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Last updated: 05/20/01 Note: This is the sequel to Precious Stories. Because so many precious stories have been resubmitted to the mailing list, an index of first lines was created in the hopes it would make searching for those precious stories easier. Contents
The contents are listed in alphabetical order. The stories themselves
are in order of submission, starting with the most recent. Stories
that were submitted with no title are called "A Story About..."
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The Quilt
Author Unknown
As I faced my Maker at the last judgment, I knelt before the Lord along
with all the other souls. Before each of us laid our lives like the
squares of a quilt in many piles.
An Angel sat before each of us sewing our quilt squares together into a
tapestry that is our life. But as my angel took each piece of cloth off
the pile, I noticed how ragged and empty each of my squares was.
They were filled with giant holes. Each square was labeled with a part of
my life that had been difficult, the challenges and temptations I was
faced with in everyday life. I saw hardships that I endured, which were
the largest holes of all. I glanced around me. Nobody else had such
squares. Other than a tiny hole here and there, the other tapestries were
filled with rich color and the bright hues of worldly fortune.
I gazed upon my own life and was disheartened. My angel was sewing the
ragged pieces of cloth together, threadbare and empty, like binding air.
Finally the time came when each life was to be displayed, held up to
light, the scrutiny of truth. The others rose, each in turn, holding up
their tapestries. So filled their lives had been. My angel looked upon me,
and nodded for me to rise. My gaze dropped to the ground in shame. I
hadn't had all the earthly fortunes. I had love in my life, and laughter.
But there had also been trials of illness, and death, and false
accusations that took from me my world as I knew it. I had to start over
many times.
I often struggled with the temptation to quit, only to somehow muster the
strength to pick up and begin again. I spent many nights on my knees in
prayer, asking for help and guidance in my life.
I had often been held up to ridicule, which I endured painfully, each time
offering it up to the Father in hopes that I would not melt within my skin
beneath the judgmental gaze of those who unfairly judged me.
And now, I had to face the truth. My life was what it was, and I had to
accept it for what it was. I rose and slowly lifted the combined squares of
my life to the light. An awe-filled gasp filled the air. I gazed around at
the others who stared at me with wide eyes. Then, I looked upon the
tapestry before me. Light flooded the many holes, creating an
image, the face of Christ.
Then our Lord stood before me, with warmth and love in His eyes. He said,
"Every time you gave over your life to Me, it became My life, My
hardships, and My struggles. Each point of light in your life is when you
stepped aside and let Me shine through, until there was more of Me than
there was of you."
May all our quilts be threadbare and worn, allowing Christ to shine through.
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Is God Dancing on Your Potato Chips?
Author Unknown
Not too long ago I had "one of those days." I was feeling pressure from a
writing deadline. I had company arriving in a couple days and the toilet was
clogged. I went to the bank, and the trainee teller processing my deposit
had to start over three times. I swung by the supermarket to pick up a few
things and the lines were serpentine. By the time I got home, I was
frazzled and sweaty and in a hurry to get something on the table for dinner.
Deciding on Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup, I grabbed a can opener,
cranked open the can, then remembered I had forgotten to buy milk at the
store. Nix the soup idea. Setting the can aside, I went to plan B, which
was leftover baked beans. I grabbed the Tupperware container from the
fridge, popped the seal, took a look and groaned. My husband isn't a picky
eater, but even HE won't eat baked beans that look like caterpillars.
Really frustrated now, I decided on a menu that promised to be as foolproof
as it is nutrition-free: hot dogs and potato chips. Retrieving a brand
new bag of chips from the cupboard, I grabbed the cellophane and gave a
hearty pull. The bag didn't open. I tried again. Nothing happened. I
took a breath, doubled my muscle, and gave the bag a hearty wrestle. With a
loud pop, the cellophane suddenly gave way, ripping wide from top to
bottom. Chips flew sky high. I was left holding the bag, and it was
empty.
It was the final straw. I let out a blood curdling scream. "I CAN'T TAKE IT
ANYMORE!" My husband heard my unorthodox cry for help. Within minutes he
was standing at the doorway to the kitchen, where he surveyed the damage:
an opened can of soup, melting groceries, moldy baked beans, and
one quivering wife standing ankle deep in potato chips. My husband did the
most helpful thing he could think of at the moment. He took a flying leap,
landing flat-footed in the pile of chips. And then he began to stomp and
dance and twirl, grinding those chips into my linoleum in the process! I
stared. I fumed. Pretty soon I was working to stifle a smile. Eventually
I had to laugh. And finally I decided to join him. I, too, took a leap
onto the chips. And then I danced.
Now I'll be the first to admit that my husband's response wasn't the one I
was looking for. But the truth is, it was exactly what I needed. I didn't
need a cleanup crew as much as I needed an attitude adjustment, and the
laughter from that rather funky moment provided just that.
So now I have a question for you, and it's simply this: Has God ever stomped
on your chips? I know that, in my life, there have been plenty of times when
I've gotten myself into frustrating situations and I've cried out for help,
all the while hoping God
would show up with a celestial broom and clean up the mess. What often
happens instead is that God dances on my chips, answering my prayer in a
completely different manner than I had expected, but in the manner that is
best for me
after all. Sometimes I can see right away that God's response was the best
one after all. Sometimes I have to wait weeks or months before I begin to
understand how and why God answered a particular prayer the way he did.
There are even some situations that, years later, I'm still trying to
understand. I figure God will fill me in sooner or later, either this side
of Heaven or beyond.
Do I trust Him? Even when he's answering my prayers in a way that is
completely different from my expectations? Even when he's dancing and
stomping instead of sweeping and mopping? Can I embrace what He's
offering? Can I let His joy adjust my attitude? Am I going to stand on the
sidelines and sulk, or am I willing to learn the steps of the dance he's
dancin' with my needs in mind?
I'll be honest with you: Sometimes I sulk. Sometimes I dance. I'm working
on doing more of the latter than the former. I guess the older I get the
more I realize that He really does know what He's doing. He loves me and I
can trust Him. Even when the chips are down.
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The Jar
Author Unknown
The preacher placed two identical jars on the table next to the pulpit.
He quoted I Sam. 16:7, "The Lord does not
look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but
the Lord looks at the heart." "These
jars came from the same factory, were made of the same materials, and can
hold the same amount. But they are different,&uqot; he explained.
Then he upset one and it oozed out honey. He turned over the other, and
vinegar spilled out. "When a jar is
upset, whatever is in it comes out. Until the jars were upset, they looked
alike. The difference was within, and
could not be seen. When they were upset, their contents were revealed.
Until we are upset we put on a good
front. But when we are upset, we reveal our innermost thoughts and
attitudes, for "out of the abundance of the
heart his mouth speaks" (Luke 6:45).
What if someone tipped you over today? What would flow out? Would you
reveal the "honey" of grace and
patience, or the "vinegar" of anger and sarcasm?
"Above all, love each
other deeply, because love covers over a
multitude of sins" (I Pet. 4:8). Have a terrific day knowing that
the one who upsets you may be just looking for
some honey.
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Carrots, Eggs, or Coffee?
Author Unknown
A daughter complained to her father about her life and how things were so
hard for her. She did not see how she was going to make it and wanted to
give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one
problem was solved, a new one arose.
Her father, a chef, took her to the kitchen. He filled three pots with
water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to a boil. In one
he placed carrots, in the second he placed eggs, and in the last he placed
ground coffee beans. He let them sit and boil, without saying a word. The
daughter sucked her teeth and impatiently waited, wondering what he was
doing.
In about twenty minutes he turned off the burners. He fished the carrots
out and placed them in a bowl. He pulled the eggs out and placed them a
bowl. Then he ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl.
Turning to her he asked, "Darling, what do you see?"
He brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and
noted that they were soft. He then asked her to take an egg and break it.
After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard-boiled egg. Finally, he
asked her to sip the coffee. She smiled, as she tasted its rich aroma. She
humbly asked. "What does it mean Father?"
He explained that each of them had faced the same adversity, boiling water,
but each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard, and
unrelenting. But after they were in the boiling water they became soft and
weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its
liquid interior. But after sitting through the boiling water, its inside
became hardened. The ground coffee beans were unique however. After they
were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.
"Which are you," he asked his daughter. "When adversity
knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg, or a
coffee bean?"
How about it? Are you the carrot that seems hard, but with pain and
adversity do you wilt and become soft and lose your strength?
Are you the egg, which starts off with a malleable heart? Were you a fluid
spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a divorce, or a layoff have you
became hardened and stiff. Your shell looks the same, but are you bitter
and tough with a stiff spirit and heart?
Or are you like the coffee bean? The bean changes the hot water, the thing
that is bringing the pain, to its peak flavor that reaches 212 degrees
Fahrenheit. When the water gets the hottest, it just tastes better. If you
are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and make
things better around you.
When people talk about you, do your praises to the Lord increase? When the
hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest, does your worship
elevate to another level?
How do you handle adversity?
Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?
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The Yellow Shirt
Author Unknown
The baggy yellow shirt had long sleeves, four extra-large pockets trimmed
in black thread, and snaps up the front. It was faded from years of wear,
but still in decent shape. I found it in 1963 when I was home from college
on break, rummaging through bags of clothes Mom intended to give away.
You're not taking that old thing, are you?" Mom said when she saw me
packing the yellow shirt. "I wore that when I was pregnant with your
brother in 1954!"
"It's just the thing to wear over my clothes during art class, Mom.
Thanks!" I slipped it into my suitcase before she could object.
The yellow shirt became a part of my college wardrobe. I loved it. After
graduation, I wore the shirt the day I moved into my new apartment and on
days when I cleaned.
The next year, I married. When I became pregnant, I wore the yellow shirt
during big-belly days. I missed Mom and the rest of my family, since we
were in Colorado and they were in Illinois. But that shirt helped. I
smiled, remembering that Mother had worn it when she was pregnant, 15
years earlier.
One day, mindful of the warm feelings the shirt had given me, I patched
one elbow, wrapped it in pretty paper and sent it with other gifts to Mom.
When Mom wrote to thank me for her "real" gifts, she said the yellow shirt
was lovely. She never mentioned it again.
The next year, my husband, daughter and I stopped by Mom and Dad's to pick
up some furniture. Days later, when we uncrated the kitchen table, I
noticed something yellow taped to its bottom. The shirt!
And so the pattern was set. On our next visit home, I secretly placed the
shirt under Mom and Dad's mattress. I don't know how long it took for her
to find it, but almost two years passed before I discovered in under the
base of our living-room floor lamp. The yellow shirt was just what I
needed now while refinishing furniture. The walnut stains added character.
In 1975 my husband and I divorced. With three children, I prepared to move
back to Illinois. As I packed, a deep depression overtook me. I wondered
if I could make it on my own. I wondered if I would find a job. I paged
through the Bible, looking for comfort. In Ephesians, I read, "...be
strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might. Put on the whole armour
of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil."
I tried to picture myself wearing God's armor, but all I saw was the
stained yellow shirt. Slowly, it dawned on me. Wasn't my mother's love a
piece of God's armor? My courage was renewed.
Unpacking in our new home, I knew I had to get the shirt back to Mother.
The next time I visited her, I tucked it in her bottom dresser drawer.
Meanwhile, I found a good job at a radio station.
A year later I discovered the yellow shirt hidden in a rag bag in my
cleaning closet. Something new had been added. Embroidered in bright green
across the breast pocket were the words "I BELONG TO PAT." Not to be
outdone, I got out my own embroidery materials and added an apostrophe and
seven more letters. Now the shirt proudly proclaimed, "I BELONG TO PAT'S
MOTHER."
But I didn't stop there. I zigzagged all the frayed seams, then had a
friend mail the shirt in a fancy box to Mom from Arlington, VA. We
enclosed an official-looking letter from "The Institute for the
Destitute," announcing that she was the recipient of an award for good
deeds. I would have given anything to see Mom's face when she opened the
box.
But, of course, she never mentioned it. Two years later, in 1978, after a
visit from Mother, I reached for a pillow to rest my head. It felt lumpy.
I unzipped the case and found, wrapped in paper, the yellow shirt. Inside
a pocket was a note: "Read John 14:27-29. I love you, Mother."
I paged through the Bible and found the verses: "Peace I leave with you,
my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let
not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid. Ye have heard how I
said unto you, I go away, and come again unto you. If ye loved me, ye
would rejoice, because I said, I go unto the Father: for my Father is
greater than I. And now I have told you before it come to pass, that, when
it is come to pass, ye might believe."
The shirt was Mother's final gift. She had known for three months that she
had terminal Lou Gehrig's disease. Mother died the following year at age
57.
I was tempted to send the yellow shirt with her to her grave. But I'm glad
I didn't, because it is a vivid reminder of the love-filled game she and I
played for 16 years. Besides, my older daughter is in college now,
majoring in art. And every art student needs a baggy yellow shirt with big
pockets.
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A Man and His Dog
Author Unknown
A man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was enjoying the
scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead! He remembered
dying, and, that his dog had been dead for years.
He wondered where the road was leading them. After a while, they came to a
high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine
marble.
At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the
sunlight. When he was standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the
arch that looked like mother of pearl, and the street that led to the gate
looked like pure gold.
He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw an
attendant at a desk to one side. When he was close enough, he called out,
"Excuse me, where are we?" "This is heaven, sir," the
attendant answered.
"Wow! Would you happen to have some water?" the man asked.
"Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought
right up." The attendant gestured, and the gate began to open.
"Can my friend," gesturing toward his dog, "come in, too?"
the traveler asked.
"I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets." The man thought a
moment and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had
been going.
After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a
dirt road, which led through a farm gate that looked as if it had never
been closed. There was no fence.
As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside leaning against a tree and
reading a book.
"Excuse me!" he called to the reader. "Do you have any
water?"
"Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there." The man pointed to a
place that couldn't be seen from outside the gate. "Come on in."
"How about my friend here?" the traveler gestured to the dog.
"There should be a bowl by the pump."
They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old fashioned
hand pump with a bowl beside it. The traveler filled the bowl and put it
down for the dog. While the dog was drinking, he took a long drink
directly from the pump. When they were full, he and the dog walked back
toward the man who was standing by the tree waiting for them.
"What do you call this place?" the traveler asked.
"This is heaven," was the answer.
"Well, that's confusing," the traveler said. "The man down
the road said that was heaven, too."
"Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope.
That's hell."
"Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like that?" the
traveler asked.
"No. I can see how you might think so, but we're just happy that they
screen out the folks who'll leave their best friends behind."
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Baby Jesus
Author Unknown
About a week before Christmas the family bought a new nativity scene. When
they unpacked it they found 2 figures of the Baby Jesus. "Someone must
have packed this wrong," the mother said, counting out the figures.
"We have one Joseph, one Mary, three wise men, three shepherds, two
lambs, a donkey, a cow, an angel and two babies. Oh, dear! I suppose some
set down at the store is missing a Baby Jesus because we have 2. You two
run back down to the store and tell the manager that we have an extra
Jesus. Tell him to put a sign on the remaining boxes saying that if a set
is missing a Baby Jesus, call 7126. Put on your warm coats, it's freezing
cold out there."
The manager of the store copied down mother's message and the next time
they were in the store they saw the cardboard sign that read, "If
you're missing Baby Jesus, call 7126." All week long they waited for
someone to call. Surely, they thought, someone was missing that important
figurine. Each time the phone rang mother would say, "I'll bet that's
about Jesus," but it never was. Father tried to explain there are
thousands of these scattered over the country and the figurine could be
missing from a set in Florida or Texas or California. Those packing
mistakes happen all the time. He suggested just put the extra Jesus back
in the box and forget about it. "Put Baby Jesus back in the box! What
a terrible thing to do!" said the children.
"Surely someone will call," mother said. "We'll just keep
the two of them together in the manger until someone calls."
When no call had come by 5:00 on Christmas Eve, mother insisted that
father just run down to the store to see if there were any sets left.
"You can see them right through the window, over on the counter,"
she said. "If they are all gone, I'll know someone is bound to call
tonight."
"Run down to the store?" father thundered. "It's 15 below
zero out there!"
"Oh, Daddy, we'll go with you," Tommy and Mary began to put on
their coats. Father gave a long sigh and headed for the front closet.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," he muttered.
Tommy and Mary ran ahead as father reluctantly walked out in the cold.
Mary got to the store first and pressed her nose up to the store window.
"They're all gone, Daddy," she shouted. "Every set must be
sold." "Hooray!" Tommy said, "The mystery will now be
solved tonight!"
Father heard the news still a half block away and immediately turned on his
heel and headed back home. When they got back into the house they noticed
that mother was gone and so was the extra Baby Jesus figurine.
"Someone must have called and she went out to deliver the
figurine," my father reasoned, pulling off his boots. "You kids
get ready for bed while I wrap mother's present."
Then the phone rang. Father yelled, "Answer the phone and tell 'em we
found a home for Jesus." But it was mother calling with instructions
for us to come to 205 Chestnut Street immediately, and bring three
blankets, a box of cookies and some milk.
"Now what has she gotten us into?" my father groaned as we
bundled up again. "205 Chestnut. Why that's across town. Wrap that
milk up good in the blankets or it will turn to ice before we get there.
Why can't we all just get on with Christmas? It's probably 20 below out
there now. And the wind is picking up. Of all the crazy things to do on a
night like this."
When they got to the house at 205 Chestnut Street it was the darkest one
on the block. Only one tiny light burned in the living room and, the
moment we set foot on the porch steps, my mother opened the door and
shouted, "They're here, Oh thank God you got here, Ray! You kids take
those blankets into the living room and wrap up the little ones on the
couch. I'll take the milk and cookies."
"Would you mind telling me what is going on, Ethel?" my father
asked. "We have just walked through below zero weather with the wind
in our faces all the way."
"Never mind all that now," my mother interrupted. "There is
no heat in this house and this young mother is so upset she doesn't know
what to do. Her husband walked out on her and those poor little children
will have a very bleak Christmas, so don't you complain. I told her you
could fix that oil furnace in a jiffy."
My mother strode off to the kitchen to warm the milk while my brother and
I wrapped up the five little children who were huddled together on the
couch. The children's mother explained to my father that her husband had
run off, taking bedding, clothing, and almost every piece of furniture,
but she had been doing all right until the furnace broke down.
"I been doin' washin' and ironin' for people and cleanin' the five
and dime," she said. "I saw your number every day there, on those
boxes on the counter. When the furnace went out, that number kept goin'
through my mind. 7162 7162 Said on the box that if a person was missin'
Jesus, they should call you. That's how I knew you were good Christian
people, willin' to help folks. I figured that maybe you would help me,
too. So I stopped at the grocery store tonight and I called your missus.
I'm not missin' Jesus, mister, because I sure love the Lord. But I am
missin' heat. I have no money to fix that furnace."
"Okay, okay," said father, "You've come to the right place.
Now let's see. You've got a little oil burner over there in the dining
room. Shouldn't be too hard to fix. Probably just a clogged flue. I'll
look it over, see what it needs."
Mother came into the living room carrying a plate of cookies and warm
milk. As she set the cups down on the coffee table, I noticed the figure
of Baby Jesus lying in the center of the table. It was the only sign of
Christmas in the house. The children stared wide-eyed with wonder at the
plate of cookies my mother set before them. Father finally got the oil
burner working but said, "You need more oil. I'll make a few calls
tonight and get some oil. Yes sir, you came to the right place,"
father grinned.
On the way home father did not complain about the cold weather and had
barely set foot inside the door when he was on the phone. "Ed, hey,
how are ya, Ed? Yes, Merry Christmas to you, too. Say Ed, we have kind of
an unusual situation here. I know you've got that pickup truck. Do you
still have some oil in that barrel on your truck? You do?"
By this time the rest of the family were pulling clothes out of their
closets and toys off of their shelves. It was long after their bedtime
when they were wrapping gifts. The pickup came. On it were chairs, three
lamps, blankets, and gifts. Even though it was 30 below, father let them
ride along in the back of the truck. No one ever did call about the
missing figure in the nativity set, but as I grow older I realize that it
wasn't a packing mistake at all. Jesus saves, that's what He does.
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A Glass of Milk
Author Unknown
One day, a poor boy who was selling goods from door to door to pay his way
through school, found he had only one thin dime left, and he was hungry.
He decided he would ask for a meal at the next house. However, he lost his
nerve when a lovely young woman opened the door. Instead of a meal he
asked for a drink of water. She thought he looked hungry so brought him a
large glass of milk. He drank it slowly, and then asked, "How much do
I owe you?" "You don't owe me anything," she replied.
"Mother has taught us never to accept pay for a kindness." He
said..... "Then I thank you from my heart." As Howard Kelly left
that house, he not only felt stronger physically, but his faith in God and
man was strong also. He had been ready to give up and quit.
Years later that young woman became critically ill. The local doctors were
baffled. They finally sent her to the big city, where they called in
specialists to study her rare disease. Dr. Howard Kelly was called in for
the consultation. When he heard the name of the town she came from, a
strange light filled his eyes.
Immediately he rose and went down the hall of the hospital to her room.
Dressed in his doctor's gown he went in to see her. He recognized her at
once. He went back to the consultation room determined to do his best to
save her life. From that day he gave special attention to the case. After
a long struggle, the battle was won. Dr. Kelly requested the business
office to pass the final bill to him for approval. He looked at it, then
wrote something on the edge and the bill was sent to her room. She feared
to open it, for she was sure it would take the rest of her life to pay for
it all. Finally she looked, and something caught her attention on the side
of the bill.
She read these words..... "Paid in full with one glass of milk"
Tears of joy flooded her eyes as her happy heart prayed: "Thank You,
God, that Your love has spread abroad through human hearts and hands."
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No Jacket Required
Author Unknown
I shook my head in disbelief. This couldn't be the right place. After all,
I couldn't possibly be welcome here. I had been given an invitation
several times, by several different people, and had finally decided to see
what this place was all about. But, this just couldn't be the right place.
Quickly, I glanced down at the invitation that I clutched in my hand. I
scanned past the words, "Come as you are. No jacket required."
and found the location. Yes, I was at the right place. I peered through
the window again and saw a room full of people whose faces seemed to glow
with joy. All were neatly dressed, adorned in fine garments and appeared
strangely clean as they dined at this exquisite restaurant.
Ashamed, I looked down at my own tattered and torn clothing, covered in
stains. I was dirty, in fact, filthy. A foul smell seemed to consume me
and I couldn't shake the grime that clung to my body. As I turned around
to leave, the words from the invitation seemed to leap out at me ...
"Come as you are. No jacket required."
I decided to give it a shot. Mustering up every bit of courage I could
find, I opened the door to this restaurant and walked up to a man standing
behind a podium. "Your name, sir?" he asked me with a smile.
"Jimmy D. Brown," I mumbled without looking up. I thrust my
hands deep into my pockets, hoping to conceal their stains. He didn't seem
to notice the filth that I was covered in and he continued, "Very
good, sir. A table is reserved in your name. Would you like to be
seated?"
I couldn't believe what I heard! A grin broke out on my face and I said,
"Yes, of course!" He led me to a table and, sure enough, there
was a placard with my name written on it in a deep, dark red.
As I browsed over a menu, I saw many delightful items listed. There were
things like, "peace," "joy," "blessings,"
"confidence," "assurance," "hope,"
"love," "faith," and "mercy." I realized
that this was no ordinary restaurant! I flipped the menu back to the front
in order to see where I was at ... &auot;God's Grace," was the name
of this place!
The man returned and said, "I recommend the 'Special of the Day'.
With it, you are entitled to heaping portions of everything on this
menu." "You've got to be kidding! I thought to myself. You mean,
I can have ALL of this! What is the 'Special of the Day'? I asked with
excitement ringing in my voice. "Salvation," was his reply.
"I'll take it," I practically cried out.
Then, as quickly as I made that statement, the joy left my body. A sick,
painful ache jerked through my stomach and tears filled my eyes. Between
my sobs, I said ... "Mister, look at me. I'm dirty and nasty. I'm
unclean and unworthy of such things. I'd love to have all of this, but,
but, I just can't afford it."
Undaunted, the man smiled again. "Sir, your check has already been
taken care of by that Gentleman over there," he said pointing to the
front of the room. ""is Name is Jesus."
Turning, I saw a man whose very presence seemed to light the room. He was
almost too much to look at. I found myself walking towards Him, and in a
shaking voice I whispered, "Sir, I'll wash the dishes or sweep the
floors or take out the trash. I'll do anything I can do to repay you for
all of this."
He opened His arms and said with a smile, "Son, all of this is yours
if you just come unto me. Ask me to clean you up and I will. Ask me to
take away the stains and it is done. Ask me to allow you to feast at my
table and you will eat. Remember, the table is reserved in your name. All
you must do is accept this gift that I offer you."
Astonished, I fell at his feet and said, "Please, Jesus. Please clean
up my life. Please change me and sit me at your table and give me this new
life." Immediately, I heard the words, "IT IS FINISHED."
I looked down and white robes adorned my squeaky clean body. Something
strange and wonderful had happened. I felt new, like a weight had been
lifted, and I found myself seated at His table.
"The 'Special of the Day' has been served," the Lord said to me.
"Salvation is yours." We sat and talked for a great while, and I
so enjoyed the time that I spent with Him. He told me, me of all people,
that He would like for me to come back as often as I liked for another
helping from God's Grace. He made it clear that He wanted me to spend as
much time with Him as possible.
As it drew near time for me to go back outside into the "real
world," He whispered to me softly, "And lo, I am with you
always." And then, He said something to me that I will never forget.
He said ... "My child, do you see these empty tables throughout this
room?" "Yes, Lord. I see them. What do they mean?" I
replied. "These are reserved tables ... but the individuals whose
names are on each placard have not accepted their invitations to dine.
Would you be so kind as to hand out these invitations to those who have
not joined us yet?" Jesus asked. "Of course," I said with
excitement as I picked up the invitations.
"Go ye therefore into all nations," He said as I turned to
leave. I walked into God's Grace dirty and hungry. Stained in sin. My
righteousness as filthy rags. And Jesus cleaned me up. I walked out a
brand new man ... robed in white, His righteousness. And so, I'll keep my
promise to my Lord. I'll go. I'll spread the Word. I'll share the
Gospel ... I'll hand out the invitations. And I'll start with you.
Have you been to God's Grace? There's a table reserved in your name, and
here's your invitation ... "Come as you are. No jacket required."
"For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves;
it is the gift of God; not of works, lest any man should boast."
- Ephesians 2: 8-9
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The Story of 1000 Marbles
Author Unknown
The older I get, the more I enjoy Saturday mornings. Perhaps it's the
quiet solitude that comes with being the first to rise, or maybe it's the
unbounded joy of not having to be at work. Either way, the first few hours
of a Saturday morning are most enjoyable.
A few weeks ago, I was shuffling toward the basement shack with a steaming
cup of coffee in one hand and the morning paper in the other. What began
as a typical Saturday morning, turned into one of those lessons that life
seems to hand you from time to time. Let me tell you about it.
I turned the dial up into the phone portion of the band on my ham radio in
order to listen to a Saturday morning swap net. Along the way, I came
across an older sounding chap, with a tremendous signal and a golden
voice. You know the kind; he sounded like he should be in the broadcasting
business. He was telling whoever he was talking with something about
"a thousand marbles."e I was intrigued and stopped to listen to
what he had to say.
"Well Tom, it sure sounds like you're busy with your job. I'm sure
they pay you well but it's a shame you have to be away from home and your
family so much. Hard to believe a young fellow should have to work sixty
or seventy hours a week to make ends meet. Too bad you missed your
daughter's dance recital. He continued, "Let me tell you something
Tom, something that has helped me keep a good perspective on my own
priorities." And that's when he began to explain his theory of a
'thousand marbles.'
"You see, I sat down one day and did a little arithmetic. The average
person lives about seventy-five years. I know, some live more and some
live less, but on average, folks live about seventy-five years. Now then,
I multiplied 75 times 52 and I came up with 3900, which is the number of
Saturdays that the average person has in their entire lifetime.
Now stick with me Tom, I'm getting to the important part. It took me until
I was fifty-five years old to think about all this in any detail," he
went on, "and by that time I had lived through over twenty-eight
hundred Saturdays.
I got to thinking that if I lived to be seventy-five, I only had about a
thousand of them left to enjoy. So I went to a toy store and bought every
single marble they had. I ended up having to visit three toy stores to
round-up 1000 marbles. I took them home and put them inside a large, clear
plastic container right here in the shack next to my gear.
Every Saturday since then, I have taken one marble out and thrown it away.
I found that by watching the marbles diminish, I focused more on the
really important things in life. There is nothing like watching your time
here on this earth run out to help get your priorities straight. Now let
me tell you one last thing before I sign-off with you and take my lovely
wife out for breakfast.
This morning, I took the very last marble out of the container. I figure
if I make it until next Saturday, then I have been given a little extra
time. And the one thing we can all use is a little more time. It was nice
to meet you Tom, I hope you spend more time with your family, and I hope to
meet you again here on the band. 75-year Old Man, this is K9NZQ, clear and
going QRT, good morning!"
You could have heard a pin drop on the band when this fellow signed off. I
guess he gave us all a lot to think about. I had planned to work on the
antenna that morning, and then I was going to meet up with a few hams to
work on the next club newsletter. Instead, I went upstairs and woke my
wife up with a kiss. "C'mon honey, I'm taking you and the kids to
breakfast."
"What brought this on?" she asked with a smile. "Oh,
nothing special; it's just been a long time since we spent a Saturday
together with the kids. Hey, can we stop at a toy store while we're out?
I need to buy some marbles."
Work like you don't need the money... Love like you've never been hurt...
Dance like nobody's watching...
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Something to Brighten Up Your Day
Author Unknown
God is crazy about you.
If God had a refrigerator, your picture would be on it.
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The Value of Life
Author Unknown
A store owner was tacking a sign above his door that read "Puppies
for Sale." These signs had a weird way of attracting children. And
sure enough, a little boy appeared at the sign. "How much are you
gonna sell those puppies for?" he asked.
The store owner replied, "Anywhere from $30-$50."
The little boy reached into his pocket and pulled out some change.
"I have $2.37. Can I have a look at them?" The store owner smiled
and whistled, and out of the kennel came Lady, who ran down the aisle of
his store followed by five teeny, tiny balls of fur.
One puppy was lagging considerably behind. Immediately the little boy
singled out the lagging, limping puppy and said, "What's wrong with
that little dog?" The storeowner explained that when the puppy was
born, the vet had said that the puppy had no hip socket and would limp for
the rest of its life.
The little boy got really excited and said, "That's the puppy I wanna
buy!" The storeowner replied, "No, you don't wanna buy that
little dog. If you really want him, I'll give him to you."
The little boy got quite upset. He looked straight into the storeowner's
eyes, pointing his finger and said, "I don't want you to give him to
me. That little dog is worth every bit as much as the other dogs and I'll
pay the full price. In fact, I'll give you $2.37 now and 50 cents every
month until I have him paid for."
The store owner countered, "You really don't want to buy this puppy.
He is never gonna be able to run, jump and play like other puppies!"
To this, the little boy reached down and rolled up his pant leg to reveal
a badly twisted, crippled left leg supported by a big metal brace.
He looked up at the storeowner and said softly, "Well, I don't run so
well myself, and the little puppy will need someone who understands."
A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out.
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Blessings
Author Unknown
The man whispered
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An Awesome Story
Author Unknown
After a few of the usual Sunday evening hymns, the church's pastor once
again slowly stood up, walked over to the pulpit, and gave a very brief
introduction of his childhood friend. With that, an elderly man stepped up
to the pulpit to speak.
"A father, his son, and a friend of his son were sailing off the
Pacific Coast," he began, "when a fast approaching storm blocked
any attempt to get back to shore. The waves were so high, that even though
the father was an experienced sailor, he could not keep the boat upright,
and the three were swept into the ocean."
The old man hesitated for a moment, making eye contact with two teenagers
who were, for the first time since the service began, looking somewhat
interested in his story. He continued, "Grabbing a rescue line, the
father had to make the most excruciating decision of his life... to which
boy he would throw the other end of the line. He only had seconds to make
the decision. The father knew that his son was a Christian, and he also
knew that his son's friend was not. The agony of his decision could not be
matched by the torrent of waves. As the father yelled out, 'I love you,
son!' he threw the line to his son's friend.
By the time he pulled the friend back to the capsized boat, his son had
disappeared beyond the raging swells into the black of night. His body was
never recovered." By this time, the two teenagers were sitting
straighter in the pew, waiting for the next words to come out of the old
man's mouth. "The father," he continued, "knew his son
would step into eternity with Jesus, and he could not bear the thought of
his son's friend stepping into an eternity without Jesus. Therefore, he
sacrificed his son. How great is the love of God that He should do the
same for us."
With that, the old man turned and sat back down in his chair as silence
filled the room. Within minutes after the service ended, the two teenagers
were at the old man's side. "That was a nice story," politely
started one of the boys, "but I don't think it was very realistic for
a father to give up his son's life in hopes that the other boy would
become a Christian."
"Well, you've got a point there," the old man replied, glancing
down at his worn Bible. And he once again looked up at the boys and said,
"It sure isn't very realistic, is it? But I'm standing here today to
tell you that THAT story gives me a glimpse of what it must have been like
for God to give up His Son for me. You see... I was the son's friend."
God Is Awesome!
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John 3:16
Author Unknown
In the city of Chicago, one cold, dark night, a blizzard was setting in.
A little boy was selling newspapers on the corner, the people were in and
out of the cold. The little boy was so cold that he wasn't trying to sell
many papers. He walked up to a policeman and said, "Mister, you
wouldn't happen to know where a poor boy could find a warm place to sleep
tonight would you?"
"You see, I sleep in a box up around the corner there and down the
alley, and it's awful cold in there, of a night. Sure would be nice to
have a warm place to stay." The policeman looked down at the little
boy and said, "You go down the street to that big white house and you
knock on the door. When they come out the door, you just say John 3:16 and
they will let you in."
So he did. He walked up the steps to the door, and knocked on the door and
a lady answered. He looked up and said, "John 3:16." The lady
said, "Come on in, son." She took him in, and she sat him down
in a split-bottom rocker in front of a great big old fireplace, and she
went off. He sat there for a while, and thought to himself,
"John 3:16... I don't understand it, but it sure makes a cold boy
warm."
Later she came back and asked him, "Are you hungry?" He said,
"Well, just a little. I haven't eaten in a couple of days, and I
guess I could stand a little bit of food." The lady took him in the
kitchen and sat him down to a table full of wonderful food. He ate and ate
until he couldn't eat any more. Then he thought to himself, "John
3:16... Boy, I sure don't understand it, but it sure makes a hungry boy
full." She took him upstairs to a bathroom to a huge bathtub filled
with warm water and he sat there and soaked for a while. As he soaked, he
thought to himself, "John 3:16... I sure don't understand it, but it
sure makes a dirty boy clean. You know, I've not had a bath, a real bath,
in my whole life. The only bath I ever had was when I stood in front of
that big old fire hydrant as they flushed it out."
The lady came in and got him, and took him to a room, and tucked him into a
big old feather bed and pulled the covers up around his neck and kissed
him goodnight and turned out the lights. As he laid in the darkness and
looked out the window at the snow coming down on that cold night he
thought to himself, "John 3:16... I don't understand it, but it sure
makes a tired boy rested."
The next morning she came back up and took him down again to that same big
table full of food. After he ate, she took him back to that same big old
split-bottom rocker in front of the fireplace, and she took a big old
Bible and sat down in front of him, and she looked up at and she asked,
"Do you understand John 3:16?" He said, "No, Ma'am, I don't.
The first time ever heard it was last night when the policeman told me to
use it."
She opened the Bible to John 3:16, and she began to explain to him about
Jesus. Right there in front of that big old fireplace, he gave his heart
and life to Jesus. He sat there and thought, "John 3:16. I don't
understand it, but it sure makes a lost boy feel safe."
You know, I have to confess I don't understand it either, how God would be
willing to send His Son to die for me, and how Jesus would agree to do
such a thing. I don't understand it either, but it sure does make life
worth living.
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The Many Names of Christ
Author Unknown
To the ARTIST He is the One Altogether Lovely.
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I Am Thankful
Author Unknown
I am thankful...
For the teenager who is complaining about doing dishes
For the taxes that I pay,
For the mess to clean after a party,
For the clothes that fit a little too snug,
For my shadow that watches me work,
For a lawn that needs mowing, windows that need cleaning, and gutters that need fixing,
For all the complaining I hear about the government,
For the parking spot I find at the far end of the parking lot,
For my huge heating bill,
For the lady behind me in church that sings off key,
For the pile of laundry and ironing,
For weariness and aching muscles at the end of the day,
For the alarm that goes off in the early morning hours,
And finally.......
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A Kodak Moment
Author Unknown
A little girl walked daily to and from school. Though the weather that
morning was questionable and clouds were forming, she made her daily
trek to the elementary school.
As the afternoon progressed, the winds whipped up, along with thunder
and lightning. The mother of the little girl felt concerned that her
daughter would be frightened as she walked home from school, and she
herself feared that the electrical storm might harm her child.
Following the roar of thunder, lightning, like a flaming sword, would
cut through the sky. Full of concern, the mother quickly got into her
car and drove along the route to her child's school.
As she did so, she saw her little girl walking along, but at each flash
of lightning, the child would stop, look and smile. Another and another
were to follow quickly, each with the little girl stopping, looking at
the streak of light and smiling. Finally, the mother called her over to
the car and asked, "What are you doing?" The child answered,
"God just keeps taking pictures of me."
"And a little child shall lead them...."
Lord, help me to trust You as much as this little one, especially when
the storms of life crash around me.
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Voice Mail in Heaven
Author Unknown
We have learned to live with "Voice Mail" as a necessary part
of modem life. But, have you wondered what if God decided to install
voice mail?
Imagine praying and hearing this.
Thank you for calling My Father's House.
What if God used the familiar excuse, "I'm sorry, all of our
angels are busy helping other sinners right now. However, your prayer
is important to us and will be answered in the order it was received,
so please stay on the line."
Can you imagine getting these responses as you call God in Prayer?
If you would like to speak to Gabriel, Press 1
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Forgiveness
Author Unknown
Once upon a time, two brothers, who lived on adjoining farms, fell into
conflict. It was the first serious rift in 40 years of farming side by
side, sharing machinery, and trading labor and goods as needed without
a hitch. Then the long collaboration fell apart. It began with a small
misunderstanding and it grew into a major difference, and finally it
exploded into an exchange of bitter words followed by weeks of silence.
One morning there was a knock on John's door. He opened it to find a
man with a carpenter's toolbox. "I'm looking for a few days
work," he said. "Perhaps you would have a few small jobs here
and there. Could I help you?"
"Yes," said the older brother. "I do have a job for you.
Look across the creek at that farm. That's my neighbor, in fact, it's
my younger brother. Last week there was a meadow between us and he took
his bulldozer to the river levee and now there is a creek between us.
Well, he may have done this to spite me, but I'll go him one better.
See that pile of lumber curing by the barn? I want you to build me a
fence - an 8-foot fence-so I won't need to see his place anymore. Cool
him down, anyhow."
The carpenter said, "I think I understand the situation. Show me
the nails and the post-hole digger and I'll be able to do a job that
pleases you."
The older brother had to go to town for supplies, so he helped the
carpenter get the materials ready and then he was off for the day.
The carpenter worked hard all that day measuring, sawing, nailing.
About sunset when the farmer returned, the carpenter had just finished
his job.
The farmer's eyes opened wide, his jaw dropped. There was no fence
there at all. It was a bridge -- a bridge stretching from one side of
the creek to the other! A fine piece of work, handrails and all -- and
the neighbor, his younger brother, was coming across, his hand
outstretched.
"You are quite a fellow to build this bridge after all I've said
and done."
The two brothers met at the middle of the bridge, taking each other's
hand. They turned to see the carpenter hoist his toolbox on his
shoulder. "No, wait! Stay a few days. I've a lot of other projects
for you," said the older brother.
"I'd love to stay on," the carpenter said, "but I have
so many more bridges to build."
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Where is God?
Author Unknown
He was just a little boy, on a week's first day.
A bird's nest in a tree overhead, so wisely placed on high,
"I've been to Bible School," he said and turned a piece of sod.
Quick as a flash the answer came! Nor were his accents faint.
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A Story About Cards
Author Unknown
This is a story about a soldier in the North Africa Campaign in World
War II. After heavy fighting, the man returned to camp. The next day
being Sunday, the Chaplain had set up church service.
The men were asked to take out their Bibles or Prayer Books. The
Chaplain noticed one soldier looking at a deck of cards. After service,
he was taken by the Chaplain to see the Major.
The Chaplain explained to the Major what he had seen. The Major told
the young soldier he would have to be punished if he could not explain
himself.
The young soldier told the Major that during the battle, he had neither
a Bible nor a Prayer Book, so he would use his deck of cards and
explained:
"You see, sir, when I look at the ACE, it tells me that there is
one GOD and no other.
When I see the "2," it reminds me that there are two parts of
the Bible, the OLD TESTAMENT and the NEW TESTAMENT.
The "3" tells me of the TRINITY OF GOD THE FATHER, GOD THE
SON and GOD THE HOLY SPIRIT.
The "4" reminds me of the FOUR GOSPELS, MATTHEW, MARK, LUKE
and JOHN.
When I see the "5," it tells me of the FIVE UNWISE VIRGINS
who were lost and that five were saved.
The "6" makes me mindful that GOD CREATED THE EARTH IN JUST
SIX DAYS, and GOD said that it was good.
When I see the "7," it reminds me that GOD RESTED ON THE
SEVENTH DAY.
As I look at the "8," it reminds me that GOD DESTROYED ALL
LIFE BY WATER EXCEPT FOR EIGHT PEOPLE, Noah, his wife, their three
sons, and their three sons' wives.
When I see the "9", I think of the NINE LEPERS that GOD
healed. There were ten lepers in all, but only one stopped to thank
him.
The "10" reminds me of the TEN COMMANDMENTS carved in stone
by the hand of GOD.
The "JACK" makes me remember the Prince of Darkness. Like a
roaring lion,he devours those that he can.
When I look at the "QUEEN," I see the BLESSED VIRGIN MARY,
MOTHER OF JESUS.
As I look at the last card, "THE KING," it reminds me that
JESUS IS LORD OF LORDS and KING OF KINGS!
There are 365 spots on a deck of cards, and that is the number of days
in each year.
There are 52 cards to a deck and that is the number of weeks in a year.
There are 12 picture cards and that is the number of months in a year.
There are 4 different suits in a deck and that is the number of months
in a quarter of a year...."
And so, the young soldier then said to the Major: "You see, Sir,
that my intentions were honorable.
My deck of cards serves as my BIBLE, my PRAYER BOOK and my ALMANAC."
A deck of cards should most importantly remind us that we need JESUS
365 days,52 weeks and 12 months a year and that we should always PRAY
"4" others.
May you never look at a deck of cards the same way!
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Hallelujah!
Author Unknown
He is the First and Last, the Beginning and the End!
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Some of What I Have Learned Through the Years
Author Unknown
I've learned.... that the best classroom in the world is at the feet of
an elderly person.
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Great Christmas Story
Author Unknown
The brand new pastor and his wife, newly assigned to their first
ministry, to reopen a church in urban Brooklyn, arrived in early
October excited about their opportunities. When they saw their
church, it was very run down and needed much work. They set a goal to
have everything done in time to have their first service on Christmas
Eve.
They worked hard, repairing pews, plastering walls, painting, etc.,
and on Dec. 18 were ahead of schedule and just about finished.
On Dec 19 a terrible tempest - a driving rainstorm - hit the area and
lasted for 2 days. On the 1st, the pastor went over to the church. His
heart sunk when he saw that the roof had leaked, causing a large area
of plaster about 6 feet by 8 feet to fall off the front wall of the
sanctuary just behind the pulpit, beginning about head high.
The pastor cleaned up the mess on the floor, and not knowing what else
to do but postpone the Christmas Eve service, headed home. On the way
he noticed that a local business was having a flea market type sale for
charity so he stopped in. One of the items was a beautiful, hand-made,
ivory colored, crocheted table cloth with exquisite work, fine colors
and a cross embroidered right in the center. It was just the right size
to cover up the hole in the front wall. He bought it and headed back to
the church.
By this time it had started to snow. An older woman running from the
opposite direction was trying to catch the bus. She missed it. The
pastor invited her to wait in the warm church for the next bus 45
minutes later.
She sat in a pew and paid no attention to the pastor while he got a
ladder, hangers, etc., to put up the tablecloth as a wall tapestry.
The pastor could hardly believe how beautiful it looked and it
covered up the entire problem area. Then he noticed the woman walking
down the center aisle. Her face was like a sheet.
"Pastor," she asked," Where did you get that tablecloth?" The pastor
explained. The woman asked him to check the lower right corner to see
if the initials EBG were crocheted into it there. They were. These were
the initials of the woman and she had made this tablecloth 35 years
before, in Austria.
The woman could hardly believe it as the pastor told how he had just
gotten the tablecloth. The woman explained that before the war she and
her husband were well-to-do people in Austria. When the Nazis came, she
was forced to leave. Her husband was going to follow her the next week.
She was captured, sent to prison and never saw her husband or her home
again.
The pastor wanted to give her the tablecloth, but she made the pastor
keep it for the church. The pastor insisted on driving her home, that
was the least he could do. She lived on the other side of Staten Island
and was only in Brooklyn for the day for a housecleaning job.
What a wonderful service they had on Christmas Eve. The church was
almost full. The music and the spirit were great. At the end of the
service, the pastor and his wife greeted everyone at the door and many
said that they would return. One older man, whom the pastor recognized
from the neighborhood, continued to sit in one of the pews and stare,
and the pastor wondered why he wasn't leaving. The man asked him where
he got the tablecloth on the front wall because it was identical to one
that his wife had made years ago when they lived in Austria before the
war and how could there be two tablecloths so much alike?
He told the pastor how the Nazis came, how he forced his wife to flee
for her safety and he was supposed to follow her but he was arrested
and put in a concentration camp. He never saw his wife or his home
again for all the 35 years in between.
The pastor asked him if he would allow him to take him for a little
ride. They drove to Staten Island and to the same house where the
pastor had taken the woman 3 days earlier. He helped the man climb the
3 flights of stairs to the woman's apartment, knocked on the door and
he saw the greatest Christmas reunion he could ever imagine.
(Submitted by: Pastor Bob Reid)
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Beyond Death
Author Unknown
A sick man turned to his doctor, as he was leaving the room
after paying a visit, and said, "Doctor, I am afraid to die. Tell
me what lies on the other side."
Very quietly the doctor said, "I don't know."
"You don't know? You, a Christian man, do not know what is
on the other side?"
The doctor was holding the handle of the door, on the other side of
which came a sound of scratching and whining. As he opened the door, a
dog sprang into the room and leaped on him with an eager show of
gladness.
Turning to the patient, the doctor said, "Did you notice that dog?
He had never been in this room before. He did not know what was inside.
He knew nothing except that his master was here, and when the door
opened he sprang in without fear. I know little of what is on the other
side of death, but I do know one thing: I know my Master is there, and
that is enough. And when the door opens, I shall pass through with no
fear, but with gladness."
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A Prayer (The Empty Chair)
Author Unknown
A man's daughter had asked the local pastor to come and pray with
her father. When the pastor arrived, he found the man lying in bed
with his head propped up on two pillows and an empty chair beside his
bed. The pastor assumed that the old fellow had been informed of his
visit. "I guess you were expecting me," he
said. "No, who are you?"
"I'm the new associate at your local church," the pastor
replied.
"When I saw the empty chair, I figured you knew I was going to
show up."
"Oh yeah, the chair," said the bedridden man. "Would
you mind closing the door?" Puzzled, the pastor shut the door.
"I've never told anyone this, not even my daughter," said the
man. "But all of my life I have never known how to pray. At church
I used to hear the pastor talk about prayer, but it always went right
over my head. I abandoned any attempt at prayer," the old
man continued, "until one day about four years ago my best friend
said to me, 'Joe, prayer is just a simple matter of having a
conversation with Jesus. Here's what I suggest: Sit down on a chair;
place an empty chair in front of you, and in faith see Jesus on the
chair. It's not spooky because he promised, 'I'll be with you always.
'Then just speak to him and listen in the same way you're doing
with me right now.' So, I tried it and I've liked it so much that I do
it a couple of hours every day. I'm careful, though. If my daughter
saw me talking to an empty chair, she'd either have a nervous breakdown
or send me to off to the funny farm."
The pastor was deeply moved by the story And encouraged the old guy
to continue on the journey. Then he prayed with him, and returned to
the church.
Two nights later the daughter called to tell the pastor that her
daddy had died that afternoon.
"Did he seem to die in peace?" he asked.
"Yes, when I left the house around two o'clock, he called me over
to his bedside, told me one of his corny jokes, and kissed me on the
cheek.
When I got back from the store an hour later, I found him dead.
But there was something strange, in fact, beyond strange-really
weird. Apparently, just before Daddy died, he leaned over and rested
his head on a chair beside the bed."
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Achieving God's Perfection
Author Unknown
In Brooklyn, New York, Chush is a school that caters to
learning-disabled children. Some children remain in Chush for their
entire school career, while others can be mainstreamed into
conventional schools. At a Chush fund-raising dinner, the father of a
Chush child delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all that
attended.
After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he cried out,
"Where is the perfection in my son Shaya? Everything God does is
done with perfection. But my child cannot understand things as other
children do. My child cannot remember facts and figures as other
children do. Where is God's perfection?" The audience was shocked
by the question, pained by the father's anguish and stilled by the
piercing query.
"I believe," the father answered, "that when God brings
a child like this into the world, the perfection that He seeks is in
the way people react to this child." He then told the following
story about his son Shaya:
One afternoon Shaya and his father walked past a park where some
boys Shaya knew were playing baseball. Shaya asked, "Do you think
they will let me play?" Shaya's father knew that his son was not
at all athletic and that most boys would not want him on their team.
But Shaya's father understood that if his son were chosen to play it
would give him a comfortable sense of belonging. Shaya's father
approached one of the boys in the field and asked if Shaya could
play. The boy looked around for guidance from his teammates. Getting
none, he took matters into his own hands and said, "We are losing
by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on
our team and we'll try to put him up to bat in the ninth inning."
Shaya's father was ecstatic as Shaya smiled broadly. Shaya was
told to put on a glove and go out to play short center field.
In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shaya's team scored a few
runs but was still behind by three. In the bottom of the ninth inning,
Shaya's team scored again and now with two outs and the bases
loaded with the potential winning run on base, Shaya was scheduled to be
up.
Would the team actually let Shaya bat at this juncture and give away
their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shaya was given the bat.
Everyone knew that it was all but impossible because Shaya didn't even
know how to hold the bat properly, let alone hit with it. However, as
Shaya stepped up to the plate, the pitcher moved a few steps to lob the
ball in softly so Shaya should at least be able to make contact. The
first pitch came in and Shaya swung clumsily and missed. One of
Shaya's teammates came up to Shaya and together they held the bat and
faced the pitcher waiting for the next pitch. The pitcher again took a
few steps forward to toss the ball softly toward Shaya. As the pitch
came in, Shaya and his teammate swung the bat and together they hit a
slow ground ball to the pitcher.
The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could easily have thrown
the ball to the first baseman. Shaya would have been out and that would
have ended the game. Instead, the pitcher took the ball and threw it on
a high arc to right field, far beyond reach of the first baseman.
Everyone started yelling, "Shaya, run to first. Run to
first!" Never in his life had Shaya run to first. He scampered
down the baseline wide eyed and startled. By the time he reached first
base, the right fielder had the ball. He could have thrown the ball to
the second baseman that would tag out Shaya, who was still running. But
the right fielder understood what the pitcher's intentions were,
so he threw the ball high and far over the third baseman's head.
Everyone yelled, "Run to second, run to second." Shaya ran
towards second base as the runners ahead of him deliriously circled the
bases towards home. As Shaya reached second base, the opposing
shortstop ran to him, turned him in the direction of third base and
shouted, "Run to third." As Shaya rounded third, the boys
from both teams ran behind him screaming, "Shaya run home!"
Shaya ran home, stepped on home plate and all 18 boys lifted him on
their shoulders and made him the hero, as he had just hit a "grand
slam" and won the game for his team. That day," said the
father softly with tears now rolling down his face, "those 18
boys reached their level of God's perfection."
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Thank You, Lord, for the Thorns
Author Unknown
Sandra felt as low as the heels of her Birkenstocks as she pushed
against a November gust and the florist shop door. Her life had been
easy, like a spring breeze.
Then in the fourth month of her second pregnancy, a minor automobile
accident stole her ease. During this Thanksgiving week she would have
delivered a son. She grieved over her loss. As if that weren't enough,
her husband's company threatened a transfer. Then her sister, whose
holiday visit she coveted, called saying she could not come. What's
worse, Sandra's friend infuriated her by suggesting her grief was a
God-given path to maturity that would allow her to empathize with
others who suffer. "Has she lost a child? No, she has no idea what
I'm feeling," Sandra shuddered.
Thanksgiving? "Thankful for what?" she wondered. For a
careless driver whose truck was hardly scratched when he rear-ended
her? For an airbag that saved her life, but took that of her child?
.....................
"Good afternoon, can I help you?" The flower shop clerk's
approach startled her. "Sorry," said Jenny, "I just
didn't want you to think I was ignoring you."
"I.....I need an arrangement."
"For Thanksgiving?"
Sandra nodded.
"Do you want beautiful, but ordinary, or would you like to
challenge the day with a customer favorite I call the 'Thanksgiving
Special'?" Jenny saw Sandra's curiosity and continued, "I'm
convinced that flowers tell stories, that each arrangement conveys a
particular feeling. Are you looking for something that conveys
gratitude this Thanksgiving?"
"Not exactly!" Sandra blurted. "Sorry, but in the last
five months everything that could go wrong, has."
Sandra regretted her outburst, but was surprised when Jenny said,
"I have the perfect arrangement for you."
Just then the door bell suddenly rang. "Barbara! Hi!" Jenny
said. She politely excused herself from Sandra and walked toward a
small workroom.
She quickly reappeared carrying a massive arrangement of green bows
and long-stemmed thorny roses. Only, the ends of the rose stems were
neatly snipped off--no flowers.
"Want this in a box?" Jenny asked. Sandra watched for
Barbara's response.
Was this a joke? Who would want rose stems and no flowers! She waited
for laughter, for someone to notice the absence of flowers atop the
thorny stems, but neither woman did.
"Yes, please. It's exquisite!" said Barbara. "You'd
think after three years of getting the Special, I'd not be so moved
by its significance, but it's happening again. My family will love
this one. Thanks."
Sandra stared. "Why so normal a conversation about so strange an
arrangement?" she wondered. "Uh," said Sandra,
pointing. "That lady just left with...uh...."
"Yes?"
"Well, she had no flowers!"
"Yep. That's the Special. I call it the 'Thanksgiving Thorns
Bouquet'."
"But, why do people pay for that?"
In spite of herself, she chuckled. "Do you really want to know?"
"I couldn't leave this shop without knowing. I'd think about
nothing else!"
"That might be good," said Jenny. "Well," she
continued, "Barbara came into the shop three years ago feeling
very much like you feel today. She thought she had very little to be
thankful for. She had lost her father to cancer, the family business
was failing, her son was into drugs and she faced major surgery."
"Ouch!" said Sandra.
"That same year I lost my husband. I assumed complete
responsibility for the shop and for the first time, spent the holidays
alone. I had no children, no husband, no family nearby and too great a
debt to allow any travel."
"What did you do?"
"I learned to be thankful for thorns."
Sandra's eyebrows lifted. "Thorns?"
"I'm a Christian, Sandra. I've always thanked God for good things
in life and I never thought to ask Him why good things happened to me.
But when bad stuff hit, did I ever ask! It took time to learn that
dark times are important. I always enjoyed the flowers of life, but it
took thorns to show me the beauty of God's comfort. "You know, the
Bible says that God comforts us when we're afflicted and from His
consolation we learn to comfort others."
Sandra gasped. "A friend read that passage to me and I was
furious! I guess the truth is, I don't want comfort. I've lost a baby
and I'm angry with God." She started to ask Jenny to "go
on" when the door's bell diverted their attention once again.
"Hey, Phil!" shouted Jenny as a balding, rotund man entered
the shop. She softly touched Sandra's arm and moved to welcome him.
She tucked her arm under his side for a warm hug. "I'm here for
twelve thorny long-stemmed stems!" Phil laughed heartily.
"I figured as much," said Jenny. "I've got them
ready." She lifted a tissue-wrapped arrangement from the
refrigerated cabinet.
"Beautiful," said Phil. "My wife will love them."
Sandra could not resist asking, "These are for your
wife?" Phil saw that Sandra's curiosity matched his when he
first heard of a Thorn Bouquet. "Do you mind me asking, 'Why
thorns'?"
"No, in fact, I'm glad you asked," he said. "Four years
ago my wife and I nearly divorced. After forty years we were in a
real mess, but we slugged it through, problem by rotten problem. We
rescued our marriage--our love really. Last year at Thanksgiving I
stopped in here for flowers. I must have mentioned surviving a tough
process because Jenny told me that for a long time she kept a vase of
rose stems--STEMS--as a reminder of what she learned from 'thorny'
times. That was good enough for me. I took home stems. My wife and I
decided to label each one for a specific thorny situation and give
thanks for what the problem taught us. I'm pretty sure this stem
review is becoming a tradition."
Phil paid Jenny, thanked her again and as he left, said to Sandra,
"I highly recommend the Special!"
"I don't know if I can be thankful for thorns in my life,"
Sandra said to Jenny.
"Well, my experience says that thorns make roses more precious.
We treasure God's providential care more during trouble than at any
other time.
Remember Sandra, Jesus wore a crown of thorns so that we might know
His love. Do not resent thorns."
Tears rolled down Sandra's cheeks. For the first time since the
accident, she loosened her grip on resentment. "I'll take twelve
long-stemmed thorns, please."
"I hoped you would," Jenny said. "I'll have them ready
in a minute. Then, every time you see them, remember to appreciate
both good and hard times. We grow through both."
"Thank you. What do I owe you?"
"Nothing. Nothing, but a pledge to work toward healing your
heart. The first year's arrangement is always on me." Jenny
handed a card to Sandra.
"I'll attach a card like this to your arrangement, but maybe
you'd like to read it first. Go ahead, read it."
The card read:
"My God, I have never thanked Thee for my thorns!
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Spiritually Concise Thoughts for a New Year
Author Unknown
When you've trusted God and walked His way,
When you've made your plans and they've gone awry,
When you've told your friends what you plan to do,
When you've failed your kids and they're grown and gone,
When you've prayed to God so you'll know His will,
When you think you're finished and want to quit,
When the year has been long and successes few,
Starting over means "victories won";
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Refiner's Fire
Author Unknown
Some ladies often met to read the Bible. While reading Malachi, they
came upon a remarkable expression, "And He shall sit as a refiner
and purifier of silver" (3:3).
One of the ladies thought it conveyed the sanctifying influence of the
grace of God, but she offered to visit a silversmith and see what he
had to say. Without telling the purpose of her visit, she asked to
know about the refining process of silver, which he fully described.
"But Sir," she said, "do you sit while the work of
refining is going on?"
"Oh, yes madam," replied the silversmith. "I must sit
with my eye steadily fixed on the furnace, for if the time necessary
for refining be exceeded in the slightest degree, the silver will be
injured."
The lady immediately saw the beauty and comfort in the Malachi word
picture, "He shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver."
The Lord sees the value of putting His children into a furnace. And
during the whole time, His eye rests intently upon the purification.
His wisdom and love weighs perfectly the time and the degree of each
trial. Ah, what a comfort to know these trials do not come at random,
as "the very hairs of your head are all numbered!"
The lady was leaving the shop when the silversmith called her back. He
concluded to say, he knew when the process of purification was complete
when he could see his own image reflected in the silver.
And He shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver... (Malachi 3:3)
Are you as excited as I am when another smudge is gone? When the tarnish
gives way to beauty? Aren't you happy to discover more of the character
of Christ in your life? Let's keep the high view of these difficult
times! There is a great purpose behind the crash of a car, the crash
of a computer, the crash of a stock, the crash of a dream, or whatever
touches the fragile depths of your soul. The One who sits and sees you
now, He is the One who will see you through!
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God's Emergency Phone Numbers
Author Unknown
When in sorrow, call John 14.
Alternate numbers:
For dealing with fear, call Psalm 34:7.
Remember:
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Windshield Wiper Lesson From A Child
Author Unknown
One rainy afternoon I was driving along
Suddenly, my son Matthew spoke up
"Mom, I'm thinking of something."
This announcement usually meant he had
"What are you thinking?" I asked.
"The rain," he began, "is like sin and the
After the chill bumps raced up my arms
"That's really good, Matthew."
"Do you notice how the rain keeps
Matthew didn't hesitate one moment with
"We keep on sinning and God just keeps
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How Much Cleaner
Author Unknown
An elderly lady sat reading her Bible as she did several times a day, when
her grandson said, "Why do you waste so much time reading the Bible? You
don't remember what you read. Why don't you quit?"
The old lady said nothing, but went outside and returned with a bushel
basket. "Here, son," she said, "take this down to the creek and
bring me a bushel of water." It took persuading, but finally he went.
Later, he returned. The basket was empty, of course. "Grandma, I tried;
really I did, but the basket just won't hold water. I dipped and dipped but it
ran out as fast as I could fill it up." Then grandma took the basket and
examined it carefully. Then she said kindly, "I know, my son, but look
how much cleaner the basket is now!"
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Twelve Days of Christmas
Author Unknown
When most people hear "The Twelve Days of Christmas," they think of
the song. This song had its origin as a teaching tool to instruct young people
in the meaning and content of the Christian faith. From 1558 to 1829, Roman
Catholics in England were not able to practice their faith openly so they had
to find other ways to pass on their beliefs. This song is one example of how
they did it.
The song goes, "On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to
me..." The "true love" represents God and the "me"
who receives these presents is the Christian. The "Partridge in a pear
tree" was Jesus Christ who died on a tree as a gift from God.
The "two turtle doves" were the Old and New Testaments - another
gift from God.
The "three French hens" were faith, hope and love - the three gifts
of the Spirit that abide. (1 Corinthians 13)
The "four calling birds" were the four Gospels, which sing the
song of salvation through Jesus Christ.
The "five golden rings" were the first five books of the Bible,
also called the "Book of Moses."
The "six geese a-laying" were the six days of creation.
The "seven swans a-swimming" were the seven gifts of the Holy
Spirit. (1 Corinthians 12:9-11, Romans 12, Ephesians 4, 1 Peter 4:10-11)
The "eight maids a-milking" were the eight beatitudes.
The "nine ladies dancing" were nine fruits of the Holy Spirit.
(Galatians 5:22-23)
The "ten lords a-leaping" were the Ten Commandments.
The "eleven pipers piping" were the eleven faithful disciples.
The "twelve drummers drumming" were the twelve points of the
Apostles Creed.
So the next time you hear "The Twelve Days of Christmas," consider
how this otherwise non-religious sounding song had its origins in the
Christian faith.
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Santa
Author Unknown
Snowflakes softly falling
I bend to gently kiss you,
I quietly unfold it
It started just as always
But as my eyes read on
You asked if your friend Molly
Then you asked dear Santa
You saw a family on the news
"And Santa, those four cookies that
"Do you know that little bear I have
"And as you fly your reindeer
"There's one last thing before you go,
I pulled the letter close to me,
"And a little child shall lead them,"
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A Good Story
Author Unknown
It was one of those cold winter nights in the Haight district of San
Francisco, the kind where the rain hurts, and your breath forms huge
cotton balls that bounce on the pavement. I was driving an eyesore that
could only be referred to as a "car" by someone who was either a
shameless liar or a good friend. Technically, the vehicle was totalled
when I bought it from an unscrupulous neighbor, because it needed an
engine overhaul that would have cost more than the car itself. I added a
quart of oil before every journey. Most of it would leak out along the
way. I tried to imagine I was driving a huge magical snail; that way I
didn't mind the slow speeds and the slime trail it left.
The car's outer paint had transformed into a hideous mixture of rust and
"something brown." The engine sounded like a lawnmower with
tuberculosis. If anyone ever wondered what the inside of an automobile
seat looked like, my car had the answers.
It was a difficult car to drive because you had to keep your fingers and
toes crossed to keep the engine running. That night I must have
uncrossed my fingers to scratch something. The car died in the middle of
a four-lane stretch of Oak Street. I coasted as far as I could, hoping
for a place to turn off, but the street was lined with parked cars and
the nearest intersection was beyond coasting distance. There I sat, in
busy evening traffic, no lights, no locomotion, as tons of steel and
plastic screamed by.
In my rearview mirror I saw a pair of headlights pull up and stop behind
me. I knew what was coming. Soon the horn would start and someone would
be cursing at me. In San Francisco, if you dawdle too long after a light
turns green, you get the horn. If you dare to come to a full stop at a
stop sign, you get the horn from the car behind you. I figured I was
begging for trouble.
But I was wrong.
A stranger got out of the car and came to my window. He shouted, "Do you
want a push?" I was stunned but must have nodded in the affirmative. He
waived to his car and two teens piled out to apply themselves to my
bumper. When I was safely delivered to a side street, they hopped back
into their car and rejoined the sea of anonymous traffic. I didn't get
to thank them.
Over the years I've realized something about the stranger who stopped to
help. I've noticed that every time I'm in trouble, he appears. He never
looks the same. Sometimes he's a woman. His age and ethnicity vary.
But he's always there. I've started to understand he's the best part of
what makes us human beings. The one true thing in this world is an
unasked kindness provided by a stranger. It's the invisible cord that
binds us all together and makes life worthwhile.
This year, when you find yourself immersed in the clutter and bustle of
the holiday season, annoyed by the long lines, baffled about how you'll
get everything done, remember this: One of the people in that crowd is
the stranger. Today, maybe it's you.
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Soul Food
Author Unknown
I love the taste of T-bone steak,
The Word of God has milk and meat,
Open your Bible and turn to Psalms,
There's enough of the Word for everyone,
Let's have a little long suffering,
Wrap that up in temperance,
Add some deeds of righteousness,
Or are you on a diet,
Are you suffering from malnutrition,
If when every time you battle,
God's Word can feed millions,
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The Day I Met Daniel
Author Unknown
It was an unusually cold day for the month of May. Spring had arrived and
everything was alive with color. But a cold front from the north had brought
winter's chill back to Indiana.
I sat with two friends in the picture window of a quaint restaurant just
off the corner of the town square. The food and the company were both
especially good that day. As we talked, my attention was drawn outside,
across the street.
There, walking into town, was a man who appeared to be carrying all his
worldly goods on his back. He was carrying a well-worn sign that read,
"I will work for food." My heart sank. I brought him to the
attention of my friends and noticed that others
around us had stopped eating to focus on him. Heads moved in a mixture
of sadness and disbelief. We continued with our meal, but his image
lingered in my mind.
We finished our meal and went our separate ways. I had errands to do and
quickly set out to accomplish them. I glanced toward the town square,
looking somewhat halfheartedly for the strange visitor. I was fearful,
knowing that seeing him again would call some response. I drove through
town and saw nothing of him. I made some purchases at a store and got
back in my car.
Deep within me, the Spirit of God kept speaking to me: "Don't go back to
the office until you've at least driven once more around the square."
And so, with some hesitancy, I headed back into town. As I turned the
square's third corner, I saw him. He was standing on the steps of the
storefront church, going through his sack. I stopped and looked, feeling
both compelled to speak to him, yet wanting to drive on. The empty
parking space on the corner seemed to be a sign from God: an invitation
to park. I pulled in, got out and approached the town's newest visitor.
"Looking for the pastor?" I asked.
I knew I had met someone unusual. We sat across from each other in the
same restaurant I had left earlier. His face was weathered slightly
beyond his 38 years. His eyes were dark yet clear, and he spoke with an
eloquence and articulation that was startling. He removed his jacket to
reveal a bright red T-shirt that said, "Jesus is
The Never Ending Story."
Then Daniel's story began to unfold. He had seen rough times early in
life. He'd made some wrong choices and reaped the consequences. Fourteen
years earlier, while backpacking across the country, he had stopped on
the beach in Daytona. He tried to hire on with some men who were putting
up a large tent and some equipment. A concert, he thought. He was hired,
but the tent would not house a concert but
revival services, and in those services he saw life more clearly. He
gave his life
over to God.
"Nothing's been the same since," he said, "I felt the Lord
telling me to keep walking, and so I did, some 14 years now." "Ever
think of stopping?" I asked.
"Oh, once in a while, when it seems to get the best of me. But God
has given me this calling. I give out Bibles. That's what's in my sack.
I work to buy food and Bibles, and I give them out when His Spirit
leads."
I sat amazed. My homeless friend was not homeless. He was on a mission
and lived this way by choice. The question burned inside for a moment
and then I asked:
"What's it like?"
My concept was changing, too. We finished our dessert and gathered his
things. Just outside the door, he paused. He turned to me and said,
"Come ye blessed of my Father and inherit the kingdom I've prepared for
you. For when I was hungry you gave me food, when I was thirsty you gave
me drink, a stranger and you took me in."
I felt as if we were on holy ground.
"Could you use another Bible?" I asked.
He said he preferred a certain translation. It traveled well and was
not too heavy. It was also his personal favorite.
"I've read through it 14 times," he said. "I'm not sure we've
got one of those, but let's stop by our church and see."
I was able to find my new friend a Bible that would do well, and he
seemed very grateful.
"Where you headed from here?"
He smiled, and the warmth of his spirit radiated the sincerity of his
mission. I drove him back to the town square where we'd met two hours
earlier, and as we drove, it started raining. We parked and unloaded his
things.
"Would you sign my autograph book?" he asked. "I like to keep
messages from folks I meet."
I wrote in his little book that his commitment to his calling had
touched my life. I encouraged him to stay strong. And I left him with a
verse of scripture, in Jeremiah, "I know the plans I have for you,"
declared the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to
give you a future and a hope."
"Thanks, man," he said. "I know we just met and we're really just
strangers, but I love you."
"I know," I said, "I love you, too."
"Yes. He is. How long has it been since someone hugged you?" I asked.
"A long time," he replied.
And so on the busy street corner in the drizzling rain, my new friend
and I embraced, and I felt deep inside that I had been changed. He put
his things on his back, smiled his winning smile and said,
"See you in the New Jerusalem."
"I'll be there!" was my reply.
He began his journey again. He headed away with his sign dangling from
his bedroll and pack of Bibles. He stopped, turned and said,
"When you see something that makes you think of me, will you pray for
me?"
"You bet," I shouted back, "God bless."
"God bless."
And that was the last I saw of him. Late that evening as I left my
office, the wind blew strong. The cold front had settled hard upon the
town. I bundled up and hurried to my car. As I sat back and reached for
the emergency brake, I saw them....a pair of well-worn brown work gloves
neatly laid over the length of the handle. I picked them up and thought
of my friend and wondered if his hands would stay warm that night
without them. I remembered his words:
"If you see something that makes you think of me, will you pray for me?"
Today his gloves lie on my desk in my office. They help me to see the
world and its people in a new way, and they help me remember those two
hours with my unique friend and to pray for his ministry.
"See you in the New Jerusalem," he said.
Yes, Daniel, I know I will....
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Grains of Sand: Homeless Man
Author Unknown
It was a cold winter's day that Sunday. The parking lot to the church was
filling up quickly. I noticed as I got out of my car that fellow church
members were whispering among themselves as they walked into the church. As
I got closer I saw a man leaned up against the wall outside the church. He
was almost laying down as if he was asleep. He had on a long trenchcoat that
was almost in shreds and a hat topped his head, pulled down so you could not
see his face.
He wore shoes that were too small for his feet with holes all over them.
His toes stuck out. I assumed this man was homeless, and asleep, so I walked
on by and through the doors of the church. We all fellowshipped for a few
minutes, and someone brought up the man laying outside. People snickered and
gossiped, but no one bothered to ask him to come in, including me.
A few moments later church began. We all waited for the preacher to take his
place, to give us the Word. When the doors of the church were opened, in came
the homeless man walking down the aisle with his head down and swaggering, he
was completely out of place.
People gasped and whispered and made faces. He continued to wander up and down
the aisles and finally he stumbled up onto the platform! What a disgrace! In
his stupor he leaned on the pulpit. If the pastor were here he would not have
allowed any of this to have happened! The man took off his hat, throwing his
coat at those on the front row. My heart sank. There stood the preacher...he
was the "homeless man."
No one said a word. The preacher took out his Bible and laid it on the stand.
With a wordless sermon, we all sat convicted.
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The Will of God
Author Unknown
The will of God will never take you,
The will of God will never take you,
The will of God will never take you,
The will of God will never take you,
Everything happens for a purpose. We may not see the wisdom of it all now but trust and believe in the Lord that everything is for the best.
The way to be anxious about nothing is to be prayerful about everything.
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Angels
Author Unknown
Barefoot and dirty, the little girl just sat in the park and watched people
go by. She never tried to speak, she never said a word. Many people passed,
but not one person glanced her way, no one stopped, including me.
The next day I decided to go back to the park, curious if the little girl
would still be there. Right in the very spot she was yesterday, she sat
perched on high, with the saddest look in her eyes. But today I could not
just walk away, concerned only with my affairs. Instead I found myself walking
over to the little girl. For as we all know, a park full of strange people is
not a place for young children to play alone.
As I began walking towards her, I could see the back of the little girl's
dress indicated a deformity. I figured that was the reason the people just
passed by and made no effort to care. As I got closer, the little girl
slightly lowered her eyes to avoid my intent stare. I could see the shape
of her back more clearly. It was grotesquely shaped in a humped over form. I
smiled to let her know it was okay, I was there to help, to talk.
I sat down beside her and opened with a simple "hello." The little girl
acted shocked and stammered a "hi" after a long stare into my eyes. I smiled
and she shyly smiled back. We talked 'til darkness fell and the park was
completely empty. Everyone was gone and we were alone.
I asked the girl why she was so sad. The little girl looked at me and said,
"Because I am different."
I immediately said, "That you are!" and smiled.
The little girl acted even sadder, she said, "I know."
"Little girl," I said, "you remind me of an angel,
sweet and innocent."
She looked at me and smiled slowly, she stood to her feet and said, "Really?"
"Yes, dear, you're like a little guardian angel sent to watch over all those
people walking by."
She nodded her head 'yes' and smiled, and with that she spread her wings and said,
"I am. I'm your guardian angel," with a twinkle in her eye. I was
speechless, sure I was seeing things.
She said, "And when you began thinking of someone other than yourself, my job
here was done."
Immediately I stood to my feet and said, "Wait, so why
did no one else stop to help an angel?"
She looked at me and smiled, "You're the only one who could see me," and
she was gone. With that my life was changed dramatically.
So when you think you're all you have, remember, your angel is always
watching over you. Mine was....
"Be not forgetful to entertain strangers; for thereby some have
entertained angels unawares."
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Funny, Isn't It?
Author Unknown
Funny how a $100 "looks" so big when you take it to church,
Funny how long it takes to serve God for an hour,
Funny how long a couple of hours spent at church are,
Funny how we can't think of anything to say when we pray,
Funny how we get thrilled when a baseball game goes into extra innings,
Funny how hard it is to read a chapter in the bible,
Funny how people want to get a front seat at any game or concert,
Funny how we need 2 or 3 weeks advance notice to fit a church event into
our schedule,
Funny how hard it is for people learn a simple gospel well enough to tell
others,
Funny how we believe what the newspaper say,
Funny how everyone wants to go to heaven provided they do not have to
believe, or to think, or to say, or do anything.
Funny how you can send a thousand 'jokes' through e-mail and they spread
like wildfire, but when you start sending messages regarding the Lord,
people think twice about sharing.
FUNNY, ISN'T IT ?
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The Interview
Author Unknown
I dreamt I had an interview with God.
"Come in," God said. "So, you would like to interview Me?"
"If you have the time," I said.
God smiled and said, "My time is eternity and is enough to do
everything; what questions do you have in mind to ask me?"
"What surprises you most about mankind?"
God answered, "That they get bored of being children, are in a rush
to grow up, and then long to be children again. That they lose their
health to make money and then lose their money to restore their health.
That by thinking anxiously about the future, they forget the present,
such that they live neither for the present nor the future. That they
live as if they will never die, and they die as if they had never
lived..."
God's hands took mine and we were silent for while and then I
asked..."As a parent, what are some of life's lessons you want your
children to learn?"
God replied with a smile, "To learn that they cannot make anyone
love them. What they can do is to let themselves be loved.
To learn that what is most valuable is not what they have in their
lives, but who they have in their lives. To learn that it is not good to
compare themselves to others. All will stand or fall on their own
merits, not as a group on a comparison basis! To learn that a rich
person is not the one who has the most, but is one who needs the least.
To learn that it only takes a few seconds to open profound wounds in
persons we love, and that it takes many years to heal them. To learn to
forgive by practicing forgiveness. To learn that there are persons that
love them dearly, but simply do not know how to express or show their
feelings. To learn that money can buy everything but happiness. To learn
that two people can look at the same thing and see it totally
different. To learn that a true friend in someone who knows everything
about them...and likes them anyway. To learn that it is not always
enough that they be forgiven by others, but that they have to forgive
themselves."
I sat there for awhile enjoying the moment. I thanked Him for his
time and for all that He has done for me and my family, and He replied,
"Anytime. I'm here 24 hours a day. All you have to do is ask for me and
I'll answer."
People will forget what you said. People will forget what you did, but
people will never forget how you made them feel.
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God Knows
Author Unknown
When you are tired and discouraged from fruitless efforts...
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10 Inches of Water
Author Unknown
A boy was sitting on a park bench with one hand resting on an open
Bible. He was loudly exclaiming his praise to God. "Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
God is great!" he yelled without worrying whether anyone heard him or not.
Shortly after, along came a man who had recently completed some
studies at a local university. Feeling himself very enlightened in the
ways of truth and very eager to show this enlightenment, he asked the
boy about the source of his joy. "Hey" asked the boy in return with a bright
laugh, "Don't you have any idea what God is able to do? I just read that God
opened up the waves of the Red Sea and led the whole nation of Israel
right through the middle."
The enlightened man laughed lightly, sat down next to the boy and
began to try to open his eyes to the "realities" of the miracles of
the Bible. "That can all be very easily explained. Modern scholarship
has shown that the Red Sea in that area was only 10 inches deep at
that time. It was no problem for the Israelites to wade across."
The boy was stumped. His eyes wandered from the man back to the Bible
laying open in his lap. The man, content that he had enlightened a
poor, naive young person to the finer points of scientific insight,
turned to go. Scarcely had he taken two steps when the boy began to
rejoice and praise louder than before. The man turned to ask the
reason for this resumed jubilation. "Wow!" exclaimed the boy happily,
"God is greater than I thought! Not only did He lead the whole nation of Israel
through the Red Sea, He topped it off by drowning the whole Egyptian army
in 10 inches of water!"
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It's Between You and God
Author Unknown
People are often unreasonable,
If you are kind,
If you are successful,
If you are honest and frank,
What you spend years building,
If you find serenity and happiness,
The good you do today,
Give the world the best you have,
You see, in the final analysis,
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The Old Rusty Bucket
Carol Blum
There is an old water bucket,
The bottom is so rusty
For many years I kept it
Now it's just an eyesore,
Was the sound of summer raindrops
I noticed a sparrow taking refuge
I saw the leaves were dancing
I lifted my eyes toward Heaven
I was feeling just as useless
But then I was reminded that to
All things serve a purpose
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Neat Christian Maxims
Author Unknown
There are some good ones here - enjoy!!!!! Hope some of these will
inspire you and/or encourage you and/or challenge you and/or amuse you
or at least make you think.
Religion is man's search for God. Christianity is God's search for
man.
A Christianity that costs nothing, is worth nothing.
If you do not enjoy what you have now how can you be happier with
more?
A Christian isn't a person who has received a new start in life. A
Christian is a person who has received a new life to start with.
You must be melted before you can be molded.
Truth is so obscure in these times and falsehood so established that
unless we love the truth we cannot know it./Blaise Pascal
You cannot kindle a fire in any other heart until it is burning
within your own.
Jesus promised His disciples three things: that they would be
completely fearless, wonderfully happy, and in constant trouble.
Until a man is nothing, God can make nothing out of him.
Those whom God will employ are first struck with a sense of their
unworthiness to be employed.
If your Christianity is comfortable, it is compromised.
Most people do not want to know the will of God in order to do it.
They want to know it in order to consider it.
To pay the price of obedience, is to escape the cost of disobedience.
Commitment is a relationship with Christ that enables you in the
midst of life's greatest comforts, to be willing to die, and in the midst of
life's greatest trials, to be willing to live.
He who lives for God's honor and glory seeks neither praise nor
reward, but in the end he is certain of both.
99% of knowing God's will is being prepared to do it before you know
what it is.
Ease is never good for the people of God.
The life rooted in God cannot be uprooted.
Do not grumble because you don't have what you want, rather, be
exceedingly grateful that you don't get what you deserve.
To praise God for our miseries ends them. To praise God for our
blessings extends them.
The Bible is not only the worlds best seller, it is also man's best
purchase.
There is a vast difference between the men that make books and the book
that makes men.
True courage is like a kite, a contrary wind raises it higher.
The evolutionists seem to know everything about the missing link
except that it is missing.
The probability of life originating by accident is comparable to the
probability of the complete dictionary resulting from an explosion in a
printing factory.
The devil is a better theologian than any of us and is still a devil.
A person becomes wise by observing what happens when he isn't.
Experience is the best teacher and considering what it cost us, it
should be.
To look is one thing. To see what you look at is another. To
understand what you see is a third. To learn from what you understand is
still something else. But to act on what you learn is what really
matters.
The man who knows how will always find a place in life, but the man
who knows why will likely be his boss.
Wisdom is the art of knowing what to fight for, and what to simply
overlook.
A man who has made a mistake and does not correct it is making
another mistake.
He who has no fire in himself cannot warm others.
A fanatic is a person who loves Jesus more than you do.
It is easier to cool down a fanatic than to warm up a corpse.
A Christian either makes the world better or the world makes him
worse.
The Bible keeps you from sin and sin keeps you from the Bible.
When the Lord does not have priority one in your life, He has no
priority.
Give your life to God. He can do more with it than you can.
If God has called you, don't spend time looking over your shoulder to
see who is following.
Were it not for sin, death would have never had a beginning. And were it
not for death, sin would have never had an ending.
Seven days without prayer makes one weak.
Christ must be Lord of all or else He is not Lord at all.
I may not be what I should be, but by the grace of God I am not what I
used to be.
Avoid following the crowd. Be unpopular when necessary.
God created the world out of nothing. And as long as we are nothing
He can make something out of us./Martin Luther.
Don't make the mistake of letting yesterday use up too much of today.
The Bible is the only book in which the Author is always present.
We don't need more strength or more ability or greater opportunity.
What we need is to use what we have.
Truth is always strong no matter how weak it looks, and falsehood is
always weak no matter how strong it looks.
To much analysis leads to paralysis.
The price of growth is always less than the cost of stagnation.
Success is going from one failure to another failure without losing
your enthusiasm./Winston Churchill
Satisfaction in life arises in knowing you are where you belong./Joni
Eareckson Tada
You have no control over which way the wind blows, but you can adjust your
sails.
With Christ you do not need to understand in order to believe. You
need to believe in order to understand./St. Augustine
The unexamined life is not worth living. /Socrates
Don't sweat the small stuff; and it's all small stuff!
It's not what happens to us that counts but what happens inside us
that really matters.
Controversy for the sake of controversy is sin. Controversy for the sake
of truth is a divine command./Walter Martin
It is not my love for Christ that controls me. It is Christ's love
for me that controls me.
Christ came to pay a debt that He did not owe because we owed a debt
that we could not pay.
Life is 10% of what happens to you, and 90% of how you respond to
it./Chuck Swindoll
The old covenant was a covenant of prosperity. The new covenant is a
covenant of adversity whereby we are being weaned from this present world
and made mete for the world to come./Charles H. Spurgeon
I don't know what the future holds, but I know who holds the future.
There is no hurt or pain so deep, that God's love is not deeper
still./Corrie Ten Boom
Many people believe in you. Just make sure you are one of
them./Marodet
Come work for the Lord. The work is hard, the hours are long, and the pay
is low. But the retirement benefits are out of this world.
Christians are like tea bags. You have to put them in hot water to see how
strong they are.
If you don't like the way you were born, try being born again.
If you cannot find happiness along the way, you will not find it at
the end of the road.
The problem with the average Christian, is that he is an average
Christian.
What we call adversity, God calls opportunity.
God doesn't call the equipped. He equips the Called.
In prison Joseph lay innocent between 2 criminals. Jesus likewise lay on
the cross between 2 thieves. Joseph foretells the salvation of one and the
death of the other. On the cross Jesus saves the one repentant criminal and
condemns the reprobate for the same crime. But whereas Joseph only
prophesies, Jesus acts. Joseph asks the man who will be saved to remember
him when he is elevated. But Jesus saves the man who asks that he be
remembered when Jesus comes into His kingdom./Blaise Pascal
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The Carpenter
Author Unknown
An elderly carpenter was ready to retire. He told his
employer-contractor of his plans to leave the house-building
business and live a more leisurely life with his wife enjoying his
extended family. He would miss the paycheck, but he needed to retire.
They could get by.
The contractor was sorry to see his good worker go and asked
if he could build just one more house as a personal favor. The carpenter
said yes,but in time it was easy to see that his heart was not in his
work. He resorted to shoddy workmanship and used inferior materials.
It was an unfortunate way to end his career. When the
carpenter finished his work and the builder came to inspect the house,
the contractor handed the front-door key to the carpenter. "This
is your house," he said, "my gift to you."
What a shock! What a shame! If he had only known he was
building his own house, he would have done it all so differently. Now he
had to live in the home he had built none too well.
So it is with us. We build our lives in a distracted way,
reacting rather than acting, willing to put up less than the best. At
important points we do not give the job our best effort. Then with a
shock we look at the situation we have created and find that we are now
living in the house we have built. If we had realized that, we would have
done it differently.
Think of yourself as the carpenter. Think about your house.
Each day you hammer a nail, place a board, or erect a wall. Build
wisely. It is the only life you will ever build. Even if you live it for
only one day more, that day deserves to be lived graciously and with
dignity.
The plaque on the wall says, "Life is a do-it-yourself
project." Who could say it more clearly? Your life today is the result
of your attitudes and choices in the past. Your life tomorrow will be
the result of your attitudes and the choices you make today.
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A Story About How Poor We Really Are
Author Unknown
One day a wealthy family man took his son on a trip to the
country so he could have his son see how poor country people were.
They stayed one day and one night in the farm of a very humble farm
house. At the end of the trip and back home the father asked the son:
What did you think of the trip?
The son replied: Very nice Dad.
Son: I learned that we have one dog in the house...and they have
four. We have a fountain in the garden and they have a stream
that has no end.
We have imported lamps in the garden, they have the stars. Our garden
goes to the edge of our property, they have the entire horizon as their
back yard.
At the end of the son's reply the father was speechless and his son
added: "Thank you dad for showing me how poor we really are."
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Frog Story
Author Unknown
A group of frogs was hopping contentedly through the woods, going about their
froggy business, when two of them fell into a deep pit. All of the other frogs
gathered around the pit to see what could be done to help their companions.
When they saw how deep the pit was, they agreed that it was hopeless and told
the two frogs in the pit that they should prepare themselves for their fate,
because they were as good as dead.
Unwilling to accept this terrible fate, the two frogs began to jump with all of
their might. Some of the frogs shouted into the pit that it was hopeless, and
that the two frogs wouldn't be in that situation if they had been more careful,
more obedient to the froggy rules, and more responsible. The other frogs
continued sorrowfully shouting that they should save their energy and give up,
since they were already as good as dead.
The two frogs continued jumping with all their might, and after several hours
of this, were quite weary. Finally, one of the frogs took heed to the calls of
his fellow frogs. Exhausted, he quietly resolved himself to his fate, lay down
at the bottom of the pit, and died. The other frog continued to jump as hard as
he could, although his body was wracked with pain and he was quite exhausted.
Once again, his companions began yelling for him to accept his fate, stop the
pain and just die. The weary frog jumped harder and harder and, wonder of
wonders, finally leaped so high that he sprang from the pit.
Amazed, the other frogs celebrated his freedom and then gathering around him
asked, "Why did you continue jumping when we told you it was impossible?" The
astonished frog explained to them that he was deaf, and as he saw their
gestures and shouting, he thought they were cheering him on. What he had
perceived as encouragement inspired him to try harder and to succeed against
all odds.
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The Lonely Ember
Author Unknown
A member of a certain church, who previously had been attending services
regularly, stopped going. After a few weeks, the pastor decided to visit
him. It was a chilly evening. The pastor found the man at home alone,
sitting before a blazing fire. Guessing the reason for his pastor's visit,
the man welcomed him, led him to a big chair near the fireplace and waited.
The pastor made himself comfortable but said nothing. In the grave silence,
he contemplated the play of the flames around the burning logs. After some
minutes, the pastor took the fire tongs, carefully picked up a brightly
burning ember and placed it to one side of the hearth all alone. Then he
sat back in his chair, still silent. The host watched all of this in quiet
fascination. As the one lone ember's flame diminished, there was a
momentary glow and then its fire was no more. Soon it was cold and "dead as
a doornail." Not a word had been spoken since the initial greeting.
Just before the pastor was ready to leave, he picked up the cold, dead
ember and placed it back in the middle of the fire. Immediately it began
to glow once more with the light and warmth of the burning coals around it.
As the pastor reached the door to leave, his host said, "Thank you so much
for your visit and especially for the fiery sermon. I shall be back in
church next Sunday."
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The Sandbox
Author Unknown
A little boy was spending his Saturday morning playing in his sandbox. He had
with him his box of cars and trucks, his plastic pail, and a shiny, red plastic
shovel. In the process of creating roads and tunnels in the soft sand, he
discovered a large rock in the middle of the sandbox. The lad dug around the
rock, managing to dislodge it from the dirt. With no little bit of struggle, he
pushed and nudged the rock across the sandbox by using his feet. (He was a
very small boy and the rock was very huge.) When the boy got the rock to the
edge of the sandbox, however, he found that he couldn't roll it up and over the
little wall. Determined, the little boy shoved, pushed, and pried, but every
time he thought he had made some progress, the rock tipped and then fell back
into the sandbox. The little boy grunted, struggled, pushed, shoved-but his
only reward was to have the rock roll back, smashing his chubby fingers.
Finally he burst into tears of frustration.
All this time the boy's father watched from his living room window as the
drama unfolded. At the moment the tears fell, a large shadow fell across the
boy and the sandbox. It was the boy's father. Gently but firmly he said, "Son,
why didn't you use all the strength that you had available?" Defeated, the boy
sobbed back, "But I did, Daddy, I did! I used all the strength that I had!"
"No, son," corrected the father softly. "You didn't use all the strength you
had. You didn't ask me."
With that the father reached down, picked up the rock, and removed it from the
sandbox.
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Parents Certainly are Misunderstood
Author: Steven C. Staats
You thought you were happily smiling at your child from a hard stadium seat
or a hot packed auditorium, but your child looked at your face and saw
approval of him and joy in what he was doing.
You thought that you were just patting him on the back or on the head, or
just ruffling his hair, but your child cherished the warm loving touch and his
heart was brightened.
You thought you were reading a bedtime story with all the funny and scary
voices, but your child enjoyed the fact you read every word even though he
had heard them a hundred times before.
You thought you were letting your child help paint the house even though the
paint got kind of runny and drippy in places, but your child knew that you
were working together as a family and felt a sense of accomplishment as a
family.
You thought you were singing silly songs or counting the cows on a long
boring trip, but your child learned that it was fun being together no matter
where you were.
You thought you were spending a few minutes of your time by throwing a ball
in the back yard or baking some cookies, but your child, who realized that
your time is precious, knew you were investing it in him.
You thought that you asked your child's opinion about something that wasn't
too important, but your child thought you asked because his opinions and
thoughts were important.
You thought you were being a good host by inviting your child's friends in
for a cool snack on a warm summer day, but your child knew that his friends
were important to you and always welcome in your home.
You thought the tears in you eyes went unnoticed when your child accomplished
an important goal in his life, but your child knew that he was deeply
imbedded in your heart and you sensed his accomplishment.
You thought that the refrigerator was as good of a place as any for hanging
all the art work and "well done" papers that came home from school, but your
child felt important when he came home from school each day with something to
show you and tack up in his personal hall of fame.
You thought you gave your child some simple chore or job to do and told him,
"Well done," with a smile when he did it, but your child learned
responsibility and began to realize he could tackle even tougher things.
You thought you were helping a troubled restless child get some sleep by
fixing a cup of hot cocoa, but your child felt that you were opening your
heart around a kitchen table and making all the problems a lot smaller.
You thought the vacation wasn't much of a success because the fish didn't
bite and the sun didn't shine, but your child still remembers everything that
happened and he still laughs at all of the funny parts.
You thought you were just pointing out the words in the church hymn book with
your child's finger as he tried to sing along, but your child learned that
singing praises to God in worship was important.
You thought you were just giving him a quick hug at a special moment or "just
because," but your child carried it with him for a long time, because what
you really said was, "I'm proud of you!" or "I love you!"
You thought you were just giving him a little kiss on the cheek to tell him
goodbye as he left for school, but your child felt warm and loved because he
knew there would be another one waiting for him when he got home.
Come to think of it, there are a lot of times when parents really are
misunderstood!
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How to Garden
Author Unknown
Plant three rows of squash:
Plant seven rows of peas:
Plant seven heads of lettuce:
No garden is complete without turnips:
After planting, may you grow in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord and
Saviour Jesus Christ. (II Peter 3:18) and may you reap rich results.
The measure of a person's character is what he would do if he knew he would
never be found out.
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A Poem of God's Grace
Author Unknown
I did not know His love before, the way I know it now.
I had it all, without a care, the "Self-sufficient" lie.
I thought I knew His love for me, I thought I'd seen His grace,
But then the way grew rough and dark, the storm clouds quickly rolled;
The ship that I had built myself was made of foolish pride,
I had no strength or faith to face the trials that lay ahead,
His loving arms enveloped me, and then He helped me stand.
So through the dark and lonely night He guided me through pain.
Yet through the pain and endless tears, my faith began to grow.
I saw God's love in brand new light, His grace and mercy, too.
It was not easy in the storm, I sometimes wondered why.
But Jesus never left my side He guided me each day,
And now I see as ne'er before how great His love can be,
He worked it all out for my good, although the way was rough,
He raised His hand and said, "Be still!" He made the storm clouds cease.
I saw His face now clearer still, I felt His presence strong,
And now I know more storms will come, but only for my good,
I still have so much more to learn as Jesus works in me;
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Drinking from My Saucer
Author Unknown
I've never made a fortune
And as I go along life's way
Haven't got a lot of riches
I thank God for his blessings
O, Remember times when things went wrong
So Lord, help me not to gripe
If God gives me strength and courage
And may I never be too busy
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Office Prayer
Author Unknown
Lord Jesus , as I enter this work place.
Lord Jesus, I thank You for the gifts
Lord , when I am confused, guide me,
In the mighty Name that is above all Names, In the Matchless
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A Story About a Donkey
Author Unknown
The donkey awakened, his mind still savoring the afterglow of the most
exciting day of his life. Never before had he felt such a rush of pleasure
and pride.
He walked into town and found a group of people by the well. "I'll show
myself to them," he thought.
But they didn't notice him. They went on drawing their water and paid him
no mind.
"Throw your garments down," he said crossly. "Don't you know who I am?"
They just looked at him in amazement. Someone slapped him across the tail
and ordered him to move.
"Miserable heathens!" he muttered to himself. "I'll just go to the market
where the good people are. They will remember me."
But the same thing happened. No one paid any attention to the donkey as he
strutted down the main street in front of the marketplace.
"The palm branches! Where are the palm branches!" he shouted. "Yesterday,
you threw palm branches!"
Hurt and confused, the donkey returned home to his mother.
"Foolish child," she said gently. "Don't you realize that without Him, you
are just an ordinary donkey?"
Just like the donkey who carried Jesus in Jerusalem, we are most fulfilled
when we are in the service of Jesus Christ. Without Him, all our best
efforts are like "filthy rags" (Isaiah 64:6) and amount to nothing. When we
lift up Christ, however, we are no longer ordinary people but key players
in God's plan to redeem the world.
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The Old Fisherman
Author Unknown
Our house was directly across the street from the clinic entrance of John
Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. We lived downstairs and rented the upstairs
rooms to out patients at the clinic.
One summer evening as I was fixing supper, there was a knock at the door. I
opened it to see a truly awful looking man. "Why, he's hardly taller than my
eight-year-old," I thought as I stared at the stooped, shriveled body. But the
appalling thing was his face-lopsided from swelling, red and raw.
Yet his voice was pleasant as he said, "Good evening. I've come to see if
you've a room for just one night. I came for a treatment this morning from the
eastern shore, and there's no bus 'til morning."
He told me he'd been hunting for a room since noon but with no success, no one
seemed to have a room. "I guess it's my face... I know it looks terrible, but
my doctor says with a few more treatments..."
For a moment I hesitated, but his next words convinced me: "I could sleep in
this rocking chair on the porch. My bus leaves early in the morning."
I told him we would find him a bed, but to rest on the porch. I went inside
and finished getting supper. When we were ready, I asked the old man if he
would join us. "No thank you. I have plenty." And he held up a brown paper bag.
When I had finished the dishes, I went out on the porch to talk with him a few
minutes. It didn't take long time to see that this old man had an oversized
heart crowded into that tiny body. He told me he fished for a living to support
his daughter, her five children, and her husband, who was hopelessly crippled
from a back injury.
He didn't tell it by way of complaint; in fact, every other sentence was preface
with a thanks to God for a blessing. He was grateful that no pain accompanied
his disease, which was apparently a form of skin cancer. He thanked God for
giving him the strength to keep going. At bedtime, we put a camp cot in the
children's room for him. When I got up in the morning, the bed linens were
neatly folded and the little man was out on the porch. He refused breakfast,
but just before he left for his bus, haltingly, as if asking a great favor, he
said, "Could I please come back and stay the next time I have a treatment? I
won't put you out a bit. I can sleep fine in a chair." He paused a moment and
then added, "Your children made me feel at home. Grownups are bothered by my
face, but children don't seem to mind." I told him he was welcome to come
again. And on his next trip he arrived a little after seven in the morning. As
a gift, he brought a big fish and a quart of the largest oysters I had ever
seen. He said he had shucked them that morning before he left so that they'd be
nice and fresh. I knew his bus left at 4:00 a.m. and I wondered what time he
had to get up in order to do this for us.
In the years he came to stay overnight with us there was never a time that he
did not bring us fish or oysters or vegetables from his garden. Other times we
received packages in the mail, always by special delivery; fish and oysters
packed in a box of fresh young spinach or kale, every leaf carefully washed.
Knowing that he must walk three miles to mail these, and knowing how little
money he had made the gifts doubly precious. When I received these little
remembrances, I often thought of a comment our next-door neighbor made after
he left that first morning. "Did you keep that awful looking man last night?
I turned him away! You can lose roomers by putting up such people!" Maybe we
did lose roomers once or twice. But oh! If only they could have known him,
perhaps their illness would have been easier to bear. I know our family always
will be grateful to have known him; from him we learned what it was to accept
the bad without complaint and the good with gratitude to God.
Recently I was visiting a friend who has a greenhouse, As she showed me her
flowers, we came to the most beautiful one of all, a golden chrysanthemum,
bursting with blooms. But to my great surprise, it was growing in an old
dented, rusty bucket. I thought to myself, "If this were my plant, I'd put it
in the loveliest container I had!"
My friend changed my mind. "I ran short of pots," she explained, "and knowing
how beautiful this one would be, I thought it wouldn't mind starting out in
this old pail. It's just for a little while, till I can put it out in the
garden."
She must have wondered why I laughed so delightedly, but I was imagining just
such a scene in heaven. "Here's an especially beautiful one," God might have
said when he came to the soul of the sweet old fisherman. "He won't mind
starting in this small body." All this happened long ago - and now, in God's
garden, how tall this lovely soul must stand.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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No Time
Author Unknown
I knelt to pray but not for long,
So I knelt and said a hurried prayer,
All day long I had no time
No time, no time, too much to do,
I went before the Lord, I came,
God looked into his book and said
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A Work Blessing
Author Unknown
I drive into work listening to gospel music or a pre-recorded sermon on the
radio. I get out of the car and walk to the building entrance. As I open the
building door I leave just enough room for me to get in and I leave Jesus
standing outside as the door closes behind me. He's standing with His palms
on the door glass and watches me as I get on the elevator. His eyes are sad
and He turns and goes to sit on the stone bench.
There He'll sit patiently and wait for me for the next 9 hours. First two hours
of work-I fuss and complain about things not going right. Jesus, sitting with
his chin in His hand looks upward toward the building wishing He could help me.
By lunch time-I'm flustered, regretting I work in this place and sputtering
bitterness all over folks. Jesus comes around to the side of the building where
my cubicle is located. He looks up from the ground trying to get my attention
but I can't hear him; my focus is on my problems.
Jesus goes back to the front of the building, sits down and continues to wait
for me. He thinks to Himself as He looks up to the third floor, "She went in
there defenseless. If only she had taken me in there with her. When will she
learn?"
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Give Praise
Author Unknown
ABC's of Praise
A lthough things are not perfect
Psalm 69:30
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A Story About an Olympic Diver
Author Unknown
In 1967 while taking a class in photography at the University of Cincinnati, I
became acquainted with a young man named Charles Murray who also was a student
at the school and training for the summer Olympics of 1968 as a high diver.
Charles was very patient with me as I would speak to him for hours about Jesus
Christ and how He had saved me.
Charles was not raised in a home that attended any kind of church, so all that
I had to tell him was a fascination to him. He even began to ask questions
about forgiveness of sin.
Finally the day came that I put a question to him. I asked if he realized his
own need of a Redeemer and if he was ready to trust Christ as his own Savior.
I saw his countenance fall and the guilt in his face.
But his reply was a strong "no." In the days that followed he was quiet and
often I felt that he was avoiding me, until I got a phone call and it was
Charles. He wanted to know where to look in the New Testament for some verses
that I had given him about salvation. I gave him the reference to several
passages and asked if I could meet with him. He declined my offer and thanked
me for the scripture. I could tell that he was greatly troubled, but I did not
know where he was or how to help him.
Because he was training for the Olympic
games, Charles had special privileges at the University pool facilities. Some
time between 10:30 and 11:00 that evening he decided to go swim and practice a
few dives. It was a clear night in October and the moon was big and bright. The
University pool was housed under a ceiling of glass panes so the moon shone
bright across the top of the wall in the pool area. Charles climbed to the
highest platform to take his first dive.
At that moment the Spirit of God began to convict him of his sins. All the
scripture he had read, all the occasions of witnessing to him about Christ
flooded his mind. He stood on the platform backwards to make his dive, spread
his arms to gather his balance, looked up to the wall and saw his own shadow
caused by the light of the moon. It was the shape of a cross. He could bear
the burden of his sin no longer. His heart broke and he sat down on the
platform and asked God to forgive him and save him. He trusted Jesus Christ
twenty some feet in the air.
Suddenly, the lights in the pool area came on. The attendant had come in to
check the pool. As Charles looked down from his platform he saw an empty pool
which had been drained for repairs. He had almost plummeted to his death, but
the cross had stopped him from disaster.
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A Friend
Author Unknown
A FRIEND:
(A)ccepts you as you are
A friend is someone we turn to When our spirits need a lift,
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Be Blessed!
Author Unknown
A water bearer in India had two large pots, each hung on each end of a
pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in
it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full
portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the
masters house, the cracked pot arrived only half full. For a full two
years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a
half pots full of water in his masters house. Of course, the perfect
pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect to the end for which it
was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own
imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half
of what it had been made to do. After two years of what it perceived
to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream.
"I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you."
"Why?" asked the bearer. "What are you ashamed of?"
"I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my
load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the
way back to your masters house. Because of my flaws, you have to do
all of this work, and you don't get full value from your efforts," the
pot said.
The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his
compassion he said, "As we return to the masters house, I want you to
notice the beautiful flowers along the path."
Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of
the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path,
and this cheered it some. But at the end of the trail, it still felt
bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again the Pot
apologized to the bearer for its failure.
The bearer said to the pot, "Did you notice that there were flowers
only on your side of your path, but not on the other pots side? That's
because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of
it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day
while we walk back from the stream, you've watered them. For two years
I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my
masters table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not
have this beauty to grace his house."
Each of us has our own unique flaws. We re all cracked pots. But if
we will allow it, the Lord will use our flaws to grace His Fathers
table. In Gods great economy, nothing goes to waste. Don't be afraid
of your flaws.
Acknowledge them, and you too can be the cause of beauty. Know that
in our weakness we find our strength.
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The New Footprints
Author Unknown
Now imagine you and the Lord Jesus are walking along the beach together.
For much of the way the Lord's footprints go along steadily, consistently,
Rarely varying in the pace. But your prints are in a disorganized stream of zig
zags, starts, stops, turnarounds, circles, departures, and returns.
For much of the way it seems to go like this. But gradually, your
footprints come in line with the Lord's, soon paralleling His consistently.
You and Jesus are walking as true friends.
This seems perfect, but then an interesting thing happens; your footprints
that once etched the sand next to the Master's are now walking precisely in
His steps. Inside His large footprints is the smaller "sandprint," safely
enclosed. You and Jesus are becoming one; this goes on for many miles.
But gradually you notice another change. The footprints inside the Larger
footprints seem to grow larger. Eventually it disappears altogether. There is
only one set of footprints. They have become one; again this goes on for a
long time.
But then something awful happens. The second set of footprints is back.
This time it seems even worse than before. Zig zags all over the place.
Stop...start. Deep gashes in the sand. A veritable mess of prints.
You're amazed and shocked. But this is the end of your dream.
Now you speak:
"That is correct," replied the Lord.
"Then, when the smaller footprints were inside of Yours, I was actually
learning to walk in Your steps. I followed You very closely."
"Very good. You have understood everything so far."
"Then the smaller footprints grew and eventually filled in with Yours. I
suppose that I was actually growing so much that I was becoming more like
You in every way."
"Precisely."
"But this is my question, Lord. Was there a regression of something?
The footprints went back to two, and this time it was worse than the first."
The Lord smiles, then laughs.
"You didn't know?" He says. "That was when we danced."
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God's in My Basket
From Simple Wonders by Christopher De Vinck
It's been many years since I was in high school, but one assignment has
stayed with me always. My class was supposed to write about someone over 70,
so I decided to visit a nursing home.
I went to the office, explained my assignment, and the director told me to go
to Room Six. The room had a bed, a chair and a picture of a rose on the wall.
An elderly woman was in the chair, knitting diligently.
When I knocked, she looked up and squinted. "Yes?" she asked.
"I'm in high school," I said nervously. "I'm supposed to write an essay."
"Come in." She stopped knitting and patted the bed. "Sit here."
I sat down, and the woman returned to her knitting.
"What are you making?" I asked.
"God's in my basket," she answered.
I spoke a little louder. "What are you knitting?"
She stopped again, smiled and repeated, "God's in my basket."
I looked around the room, then peeked into her basket, just in case I might
catch a glimpse of God.
"Oh, he is there," she said. "I prayed for him to come, and he has."
The woman returned to her knitting and didn't say another word. Finally I
thanked her and left.
"What did you think of her?" asked the director of the nursing home.
"She says God's in her knitting basket," I said. "I think she's a little
crazy."
"She was when she first arrived," the director said. "Her husband had died,
and she was alone. I suggested she pray for peace, and that is what she did.
"A few months later an aide taught her how to knit. In six months she was
knitting socks for everyone. At the Christmas fair she sold over $1,000
worth of socks, sweaters and blankets.
"She even taught knitting in school as a volunteer. She became the most
popular person in the neighborhood.."
"What about now?" I asked.
"Well, now she's in her 90s and sick. But she can still knit, and she is at
peace. And she says only one thing: God's in her basket."
Weeks later I received a package. Inside was a beautiful brown wool sweater
just my size, along with a note from the nursing home director:
Dear Christopher,
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JesUs
Author Unknown
Before U were thought of or time had begun,
You're a pretty big part of His wonderful name,
Isn't it thrilling and splendidly grand.
So many great people are spelled with a U.
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The Fire
Debbie Allen
An article in National Geographic several years ago provided a penetrating
picture of God's wings. After a forest fire in Yellowstone National Park,
forest rangers began their trek up a mountain to assess the inferno's
damage.
One ranger found a bird literally petrified in ashes, perched statuesquely
on the ground at the base of a tree. Somewhat sickened by the eerie sight,
he knocked over the bird with a stick.
When he struck it, three tiny chicks scurried from under their dead mother's
wings. The loving mother, keenly aware of impending disaster, had carried
her offspring to the base of the tree and had gathered them under her wings,
instinctively knowing that the toxic smoke would rise.
She could have flown to safety but had refused to abandon her babies. When
the blaze had arrived and the heat had singed her small body, the mother had
remained steadfast. Because she had been willing to die, so those under
the cover of her wings would live.
"He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou
trust" (Psalms 91:4)
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Tomorrow and Tomorrow
Author: Ann Wells (Los Angeles Times)
My brother-in-law opened the bottom drawer of my sister's bureau and lifted
out a tissue-wrapped package. "This," he said, "is not a slip. This is
lingerie." He discarded the tissue and handed me the slip. It was
exquisite; silk, handmade and trimmed with a cobweb of lace. The price tag
with an astronomical figure on it was still attached. "Jan bought this the
first time we went to New York, at least 8 or 9 years ago. She never wore
it. She was saving it for a special occasion. Well, I guess this is the
occasion." He took the slip from me and put it on the bed with the other
clothes we were taking to the mortician. His hands lingered on the soft
material for a moment, then he slammed the drawer shut and turned to me.
"Don't ever save anything for a special occasion. Every day you're alive
is a special occasion."
I remembered those words through the funeral and the days that followed
when I helped him and my niece attend to all the sad chores that follow an
unexpected death. I thought about them on the plane returning to
California from the Midwestern town where my sister's family lives. I
thought about all the things that she hadn't seen or heard or done. I
thought about the things that she had done without realizing that they were
special.
I'm still thinking about his words, and they've changed my life. I'm
reading more and dusting less. I'm sitting on the deck and admiring the
view without fussing about the weeds in the garden. I'm spending more time
with my family and friends and less time in committee meetings. Whenever
possible, life should be a pattern of experience to savor, not endure. I'm
trying to recognize these moments now and cherish them.
I'm not "saving" anything; we use our good china and crystal for every
special event - such as losing a pound, getting the sink unstopped, the
first camellia blossom.
I wear my good blazer to the market if I feel like it. My theory is if I
look prosperous, I can shell out $28.49 for one small bag of groceries
without wincing. I'm not saving my good perfume for special parties;
clerks in hardware stores and tellers in banks have noses that function as
well as my party-going friends'. "Someday" and "one of these days" are
losing their grip on my vocabulary. If it's worth seeing or hearing or
doing, I want to see and hear and do it now. I'm not sure what my sister
would have done had she known that she wouldn't be here for the tomorrow we
all take for granted. I think she would have called family members and a
few close friends. She might have called a few former friends to apologize
and mend fences for past squabbles. I like to think she would have gone out
for a Chinese dinner, her favorite food. I'm guessing - I'll never
know.It's those little things left undone that would make me angry if I
knew that my hours were limited. Angry because I put off seeing good
friends whom I was going to get in touch with - someday. Angry because I
hadn't written certain letters that I intended to write - one of these
days. Angry and sorry that I didn't tell my husband and daughter often
enough how much I truly love them. I'm trying very hard not to put off,
hold back, or save anything that would add laughter and luster to our
lives. And every morning when I open my eyes, I tell myself that it is special.
Every day, every minute, every breath truly is...a gift from God. If you've
received this it is because someone cares for you and it means there is
probably at least someone for whom you care.
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Spiritual Vitamins
Author Unknown
As we begin the new year, it would be advantageous for each of us to begin
to take our spiritual vitamins on a daily basis so that we can face the
daily challenges with vigor!!!
Spiritual Vitamins A to Z
Anxious? Take Vitamin A.
Blue? Take Vitamin B.
Crushed? Take Vitamin C.
Depressed? Take Vitamin D.
Empty? Take Vitamin E.
Fearful? Take Vitamin F.
Greedy? Take Vitamin G.
Hesitant? Take Vitamin H.
Insecure? Take Vitamin I.
Jittery? Take Vitamin J.
Know nothing? Take Vitamin K.
Lonely? Take Vitamin L.
Mortgaged? Take Vitamin M.
Nervous? Take Vitamin N.
Overwhelmed? Take Vitamin O.
Perplexed or puzzled? Take Vitamin P.
Quitting? Take Vitamin Q.
Restless? Take Vitamin R.
Scared? Take Vitamin S.
Tired? Take Vitamin T.
Uncertain? Take Vitamin U.
Vain? Take Vitamin V.
Wondering what to do? Take Vitamin W.
eXhausted? Take Vitamin X.
Yearning for hope? Take Vitamin Y.
Zapped? Take Vitamin Z.
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A Spiritual Survival Kit for Everyday
Author Unknown
Toothpick
Toothpick - to remind you to pick out the good qualities in
others...Matt 7:1
Rubber band - to remind you to be flexible, things might not
always go the way you want, but it will work out...Romans 8:28
Band Aid - to remind you to heal hurt feelings, yours or someone
else's...Col 3:12-14
Pencil - To remind you to list your blessings everyday...Eph 1:3
Eraser - to remind you that everyone makes mistakes, and it's
okay...Gen 50:15-21
Chewing gum - to remind you to stick with it and you can
accomplish anything with Jesus...Phil 4:13
Mint - to remind you that you are worth a mint to your Heavenly
Father...John 3:16-17
Candy Kiss - to remind you that everyone needs a kiss or a hug
everyday...1John 4:7
Tea Bag - to remind you to relax daily and go over that list of
God's blessings...1 Thess 5:18
May God richly bless you.
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Trouble Tree
Author Unknown
The carpenter I hired to help me restore an old farmhouse had just
finished a rough first day on the job. A flat tire made him lose an
hour of work, his electric saw quit, and now his ancient pickup truck
refused to start.
While I drove him home, he sat in stony silence. On arriving, he
invited me in to meet his family. As we walked toward the front door,
he paused briefly at a small tree, touching tips of the branches with
both hands. When opening the door, he underwent an amazing
transformation. His tanned face was wreathed in smiles and he hugged
his two small children and gave his wife a kiss.
Afterward he walked me to the car. We passed the tree and my
curiosity got the better of me. I asked him about what I had seen him
do earlier. "Oh, that's my trouble tree," he replied. "I know I can't
help having troubles on the job, but one thing's for sure, troubles
don't belong in the house with my wife and the children. So I just
hang them up on the tree every night when I come home. Then in the
morning I pick them up again."
"Funny thing is," he smiled, "when I come out in the morning to pick
'em up, there isn't nearly as many as I remember hanging up the night
before."
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Christmas Poem
Author Unknown
'Twas a crisp winter's night as other times oft
Somewhat off, beyond the rolling meadow hills
Lost amongst the bristling village rides a maiden fair.
Nigh unto midnight, mid through my watch, Lulled was I to sleep
The air was resonant, a rushing sound, I huddled there in fright.
Fear or excitement took a hold, I ran as swiftly as I might.
Let us now go and see this thing which the Lord hath made known,
Alas I found the meek abode wherein the babe found place.
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Poem asking the Lord to return
by Robert Nathan
God of pity and love, return to this earth.
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A Christmas Story
Author Unknown
It's just a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of our
Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has
peeked through the branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so.
It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas - oh, not the
true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it -
overspending, the frantic running around at the last minute to get a
tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma - the gifts
given in desperation because you couldn't think of anything else.
Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual
shirts, sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for something special
just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way.
Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior
level at the school he attended, and shortly before Christmas, there
was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city
church, mostly black. These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged
that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together,
presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold
uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes. As the match began, I was
alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without headgear, a
kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears. It was a
luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford.
Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. And as
each of their boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his
tatters with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn't
acknowledge defeat. Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, "I
wish just one of them could have won," he said. "They have a lot of
potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of
them."
Mike loved kids - all kids - and he knew them, having coached little
league football, baseball and lacrosse. That's when the idea for his
present came. That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store
and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent
them anonymously to the inner-city church. On Christmas Eve, I placed
the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had
done and that this was his gift from me. His smile was the brightest
thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years.
For each Christmas, I followed the tradition - one year sending a
group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another
year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to
the ground the week before Christmas, and on and on. The envelope
became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing
opened on Christmas morning and our children, ignoring their new
toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the
envelope from the tree to reveal its contents. As the children grew,
the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never
lost its allure.
The story doesn't end there. You see, we lost Mike last year due to
dreaded cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped
in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me
placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning, it was joined by
three more. Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had
placed an envelope on the tree for their dad. The tradition has grown
and someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing
around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching as their fathers
take down the envelope... Mike's spirit, like the Christmas spirit,
will always be with us. May we all remember the Christmas spirit this
year and always.
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Smile
Author Unknown
I am a mother of three (ages 14, 12, 3) and have recent completed my
college degree. The last class I had to take was Sociology. The
teacher was absolutely inspiring with the qualities that I wish every
human being had been graced with. Her last project of the term was
called "smile."
The class was asked to go out and smile at three people and document
their reaction. I am a very friendly person and always smile at
everyone and say, hello anyway...so I thought, this would be a piece
of cake literally. Soon after we were assigned the project, my
husband, youngest son, and I went out to McDonalds, one crisp March
morning. It was just our way of sharing special play time with our
son. We were standing in line, waiting to be served, when all of
sudden everyone around us began to back away, and then even my
husband did. I did not move an inch...an overwhelming feeling of
panic welled up inside of me as I turned to see why they had moved.
As I turned around I smelled a horrible "dirty body" smell...and
there standing behind me were two poor homeless men.
As I looked down at the short gentleman, close to me, he was
"smiling." His beautiful sky blue eyes were full of God's Light as he
searched for acceptance. He said, "Good day" as he counted the few
coins he had been clutching. The second man fumbled with his hands as
he stood behind his friend. I realized the second man was mentally
deficient and the blue eyed gentleman was his salvation. I held my
tears...as I stood there with them.
The young lady at the counter asked him what they wanted. He said,
"Coffee is all, Miss" because that was all they could afford to sit
in the restaurant and warm up, they had to buy something...he just
wanted to be warm. Then I really felt it...the compulsion as so great
I almost reached out and embraced the little man with his blue eyes.
That is when I noticed all eyes in the restaurant were set on
me...judging my every action.
I smiled and asked the young lady behind the counter to give me two
more breakfast meals on a separate tray. I then walked around the
corner to the table that the men had chosen as a resting spot. I put
the tray on the table and laid my hand on the blue eyed gentleman's
cold hand. He looked up at me, with tears in his eyes, and said,
"Thank you." I leaned over, began to pat his hand and said, "I did
not do this for you...God is here working through me to give you hope."
I started to cry as I walked away to join my husband and son. When I
sat down my husband smiled at me and said, "That is why God gave you
to me honey...to give me hope." We held hands for moment and at that
time we knew that only because of the Grace that we had been given
that we were able to give. We are not churchgoers but we are
believers. That day showed me the pure Light of God's sweet love.
I returned to college, on the last evening of class, with this story
in hand. I turned in "my project" and the instructor read it...then
she looked up at me and said, "Can I share this?" I slowly nodded as
she got the attention of the class. She began to read and that is
when I knew that we, as human beings and being part of God, share
this need to heal people and be healed. In my own way I had touched
the people at McDonalds, my husband, son, instructor, and every soul
that shared the classroom on the last night I spent as a college
student.
I graduated with one of the biggest lessons I would ever
learn...UNCONDITIONAL ACCEPTANCE. Much love and compassion sent to
each and every person who may read this. Learn how to LOVE PEOPLE AND
USE THINGS - NOT LOVE THINGS AND USE PEOPLE.
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Shipwrecked
Author Unknown
A voyaging ship was wrecked during a storm at sea and only two of the
men on it were able to swim to a small, desert like island. The two
survivors, not knowing what else to do, agreed that they should pray
to God. However, to find out whose prayer was more powerful, they
agreed to divide the territory between them and stay on opposite sides
of the island.
The first thing they prayed for was food. The next morning, the first
man saw a fruit-bearing tree on his side of the land, and he was able
to eat its fruit. The other man's parcel of land remained barren.
After a week, the first man was lonely and he decided to pray for a
wife. The next day, another ship was wrecked, and the only survivor
was a woman who swam to his side of the land. On the other side of
the island, the second man has nothing.
Soon the first man prayed for a house, clothes, and more food. The
next day like magic, all of these were given to him. However, the
second man still had nothing. Finally, the first man prayed for a
ship, so that he and his wife could leave the island. In the morning,
he found a ship docked at his side on the island.
The first man boarded the ship with his wife and decided to leave the
second man on the island. He considered the other man unworthy to
receive God's blessings, since none of his prayers had been answered.
As the ship was about to leave, the first man heard a voice from
heaven booming: "Why are you leaving your companion on the island?"
"My blessings are mine alone, since I was the one who prayed for
them," the first man answered. "His prayers were all unanswered and
so he does not deserve anything."
"You are mistaken!" the voice rebuked him. "He had only one prayer,
which I answered. If not for that, you would not have received any of
my blessings."
"Tell me," the first man asked the voice, "What did he pray for that
I should owe him anything?" "He prayed that all your prayers be
answered."
As seen in this light, it becomes easier for us to share the
blessings of prayer, whether these blessings be material or
spiritual. For all we know, these are not the fruits of our
prayers alone, but those of another person secretly praying for us.
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Speeding Ticket
Author Unknown
Jack took a long look at his speedometer before slowing down: 73 in a
55 zone. The flashing red in his rear view mirror insisted he pull
over quickly, but Jack let the car coast.
Fourth time in as many months. How could a guy get caught so often?
When his car had slowed to 10 miles an hour, Jack pulled over, but
only partially. Let the cop worry about the potential traffic
hazard. Maybe some other car will tweak his backside with a
mirror.
He slumped into his seat, the collar of his trench coat covering his
ears. He tapped the steering wheel, doing his best to look bored, his
eyes on the mirror. The cop was stepping out of his car, the big pad
in hand.
Bob? Bob from church? Jack sunk farther into his trench coat. This
was worse than the coming ticket. A Christian cop catching a guy from
his own church. A guy who happened to be a little eager to get home
after a long day at the office. A guy he was about to play golf with
tomorrow.
Jack was tempted to leave the window shut long enough to gain the
psychological edge but decided on a different tack. Jumping out of
the car, he approached a man he saw every Sunday, a man he'd never
seen in uniform.
"Hi, Bob. Fancy meeting you like this."
"Hello, Jack." No smile.
"Guess you caught me red-handed in a rush to see my wife and kids."
"Yeah, I guess." Bob seemed uncertain. Good.
"I've seen some long days at the office lately. I'm afraid I bent the
rules a bit-just this once." Jack toed at a pebble on the pavement.
"Diane said something about roast beef and potatoes tonight. Know what
I mean?"
"I know what you mean. I also know that you have a reputation in our
precinct."
Ouch. This was not going in the right direction. Time to change
tactics.
"What'd you clock me at?"
"Seventy-one. Would you sit back in your car, please?"
"Now wait a minute here, Bob. I checked as soon as I saw you. I was
barely nudging 65."
The lie seemed to come easier with every ticket.
"Please, Jack, in the car."
Flustered, Jack hunched himself through the still-open door. Slamming
it shut, he stared at the dashboard. He was in no rush to open the
window. The minutes ticked by. Bob scribbled away on the pad. Why
hadn't he asked for a driver's license?
Whatever the reason, it would be a month of Sundays before Jack ever
sat near this cop again. A tap on the door jerked his head to the
left. There was Bob, a folded paper in hand. Jack rolled down the
window a mere two inches, just enough room for Bob to pass him the
slip.
"Thanks." Jack could not quite keep the sneer out of his voice.
Bob returned to his car without a word.
Jack watched his retreat in the mirror, bottom teeth scratching his
upper lip. When Bob vanished inside his car, Jack unfolded the sheet
of paper. How much was this one going to cost?
Wait a minute. What was this? Some kind of a joke? Certainly not a
ticket. Jack began to read:
Dear Jack,
Once upon a time, I had a daughter. She was six when killed
I only had one, and I'm going to have to wait until heaven
A thousand times, I've tried to forgive that man. A thousand
Bob
Jack shifted uncomfortably in his trench coat. Then he twisted around
in time to see Bob's car pull away and head down the road. Jack
watched until it disappeared. A full 15 minutes later, he, too,
pulled away and drove slowly home, praying for forgiveness and
hugging a surprised wife and kids when he arrived.
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Keep on Singing
Author Unknown
Like any good mother, when Karen finds out that another baby is on
the way, she does what she can to help her 3-year-old son, Michael,
prepare for a new sibling. They find out that the new baby is going
to be a girl, and day after day, night after night, Michael sings to
his sister in Mommy's tummy.
The pregnancy progresses normally for Karen, an active member of the
Panther Creek United Methodist Church in Morris town, Tennessee. Then
the labor pains come. Every five minutes ... every minute. But
complications arise during delivery. Hours of labor. Will a C-section
be required?
Finally, Michael's little sister is born. But she is in serious
condition. With sirens howling in the night, the ambulance rushes the
infant to the neonatal intensive care unit at St. Mary's Hospital,
Knoxville, Tennessee. The days inch by. The little girl gets worse.
The pediatric specialist tells the parents, "There is very little hope.
Be prepared for the worst."
Karen and her husband contact a local cemetery about a burial plot.
They have fixed up a special room in their home for the new baby; now
they plan a funeral.
Michael, keeps begging his parents to let him see his sister, "I want
to sing to her," he says. Week 2 in intensive care. It looks as if a
funeral will come before the week is over.
Michael keeps nagging about singing to his sister, but kids are never
allowed in Intensive Care.
But Karen makes up her mind. She will take Michael whether they like
it or not. If he does not see his sister now, he may never see her
alive.
She dresses him in an oversized scrub suit and marches him into ICU.
He looks like a walking laundry basket, but the head nurse recognizes
him as a child and bellows, "Get that kid out of here now! No
children are allowed in walk in."
The mother rises up strong in Karen, and the usually mild-mannered
lady glares steel-eyed into the head nurse's face, her lips a firm
line. "He is not leaving until he sings to his sister!" Karen tows
Michael to his sister's bedside. He gazes at the tiny infant losing
the battle to live.
........And he begins to sing. In the pure hearted voice of a
3-year-old, Michael sings, "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,
you make me happy when skies are gray ---" Instantly the baby girl
responds. The pulse rate becomes calm and steady. Keep on singing,
Michael. "You never know, dear how much I love you. Please don't take
my sunshine away---"
The ragged, strained breathing becomes as smooth as a kitten's purr.
Keep on singing, Michael.
"The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my
arms..." Michael's little sister relaxes as rest, healing rest, seems
to sweep over her. Keep on singing, Michael. Tears conquer the face
of the bossy head nurse. Karen glows. "You are my sunshine, my only
sunshine. Please don't take my sunshine away."
Funeral plans are scrapped.
The next, day--the very next day--the little girl is well enough to
go home!
Woman's Day magazine calls it "the miracle of a brother's song." The
medical staff just calls it a miracle. Karen calls it a miracle of
God's love!
NEVER GIVE UP ON THE PEOPLE YOU LOVE.
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A Story to Warm the Heart
Author Unknown
He was driving home one evening, on a two-lane country road. Work, in
his small mid-western community, was almost as slow as his beat-up
Pontiac was. But he never quit looking. Ever since the factory closed,
he'd been unemployed, and with winter raging on, the chill had finally
hit home. It was a lonely road. Not very many people had a reason to
be on it, unless they were leaving. Most of his friends had already
left. They had families to feed and dreams to fulfill. But he stayed
on. After all, this was where he buried his mother and father. He was
born here and knew the country.
He could go down this road blind, and tell you what was on either
side, and with his headlights not working, that came in handy. It was
starting to get dark and light snow flurries were coming down. He'd
better get a move on. You know, he almost didn't see the old lady
stranded on the side of the road. But even in the dim light of day,
he could see she needed help. So he pulled up in front of her Mercedes
and got out. His Pontiac was still sputtering when he approached her.
Even with the smile on his face, she was worried. No one had stopped
to help for the last hour or so. Was he going to hurt her? He didn't
look safe; he looked poor and hungry. He could see that she was
frightened standing out there in the cold. He knew how she felt. It
was that chill that only fear could put in you. He said, "I'm here to
help you ma'am. Why don't you wait in the car where it's warm? By the
way, my name is Joe."
Well, all she had was a flat tire, but for an old lady, that was bad
enough. Joe crawled under the car looking for a place to put the
jack, skinning his knuckles a time or two. Soon he was able to change
the tire. However, he had to get dirty and his hands hurt. As he was
tightening up the lug nuts, she rolled down her window and began to
talk to him. She told him that she was from St. Louis and was only
just passing through. She couldn't thank him enough for coming to
her aid. Joe just smiled as he closed her trunk.
She asked him how much she owed him. Any amount would have been all
right with her. She had already imagined all the awful things that
could have happened had he not stopped. Joe never thought twice about
the money. This was not a job to him. This was helping someone in need
and God knows there were plenty who had given him a hand in the past.
He had lived his whole life that way, and it never occurred to him to
act any other way. He told her that if she really wanted to pay him
back, the next time she saw someone who needed help, she could give
that person the assistance that they needed, and Joe added "...and
think of me."
He waited until she started her car and drove off. It had been a cold
and depressing day, but he felt good as he headed for home,
disappearing into the twilight. A few miles down the road the lady
saw a small cafe. She went in to grab a bite to eat, and take the
chill off before she made the last leg of her trip home. It was a
dingy looking restaurant. Outside were two old gas pumps. The whole
scene was unfamiliar to her. The cash register was like the telephone
of an out of work actor-it didn't ring much.
Her waitress came over and brought a clean towel to wipe her wet
hair. She had a sweet smile, one that even being on her feet for the
whole day couldn't erase. The lady noticed that the waitress was
nearly eight months pregnant, but she never let the strain and aches
change her attitude. The old lady wondered how someone who had so
little could be so giving to a stranger. Then she remembered Joe.
After the lady finished her meal, and the waitress went to get her
change from a hundred-dollar bill, the lady slipped right out the
door. She was gone by the time the waitress came back. She wondered
where the lady could be, and then she noticed something written on a
napkin. There were tears in her eyes, when she read what the lady
wrote. It said, "You don't owe me a thing, I've been there too.
Someone once helped me out, the way I'm helping you. If you really
want to pay me back, here's what you do. Don't let the chain of love
end with you."
Well, there were tables to clear, sugar bowls to fill, and people to
serve, but the waitress made it through another day. That night when
she got home from work and climbed into bed, she was thinking about
the money and what the lady had written. How could she have known
how much she and her husband needed it? With the baby due next
month, it was going to be hard. She knew how worried her husband
was, and as he lay sleeping next to her, she gave him a soft kiss
and whispered soft and low, "Everything's gonna be all right; I love
you, Joe."
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I Refuse
Author Unknown
I refuse to be discouraged,
He is all-wise and powerful.
When sickness comes to weaken me,
When my heart melts within me,
I refuse to be defeated.
I give God thanks in everything.
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Two Boxes
Date: Wed, 21 Oct 1998 14:43:26 -0700
I have in my hands two boxes
I heeded his words, and in the two boxes
With curiosity, I opened the black
I showed the hole to God, and mused aloud,
I asked, "God, why give me the boxes,
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Not Yet
Date: Tue, 20 Oct 1998 09:56:54 -0700
There was a couple who used to go to England to shop in the beautiful
stores. They both liked antiques and pottery and especially teacups. This
was their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.
One day in this beautiful shop they saw a beautiful teacup. They said,
"May we see that? We've never seen one quite so beautiful."
As the lady handed it to them, suddenly the teacup spoke. "You don't
understand," it said. "I haven't always been a teacup. There was a time
when I was red and I was clay. My master took me and rolled me and patted
me over and over and I yelled out, 'let me alone, but he only smiled, 'Not
yet.'
"Then I was placed on a spinning wheel," the teacup said, "and suddenly I
was spun around and around and around. Stop it! I'm getting dizzy! I
screamed. But the master only nodded and said, 'Not yet.'
Then he put me in the oven. I never felt such heat. I wondered why he
wanted to burn me, and I yelled and knocked at the door. I could see him
through the opening and I could read his lips as He shook his head, 'Not
yet.'
Finally the door opened, he put me on the shelf, and I began to cool.
'There, that's better,' I said. And he brushed and painted me all over.
The fumes were horrible. I thought I would gag. 'Stop it, stop it!' I
cried. He only nodded, 'Not yet.'
Then suddenly he put me back into the oven, not like the first one. This
was twice as hot and I knew I would suffocate. I begged. I pleaded. I
screamed. I cried. All the time I could see him through the opening
nodding his head saying, 'Not yet.'
Then I knew there wasn't any hope. I would never make it. I was ready to
give up. But the door opened and he took me out and placed me on the
shelf. One hour later he handed me a mirror and said, 'Look at yourself.
And I did. I said, 'That's not me; that couldn't be me. It's beautiful.
I'm beautiful.'
'I want you to remember,' he said, 'I know it hurts to be rolled and
patted, but if I had left you alone, you'd have dried up. I know it made
you dizzy to spin around on the wheel, but if I had stopped, you would
have crumbled. I knew it hurt and was hot and disagreeable in the oven,
but if I hadn't put you there, you would have cracked.
I know the fumes were bad when I brushed and painted you all over, but if
I hadn't done that, you never would have hardened; you would not have had
any color in your life. And if I hadn't put you back in that second oven,
you wouldn't survive for very long because the hardness would not have
held. Now you are a finished product. You are what I had in mind when I
first began with you.
MORAL:
God knows what He's doing (for all of us).
No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is
faithful; he will not tempt you beyond what you can bear...
(1 Corinthians 10:13)
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The Smell Of Victory
Date: Tue, 8 Nov 1994 11:48:50 -0400
I could smell you all around me; during the night, between fits of
restless sleep and taunting dreams of solitude and peace - during the day,
where the simplest of errors could easily set me within your domain
forever. Don't question me as to whether your presence was welcome, for we
both know the truth. Along with your distorted images of freedom came lies
to justify the means, albeit I was nearly seduced into your game, but we
both know it wasn't without a bent of mind. Deception is your only path to
victory.
You were good...to that I give you credit. You played your hand
well and almost won. Even the smell I first spoke of was deceptively
enticing at times. I suppose you must have to be quite good at your game to
contort such a repulsive odor to an aroma of even a remote pleasantness.
Isn't that true? Who would buy your wares in their right mind?
But you lost. The game has ended. I'm no longer a pawn to be
manipulated and misled to the lowly depths of self-destruction. I've found
a new Master...or rather, He found me...One that doesn't reek of pain and
oppression, loneliness and despair. How amazing it is that I've come to
discover that He was right there through it all and it was only your cloud
of deception over my eyes that distracted my view. You know Him well, and
you knew it was Him whom I was looking for. I've been lifted out of your
cold grasp and set on high with princes and daughters of the Highest of
all...high above your reach, enveloped by a new aroma...Victory.
And you lost. O Death, where is your sting now?
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Table for Two
Date: Wed, 24 Apr 1996 08:30:31 -0700
He sits by himself at a table for two.
The uniformed waiter returns to his side and asks, "Would you like to
go ahead and order, sir?" The man has, after all, been waiting since
seven o'clock -- almost half an hour.
"No, thank you," the man smiles. "I'll wait for her a while longer.
How about some more coffee?"
"Certainly, sir."
The man sits, his clear blue eyes gazing straight through the flowered
centerpiece. He fingers his napkin, allowing the sounds of light
chatter, tinkling silverware, and mellow music to fill his mind. He
is dressed in sport coat and tie. His dark brown hair is neatly
combed, but one stray lock insists on dropping to his forehead. The
scent of his cologne adds to his clean cut image. He is dressed up
enough to make a companion feel important, respected, loved. Yet he
is not so formal as to make one uncomfortable. It seems that he has
taken every precaution to make others feel at ease with him.
Still, he sits alone.
The waiter returns to fill the man's coffee cup. "Is there anything
else I can get for you, sir?"
"No, thank you."
The waiter remains standing at the table. Something tugs at his
curiosity. "I don't mean to pry, but..." His voice trails off. This
line of conversation could jeopardize his tip.
"Go ahead," the man encourages. His is strong, yet sensitive,
inviting conversation.
"Why do you bother waiting for her?" the waiter finally blurts out.
This man has been at the restaurant other evenings, always patiently
alone.
Says the man quietly, "Because she needs me."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Well, sir, no offense, but assuming that she needs you, she sure
isn't acting much like it. She's stood you up three times just this
week."
The man winces, and looks down at the table. "Yes, I know."
"Then why do you still come here and wait?"
"Cassie said that she would be here."
"She's said that before," the waiter protests. "I wouldn't put up
with it. Why do you?"
Now the man looks up, smiles at the waiter, and says simply, "Because
I love her."
The waiter walks away, wondering how one could love a girl who stands
him up three times a week. The man must be crazy, he decides. Across
the room, he turns to look at the man again. The man slowly pours
cream into his coffee. He twirls his spoon between his fingers a few
times before stirring sweetener into his cup. After staring for a
moment into the liquid, the man brings the cup to his mouth and sips,
silently watching those around him. He doesn't look crazy, the waiter
admits. Maybe the girl has qualities that I don't know about. Or
maybe the man's love is stronger than most. The waiter shakes himself
out of his musings to take an order from a party of five.
The man watches the waiter, wonders if he's ever been stood up. The
man has, many times. But he still can't get used to it. Each time,
it hurts. He's looked forward to this evening all day. He has many
things, exciting things, to tell Cassie. But, more importantly, he
wants to hear Cassie's voice. He wants her to tell him all about her
day, her triumphs, her defeats....anything, really. He has tried so
many times to show Cassie how much he loves her. He'd just like to
know that she cares for him, too. He sips sporadically at the coffee,
and loses himself in thought, knowing that Cassie is late, but still
hoping that she will arrive.
The clock says nine-thirty when the waiter returns to the man's
table. "Is there anything I can get for you?"
The still empty chair stabs at the man. "No, I think that will be all
for tonight. May I have the check please?"
"Yes, sir."
When the waiter leaves, the man picks up the check. He pulls out his
wallet and sighs. He has enough money to have given Cassie a feast.
But he takes out only enough to pay for his five cups of coffee
and the tip. Why do you do this, Cassie, his mind cries as he gets up
from the table.
"Good-bye," the waiter says, as the man walks towards the door.
"Good night. Thank you for your service."
"You're welcome, sir," says the waiter softly, for he sees the hurt
in the man's eyes that his smile doesn't hide.
The man passes a laughing young couple on his way out, and his eyes
glisten as he thinks of the good time he and Cassie could have had.
He stops at the front and makes reservations for tomorrow. Maybe
Cassie will be able to make it, he thinks.
"Seven o'clock tomorrow for party of two?" the hostess confirms.
"That's right," the man replies.
"Do you think she'll come??" asks the hostess. She doesn't mean to be
rude, but she has watched the man many times alone at his table for
two.
"Someday, yes. And I will be waiting for her." The man buttons his
overcoat and walks out of the restaurant, alone. His shoulders are
hunched, but through the windows the hostess can only guess whether
they are hunched against the wind or against the man's hurt.
As the man turns toward home, Cassie turns into bed. She is tired
after an evening out with friends. As she reaches toward her night
stand to set the alarm, she sees the note that she scribbled to
herself last night. "7:00," it says. "Spend some time in prayer."
Darn, she thinks. She forgot again. She feels a twinge of guilt,
but quickly pushes it aside. She needed that time with her friends.
And now she needs her sleep. She can pray tomorrow night.
Jesus will forgive her.
And she's sure he doesn't mind.
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Why God Never Received a PhD
Date: Mon, 06 May 1996 05:54:33 -0700
Why God never received a PhD:
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Auca Tribute
--Warning: This story contains some graphic details about a story relating to the death of Jim Elliot.--
Date: 1997
Jane for the Parks family in Spain
Beloved friends -
A tremendous man died a week ago. The original leader of the war party
that speared the five missionaries in Ecuador all those years ago died,
trusting Christ as His Savior and knowing He has forgiven Gikita
(American spelling) for his sins against his brethren.
One of his nieces, Judy Maxwell, crafted a beautiful poem in his honor.
It seems fitting to print it here in light of the story we are presenting
through the eyes of another Waorani, "Dayuma."
[On January 8, 1956, Gikita of the Aucas led the spearing raid in which Nate Saint, Jim Elliot, Ed McCully, Pete Fleming and Roger Youderian died.]
Still in the womb when your father was speared,
Later, thirst-rasped, hunger-gnawed, mosquito-bitten,
Fleeing and hiding, fleeing and hiding, you lived for two years -
At six, you started drinking chewed fermented manioc,
"Woo woo", the foreigner's "wood-beetle" hovered overhead,
"Aucas"(`savages') neighbouring Quichuas called your people.
And five men, hearts full of love for your wild people, fell,
"He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep
Then your niece Dayuma returned from years of exile
Dayuma spoke of "Itota," Christ who died on the cross
"When we speared those five men,
God became Father to you, Gikita, forgiving your sins,
Today, I heard you have died - at 80.
Are you in "Maempo" Father's arms at last?
Judy Maxwell, Bradford-on-Avon, England [16 February 1997] With grateful acknowledgment to Jim Yost for recording and translating Guiquita's early testimony. |
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George Washington's 1789 Thanksgiving Proclamation
General Thanksgiving.
By the PRESIDENT of the United States Of America
A PROCLAMATION.
WHEREAS it is the duty of all nations to acknowledge the providence
of Almighty God, to obey His will, to be grateful for His benefits,
and humbly to implore His protection and favour; and Whereas both
Houses of Congress have, by their joint committee, requested me "to
recommend to the people of the United States a DAY of PUBLICK
THANKSGIVING and PRAYER, to be observed by acknowledging with grateful
hearts the many and signal favours of Almighty God, especially by
affording them an opportunity peaceably to establish a form of
government for their safety and happiness:
NOW THEREFORE, I do recommend and assign THURSDAY, the TWENTY-SIXTH DAY
of NOVEMBER next, to be devoted by the people of these States to the
service of that great and glorious Being who is the beneficent author of
all the good that was, that is, or that will be; that we may then all
unite in rendering unto Him our sincere and humble thanks for His kind
care and protection of the people of this country previous to their
becoming a nation; for the signal and manifold mercies and the favorable
interpositions of His providence in the course and conclusion of the
late war; for the great degree of tranquility, union, and plenty which
we have since enjoyed;-- for the peaceable and rational manner in which
we have been enable to establish Constitutions of government for our
safety and happiness, and particularly the national one now lately
instituted;-- for the civil and religious liberty with which we are
blessed, and the means we have of acquiring and diffusing useful
knowledge;-- and, in general, for all the great and various favours
which He has been pleased to confer upon us.
AND ALSO, That we may then unite in most humbly offering our prayers and
supplications to the great Lord and Ruler of Nations and beseech Him to
pardon our national and other transgressions;-- to enable us all,
whether in publick or private stations, to perform our several and
relative duties properly and punctually; to render our National
Government a blessing to all the people by constantly being a Government
of wise, just, and constitutional laws, discreetly and faithfully
executed and obeyed; to protect and guide all sovereigns and nations
(especially such as have shewn kindness unto us); and to bless them
with good governments, peace, and concord; to promote the knowledge
and practice of true religion and virtue, and the increase of science
among them and us; and, generally to grant unto all mankind such a
degree of temporal prosperity as he alone knows to be best.
GIVEN under my hand, at the city of New-York, the third day of October,
in the year of our Lord, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-nine.
(signed) George Washington
A copy of the
original Centinel printing
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