FATHER'S
SON
Years ago, there
was
a very wealthy man who, with his devoted
young son, shared a passion for art
collecting. Together they traveled
around the
world, adding only the finest art
treasures
to their collection. Priceless works by
Picasso, Van Gogh, Monet and many others
adorned the walls of the family estate.
The
widowed, elder man looked on with
satisfaction as his only child became an
experienced art collector. The son's
trained
eye and sharp business mind caused his
father
to beam with pride as they dealt with
art
collectors around the world.
As winter approached, war engulfed the
nation, and the young man left to serve
his
country. After only a few short weeks,
his
father received a telegram. His beloved
son
was missing in action. The art collector
anxiously awaited more news, fearing he
would
never see his son again. Within days,
his
fears were confirmed. The young man had
died
while rushing a fellow soldier to a
medic.
Distraught and lonely, the old man faced
the
upcoming Christmas holidays with anguish
and
sadness. The joy of the season, a season
that
he and his son had so looked forward to,
would visit his house no longer.
On Christmas morning, a knock on the
door
awakened the depressed old man. As he
walked
to the door, the masterpieces of art on
the
walls only reminded him that his son was
not
coming home. As he opened the door,he
was
greeted by a soldier with a large
package in
his hand. He introduced himself to the
man by
saying, "I was a friend of your son. I
was
the one he was rescuing when he died.
May I
come in for a few moments? I have
something
to show you."
As the two began to talk, the soldier
told of
how the man's son had told everyone of
his,
not to mention his father's, love of
fine
art. "I'm an artist," said the soldier,
"and
I want to give you this." As the old man
unwrapped the package, the paper gave
way to
reveal a portrait of the man's son.
Though
the world would never consider it the
work of
a genius, the painting featured the
young
man's face in striking detail.
Overcome with emotion, the man thanked
the
soldier, promising to hang the picture
above
the fireplace. A few hours later, after
the
soldier had departed, the old man set
about
his task. True to his word, the painting
went
above the fireplace, pushing aside
thousands
of dollars of paintings. Then, the man
sat in
his chair and spent Christmas gazing at
the
gift he had been given.
During the days and weeks that followed,
the
man realized that even though his son
was no
longer with him, the boy's life would
live on
because of those he had touched. He
would
soon learn that his son had rescued
dozens of
wounded soldiers before a bullet stilled
his
caring heart. As the stories of his
son's
gallantry continued to reach him,
fatherly
pride and satisfaction began to ease the
grief. The painting of his son soon
became
his most prized possession, far
eclipsing any
interest in the pieces for which museums
around the world clamored. He told his
neighbors it was the greatest gift he
had
ever received.
The following spring, the old man became
ill
and passed away. The art world was in
anticipation! Unmindful of the story of
the
man's only son, but in his honor; those
paintings would be sold at an auction.
According to the will of the old man,
all of
the art works would be auctioned on
Christmas
day, the day he had received his
greatest
gift. The day soon arrived and art
collectors
from around the world gathered to bid on
some
of the world's most spectacular
paintings.
Dreams would be fulfilled this day;
greatness
would be achieved as many would claim "I
have
the greatest collection." The auction
began
with a painting that was not on any
museum's
list. It was the painting of the man's
son.
The auctioneer asked for an opening bid.
The
room was silent. "Who will open the
bidding
with $100?" he asked. Minutes passed. No
one
spoke. From the back of the room came,
"Who
cares about that painting? It's just a
picture of his son. Let's forget it and
go on
to the good stuff." More voices echoed
in
agreement. "No, we have to sell this one
first," replied the auctioneer. "Now,
who
will take the son?"
Finally, a friend of the old man spoke.
"Will
you take ten dollars for the painting?
That's
all I have. I knew the boy, so I'd like
to
have it." I have ten dollars. Will
anyone go
higher?" called the auctioneer. After
more
silence, the auctioneer said, "Going
once,
going twice. Gone." The gavel fell.
Cheers
filled the room and someone exclaimed,
"Now
we can get on with it and bid on these
treasures!" The auctioneer looked at the
audience and announced the auction was
over.
Stunned disbelief quieted the room.
Someone
spoke up and asked, "What do you mean
it's
over? We didn't come here for a picture
of
some old guy's son. What about all of
these
paintings? There are millions of dollars
of
art here! I demand that you explain
what's
going on here!" The auctioneer replied,
"It's
very simple. According to the will of
the
father, whoever takes the son ... gets
it
all."
Author:
Unknown
UNDER GODS
WINGS
An
article in
National Geographic several years ago
painted
an incredible 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 the bird over
with a
stick. Upon doing so, 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,
those
under the cover of her wings would
live.
Psalm 91:4
He will cover you with his feathers, and
under his wings you will find refuge;
his
faithfulness will be your shield and
rampart.
THE
NEW
FOOTPRINTS
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:
"Lord, I understand the first scene with
the
zig zags, fits, starts and so on. I was
a new
Christian, just learning. But You walked
on
through the storm and helped me learn to
walk
with You".
"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."
FOR HE WILL TURN YOUR MOURNING INTO
DANCING!!!!!!!
THANK YOU FOR TAKING THE TIME TO READ
THESE
STORIES, I HOPE THEY HAVE TOUCHED YOU
LIKE
THEY HAVE TOUCHED
ME!
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