, tho’ they were not— “Oh God, forgive us—for grumbling—for leaving the right path and seeking our own way—and deliver us from this—”

CHRISTIAN: Hopeful. Here’s a key. Christian never knew what made him feel in his pocket.

MOTHER: They both looked at the door. They were both thinking the same thing. Christian went over to the door, quietly put the key in the lock.

CHRISTIAN: It’s a key of promise, Hopeful. “Call upon Me in the day of trouble; I will deliver thee.”

MOTHER: He turned the key. The door slowly creaked on its hinges, swung open!

SOUND: SQUEAKING DOOR

CHRISTIAN: Nobody’s in the hall. Come on, Hopeful!

MUSIC TENSE BG: swell under

HOPEFUL: Do you suppose it will open the outer door, Christian?

CHRISTIAN: I hope so. Here it is. Keep watch—let me know if you hear anyone coming. Here it goes. “Why do ye doubt, oh ye of little faith?” It turns, it turns!

SOUND: SQUEAKING DOOR

CHRISTIAN: Come on!

HOPEFUL: How can we get across the courtyard?

CHRISTIAN: We’ll have to run for it. Let’s go!

HOPEFUL: Quick, Christian! Unlock the gate!

CHRISTIAN: I’ll try. “Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.”

HOPEFUL: Quick! The giant is coming!

CHRISTIAN: It opens! It opens! We’re out! Run, Hopeful, run!

HOPEFUL: We’ll never make it—he’s coming!

CHRISTIAN: No—he’s frothing at the mouth—he’s having a fit. He’s rolling on the ground! Oh Hopeful, we are MORE than conquerors through Christ Jesus who loved us and gave Himself for us! This way!

MOTHER: And they ran and they ran, over the meadow, past the pits, past the puddles—no more discouragement, no more despair—back on the King’s Highway again!

MUSIC QUICK BRIDGE X-3

BOY: Whew! That was a narrow escape.

MOTHER: It sure was. Oh—Christians shouldn’t go stumbling along in despair and defeat. If we’re in His army, we’ve GOT to walk in victory. He conquered DEATH! Giant Despair, you’re a boogie-man. We’ve no RIGHT to be discouraged.

BOY: But I wasn’t discouraged. YOU were.

MOTHER: We Christians thrive on trouble. It’s trouble that—

BOY: I thought you had a headache.

MOTHER: It’s trouble—what headache? It’s gone. It’s trouble that makes our spiritual muscles grow! A fighter doesn’t train by—lying around and eating chocolates, does he?

BOY: Boy, he sure doesn’t.

MOTHER: Well, Christians aren’t worth anything to God if they go off the highway into by-path meadows where the walking is soft, either.

BOY: No, I guess they sure don’t.

MOTHER: We didn’t rake up much.

BOY: Nope. Shall I go get a basket to put the stuff in so we can burn it?

MOTHER: Uh huh.

BOY: I helped you—didn’t I?

MOTHER: Yes, you helped. Get the old baskets on the back porch.

MUSIC: SNEAK IN MOOD BG

MOTHER: (TO HERSELF) Yes, you helped—more than you know. It wasn’t my head that was aching—it was my heart. I thank Thee, Father, for such a son as this—for giving me these hum-drum things to do. You knew my heart was aching—You sent me out here to find a daffodil—to uncover its perfect beauty in the soggy leaves—and in the finding, to know again that Thou art the resurrection and the life—and because Thou dost live, I will live also. I thank Thee—for helping me back on to the King’s Highway again.

MUSIC - SWELL: FINISH OFF

In the depths of Ethel’s archive, this story sounds more like an adaptation of a preacher’s illustrative story than an original Ethel Barrett piece. The script is annotated as “For Recording” without the typical “By Ethel Barrett” or other attribution.

THE OLD MAN - Prayer

Author Unknown | Adapted for recording script by Ethel Barrett

MUSIC: NEUTRAL THEME AND UNDER:

NARR: Once upon a time there was an old man. He didn’t have much money. But he had the deepest simplest love for God in his heart. One day, something very special happened in this old man’s life. In those days they didn’t have cars and television and Christians didn’t have the chance to hear the Word of God the way they do now. So this was special. A great preacher was preaching for a whole week in the next town—miles away. Everybody was talking about it, and everybody wanted to go!

And this old man wanted to go. He didn’t have a horse and buggy—but that didn’t bother him a bit! He packed a lunch and started early in the morning—walking.

MUSIC: SIMULATE WALKING. OUT ON “THEY STOPPED BY THE ROADSIDE”

NARR: Well he’d gone quite a way when he was over-taken by a young fellow—a student—who was going to the same place—the meetings! So they had a lot to talk about. And when it came time to eat, they stopped by the roadside and took out their lunches. And the young man said grace.

My—he said the most beautiful prayer full of well-turned phrases he’d learned just so—it was a prayer to make a simple fellow tongue-tied.

But when they’d finished lunch, the young man asked the old man to ask God’s blessing on the rest of their trip. And the old man prayed. He prayed for both of them, and for the meetings to come. And then—

OLD MAN: And Father, there’s something special I’d like to ask you. Matter of fact, there are three things. You know I’m hard of hearing and You know how bad I want to hear that sermon tonight. Now I’m asking for a front seat—I know it’ll be crowded—but nothing’s too hard for You. And I know You want me to hear. And then, I need some shoes, and I know You’re going to take care of that. And now, Lord, we’ll leave the meetin’ and the sermon, and all our needs in Thy hands. Oh. And I need a place to stay. In Jesus Name, amen. Well. Guess we’d better get goin’.....

YOUNG MAN: I say—do you really think that God—that God­—(SIGH)

OLD MAN: What’s the matter?

YOUNG MAN: Nothing. Only I never heard anyone pray for such—in such a manner. Do you really think God cares about things like that?

OLD MAN: Oh yes. He certainly does. Don’t ever underestimate God. I know.

YOUNG MAN: Well. Alright. We’d better move along. But I’ll be very much interested to find out if and how your prayer is answered.

MUSIC: BRIEF BRIDGE AND OUT

NARR: Well they went on—and when they got to the town—sure enough—there were horses and buggies lined up for blocks around the church. And the church was crowded. All the seats were taken.

MUSIC: “CHURCHY” ORGAN MUSIC IN BACKGROUND, AS PRELUDE BEFORE MEETING

Well, they stood up in back, the old man cupping his hand up to his ear so he could hear—and they hadn’t been there five minutes when an usher came and bent close to the old man’s ear!

USHER: Pardon me, sir.

OLD MAN: Hm?

USHER: Will you come with me please? There’s a seat for you in one of the front pews.

OLD MAN: For me? Oh—thank you. And thank you, Father. Well, goodbye, boy. See you after the meetin’.

NARR: And he marched down the aisle, to a pew right in front! And sat next to the most beautiful and well-dressed young lady he’d ever seen!

OLD MAN: Ehhh. Do I have you to thank for this nice seat?

Y LADY: Good evening. This is my father’s seat. He said if he was not here by seven-thirty—to give his seat to some one. I noticed you standing back there with your hand cupped to your ear.

OLD MAN: Weeell. Thank you. And thank YOU, Father.

MUSIC: DOWN AND UNDER:

NARR: When it came time to pray—the old man was the kneeling down kind of pray-er and the young lady was the standing-up kind. And with her head bowed, she couldn’t help seeing the holes in the bottom of his shoes. She should have had her eyes closed—but this is no time to split hairs. Anyhow—afterward, she leaned over toward him and said—

Y LADY: I hope you won’t be offended but I couldn’t help noticing your shoes. You—well, my father owns a shoe store. And I have a key. Our house-man who drives me home can help us. And we can fit you with a new pair. Will you accept it as from the Lord?

OLD MAN: Ehhh. That’s awful nice of you, ma’am. Yup. I will. And thank you. And thank YOU, Father.

MUSIC: NEUTRAL BRIDGE AND UNDER:

NARR: When the meeting was over, the old man met the young student outside on the church steps, and called out—

OLD MAN: Good night, son. See you tomorrow night’s meeting. I’m on my way to get a new pair of shoes!

MUSIC: QUICK BUSY COMMENT, SIMULATE HURRYING

NARR: And that’s just what they did. And after they got the shoes the young lady said

Y LADY: And now can we drop you off wherever you’re going?

OLD MAN: Why you cer — eh — Well. Matter of fact, I wouldn’t know where to tell you to drop me. You see my Father has a room for me alright—He just ain’t told me where it is, yet.

Y LADY: Your fath—oh. You mean God.

OLD MAN: Yep. God.

Y LADY: This is getting funny. But we have an empty guest room. Won’t you come stay with us? I hope you won’t be offended. Won’t you come stay with us?

OLD MAN: Nope—not funny—this is gettin’ wonderfuller by the minute. I accept your kind invitation, Ma’am. And thank you. And thank YOU, Father.

MUSIC: NARRATIVE BRIDGE

NARR: Next night, after the meeting, the old man ran into the young student, outside the church.

OLD MAN: Hello there, son.

YOUNG MAN: Hello sir. Wonderful meetings. I see you got your front seat. And your new shoes. (PAUSE)

OLD MAN: Yup. Ain’t you gonna ask if I got my room?

YOUNG MAN: No. (PAUSE) Somehow I know you got that room.

OLD MAN: Yup, son. I did. Well, good nite.

YOUNG MAN: Sir—yup?—I just wanted you to know—how much you’ve taught me. I—Goodnight, sir. God bless you.

OLD MAN: Good night. And son—

YOUNG MAN: Yes?

OLD MAN: Just don’t ever—underestimate God, son. Nothin’s too hard for him on the one hand. But on the other—nothin’s too small.

MUSIC: FULL FOR CURTAIN

This manuscript, filed in Ethel’s archive as “Time,” but bearing a hand-written title of ‘Troubles,” is a classic example of Ethel’s ability to integrate and adapt timeless spiritual allegories for a modern audience. The bag of troubles beckons to Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress’s burden of sin, while the 'Stepping Stones' motif has roots in 19th-century homiletics, Ethel has completely reimagined the narrative—introducing the character of 'Experience' and anchoring the truth in the contemporary life of evangelist Jack Wyrtzen.1

Troubles

By Ethel Barrett

Once there was an old man called “Time.” And whenever he heard that a little baby was born, he went to the door, and left a package for the little stranger, with strict orders that it had to be carried through the journey of life.

If the baby was rich, the package was beautifully wrapped. If the baby was poor, the package was wrapped in plain brown paper. But when the rich and poor alike opened their packages, what do you suppose they found?

Troubles.

They tried to burn them, but they would not burn. They tried to throw them into the sea, but they would not sink. There was no way to get rid of them...There was nothing to do but take them along Life’s journey.

And this is the way they did it.

Some of them tied their troubles all up again, and with a long string, they put them around their necks and hung them in front of. Millstones. / So when they walked along, their heads were bowed and their eyes were down, and they couldn’t see the beautiful things of life at all.

A fellow by the name of Experience spoke to some of these folks—he said, “why don’t you try hanging your troubles behind you—see if that won’t be easier.”2

Well, they did—and do you know, it pull their heads up—made them look UP—and they walked so straight that people looked at them in wonder, that with such heavy burdens, they walked straighter than those who seemed to have no troubles at all.

There were folks who didn’t carry them altogether. They took them out one by one and spread them along life’s highway, and some of them—oops, stumbled over them, and fell down and hurt themselves and discouraged others—and when they came to the end of the journey they were all bruised and sore. They hadn’t been any good to themselves or anybody else, because they’d stumbled over what were never meant for “stumbling stones.”

But others who took them out one at a time spread them along the path and stepped on them. —and every time they stepped up, they caught a new sight of heaven, and their troubles brought them nearer to God. Yes. They made “stepping stones” out of their troubles.

Would you believe it—that there was still another way you could use up those troubles. There was a fellow I knew—fellow I know—now wait a minute—don’t tell me—I’ll think of it in a minute -- Wyrtzen... Jack Wyrtzen. Every trouble he had, he put it on the road and it marked an event in his life.3

And when he looked back on the road he had come along he could see all that he had passed by, that he would never have to pass again—and it made his troubles beautiful MILESTONES.

Well, so all these people used up their package of troubles, each in his own way—and when they came to the end of their journey, those who had made them stumbling stones and millstones looked back and saw that they had missed the point completely. But those who had made them stepping stones and milestones looked back—and there were no more troubles on the path. Old man experience had gathered them up and made them into beautiful mounting stones to a higher life.

And then, when Time closed the door, those who know the Lord found themselves where there are no more troubles, but they had to account to God for how they had used their troubles while they were on their journey.

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© 2026 Barrett Enterprises LLC. All rights reserved. This work is an original adaptation by Ethel Barrett. While the underlying themes may derive from historical or public domain sources, the specific dramatic structure, dialogue, and performance cues are the protected intellectual property of Barrett Enterprises LLC. For permissions or archival inquiries, please contact the estate.

Many parents start the journey of raising a child with a stack of psychology books and the firm belief that parenting is a simple equation: cause plus effect equals a predictable result. This piece explores the humorous and humbling reality that "two and two never did make four" when it involves the unpredictable development of a child. This manuscript bears the marks of a live performance—including handwritten annotations, delivery cues like "harsh whisper," and a rough structural outline on the reverse—it captures the chaotic, messy, and ultimately faithful process of a child becoming the adult they were meant to be. No annotations indicating date written or when and where performed—best guess is early 1950’s

Strange and Wonderful Creature

by Ethel Barrett

Your son is a strange and wonderful creature. First, he’s wonderful - you know that, of course, when they first lay him in your arms. It’s apparent from the beginning that he’s a very unusual child.

Being a very methodical person, you know that if you add two and two, you have to get four. It’s simply a matter of cause and effect, knowledge and application - and so you fortify yourself with books and books on psychology and the care and feeding of children. You’re prepared for anything.

And then he’s strange - for any resemblance between him and the baby in the book, is purely coincidental. Of course, if you could decide what category he fell in, the rest would be easy. There’s only one catch to that. He doesn’t seem to fall into any category at all! By the time you decide he is something no psychologist has ever written anything about - the pre-school years have flown and you’ve taken him by one chubby paw and marched him off to kindergarten hoping his teachers and Sunday School teachers will find out in just what way he’s a genius. They don’t seem to discover it, however, and he, for some reason, persists in not showing it.

Yes, he’s a strange lad.

There is that one wonderful day, when your hopes soar sky-high - the day when you pour over the wordless book together - The gold page - “In My Father’s House are many mansions, if it were not so I would have told you” - and the black page “For all have sinned and come short of the glory of God” - and the red page “The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin”.[1] That day when he kneels and gives his heart to the Lord Jesus Christ. And you think that the glory of that day can never fade. But it does - it’s drowned out in the awful business of his growing up.

For an endless number of years, it is impossible for him to do anything right. He is one big noise with an appetite and muddy feet. You give him piano lessons and he plays in the cracks with his elbows.

You teach him scripture, and he says it like - like - Jack Wyrtzen[2] when he’s alone with you, and like the Sphinx when he’s on a platform. And you try to reach his mind.

You teach him the King’s English, and he can collect a vocabulary of forty-nine impossibadrillion words without an “i-n-g” anywhere.

You teach him cleanliness, and his idea of the ultimate in cleanliness is to wash his face on the side the teacher sits, just before his piano lesson.

You teach him manners, and he can’t say “How do you do” without falling over his own feet.

You teach him - but why go on? For years, you try to reach his mind.

And then that memorable day, when he starts out to put a new washer on a dripping faucet and winds up breaking so many things that the water supply for the whole block is turned off before they’re fixed - and you’ve had enough.

“He’s not my son. They switched babies on me in the nursery, that’s what they did.”

But your better judgment wins. And you try to reach his -

HE DOESN’T HAVE A MIND!

(HARSE WHISPER) He doesn’t have a mind. If you could look inside his head, you know it would be full of little pebbles.

But that’s the day the answers start coming from the Christian colleges he’s been writing to, and when you ask him, he says, “Sure, Mom. I’m going to be a minister. Didn’t you know? (PAUSE) AW, Mom, don’t cry. Heeey, where’s you going?”

(YOU) “I’m going to throw out a shelf of books I’ve had hanging around too long. Psychology books.”

And then - at long last - that ordination day when you can’t see him through your tears - but he’s there, tall, incredibly impressive, and his neck is clean!

And you, there, in the audience, live his boyhood again in a few minutes. He was your little boy and now he’s grown and the job is done. No, two and two never did make four, but there was never a dull moment.

You didn’t understand enough, you didn’t laugh enough, you didn’t pray enough - and yet God had been faithful.

Yes - all in all - you got - far more, than you deserved......

© 2026 Barrett Enterprises LLC. All rights reserved. Original text © Ethel Barrett. Reproduced with permission of the Estate of Ethel Barrett.

[1] The Wordless Book: A Christian evangelistic teaching tool that uses colored pages—rather than text—to explain the core tenets of the Gospel. Designed to be understood by children, it allows a storyteller to walk through a narrative of faith using visual cues. In this script, the colors correspond to specific themes: Gold (Heaven), Black (Sin), and Red (the blood of Christ).

[2] Jack Wyrtzen (1913–1996): American evangelist and founder of Word of Life Fellowship. Known for a high-energy, “rapid-fire” speaking style on his radio broadcasts, Wyrtzen was a contemporary of Ethel Barrett. The comparison in the text refers to his characteristically fast-paced delivery.

Long before the digital age, Ethel Barrett was reaching families through the airwaves of the ABC Network and Northeast powerhouses like WPTR and WPTL. This week, the Archive presents a rare look at a previously unpublished 1949 broadcast script titled “Fear.” Originally performed for live audiences at Camp Pinnacle and broadcast to thousands, this piece captures the “Story Lady” early in her career.

In this script, Ethel uses a relatable childhood anecdote about a “ghost” in a hallway to bridge the gap into the biblical story of Daniel in the lions’ den. It is a masterclass in how she used the intimacy of the radio medium to teach “spiritual muscles” to a generation of listeners.

“FEAR”

by Ethel Barrett, 1949

The boy settled back against his pillows, a wonderful warmth stealing through him.

“Have you ever been afraid?” It was all he could think of to say.

He had stood it as long as he could, the growing fear the queer and awful shapes things took in the darkness and then he had called out to his mother, and now she was here, stretched out across the foot of his bed. He couldn’t find words for the comfort she brought in her nearness and her understanding. He only knew that once they started talking, she’d somehow take care of everything, and put fear in its place.

“Yes. Lots of times.” she was saying - “but most of the things I’ve been afraid of, never happened.”

BOY: They didn’t?

MOTHER: They didn’t. I knew two little girls once. They - would you like to hear a story?

BOY: Um HMMMM

MOTHER: Well, those little girls were cousins, and they lived in the same house. Sometimes, the grown-ups of the house would go to the evening market for groceries, or to a meeting... back home by half-past eight or nine o’clock, and the girls would stay home and play but one night, something happened - perhaps the buses weren’t running - I don’t know - but the grown-ups didn’t get back. The girls didn’t even notice that it was getting late because they were really having fun. The thing they liked best to do was dress up. And that’s what they were doing. Dressing up in their mothers’ old hats and clothes and pretending. It was especially funny that night, because Alice’s clothing was stuffed with pillows - they were tied around with clothes line - and she was all dressed up and pretending to be a funny lady. Oh they were having a wonderful time. Until Alice dropped something and tried to stoop over and couldn’t pick it up - and they went into gales of laughter, when suddenly -

SOUND: KNOCKING

JANE: Ohhhhhhh, someone’s at the back door. Listen.

ALICE: There’s no knocking now.

JANE: Well, there WAS, I heard it.

ALICE: You go.

JANE: I don’t want to OPEN it - I’ll just ask who’s there.

ALICE: Alright.

JANE: You come out with me.

ALICE: I’ll come out with you but don’t open the door.

JANE: Who is it?

SOUND: KNOCKING

JANE: Who’s there?

SOUND: KNOCKING

JANE: Why don’t they answer?

ALICE: I- I’m afraid.

JANE: I’ll go get uncle Jack’s gun.

ALICE: Noooooo. Don’t leave me here. Help me take these pillows off.

JANE: You take them off.

ALICE: I can’t get the rope untied.

JANE: I’ll be right back.

ALICE: Ohhhh. (BUSINESS OF UNTYING) Maybe they’re gone. Oh, JANE. Where was it?

JANE: In his closet.

ALICE: Is it loaded?

JANE: I don’t know. I don’t know how to open it. All I know is, this is the trigger. You got your pillows off. They still here?

ALICE: (CRYING) I don’t know.

JANE: Shhhh. (ALOUD) Who Is it?

SOUND: KNOCKING

JANE: I have a gun and it’s loaded. If you come in here, I’ll shoot.

SOUND: KNOCKING

ALICE: Ohhh. I wish Rex were here.

JANE: He’s not around. If he were anywhere around, he’d bark at strangers.

ALICE: What are you doing?

JANE: I’m getting under the table. Come on. Get under.

ALICE: Why?

JANE: I just feel better under there. Come on.

MUSIC: PASSING OF TIME BRIDGE

ALICE: I wish we had a telephone.

JANE: Yeah. And I wish I knew what time it was. I’m afraid to go out and see.

ALICE: I wish our mothers would come home. We’ll face the door.

JANE: And I wish Rex was here. He’d scare ‘em away. I wish they’d go away.

JANE: Don’t cry. I have the gun. You know, it’s a funny thing. But they don’t knock unless we SAY something. As long as we’re quiet...

ALICE: That’s right. Say something and see.

JANE: We’ve still got the gun, you!

SOUND: KNOCKING

ALICE: See?

JANE: Yeah.

ALICE: I can’t sit here much longer. I’m cramped.

JANE: Just don’t CRY. I can’t wait a minute.

ALICE: What?

JANE: Voices. It’s mother and aunt Alice! And the rest of them!

JANE: What’ll we do?

ALICE: What do you mean, what’ll we do?

JANE: Whatever it is in the back hall will get THEM!

ALICE: Ohhhhh - Mother! MOTHER!?

JANE: MOTHER! (FADE)

MUSIC: DRAMATIC BRIDGE: CHANGING TO QUIET MOOD! THEN OUT

JANE’S MOTHER: I thought we’d never get here. Hope the girls aren’t frightened. Hel-ooooo, Rex! Why aren’t you inside?

SOUND: KEY TURNING IN LOCK. OPENING DOOR

JANE’S MOTHER: Hi, there! Why didn’t you let the dog in? He was asleep out in the hall - What are you doing with that gun?

ALICE: REX?

JANE: Was that Rex out in the hall? (CRYING)

JANE’S MOTHER: Why darling! What’s the matter?

JANE: Something was out there knocking. Every time we talked, it knocked. We didn’t know we were so scared. I got the gun -

JANE’S MOTHER: Ohhh you poor darlings. It was his TAIL. When he heard us, he thumped his tail on the floor two-forty. Every time he heard your voice, he thumped his tail.

02 JANE: Why didn’t he BARK?

JANE’S MOTHER: Why, he was comfortable taking a nap. He didn’t know you were frightened - He just thought (FADE)

MUSIC: NARRATIVE BRIDGE

BOY: Boy, that was a swell story. You had me scared. It was just the dog wagging his tail, ha?

MOTHER: That was all. He was a big dog, and his tail really made a noise.

BOY: Was that all true?

MOTHER: Sounds crazy, but it was true.

BOY: Did you know the girls?

MOTHER: Yes -

BOY: Did you know the one who had the gun?

MOTHER: Umm hmmm.

BOY: Who?

MOTHER: Me.

BOY: REALLY?

MOTHER: (LAUGHING) Yes. It was I and I’ll never forget it.

BOY: Boy, you were brave.

MOTHER: No, I wasn’t. I was bold because she was so frightened! Somebody had to take over.

BOY: Hummm. You make even being scared interesting.

MOTHER: (LAUGHING) I do? Well, being scared is - a normal thing. Fear IS GOOD.

BOY: It IS?

MOTHER: It is. It’s a warning to your body and mind to be on the alert. When you feel fear, your body makes a chemical called adrenalin inside you, and it makes you strong - stronger than you are normally. Then you’re ready for the emergency, whatever it may be.

BOY: Does it?

MOTHER: Mmmmm. Fear is nothing to be ashamed of, if you don’t let it get the best of you. It’s fear of fire that makes us careful of it. There are things we should be afraid of. But with the kind of fear that makes us careful - not terrified. The Lord has said, “Fear not, I am with thee - Be not afraid - Lo, I am with thee”. Oh, He tells us a hundred different ways in the Bible not to be afraid. So the kind of fear that you feel, has no place in a Christian’s heart. You’re afraid of darkness and strange shapes in your room that you know will be just chairs and things when the lights are turned on.

BOY: You make it all seem like nothing. You make it alright.

MOTHER: I’m glad. Because courage is a thing that grows. You start by having courage in little things and you exercise it and it grows like muscles and after awhile you are brave in big things - dangerous things.

BOY: Really?

MOTHER: Sure. How do you suppose Daniel got so brave when he was faced with being thrown to the lions? He’d been brave all his life.

BOY: Tell me about Daniel.

MOTHER: Well, when he was put in the lions’ den, he -

BOY: No, tell me like a story. Say, “Once upon a time.” Like a story.

MOTHER: Well once upon a time there was a king. And he had many princes and governors and captains to rule in his kingdom... but over all these, he had put one prince who was wiser than all the rest - fellow by the name of Daniel.

MOTHER: Daniel was a great favorite with the king, and everything was going very well, thank you, until the other noblemen became jealous. They watched Daniel at first to see if they could get something on him and they couldn’t, for he was honest and faithful. “We can’t discredit this man,” they said. “He takes no part in the social life of the court... he worships his own God - prays three times a day... wait! That’s just how we CAN get him. We can go to the king, and ask him (FADE)

MUSIC: NARRATIVE BRIDGE

MALE VOICE: Oh king, all the governors and princes of the kingdom have consulted together to establish a royal law that whoever shall ask a petition of any God or man, but you, for thirty days - shall be cast into the den of lions. (FADE) Now, oh king sign this law that it be not changed, etc.

MOTHER: And the king signed the law... put his seal on it and sealed Daniel’s doom. They watched to see what Daniel would do. To see if he dared to pray to his God, when his life was at stake!

And Daniel? How can we know how afraid he was? This was not fear of the dark or of being poor, or fear of POSSIBLE death... it was the terrifying certainty that he would be thrown into a den of hungry lions. To be delivered if God chose to deliver him - to be crushed and ripped apart - if that was the way God wanted it!

And so the man who had faced danger and fear all his life - and through God had conquered it - made one of his greatest decisions. When morning came - he opened his window that faced his beloved Jerusalem and there, in plain sight of all he knelt and prayed. He knew they were watching him... he knew what would happen and the morning wasn’t far gone when word came to him (FADE)

MALE VOICE: Sire - they have reported to the king that you worshipped your God... you know the law just passed.

DANIEL: Yes, I know.

MALE VOICE: The king knows now they’ve tricked him - he has sent everyone away from court except his closest advisors - he is trying to find a way to change the law and save you. (FADE)

MOTHER: All day long, it was the talk of the great city. The law could not be changed, once the king’s seal was upon it. Would Daniel pray at noon? Yes - he did. In his open window! Had any word come from the palace? No - the king wasn’t seeing anyone. That night? Daniel prayed again! The excitement ran high, Daniel had been the king’s favorite - and finally -

SOUND: BUGLE

MALE VOICE: His majesty, King Darius has commanded, according to the law of the Medes and Persians which cannot be changed - (FADE)

MOTHER: Daniel was to be thrown to the lions!

The king’s orders were carried out swiftly - Daniel was brought under guard to the lions’ den - and there, with all the nobles of the land gathered round - he was let down - down - into the dark den -

“Thy God will be able to deliver thee!” cried the king.

Can you imagine it? Those are the last words you hear, before the great stone is rolled over the entrance, and you are left in darkness.

MUSIC: THIN, HIGH, SUSTAINED FEAR NOTES ON ORGAN CLIMBING HIGHER UNDER:

Darkness. And silence. Though you can’t hear them, you can feel them as they move about, graceful, noiseless, waiting - And then as your eyes get used to the dark, you can see the huge shapes, some still, some moving back and forth - back and forth. And then they are close - eyes glowing in the darkness - you can hear their breathing. Close your eyes - shut out the glowing eyes - shut out the fear - and with all your will and with all your strength, keep your eyes on the Lord. Thy God will be able to deliver thee. Thy God will be able to deliver thee. (FADE)

MUSIC: SWELL TO DRAMATIC CLIMAX OR STAB: THEN OUT.

Outside the den, the excitement had died down. The king had gone to his rooms - it was reported that he could not sleep and would not eat. The crowd had broken up - some of the nobles had left - some remained with the guards all night. And so the long night passed.

At the crack of dawn the excitement mounted again as sleepy guards were roused and the crowds began to gather and the news came that the king was on his way. People stopped breathing as the stone was moved and the den was opened and the king cried, “Daniel - is thy God able to deliver thee from the lions?”

“Oh king, live forever” came the voice from the den. Daniel’s voice: “My God has shut the lions’ mouths and they have not hurt me.”

They looked down.

And there were the lions, some quiet, some pacing back and forth - and there was Daniel in the midst of them - unharmed!

The king gave swift orders. Daniel was lifted up out of the den. The battle was over. The victory was won. He was given back his position of honor, and the nobles who plotted against him were punished.

BOY: Boy, that was a swell story.

MOTHER: Mmmm. It’s the story of a boy who cut his teeth on fear, grew up in the midst of danger, and developed his spiritual muscles until he could face death, even death by hungry lions, with the strength of one who knows he’s on the winning side no matter what happens.

BOY: His life was in God’s hands.

MOTHER: And your life is in the same hands, darling.

MUSIC: (BRING SLOWLY)

She left after that, and went back to bed. After she was gone, the room was dark and quiet, but the weird shapes in the room were familiar again. The boy turned over on his side and began to think of Daniel. But before he’d hardly started - he was asleep.

MUSIC: BRING UP AND FINISH OFF

© 2026 Barrett Enterprises LLC. All Rights Reserved. Transcribed and restored from the original 1949 broadcast script.

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Ethel Barrett used to joke about the “5 Stages” of a media personality’s career, a concept she repurposed from Paul Harvey. She would use her own name to illustrate the cycle:

1. Who’s Ethel Barrett?

2. Get us Ethel Barrett!

3. Get us someone just like Ethel Barrett!

4. We need a younger version of Ethel Barrett!

5. Who’s Ethel Barrett?

By the standards of the modern media industry, we are currently in Stage 5.

But here is the catch: While the industry moves on, the demand for her wisdom has not. To this day, I’m often struck by how frequently modern storytellers—from secular writers to ministry leaders—still point back to her. It’s not uncommon to see her name recommended alongside greats like C.S. Lewis.

The Mission: Stewardship Over Success

My goal for this Substack isn’t to chase fame or vanity. It is to ensure that her craft remains accessible in the digital age.

Some of her work has stood the test of time and remains in print today—like her epic retelling of John Bunyan’s Holy War (now titled The War for Mansoul). But while the book is available, the performances are at risk. I have in my possession live recordings of Ethel telling these stories, captured on analog tapes that are slowly decaying.

Why This Space Exists

Reading Ethel is one thing; hearing her is another entirely. This Substack will be the home for:

• Digital Restorations: Breathing new life into aging audio tapes and out-of-print masterclasses like Storytelling, It’s Easy.

• The “Live” Archive: Sharing the rare performances that made her a household name.

• The Craft: Digging into the “how” behind her storytelling genius.

I am here to keep the stories alive and the wisdom available. The voices are too good to stay in the attic.

A Note on the Archive & Rights

As the caretaker of Ethel Barrett’s intellectual property, my priority is the integrity and availability of her work. I am currently in the process of auditing and clearing publishing rights for her extensive catalog.

My plan is to use this forum to republish her books and recordings as they are cleared and digitized. If you see something here, it is because it has been officially restored and authorized for a new generation of listeners and readers.