-- Author Unknown
Let this coming year be better than all the others. Vow to do some of the things you've always wanted to do but couldn't find the time.
Call up a forgotten friend. Share a funny story with someone whose spirits are dragging. A good laugh can be very good medicine.
Make a genuine effort to stay in closer touch with family and good friends. The surest way to have a friend is to be one.
Find the time to be kind and thoughtful. Give a compliment. It's sure to give someone a badly needed lift.
Think things through. Forgive an injustice. Listen more. Be kind.
Apologize when you realize you are wrong. An apology never diminishes a person. It elevates him. Don't blow your own horn. If you've done something praiseworthy, someone will notice eventually.
Lighten up. When you feel like blowing your top, ask yourself, "Will it matter in a week from today?" Laugh the loudest when the joke is on you.
Don't discourage a beginner from trying something risky. Nothing ventured means nothing gained. Be optimistic. The can-do spirit is the fuel that makes things go.
Don't abandon your old-fashioned principles. They never go out of style. When courage is needed, ask yourself, "If not me, who? If not now, when?"
Walk tall, and smile more. You'll look 10 years younger.
Don't be afraid to say, "I love you".
Say it again. They are the sweetest words in the world.
And Have a Happy New Year!
Monday, December 28, 2015
Wednesday, December 16, 2015
A Christmas Miracle
This is based on a true story. Enjoy!
By Susan Morton Leonard, as told to her by her husband, Santa Mark Leonard
When I recall precious Christmas memories, I think of a very special story, one which represents the magic and glory of the season. This is a true story, as told to me by my husband -- a professional Santa Claus -- of a real Christmas miracle which he experienced. A story that I think will cause YOU to believe ...
Three years ago, a little boy and his grandmother came to see Santa at Mayfair Mall in Wisconsin. The child climbed up on his lap, holding a picture of a little girl.
"Who is this?" asked Santa, smiling. "Your friend? Your sister?"
"Yes, Santa," he replied. "My sister, Sarah, who is very sick," he said sadly.
Santa glanced over at the grandmother who was waiting nearby, and saw her dabbing her eyes with a tissue.
"She wanted to come with me to see you, oh, so very much, Santa!" the child exclaimed. "She misses you," he added softly.
Santa tried to be cheerful and encouraged a smile to the boy's face, asking him what he wanted Santa to bring him for Christmas.
When they finished their visit, the Grandmother came over to help the child off his lap, and started to say something to Santa, but halted.
"What is it?" Santa asked warmly.
"Well, I know it's really too much to ask you, Santa, but..." the old woman began, shooing her grandson over to one of Santa's elves to collect the little gift which Santa gave all his young visitors.
"...The girl in the photograph... my granddaughter... well, you see she has leukemia and isn't expected to make it even through the holidays," she said through tear-filled eyes. "Is there any way, Santa, any possible way that you could come see Sarah? That's all she's asked for for Christmas, is to see Santa."
Santa blinked and swallowed hard and told the woman to leave information with his elves as to where Sarah was, and he would see what he could do.
Santa thought of little else the rest of that afternoon. He knew what he had to do.
"What if it were MY child lying in that hospital bed, dying," he thought with a sinking heart, "this is the least I can do."
When Santa finished visiting with all the boys and girls that evening, he retrieved from his helper the name of the hospital where Sarah was staying. He then asked the assistant location manager how to get to Children's Hospital.
"Why?" Rick asked, with a puzzled look on his face.
Santa relayed to him the conversation with Sarah's grandmother earlier that day.
"C'mon... I'll take you there," Rick said softly.
Rick drove them to the hospital and came inside with Santa. They found out which room Sarah was in. A pale Rick said he would wait out in the hall. Santa quietly peeked into the room through the half-closed door and saw little Sarah on the bed.
The room was full of what appeared to be her family; there was the Grandmother and the girl's brother he had met earlier that day. A woman whom he guessed was Sarah's mother stood by the bed, gently pushing Sarah's thin hair off her forehead. And another woman who he discovered later was Sarah's aunt, sat in a chair near the bed with weary, sad look on her face. They were talking quietly, and Santa could sense the warmth and closeness of the family, and their love and concern for Sarah.
Taking a deep breath, and forcing a smile on his face, Santa entered the room, bellowing a hearty, "Ho, Ho, Ho!"
"Santa!" shrieked little Sarah weakly, as she tried to escape her bed to run to him, IV tubes intact.
Santa rushed to her side and gave her a warm hug. A child the tender age of his own son - 9 years old - gazed up at him with wonder and excitement.
Her skin was pale and her short tresses bore telltale bald patches from the effects of chemotherapy. But all he saw when he looked at her was a pair of huge, blue eyes. His heart melted, and he had to force himself to choke back tears. Though his eyes were riveted upon Sarah's face, he could hear the gasps and quiet sobbing of the women in the room.
As he and Sarah began talking, the family crept quietly to the bedside one by one, squeezing Santa's shoulder or his hand gratefully, whispering " thank you" as they gazed sincerely at him with shining eyes.
Santa and Sarah talked and talked, and she told him excitedly all the toys she wanted for Christmas, assuring him she'd been a very good girl that year.
As their time together dwindled, Santa felt led in his spirit to pray for Sarah, and asked for permission from the girl's mother. She nodded in agreement and the entire family circled around Sarah's bed, holding hands.
Santa looked intensely at Sarah and asked her if she believed in Angels.
"Oh, yes, Santa. I do!" she exclaimed.
"Well, I'm going to ask that Angels watch over you," he said. Laying one hand on the child's head, Santa closed his eyes and prayed. He asked that God touch little Sarah, and heal her body from this disease. He asked that Angels minister to her, watch and keep her. And when he finished praying, still with eyes closed, he started singing softly, "Silent Night, Holy Night... all is calm, all is bright."
The family joined in, still holding hands, smiling at Sarah, and crying tears of hope, tears of joy for this moment, as Sarah beamed at them all. When the song ended, Santa sat on the side of the bed again and held Sarah's frail, small hands in his own.
"Now, Sarah," he said authoritatively, "you have a job to do, and that is to concentrate on getting well. I want you to have fun playing with your friends this summer, and I expect to see you at my house at Mayfair Mall this time next year!"
He knew it was risky proclaiming that, to this little girl who had terminal cancer, but he "had" to. He had to give her the greatest gift he could - not dolls or games or toys - but the gift of HOPE.
"Yes, Santa!" Sarah exclaimed, her eyes bright.
He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead and left the room.
Out in the hall, the minute Santa's eyes met Rick's, a look passed between them and they wept unashamed.
Sarah's mother and grandmother slipped out of the room quickly and rushed to Santa's side to thank him.
"My only child is the same age as Sarah," he explained quietly. "This is the least I could do."
They nodded with understanding and hugged him.
One year later, Santa Mark was again back on the set in Milwaukee for his six-week, seasonal job which he so loves to do. Several weeks went by and then one day a child came up to sit on his lap.
"Hi, Santa! Remember me?!" "Of course, I do," Santa proclaimed (as he always does), smiling down at her. After all, the secret to being a "good" Santa is to always make each child feel as if they are the "only" child in the world at that moment.
"You came to see me in the hospital last year!"
Santa's jaw dropped. Tears immediately sprang in his eyes, and he grabbed this little miracle and held her to his chest.
"Sarah!" he exclaimed. He scarcely recognized her, for her hair was long and silky and her cheeks were rosy - much different from the little girl he had visited just a year before.
He looked over and saw Sarah's mother and grandmother in the sidelines smiling and waving and wiping their eyes.
That was the best Christmas ever for Santa Claus. He had witnessed - and been blessed to be instrumental in bringing about - this miracle of hope. This precious little child was healed. Cancer-free. Alive and well. He silently looked up to Heaven and humbly whispered, "Thank you, Father. 'Tis a very, Merry Christmas!"
© 1995-2011, Susan Morton Leonard
-----
This story, "The Christmas Miracle," was written by Susan Morton Leonard, as told to her by her husband, Mark Leonard, aka Santa Mark. You can view it along with many photos, at her blog: http://susans-sea-of-dreams.blogspot.com/2011/12/christmas-miracle.html. Susan can be reached by email at: sleonard01@att.net
This story is featured in the hardback book "Christmas Miracles."
Guideposts, New York; 2008 ISBN 978-0-8249-4742-2 (pp. 204-210) and can be purchased here: www.amazon.com/Christmas-Miracles-Various/dp/0824947428
By Susan Morton Leonard, as told to her by her husband, Santa Mark Leonard
When I recall precious Christmas memories, I think of a very special story, one which represents the magic and glory of the season. This is a true story, as told to me by my husband -- a professional Santa Claus -- of a real Christmas miracle which he experienced. A story that I think will cause YOU to believe ...
Three years ago, a little boy and his grandmother came to see Santa at Mayfair Mall in Wisconsin. The child climbed up on his lap, holding a picture of a little girl.
"Who is this?" asked Santa, smiling. "Your friend? Your sister?"
"Yes, Santa," he replied. "My sister, Sarah, who is very sick," he said sadly.
Santa glanced over at the grandmother who was waiting nearby, and saw her dabbing her eyes with a tissue.
"She wanted to come with me to see you, oh, so very much, Santa!" the child exclaimed. "She misses you," he added softly.
Santa tried to be cheerful and encouraged a smile to the boy's face, asking him what he wanted Santa to bring him for Christmas.
When they finished their visit, the Grandmother came over to help the child off his lap, and started to say something to Santa, but halted.
"What is it?" Santa asked warmly.
"Well, I know it's really too much to ask you, Santa, but..." the old woman began, shooing her grandson over to one of Santa's elves to collect the little gift which Santa gave all his young visitors.
"...The girl in the photograph... my granddaughter... well, you see she has leukemia and isn't expected to make it even through the holidays," she said through tear-filled eyes. "Is there any way, Santa, any possible way that you could come see Sarah? That's all she's asked for for Christmas, is to see Santa."
Santa blinked and swallowed hard and told the woman to leave information with his elves as to where Sarah was, and he would see what he could do.
Santa thought of little else the rest of that afternoon. He knew what he had to do.
"What if it were MY child lying in that hospital bed, dying," he thought with a sinking heart, "this is the least I can do."
When Santa finished visiting with all the boys and girls that evening, he retrieved from his helper the name of the hospital where Sarah was staying. He then asked the assistant location manager how to get to Children's Hospital.
"Why?" Rick asked, with a puzzled look on his face.
Santa relayed to him the conversation with Sarah's grandmother earlier that day.
"C'mon... I'll take you there," Rick said softly.
Rick drove them to the hospital and came inside with Santa. They found out which room Sarah was in. A pale Rick said he would wait out in the hall. Santa quietly peeked into the room through the half-closed door and saw little Sarah on the bed.
The room was full of what appeared to be her family; there was the Grandmother and the girl's brother he had met earlier that day. A woman whom he guessed was Sarah's mother stood by the bed, gently pushing Sarah's thin hair off her forehead. And another woman who he discovered later was Sarah's aunt, sat in a chair near the bed with weary, sad look on her face. They were talking quietly, and Santa could sense the warmth and closeness of the family, and their love and concern for Sarah.
Taking a deep breath, and forcing a smile on his face, Santa entered the room, bellowing a hearty, "Ho, Ho, Ho!"
"Santa!" shrieked little Sarah weakly, as she tried to escape her bed to run to him, IV tubes intact.
Santa rushed to her side and gave her a warm hug. A child the tender age of his own son - 9 years old - gazed up at him with wonder and excitement.
Her skin was pale and her short tresses bore telltale bald patches from the effects of chemotherapy. But all he saw when he looked at her was a pair of huge, blue eyes. His heart melted, and he had to force himself to choke back tears. Though his eyes were riveted upon Sarah's face, he could hear the gasps and quiet sobbing of the women in the room.
As he and Sarah began talking, the family crept quietly to the bedside one by one, squeezing Santa's shoulder or his hand gratefully, whispering " thank you" as they gazed sincerely at him with shining eyes.
Santa and Sarah talked and talked, and she told him excitedly all the toys she wanted for Christmas, assuring him she'd been a very good girl that year.
As their time together dwindled, Santa felt led in his spirit to pray for Sarah, and asked for permission from the girl's mother. She nodded in agreement and the entire family circled around Sarah's bed, holding hands.
Santa looked intensely at Sarah and asked her if she believed in Angels.
"Oh, yes, Santa. I do!" she exclaimed.
"Well, I'm going to ask that Angels watch over you," he said. Laying one hand on the child's head, Santa closed his eyes and prayed. He asked that God touch little Sarah, and heal her body from this disease. He asked that Angels minister to her, watch and keep her. And when he finished praying, still with eyes closed, he started singing softly, "Silent Night, Holy Night... all is calm, all is bright."
The family joined in, still holding hands, smiling at Sarah, and crying tears of hope, tears of joy for this moment, as Sarah beamed at them all. When the song ended, Santa sat on the side of the bed again and held Sarah's frail, small hands in his own.
"Now, Sarah," he said authoritatively, "you have a job to do, and that is to concentrate on getting well. I want you to have fun playing with your friends this summer, and I expect to see you at my house at Mayfair Mall this time next year!"
He knew it was risky proclaiming that, to this little girl who had terminal cancer, but he "had" to. He had to give her the greatest gift he could - not dolls or games or toys - but the gift of HOPE.
"Yes, Santa!" Sarah exclaimed, her eyes bright.
He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead and left the room.
Out in the hall, the minute Santa's eyes met Rick's, a look passed between them and they wept unashamed.
Sarah's mother and grandmother slipped out of the room quickly and rushed to Santa's side to thank him.
"My only child is the same age as Sarah," he explained quietly. "This is the least I could do."
They nodded with understanding and hugged him.
One year later, Santa Mark was again back on the set in Milwaukee for his six-week, seasonal job which he so loves to do. Several weeks went by and then one day a child came up to sit on his lap.
"Hi, Santa! Remember me?!" "Of course, I do," Santa proclaimed (as he always does), smiling down at her. After all, the secret to being a "good" Santa is to always make each child feel as if they are the "only" child in the world at that moment.
"You came to see me in the hospital last year!"
Santa's jaw dropped. Tears immediately sprang in his eyes, and he grabbed this little miracle and held her to his chest.
"Sarah!" he exclaimed. He scarcely recognized her, for her hair was long and silky and her cheeks were rosy - much different from the little girl he had visited just a year before.
He looked over and saw Sarah's mother and grandmother in the sidelines smiling and waving and wiping their eyes.
That was the best Christmas ever for Santa Claus. He had witnessed - and been blessed to be instrumental in bringing about - this miracle of hope. This precious little child was healed. Cancer-free. Alive and well. He silently looked up to Heaven and humbly whispered, "Thank you, Father. 'Tis a very, Merry Christmas!"
© 1995-2011, Susan Morton Leonard
-----
This story, "The Christmas Miracle," was written by Susan Morton Leonard, as told to her by her husband, Mark Leonard, aka Santa Mark. You can view it along with many photos, at her blog: http://susans-sea-of-dreams.blogspot.com/2011/12/christmas-miracle.html. Susan can be reached by email at: sleonard01@att.net
This story is featured in the hardback book "Christmas Miracles."
Guideposts, New York; 2008 ISBN 978-0-8249-4742-2 (pp. 204-210) and can be purchased here: www.amazon.com/Christmas-Miracles-Various/dp/0824947428
Monday, December 7, 2015
The Devil's Deal
Author Unknown
One day Satan and Jesus were having a conversation. Satan had just come from the Garden of Eden, and he was gloating and boasting. "Yes, sir, I just caught the world full of people down there. Set me a trap(!), used bait I knew they couldn't resist. Got 'em all!"
"What are you going to do with them?" Jesus asked.
Satan replied, "Oh, I'm gonna have fun! I'm gonna teach them how to marry and divorce each other, how to hate and abuse each other, how to drink and and curse. I'm gonna teach them how to invent guns and bombs and kill each other. I'm really gonna have fun!"
"And what will you do when you get done with them?" Jesus asked.
"Oh, I'll kill 'em," Satan glared proudly.
"How much do you want for them?" Jesus asked.
"Oh, you don't want those people. They ain't no good. Why, you'll take them and they'll just hate you. They'll spit on you, curse you and kill you! You don't want THOSE people!!"
"How much?" He asked again.
Satan looked at Jesus and sneered, "All your tears, and all your blood."
Jesus said, "DONE!"
Then He paid the price.*
One day Satan and Jesus were having a conversation. Satan had just come from the Garden of Eden, and he was gloating and boasting. "Yes, sir, I just caught the world full of people down there. Set me a trap(!), used bait I knew they couldn't resist. Got 'em all!"
"What are you going to do with them?" Jesus asked.
Satan replied, "Oh, I'm gonna have fun! I'm gonna teach them how to marry and divorce each other, how to hate and abuse each other, how to drink and and curse. I'm gonna teach them how to invent guns and bombs and kill each other. I'm really gonna have fun!"
"And what will you do when you get done with them?" Jesus asked.
"Oh, I'll kill 'em," Satan glared proudly.
"How much do you want for them?" Jesus asked.
"Oh, you don't want those people. They ain't no good. Why, you'll take them and they'll just hate you. They'll spit on you, curse you and kill you! You don't want THOSE people!!"
"How much?" He asked again.
Satan looked at Jesus and sneered, "All your tears, and all your blood."
Jesus said, "DONE!"
Then He paid the price.*
Friday, November 20, 2015
Important Words To Heed
Jesus is speaking and giving us important words to heed. See John 12:47-50.
47 “If anyone hears my words but does not keep them, I do not judge that person. For I did not come to judge the world, but to save the world. 48 There is a judge for the one who rejects me and does not accept my words; the very words I have spoken will condemn them at the last day. 49 For I did not speak on my own, but the Father who sent me commanded me to say all that I have spoken. 50 I know that his command leads to eternal life. So whatever I say is just what the Father has told me to say.”
47 “If anyone hears my words but does not keep them, I do not judge that person. For I did not come to judge the world, but to save the world. 48 There is a judge for the one who rejects me and does not accept my words; the very words I have spoken will condemn them at the last day. 49 For I did not speak on my own, but the Father who sent me commanded me to say all that I have spoken. 50 I know that his command leads to eternal life. So whatever I say is just what the Father has told me to say.”
Monday, October 26, 2015
Tasting Jesus
-- Author unknown
At the University of Chicago Divinity School, each year, they have what is called "Baptist Day." On this day, each one is to bring a lunch to be eaten outdoors in a grassy picnic area. Every "Baptist Day" the school would invite one of the greatest minds to lecture in the theological education center.
One year they invited Dr. Paul Tillich. Dr.Tillich spoke for two and one-half hours attempting to prove that the resurrection of Jesus was false. He quoted scholar after scholar and book after book. He concluded that since there was no such thing as the historical resurrection, the religious tradition of the church was groundless, emotional mumbo-jumbo... because it was based on a relationship with a risen Jesus, who, in fact never rose from the dead in any literal sense. He then asked if there were any questions.
After about 30 seconds, an old, dark skinned preacher with a head of short-cropped, woolly white hair stood up in the back of the auditorium. "Docta Tillich, I got one question," he said as all eyes turned toward him.
He reached into his sack lunch and pulled out an apple and began eating it. "Docta Tillich... CRUNCH, MUNCH... My question is a simple question... CRUNCH, MUNCH... "Now, I ain't never read them books you read... CRUNCH, MUNCH... and I can't recite the Scriptures in the original Greek... CRUNCH, MUNCH... I don't know nothin' bout Niebuhr and Heidegger... CRUNCH, MUNCH..."
He finished the apple... "All I wanna know is: This apple I just ate... was it bitter or sweet?
Dr. Tillich paused for a moment and answered in exemplary scholarly fashion... "I cannot possibly answer that question, for I haven't tasted your apple."
The white-haired preacher dropped the core of his apple into his crumpled paper bag, looked up at Dr. Tillich and said calmly, "Neither have you tasted my Jesus."
The 1,000 plus in attendance could not contain themselves. The auditorium erupted with applause and cheers.
Dr. Tillich thanked his audience and promptly left the platform.
Have you tasted Jesus?
"Taste and see that the LORD is good; blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him. If you have, rejoice in the hope of the resurrection that your faith in Him brings." -- Psalm 34:8
At the University of Chicago Divinity School, each year, they have what is called "Baptist Day." On this day, each one is to bring a lunch to be eaten outdoors in a grassy picnic area. Every "Baptist Day" the school would invite one of the greatest minds to lecture in the theological education center.
One year they invited Dr. Paul Tillich. Dr.Tillich spoke for two and one-half hours attempting to prove that the resurrection of Jesus was false. He quoted scholar after scholar and book after book. He concluded that since there was no such thing as the historical resurrection, the religious tradition of the church was groundless, emotional mumbo-jumbo... because it was based on a relationship with a risen Jesus, who, in fact never rose from the dead in any literal sense. He then asked if there were any questions.
After about 30 seconds, an old, dark skinned preacher with a head of short-cropped, woolly white hair stood up in the back of the auditorium. "Docta Tillich, I got one question," he said as all eyes turned toward him.
He reached into his sack lunch and pulled out an apple and began eating it. "Docta Tillich... CRUNCH, MUNCH... My question is a simple question... CRUNCH, MUNCH... "Now, I ain't never read them books you read... CRUNCH, MUNCH... and I can't recite the Scriptures in the original Greek... CRUNCH, MUNCH... I don't know nothin' bout Niebuhr and Heidegger... CRUNCH, MUNCH..."
He finished the apple... "All I wanna know is: This apple I just ate... was it bitter or sweet?
Dr. Tillich paused for a moment and answered in exemplary scholarly fashion... "I cannot possibly answer that question, for I haven't tasted your apple."
The white-haired preacher dropped the core of his apple into his crumpled paper bag, looked up at Dr. Tillich and said calmly, "Neither have you tasted my Jesus."
The 1,000 plus in attendance could not contain themselves. The auditorium erupted with applause and cheers.
Dr. Tillich thanked his audience and promptly left the platform.
Have you tasted Jesus?
"Taste and see that the LORD is good; blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him. If you have, rejoice in the hope of the resurrection that your faith in Him brings." -- Psalm 34:8
Monday, October 19, 2015
The Wise And Foolish Builders
This parable was the last one Jesus spoke of when delivering the sermon on the mount. Taking the sermon on the mount into context, Jesus is talking about building our lives and not about building houses.
Matthew 7
The Wise and Foolish Builders
24 “Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. 25 The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock. 26 But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand. 27 The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash.”
28 When Jesus had finished saying these things, the crowds were amazed at his teaching, 29 because he taught as one who had authority, and not as their teachers of the law.
Monday, October 12, 2015
Covered By God's Wings?
Author Unknown
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 gently 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 refused to abandon her babies. When the blaze had arrived and the heat had scorched her small body, the mother had remained steadfast.
Because she had been willing to die, those under the cover of her wings would live.
"He will cover you with his feathers,
and under his wings you will find refuge."
Psalm 91:4
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 gently 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 refused to abandon her babies. When the blaze had arrived and the heat had scorched her small body, the mother had remained steadfast.
Because she had been willing to die, those under the cover of her wings would live.
"He will cover you with his feathers,
and under his wings you will find refuge."
Psalm 91:4
Monday, October 5, 2015
God's Memo
Author Unknown
Effective Immediately:
Please be aware that there are changes you need to make in your life. These changes need to be completed in order that I may fulfill my promises to you to grant you peace, joy and happiness in this life. I apologize for any inconvenience, but after all that I am doing, this seems very little to ask of you. I know, I already gave you the 10 Commandments. Keep them. But follow these guidelines as well...
1. QUIT WORRYING
Life has dealt you a blow and all you do is sit and worry. Have you forgotten that I am here to take all your burdens and carry them for you? Or do you just enjoy fretting over every little thing that comes your way?
2. PUT IT ON THE LIST
Something needs done or taken care of. Put it on the list. No, not YOUR list. Put it on MY to-do-list. Let ME be the one to take care of the problem. I can't help you until you turn it over to me. And, although my to-do-list is long, I am, after all, God. I can take care of anything you put into my hands. In fact, if the truth were ever really known, I take care of a lot of things for you that you never even realize.
3. TRUST ME
Once you've given your burdens to me, quit trying to take them back. Trust in me. Have the faith that I will take care of all your needs, your problems and your trials. Problems with the kids? Put them on my list. Problem with finances? Put it on my list. Problems with your emotional roller coaster? For my sake, put it on my list. I want to help you. All you have to do is ask.
4. LEAVE IT ALONE
Don't wake up one morning and say, "Well, I'm feeling much stronger now, I think I can handle it from here." Why do you think you are feeling stronger now? It's simple. You gave me your burdens and I'm taking care of them. I also renew your strength and cover you in my peace. Don't you know that if I give you these problems back, you will be right back where you started? Leave them with me and forget about them. Just let me do my job.
5. TALK TO ME
I want you to forget a lot of things. Forget what was making you crazy. Forget the worry and the fretting because you know I'm in control. But there's one thing I pray you never forget. Please don't forget to talk to me - OFTEN! I love you. I want to hear your voice. I want you to include me in on the things going on in your life. I want to hear you talk about your friends and family. Prayer is simply you having a conversation with me. I want to be your dearest friend.
6. HAVE FAITH
I see a lot of things from up here that you can't see from where you are. Have faith in me that I know what I'm doing. Trust me, you wouldn't want the view from my eyes. I will continue to care for you, watch over you, and meet your needs. You only have to trust me. Although I have a much bigger task than you, it seems as if you have so much trouble just doing your simple part. How hard can trust be?
7. SHARE
You were taught to share when you were only two years old. When did you forget? That rule still applies. Share with those who are less fortunate than you. Share your joy with those who need encouragement. Share your laughter with those who haven't heard any in such a long time. Share your tears with those who have forgotten how to cry. Share your faith with those who have none.
8. BE PATIENT
I managed to fix it so in just one lifetime you could have so many diverse experiences. You grow from a child to an adult, have children, change jobs many times, learn many trades, travel to so many places, meet thousands of people, and experience so much. How can you be so impatient then when it takes me a little longer than you expect to handle something on my to-do-list? Trust in my timing, for my timing is perfect. Just because I created the entire universe in only six days, everyone thinks I should always rush, rush, rush.
9. BE KIND
Be kind to others, for I love them just as much as I love you. They may not dress like you, or talk like you, or live the same way you do, but I still love you all. Please try to get along, for my sake. I created each of you different in some way. It would be too boring if you were all identical. Please know I love each of your differences.
10. LOVE YOURSELF
As much as I love you, how can you not love yourself? You were created by me for one reason only - to be loved, and to love in return. I am a God of Love. Love me. Love your neighbors. But also love yourself. It makes my heart ache when I see you so angry with yourself when things go wrong. You are very precious to me. Don't ever forget that!
With all my heart, I love you,
GOD
Effective Immediately:
Please be aware that there are changes you need to make in your life. These changes need to be completed in order that I may fulfill my promises to you to grant you peace, joy and happiness in this life. I apologize for any inconvenience, but after all that I am doing, this seems very little to ask of you. I know, I already gave you the 10 Commandments. Keep them. But follow these guidelines as well...
1. QUIT WORRYING
Life has dealt you a blow and all you do is sit and worry. Have you forgotten that I am here to take all your burdens and carry them for you? Or do you just enjoy fretting over every little thing that comes your way?
2. PUT IT ON THE LIST
Something needs done or taken care of. Put it on the list. No, not YOUR list. Put it on MY to-do-list. Let ME be the one to take care of the problem. I can't help you until you turn it over to me. And, although my to-do-list is long, I am, after all, God. I can take care of anything you put into my hands. In fact, if the truth were ever really known, I take care of a lot of things for you that you never even realize.
3. TRUST ME
Once you've given your burdens to me, quit trying to take them back. Trust in me. Have the faith that I will take care of all your needs, your problems and your trials. Problems with the kids? Put them on my list. Problem with finances? Put it on my list. Problems with your emotional roller coaster? For my sake, put it on my list. I want to help you. All you have to do is ask.
4. LEAVE IT ALONE
Don't wake up one morning and say, "Well, I'm feeling much stronger now, I think I can handle it from here." Why do you think you are feeling stronger now? It's simple. You gave me your burdens and I'm taking care of them. I also renew your strength and cover you in my peace. Don't you know that if I give you these problems back, you will be right back where you started? Leave them with me and forget about them. Just let me do my job.
5. TALK TO ME
I want you to forget a lot of things. Forget what was making you crazy. Forget the worry and the fretting because you know I'm in control. But there's one thing I pray you never forget. Please don't forget to talk to me - OFTEN! I love you. I want to hear your voice. I want you to include me in on the things going on in your life. I want to hear you talk about your friends and family. Prayer is simply you having a conversation with me. I want to be your dearest friend.
6. HAVE FAITH
I see a lot of things from up here that you can't see from where you are. Have faith in me that I know what I'm doing. Trust me, you wouldn't want the view from my eyes. I will continue to care for you, watch over you, and meet your needs. You only have to trust me. Although I have a much bigger task than you, it seems as if you have so much trouble just doing your simple part. How hard can trust be?
7. SHARE
You were taught to share when you were only two years old. When did you forget? That rule still applies. Share with those who are less fortunate than you. Share your joy with those who need encouragement. Share your laughter with those who haven't heard any in such a long time. Share your tears with those who have forgotten how to cry. Share your faith with those who have none.
8. BE PATIENT
I managed to fix it so in just one lifetime you could have so many diverse experiences. You grow from a child to an adult, have children, change jobs many times, learn many trades, travel to so many places, meet thousands of people, and experience so much. How can you be so impatient then when it takes me a little longer than you expect to handle something on my to-do-list? Trust in my timing, for my timing is perfect. Just because I created the entire universe in only six days, everyone thinks I should always rush, rush, rush.
9. BE KIND
Be kind to others, for I love them just as much as I love you. They may not dress like you, or talk like you, or live the same way you do, but I still love you all. Please try to get along, for my sake. I created each of you different in some way. It would be too boring if you were all identical. Please know I love each of your differences.
10. LOVE YOURSELF
As much as I love you, how can you not love yourself? You were created by me for one reason only - to be loved, and to love in return. I am a God of Love. Love me. Love your neighbors. But also love yourself. It makes my heart ache when I see you so angry with yourself when things go wrong. You are very precious to me. Don't ever forget that!
With all my heart, I love you,
GOD
Monday, September 28, 2015
My Attorney
-- Author Unknown
After living what I felt was a "decent" life, my time on earth
came to the end. The first thing I remember is sitting on a
bench in the waiting room of what I thought to be a court
house. The doors opened and I was instructed to come in and
have a seat by the defense table. As I looked around I saw
the "prosecutor." He was a villainous looking gent who snarled
as he stared at me. He definitely was the
most evil person I have ever seen.
I sat down and looked to my left and there sat My Attorney, a
kind and gentle looking man whose appearance seemed so
familiar to me, I felt I knew Him.
The corner door flew open and there appeared the Judge in full
flowing robes. He commanded an awesome presence as He moved
across the room. I couldn't take my eyes off of Him. As He
took His seat behind the bench, He said, "Let us begin."
The prosecutor rose and said, "My name is Satan and I am here
to show you why this man belongs in hell."
He proceeded to tell of lies that I told, things that I stole,
and in the past when I cheated others. Satan told of other
horrible perversions that were once in my life and the more he
spoke, the further down in my seat I sank. I was so
embarrassed that I couldn't look at anyone, even my
own Attorney, as the Devil told of sins that even I had
completely forgotten about. As upset as I was at Satan for
telling all these things about me, I was equally upset at My
Attorney who sat there silently not offering any form of
defense at all. I know I had been guilty of those things, but
I had done some good in my life - couldn't that at least equal
out part of the harm I'd done?
Satan finished with a fury and said, "This man belongs in
hell, he is guilty of all that I have charged and there is not
a person who can prove otherwise."
When it was His turn, My Attorney first asked if He might
approach the bench. The Judge allowed this over the strong
objection of Satan, and beckoned Him to come forward. As He
got up and started walking, I was able to see Him in His full
splendor and majesty. I realized why He seemed so familiar;
this was Jesus representing me, my Lord and my Savior.
He stopped at the bench and softly said to the Judge, "Hi,
Dad," and then He turned to address the court. "Satan was
correct in saying that this man had sinned, I won't deny any
of these allegations. And, yes, the wage of sin is death, and
this man deserves to be punished."
Jesus took a deep breath and turned to His Father with
outstretched arms and proclaimed, "However, I died on the
cross so that this person might have eternal life and he has
accepted Me as his Savior, so he is Mine."
My Lord continued with, "His name is written in the book of
life and no one can snatch him from Me. Satan still does not
understand yet. This man is not to be given justice, but
rather mercy."
As Jesus sat down, He quietly paused, looked at His Father and
said,"There is nothing else that needs to be done. I've done
it all."
The Judge lifted His mighty hand and slammed the gavel down.
The following words bellowed from His lips... "This man is
free. The penalty for him has already been paid in full. Case
dismissed."
As my Lord led me away, I could hear Satan ranting and having,
"I won't give up, I will win the next one."
I asked Jesus as He gave me my instructions where to go next,
"Have you ever lost a case?"
Christ lovingly smiled and said, "Everyone that has come to Me
and asked Me to represent them has received the same verdict
as you, 'Paid in Full.'"
After living what I felt was a "decent" life, my time on earth
came to the end. The first thing I remember is sitting on a
bench in the waiting room of what I thought to be a court
house. The doors opened and I was instructed to come in and
have a seat by the defense table. As I looked around I saw
the "prosecutor." He was a villainous looking gent who snarled
as he stared at me. He definitely was the
most evil person I have ever seen.
I sat down and looked to my left and there sat My Attorney, a
kind and gentle looking man whose appearance seemed so
familiar to me, I felt I knew Him.
The corner door flew open and there appeared the Judge in full
flowing robes. He commanded an awesome presence as He moved
across the room. I couldn't take my eyes off of Him. As He
took His seat behind the bench, He said, "Let us begin."
The prosecutor rose and said, "My name is Satan and I am here
to show you why this man belongs in hell."
He proceeded to tell of lies that I told, things that I stole,
and in the past when I cheated others. Satan told of other
horrible perversions that were once in my life and the more he
spoke, the further down in my seat I sank. I was so
embarrassed that I couldn't look at anyone, even my
own Attorney, as the Devil told of sins that even I had
completely forgotten about. As upset as I was at Satan for
telling all these things about me, I was equally upset at My
Attorney who sat there silently not offering any form of
defense at all. I know I had been guilty of those things, but
I had done some good in my life - couldn't that at least equal
out part of the harm I'd done?
Satan finished with a fury and said, "This man belongs in
hell, he is guilty of all that I have charged and there is not
a person who can prove otherwise."
When it was His turn, My Attorney first asked if He might
approach the bench. The Judge allowed this over the strong
objection of Satan, and beckoned Him to come forward. As He
got up and started walking, I was able to see Him in His full
splendor and majesty. I realized why He seemed so familiar;
this was Jesus representing me, my Lord and my Savior.
He stopped at the bench and softly said to the Judge, "Hi,
Dad," and then He turned to address the court. "Satan was
correct in saying that this man had sinned, I won't deny any
of these allegations. And, yes, the wage of sin is death, and
this man deserves to be punished."
Jesus took a deep breath and turned to His Father with
outstretched arms and proclaimed, "However, I died on the
cross so that this person might have eternal life and he has
accepted Me as his Savior, so he is Mine."
My Lord continued with, "His name is written in the book of
life and no one can snatch him from Me. Satan still does not
understand yet. This man is not to be given justice, but
rather mercy."
As Jesus sat down, He quietly paused, looked at His Father and
said,"There is nothing else that needs to be done. I've done
it all."
The Judge lifted His mighty hand and slammed the gavel down.
The following words bellowed from His lips... "This man is
free. The penalty for him has already been paid in full. Case
dismissed."
As my Lord led me away, I could hear Satan ranting and having,
"I won't give up, I will win the next one."
I asked Jesus as He gave me my instructions where to go next,
"Have you ever lost a case?"
Christ lovingly smiled and said, "Everyone that has come to Me
and asked Me to represent them has received the same verdict
as you, 'Paid in Full.'"
Monday, September 21, 2015
Take The Son
Author Unknown
A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art. They had everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would often sit together and admire the great works of art. When the Vietnam conflict broke out, the son went to war.
He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier. The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son.
About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock at the door. A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands.
He said, "Sir, you don't know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly.
He often talked about you, and your love for art." The young man held out this package. "I know this isn't much. I'm not really a great artist, but I think your son would have wanted you to have this."
The father opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting.
The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the y
oung man and offered to pay him for the picture. "Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your son did for me. It's a gift".
The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected.
The man died a few months later. There was to be a great auction of his paintings. Many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection.
On the platform sat the painting of the son. The auctioneer pounded his gavel. We will start the bidding with this picture of the son.
Who will bid for this picture?" There was silence.
Then a voice in the back of the room shouted, "We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this one."
But the auctioneer persisted. "Will someone bid for this painting? Who will start the bidding? $100, $200?" Another voice shouted angrily. We didn't come to see this painting. We came to see the Van Goghs, the Rembrandts. Get on with the real bids!"
But still the auctioneer continued. "The son! The son! Who'll take the son?"
Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the man and his son. "I'll give $10 for the painting." Being a poor man, it was all he could afford.
"We have $10, who will bid $20?"
"Give it to him for $10. Let's see the masters!" someone shouted.
"$10 is the bid, won't someone bid $20?"
The crowd was becoming angry. They didn't want the picture of the son. They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections.
The auctioneer pounded the gavel. "Going once, twice, SOLD for $10!"
A man sitting on the second row shouted, "Now let's get on with the collection!"
The auctioneer laid down his gavel. "I'm sorry, the auction is over."
"What about the paintings?"
"I am sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned. Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings. The man who took the son gets every thing!"
God gave His son 2,000 years ago to die on a cruel cross.
Much like the auctioneer, His message today is: "The son, the son, who'll take the son?" Because, you see, whoever takes the Son gets everything.
-----
" He who has the Son has life; he who does not have the Son of God does not have life." - 1 John 5:12
A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art. They had everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would often sit together and admire the great works of art. When the Vietnam conflict broke out, the son went to war.
He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier. The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son.
About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock at the door. A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands.
He said, "Sir, you don't know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly.
He often talked about you, and your love for art." The young man held out this package. "I know this isn't much. I'm not really a great artist, but I think your son would have wanted you to have this."
The father opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting.
The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the y
oung man and offered to pay him for the picture. "Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your son did for me. It's a gift".
The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected.
The man died a few months later. There was to be a great auction of his paintings. Many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection.
On the platform sat the painting of the son. The auctioneer pounded his gavel. We will start the bidding with this picture of the son.
Who will bid for this picture?" There was silence.
Then a voice in the back of the room shouted, "We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this one."
But the auctioneer persisted. "Will someone bid for this painting? Who will start the bidding? $100, $200?" Another voice shouted angrily. We didn't come to see this painting. We came to see the Van Goghs, the Rembrandts. Get on with the real bids!"
But still the auctioneer continued. "The son! The son! Who'll take the son?"
Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the man and his son. "I'll give $10 for the painting." Being a poor man, it was all he could afford.
"We have $10, who will bid $20?"
"Give it to him for $10. Let's see the masters!" someone shouted.
"$10 is the bid, won't someone bid $20?"
The crowd was becoming angry. They didn't want the picture of the son. They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections.
The auctioneer pounded the gavel. "Going once, twice, SOLD for $10!"
A man sitting on the second row shouted, "Now let's get on with the collection!"
The auctioneer laid down his gavel. "I'm sorry, the auction is over."
"What about the paintings?"
"I am sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned. Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings. The man who took the son gets every thing!"
God gave His son 2,000 years ago to die on a cruel cross.
Much like the auctioneer, His message today is: "The son, the son, who'll take the son?" Because, you see, whoever takes the Son gets everything.
-----
" He who has the Son has life; he who does not have the Son of God does not have life." - 1 John 5:12
Monday, September 14, 2015
The Angel
-- By Kathy Anne Harris
The middle-aged man parked his car at the top of the cliff, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The early Spring sun was hanging low on the horizon, a warm silver-yellow. Lemony foam purled atop the incoming tide, as waves broke gently on the beach.
Slipping his hands into the pockets of his jacket, Jeremy walked over to the ledge. A cold breeze, heavy with a salty mist, brushed over and around him, ran phantom fingers through his hair, as he descended the steep sand and wood stairs to the beckoning beach.
There was a lovely tide pool circled with boulders and tucked away behind a bend in the cliff side that few visitors to the beach would ever discover. A tiny ribbon of sand abutted the rocks and provided enough room for him to sit at water's edge. He sat down, leaned back against a large smooth rock, and gazed into the clear water of the tide pool. Each time a wave stretched out and collapsed on shore a ribbon of seawater would pulse into the pool then trickle back toward the ocean.
Colorful anemone and starfish moved slowly in their isolated world. Watching them usually managed to calm him. However, today he found himself on the other side of "usually managed." It was the kind of day where things that happened in the past, resurface, wanted or not! Nothing unique to the human race, just the usual emotions that assail us all: grief, anger, sadness, loneliness, shame… And this is where Jeremy came to work things out in his mind, if possible.
He did not hear the tinkling chime of disintegrating waves on sand. Nor the cries of the gulls overhead. Where the stairs bottom out on the sands of a nice sized beach, a family was playing fetch with their black, Labrador Retriever. He did not hear their laughter, or the excited bark of the dog.
His chest felt tight and weighted down. It was difficult for him to breath. He got to his knees and bent over the tide pool. Unbidden, tears welled up, and he wept. The sound of a crab scuttling over rock and sand drew his attention. He looked down and saw the crab disappear into a rock crevasse. He then studied his reflection in the still water. How ragged he looked, he thought. How worn down. He took a deep, settling breath and found the weight around his chest had lifted.
Another wave broke on the beach, a rivulet flowed into the pool and the water shivered. Jeremy reached out and dragged his fingers across the rippling surface. In moments the tidal pool was still and there, at his side, reflected in the pool was an angel. A grand being, with heavy, flowing wings the color of sunlight on pearls. And light pulsed from the angel like the flame of a candle. Such an image only the Divine could sculpt for it was beyond human beauty, The visage that regarded Jeremy was radiant with grace and the angel's countenance was like none Jeremy could describe. No such emotion or like expression had every played across a human face.
Jeremy trembled and all thoughts fled him, save for the presence of the angel. "Why?" he said, as he turned to the heavenly being at his side.
"I am an emissary, sent by the Creator, to be with you at such times as He decrees.
"As you sat here, your breathing was labored and you felt a heaviness inside of you."
Jeremy nodded.
"That weight was my presence with you, as I lifted the burden in your heart."
"The tears you wept, I gathered unto myself. I will present them to our Lord and he will return them to the heavens, to bless all things on the earth that flourish when gentle rains fall.
"The joy that will lift you up as you return to your world today will come as I embrace your spirit, to accompany me briefly, on my flight heavenward.
"And when it is your time to leave this place, I will hold your soul--for we will both be heaven bound, and my wings will take you home."
Jeremy shook his head. "But why am I allowed to see you? To hear you? Why was this done for me?"
The angel smiled. "It was allowed more for me. He gave me these few moments with you as a gift. A glorious token of His love... For it is an angel's heart's desire to be given time to commune with humans openly. To see one another with our eyes and to speak together with words."
"Will I remember my visit with you?"
The angel's eyes flashed the colors of sunrise. "Whether you shall recall our meeting I cannot say... that decision rests in our Lord's hands."
~*~
Jeremy did not remember, but the vision he beheld, and the words he heard, his spirit-soul will never forget.
The middle-aged man parked his car at the top of the cliff, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The early Spring sun was hanging low on the horizon, a warm silver-yellow. Lemony foam purled atop the incoming tide, as waves broke gently on the beach.
Slipping his hands into the pockets of his jacket, Jeremy walked over to the ledge. A cold breeze, heavy with a salty mist, brushed over and around him, ran phantom fingers through his hair, as he descended the steep sand and wood stairs to the beckoning beach.
There was a lovely tide pool circled with boulders and tucked away behind a bend in the cliff side that few visitors to the beach would ever discover. A tiny ribbon of sand abutted the rocks and provided enough room for him to sit at water's edge. He sat down, leaned back against a large smooth rock, and gazed into the clear water of the tide pool. Each time a wave stretched out and collapsed on shore a ribbon of seawater would pulse into the pool then trickle back toward the ocean.
Colorful anemone and starfish moved slowly in their isolated world. Watching them usually managed to calm him. However, today he found himself on the other side of "usually managed." It was the kind of day where things that happened in the past, resurface, wanted or not! Nothing unique to the human race, just the usual emotions that assail us all: grief, anger, sadness, loneliness, shame… And this is where Jeremy came to work things out in his mind, if possible.
He did not hear the tinkling chime of disintegrating waves on sand. Nor the cries of the gulls overhead. Where the stairs bottom out on the sands of a nice sized beach, a family was playing fetch with their black, Labrador Retriever. He did not hear their laughter, or the excited bark of the dog.
His chest felt tight and weighted down. It was difficult for him to breath. He got to his knees and bent over the tide pool. Unbidden, tears welled up, and he wept. The sound of a crab scuttling over rock and sand drew his attention. He looked down and saw the crab disappear into a rock crevasse. He then studied his reflection in the still water. How ragged he looked, he thought. How worn down. He took a deep, settling breath and found the weight around his chest had lifted.
Another wave broke on the beach, a rivulet flowed into the pool and the water shivered. Jeremy reached out and dragged his fingers across the rippling surface. In moments the tidal pool was still and there, at his side, reflected in the pool was an angel. A grand being, with heavy, flowing wings the color of sunlight on pearls. And light pulsed from the angel like the flame of a candle. Such an image only the Divine could sculpt for it was beyond human beauty, The visage that regarded Jeremy was radiant with grace and the angel's countenance was like none Jeremy could describe. No such emotion or like expression had every played across a human face.
Jeremy trembled and all thoughts fled him, save for the presence of the angel. "Why?" he said, as he turned to the heavenly being at his side.
"I am an emissary, sent by the Creator, to be with you at such times as He decrees.
"As you sat here, your breathing was labored and you felt a heaviness inside of you."
Jeremy nodded.
"That weight was my presence with you, as I lifted the burden in your heart."
"The tears you wept, I gathered unto myself. I will present them to our Lord and he will return them to the heavens, to bless all things on the earth that flourish when gentle rains fall.
"The joy that will lift you up as you return to your world today will come as I embrace your spirit, to accompany me briefly, on my flight heavenward.
"And when it is your time to leave this place, I will hold your soul--for we will both be heaven bound, and my wings will take you home."
Jeremy shook his head. "But why am I allowed to see you? To hear you? Why was this done for me?"
The angel smiled. "It was allowed more for me. He gave me these few moments with you as a gift. A glorious token of His love... For it is an angel's heart's desire to be given time to commune with humans openly. To see one another with our eyes and to speak together with words."
"Will I remember my visit with you?"
The angel's eyes flashed the colors of sunrise. "Whether you shall recall our meeting I cannot say... that decision rests in our Lord's hands."
~*~
Jeremy did not remember, but the vision he beheld, and the words he heard, his spirit-soul will never forget.
Tuesday, September 8, 2015
Painful Forgiveness
By Rachel Tulloch
Wendell Berry tells the story of two friends who lived in a small community in Kentucky in the year 1912. Ben Feltner and Thad Coulter were part of a close-knit agrarian community with strong ties to each other, to the land, and to hard work. Yet tragedy ensued when Thad invested in a risky business deal with his son and lost out. Humiliated and falling into despair, Thad drank himself into a stupor and then headed over to ask his friend Ben for help. Ben did not want to discuss options with Thad in his condition, and so refused to talk with him until the next day when he was sober. However, Thad succumbed to the darkness creeping over him and returned home to get his gun, which he then used to shoot Ben Feltner in a drunken rage. The rest of the story was a beautiful tale of forgiveness and mercy offered by Ben’s family and the community. Yet sadly, Thad himself was unable to experience that forgiveness because he could not bear to live knowing he had killed his best friend, and so ended his own life.
The narrator then makes this profound comment: “People sometimes talk of God’s love as if it’s a pleasant thing. But it is terrible, in a way. Think of all it includes. It included Thad Coulter, drunk and mean and foolish, before he killed Mr. Feltner, and it included him afterwards.”(1)
“God’s love is terrible, in a way. Think of all it includes.” I have often been asked, “Could God not have forgiven people without going through the pain and the violence of the Cross?” As nice as that sounds, reality forces me to ask: When is forgiveness not painful? True forgiveness cannot occur unless the hurt is acknowledged and called for what it is. When you look a wrong full in the face but choose to accept the hurt instead of returning it on the one who did it, that is always painful.
Jesus illustrates forgiveness by telling the story of a servant who owes his master more money than he could possibly repay (See Matthew 18:21-35). The master originally threatens to sell the servant’s family and possessions to get some return for the debt, but when the servant begs for mercy, the master is gracious and forgives the debt. Yet the same servant not only refuses to forgive the debt of his fellow servant, but also has him thrown in prison as punishment.
Sometimes we treat forgiveness and justice as though they are mutually exclusive. If we choose the way of justice, we think the options are reparations or retribution—either the guilty person makes up for a wrong or is punished for it. These are the only options the servant offered his debtor. Since the second servant could not repay, he was then punished. However, the master chose the way of mercy when he forgave the debt, neither requiring reparation nor inflicting retribution. If God has really forgiven us like the master forgave the servant, we ask, then why all the pain and death of the Cross? Does the Cross undermine God’s mercy? Is it merely an underhanded way for God to force repayment from humanity or exact punishment on us?
In asking these questions, we betray a misunderstanding of both justice and forgiveness. Justice can never be achieved by reparation or retribution alone because like the servants’ debts, true wrongs can never be repaid. The hurt and pain caused are not reversible. Punishing the guilty person does not undo the hurt either, even if it brings brief satisfaction to the victim, just as the first servant did not get his money back simply because the other man was in jail. Justice must be about much more than balancing out the wrongs of the world. It must be about making things right, about the kind of restoration that does not reverse the pain, but moves beyond it toward something new.
And just as wrongs cannot be erased by punishment or repayment, they cannot really be erased by simple forgiveness either. When the master forgives the servant’s debt, the debt does not simply disappear. The master takes the loss! He accepts the full brunt of the debt himself. Similarly, when a person forgives, he or she accepts the full brunt of the hurt or injustice rather than returning it on the one who caused it. Although it is painful, this is the way that healing and restoration begin. This is why there is no way to avoid the bloody Cross. And this is why God’s love is terrible. Think of what it includes: us, with our best and our worst, with our failed attempts and outright cruelty, with our wrong motives for right actions and our right motives for wrong actions... us, with the mess we have made of the world, with our brokenness and despair, with our rebellions and inadequacies. We are the ones included in and redeemed by the deep and wide love of God. Paul is astonished by this reality when he emphasizes that Christ died for us while we were still sinners (Romans 5:8)!
Instead of demanding that we pay what we cannot, instead of punishing us for not paying what we cannot, the God we see in Jesus Christ accepts the loss himself and opens his arms even to those who would murder him. The Cross does not represent God’s mercy being tamed by his anger; rather, it demonstrates that God’s mercy is much bigger than we think. The Cross is a graphic picture of
God’s terrible love. Think of all it includes.
Copyright (c) 2009 Ravi Zacharias International Ministries (RZIM)
Rachel Tulloch is a member of the speaking team at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Toronto, Canada.
Wendell Berry tells the story of two friends who lived in a small community in Kentucky in the year 1912. Ben Feltner and Thad Coulter were part of a close-knit agrarian community with strong ties to each other, to the land, and to hard work. Yet tragedy ensued when Thad invested in a risky business deal with his son and lost out. Humiliated and falling into despair, Thad drank himself into a stupor and then headed over to ask his friend Ben for help. Ben did not want to discuss options with Thad in his condition, and so refused to talk with him until the next day when he was sober. However, Thad succumbed to the darkness creeping over him and returned home to get his gun, which he then used to shoot Ben Feltner in a drunken rage. The rest of the story was a beautiful tale of forgiveness and mercy offered by Ben’s family and the community. Yet sadly, Thad himself was unable to experience that forgiveness because he could not bear to live knowing he had killed his best friend, and so ended his own life.
The narrator then makes this profound comment: “People sometimes talk of God’s love as if it’s a pleasant thing. But it is terrible, in a way. Think of all it includes. It included Thad Coulter, drunk and mean and foolish, before he killed Mr. Feltner, and it included him afterwards.”(1)
“God’s love is terrible, in a way. Think of all it includes.” I have often been asked, “Could God not have forgiven people without going through the pain and the violence of the Cross?” As nice as that sounds, reality forces me to ask: When is forgiveness not painful? True forgiveness cannot occur unless the hurt is acknowledged and called for what it is. When you look a wrong full in the face but choose to accept the hurt instead of returning it on the one who did it, that is always painful.
Jesus illustrates forgiveness by telling the story of a servant who owes his master more money than he could possibly repay (See Matthew 18:21-35). The master originally threatens to sell the servant’s family and possessions to get some return for the debt, but when the servant begs for mercy, the master is gracious and forgives the debt. Yet the same servant not only refuses to forgive the debt of his fellow servant, but also has him thrown in prison as punishment.
Sometimes we treat forgiveness and justice as though they are mutually exclusive. If we choose the way of justice, we think the options are reparations or retribution—either the guilty person makes up for a wrong or is punished for it. These are the only options the servant offered his debtor. Since the second servant could not repay, he was then punished. However, the master chose the way of mercy when he forgave the debt, neither requiring reparation nor inflicting retribution. If God has really forgiven us like the master forgave the servant, we ask, then why all the pain and death of the Cross? Does the Cross undermine God’s mercy? Is it merely an underhanded way for God to force repayment from humanity or exact punishment on us?
In asking these questions, we betray a misunderstanding of both justice and forgiveness. Justice can never be achieved by reparation or retribution alone because like the servants’ debts, true wrongs can never be repaid. The hurt and pain caused are not reversible. Punishing the guilty person does not undo the hurt either, even if it brings brief satisfaction to the victim, just as the first servant did not get his money back simply because the other man was in jail. Justice must be about much more than balancing out the wrongs of the world. It must be about making things right, about the kind of restoration that does not reverse the pain, but moves beyond it toward something new.
And just as wrongs cannot be erased by punishment or repayment, they cannot really be erased by simple forgiveness either. When the master forgives the servant’s debt, the debt does not simply disappear. The master takes the loss! He accepts the full brunt of the debt himself. Similarly, when a person forgives, he or she accepts the full brunt of the hurt or injustice rather than returning it on the one who caused it. Although it is painful, this is the way that healing and restoration begin. This is why there is no way to avoid the bloody Cross. And this is why God’s love is terrible. Think of what it includes: us, with our best and our worst, with our failed attempts and outright cruelty, with our wrong motives for right actions and our right motives for wrong actions... us, with the mess we have made of the world, with our brokenness and despair, with our rebellions and inadequacies. We are the ones included in and redeemed by the deep and wide love of God. Paul is astonished by this reality when he emphasizes that Christ died for us while we were still sinners (Romans 5:8)!
Instead of demanding that we pay what we cannot, instead of punishing us for not paying what we cannot, the God we see in Jesus Christ accepts the loss himself and opens his arms even to those who would murder him. The Cross does not represent God’s mercy being tamed by his anger; rather, it demonstrates that God’s mercy is much bigger than we think. The Cross is a graphic picture of
God’s terrible love. Think of all it includes.
Copyright (c) 2009 Ravi Zacharias International Ministries (RZIM)
Rachel Tulloch is a member of the speaking team at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Toronto, Canada.
Monday, August 31, 2015
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, at 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 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 of 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 him and she asked, "Do you understand John 3:16?"
He said, "No, Ma'am, I don't. The first time I 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 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.
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, at 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 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 of 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 him and she asked, "Do you understand John 3:16?"
He said, "No, Ma'am, I don't. The first time I 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 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.
Monday, August 24, 2015
Twenty Dollars
TWENTY DOLLARS
A well-known speaker started
off his seminar by holding up a
$20.00 bill. In the room of
200, he asked, "Who would like this
$20 bill?"
Hands started going up.
He said, "I am going
to give this $20 to one of you, but first let me
Do this. He proceeded to
crumple the $20 dollar bill up. He then
asked, "Who still wants it?" Still the hands were up in the air.
Well, he replied, "What if I do this?" And he dropped it
on the
Ground and started to grind it into the floor with his shoe. He
picked it
up, Now crumpled and dirty. "Now, who still wants it?" Still the hands
went Into the air.
"My friends, we have all learned a very valuable lesson. No
matter
what was done to the money, you still wanted it because it did not
decrease
in value. It was still worth
$20.
"Many times in our lives, we are dropped, crumpled, and
ground into
the dirt by the decisions we make and the circumstances that come our
way. We feel as though we
are worthless.
"But no matter what
has happened or what will happen, you will
never lose your value.
Dirty or clean, crumpled or finely creased, you are
still priceless to those who DO love you. The worth of our lives comes not
in what we do or who we
know, but by WHO WE ARE.
"You are special -
Don't EVER forget it."
Count Your blessings, not your problems.
Monday, August 17, 2015
Making A Mess
-- Author Unknown
Six-year-old Brandon decided one Saturday morning to fix his parents pancakes He found a big bowl and spoon, pulled a chair to the counter, opened the cupboard and pulled out the heavy flour canister, spilling it on the floor.
He scooped some of the flour into the bowl with his hands, mixed in most of a cup of milk and added some sugar, leaving a floury trail on the floor, which by now had a few tracks left by his kitten.
Brandon was covered with flour and getting frustrated. He wanted this to be something very good for Mom and Dad, but it was getting very bad. He didn't know what to do next, whether to put it all into the oven or on the stove and he didn't know how the stove worked! Suddenly he saw his kitten licking from the bowl of mix and reached to push her away, knocking the egg carton to the floor. Frantically he tried to clean up this monumental mess but slipped on the eggs, getting his pajamas white and sticky.
And just then, he saw Dad standing at the door. Big crocodile tears welled up in Brandon's eyes. All he'd wanted to do was something good, but he'd made a terrible mess. He was sure a scolding was coming, maybe even a spanking. But, his father just watched him.
Then, walking through the mess, he picked up his crying son, hugged him and loved him, getting his own pajamas white and sticky in the process!
That's how God deals with us. We try to do something good in life, but it turns into a mess. Our marriage gets all sticky or we insult a friend, or we can't stand our job, or our health goes sour.
Sometimes we just stand there in tears because we can't think of anything else to do. That's when God picks us up and loves us and forgives us, even though some of our mess gets all over Him.
But just because we might mess up, we can't stop trying to "make pancakes" for God or for others. Sooner or later we'll get it right, and then they'll be glad we tried.
I was thinking, and I wondered if I had any wounds needing to be healed, friendships that need rekindling or three words needing to be said... sometimes, "I love you" can heal and bless!
Suppose one morning you were called to God... do all of your friends know you care about them? Remind your special friends and relatives that you love them dearly, while you can, even if you don't think they love back. You would be amazed at what those three little words, a smile, and a reminder like this can do.
Pass some of this love on to others... send this to everyone you love... and never stop "making pancakes."
Six-year-old Brandon decided one Saturday morning to fix his parents pancakes He found a big bowl and spoon, pulled a chair to the counter, opened the cupboard and pulled out the heavy flour canister, spilling it on the floor.
He scooped some of the flour into the bowl with his hands, mixed in most of a cup of milk and added some sugar, leaving a floury trail on the floor, which by now had a few tracks left by his kitten.
Brandon was covered with flour and getting frustrated. He wanted this to be something very good for Mom and Dad, but it was getting very bad. He didn't know what to do next, whether to put it all into the oven or on the stove and he didn't know how the stove worked! Suddenly he saw his kitten licking from the bowl of mix and reached to push her away, knocking the egg carton to the floor. Frantically he tried to clean up this monumental mess but slipped on the eggs, getting his pajamas white and sticky.
And just then, he saw Dad standing at the door. Big crocodile tears welled up in Brandon's eyes. All he'd wanted to do was something good, but he'd made a terrible mess. He was sure a scolding was coming, maybe even a spanking. But, his father just watched him.
Then, walking through the mess, he picked up his crying son, hugged him and loved him, getting his own pajamas white and sticky in the process!
That's how God deals with us. We try to do something good in life, but it turns into a mess. Our marriage gets all sticky or we insult a friend, or we can't stand our job, or our health goes sour.
Sometimes we just stand there in tears because we can't think of anything else to do. That's when God picks us up and loves us and forgives us, even though some of our mess gets all over Him.
But just because we might mess up, we can't stop trying to "make pancakes" for God or for others. Sooner or later we'll get it right, and then they'll be glad we tried.
I was thinking, and I wondered if I had any wounds needing to be healed, friendships that need rekindling or three words needing to be said... sometimes, "I love you" can heal and bless!
Suppose one morning you were called to God... do all of your friends know you care about them? Remind your special friends and relatives that you love them dearly, while you can, even if you don't think they love back. You would be amazed at what those three little words, a smile, and a reminder like this can do.
Pass some of this love on to others... send this to everyone you love... and never stop "making pancakes."
Monday, August 10, 2015
Going To God?
This story is right in line with what Pastor Steve is teaching about suffering......
-- Author unknown
A man went to a barbershop to have his hair cut and his beard trimmed. As the barber began to work, they began to have a good conversation. They talked about so many things and various subjects. When they eventually touched on the subject of God, the barber said: "I don't believe that God exists."
"Why do you say that?" asked the customer.
"Well, you just have to go out in the street to realize that God doesn't exist. Tell me, if God exists, would there be so many sick people? Would there be abandoned children? If God existed, there would be neither suffering nor pain. I can't imagine loving a God who would allow all of these things."
The customer thought for a moment, but didn't respond because he didn't want to start an argument. The barber finished his job and the customer left the shop. Just after he left the barbershop, he saw a man in the street with long, stringy, dirty hair and an untrimmed beard. He looked dirty and un-kept. The customer turned back and entered the barber shop again and he said to the barber: "You know what? Barbers do not exist."
"How can you say that?" asked the surprised barber. "I am here, and I am a barber. And I just worked on you!"
"No!" the customer exclaimed. "Barbers don't exist because if they did, there would be no people with dirty long hair and untrimmed beards, like that man outside."
"Ah, but barbers DO exist! What happens is, people do not come to me."
"Exactly!" affirmed the customer. "That's the point! God, too, DOES exist! What happens is, people don't go to Him."
-- Author unknown
A man went to a barbershop to have his hair cut and his beard trimmed. As the barber began to work, they began to have a good conversation. They talked about so many things and various subjects. When they eventually touched on the subject of God, the barber said: "I don't believe that God exists."
"Why do you say that?" asked the customer.
"Well, you just have to go out in the street to realize that God doesn't exist. Tell me, if God exists, would there be so many sick people? Would there be abandoned children? If God existed, there would be neither suffering nor pain. I can't imagine loving a God who would allow all of these things."
The customer thought for a moment, but didn't respond because he didn't want to start an argument. The barber finished his job and the customer left the shop. Just after he left the barbershop, he saw a man in the street with long, stringy, dirty hair and an untrimmed beard. He looked dirty and un-kept. The customer turned back and entered the barber shop again and he said to the barber: "You know what? Barbers do not exist."
"How can you say that?" asked the surprised barber. "I am here, and I am a barber. And I just worked on you!"
"No!" the customer exclaimed. "Barbers don't exist because if they did, there would be no people with dirty long hair and untrimmed beards, like that man outside."
"Ah, but barbers DO exist! What happens is, people do not come to me."
"Exactly!" affirmed the customer. "That's the point! God, too, DOES exist! What happens is, people don't go to Him."
Monday, August 3, 2015
Teachers
Author Unknown
On the 6th day, God created men and women. On the 7th day, he rested. Not so much to recuperate, but rather to prepare himself for the work he was going to do on the next day. For it was on that day - the 8th day - that God created the FIRST TEACHER.
This TEACHER, though taken from among men and women, had several significant modifications. In general, God made the TEACHER more durable than other men and women. The TEACHER was made to arise at a very early hour and to go to bed no earlier than 11:30 PM with no rest in between.
The TEACHER had to be able to withstand being locked up in an air-tight classroom for six hours with thirty-five "monsters" on a rainy Monday. And the TEACHER had to be fit to correct 103 papers over Easter vacation. Yes, God made the TEACHER tough... but gentle, too. The TEACHER was equipped with soft hands to wipe away the tears of the neglected and lonely student... those of the sixteen-year old girl who was not asked to the prom.
And into the TEACHER God poured a generous amount of patience. Patience when a student asks to repeat the directions the TEACHER has just repeated for someone else. Patience when the kids forget their lunch money for the fourth day in a row. Patience when one-third of the class fails the test. Patience when the text books haven't arrived yet, and the semester starts tomorrow.
And God gave the TEACHER a heart slightly bigger than the average human heart. For the Teacher's heart had to be big enough to love the kid who screams, "I hate this class - it's boring!" and to love the kid who runs out of the classroom at the end of the period without so much as a "goodbye," let alone a "thank you."
And lastly, God gave the TEACHER an abundant supply of HOPE. For God knew that the TEACHER would always be hoping. Hoping that the kids would someday learn how to spell... hoping not to have lunchroom duty... hoping that Friday would come... hoping for a free day... hoping for deliverance.
When God finished creating the TEACHER, he stepped back and admired the work of His hands. And God saw that the TEACHER was good. Very Good! And God smiled, for when he looked at the TEACHER, he saw into the future.
He knew that the future is in the hands of the TEACHERS. And because God loves TEACHERS so much... on the 9th day God created... SNOW DAYS!
On the 6th day, God created men and women. On the 7th day, he rested. Not so much to recuperate, but rather to prepare himself for the work he was going to do on the next day. For it was on that day - the 8th day - that God created the FIRST TEACHER.
This TEACHER, though taken from among men and women, had several significant modifications. In general, God made the TEACHER more durable than other men and women. The TEACHER was made to arise at a very early hour and to go to bed no earlier than 11:30 PM with no rest in between.
The TEACHER had to be able to withstand being locked up in an air-tight classroom for six hours with thirty-five "monsters" on a rainy Monday. And the TEACHER had to be fit to correct 103 papers over Easter vacation. Yes, God made the TEACHER tough... but gentle, too. The TEACHER was equipped with soft hands to wipe away the tears of the neglected and lonely student... those of the sixteen-year old girl who was not asked to the prom.
And into the TEACHER God poured a generous amount of patience. Patience when a student asks to repeat the directions the TEACHER has just repeated for someone else. Patience when the kids forget their lunch money for the fourth day in a row. Patience when one-third of the class fails the test. Patience when the text books haven't arrived yet, and the semester starts tomorrow.
And God gave the TEACHER a heart slightly bigger than the average human heart. For the Teacher's heart had to be big enough to love the kid who screams, "I hate this class - it's boring!" and to love the kid who runs out of the classroom at the end of the period without so much as a "goodbye," let alone a "thank you."
And lastly, God gave the TEACHER an abundant supply of HOPE. For God knew that the TEACHER would always be hoping. Hoping that the kids would someday learn how to spell... hoping not to have lunchroom duty... hoping that Friday would come... hoping for a free day... hoping for deliverance.
When God finished creating the TEACHER, he stepped back and admired the work of His hands. And God saw that the TEACHER was good. Very Good! And God smiled, for when he looked at the TEACHER, he saw into the future.
He knew that the future is in the hands of the TEACHERS. And because God loves TEACHERS so much... on the 9th day God created... SNOW DAYS!
Monday, July 27, 2015
The Shipwreck
-- 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, agree that they had no other recourse but to 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, there was nothing. Soon the first man prayed for a house, clothes, 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 of 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."
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, agree that they had no other recourse but to 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, there was nothing. Soon the first man prayed for a house, clothes, 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 of 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."
Monday, July 20, 2015
The Wooden Bowl
Young children are impressionable. What impression are we making?
A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and four-year old grandson. The old man's hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered. The family ate together at the table, but the elderly grandfather's shaky hands and failing sight made eating difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor. When he grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth.
The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess. "We must do something about Grandfather," said the son. I've had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, and food on the floor." So the husband and wife set a small table in the corner. There, Grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed dinner. Since Grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden bowl.
When the family glanced in Grandfather's direction, sometimes he had a tear in his eye as he sat alone. Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food. The four-year-old watched it all in silence.
One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor. He asked the child sweetly, "What are you making?" Just as sweetly, the boy responded, "Oh, I am making a little bowl for you and Mama to eat your food when I grow up." The four-year-old smiled and went back to work. The words so struck the parents that they were speechless. Then, tears started to stream down their cheeks. Though no word was spoken, both knew what must be done.
That evening the husband took Grandfather's hand and gently led him back to the family table. For the remainder of his days, he ate every meal with the family. And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, or the tablecloth soiled.
Children are remarkably perceptive. Their eyes ever observe, their ears ever listen, and their minds ever process the messages they absorb. If they see us patiently provide a happy home atmosphere, they will imitate that attitude for the rest of their lives. The wise parent realizes that every day the building blocks are being laid for the child's future. Let's be wise builders and role models.
~Author Unknown~
A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and four-year old grandson. The old man's hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered. The family ate together at the table, but the elderly grandfather's shaky hands and failing sight made eating difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor. When he grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth.
The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess. "We must do something about Grandfather," said the son. I've had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, and food on the floor." So the husband and wife set a small table in the corner. There, Grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed dinner. Since Grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden bowl.
When the family glanced in Grandfather's direction, sometimes he had a tear in his eye as he sat alone. Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food. The four-year-old watched it all in silence.
One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor. He asked the child sweetly, "What are you making?" Just as sweetly, the boy responded, "Oh, I am making a little bowl for you and Mama to eat your food when I grow up." The four-year-old smiled and went back to work. The words so struck the parents that they were speechless. Then, tears started to stream down their cheeks. Though no word was spoken, both knew what must be done.
That evening the husband took Grandfather's hand and gently led him back to the family table. For the remainder of his days, he ate every meal with the family. And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, or the tablecloth soiled.
Children are remarkably perceptive. Their eyes ever observe, their ears ever listen, and their minds ever process the messages they absorb. If they see us patiently provide a happy home atmosphere, they will imitate that attitude for the rest of their lives. The wise parent realizes that every day the building blocks are being laid for the child's future. Let's be wise builders and role models.
~Author Unknown~
Monday, July 13, 2015
The Sneeze
Author Unknown
They walked in tandem, each of the ninety-two students filing into the already crowded auditorium. With their rich maroon gowns flowing ... and the traditional caps, they looked almost as grown up as they felt.
Dads swallowed hard behind broad smiles, and Moms freely brushed away tears.
This class would NOT pray during the commencements - not by choice, but because of a recent court ruling prohibiting it.
The principal and several students were careful to stay within the guidelines allowed by the ruling. They gave inspirational and challenging speeches, but no one mentioned divine guidance and no one asked for blessings on the graduates or their families.
The speeches were nice, but they were routine ... until the final speech received a standing ovation.
A solitary student walked proudly to the microphone. He stood still and silent for just a moment, and then, it happened.
All 92 students, every single one of them, suddenly SNEEZED!!!!
The student on stage simply looked at the audience and said, "GOD BLESS YOU, each and every one of you!" And he walked off stage ...
The audience exploded into applause. This graduating class had found a unique way to invoke God's blessing on their future with or without the court's approval.
They walked in tandem, each of the ninety-two students filing into the already crowded auditorium. With their rich maroon gowns flowing ... and the traditional caps, they looked almost as grown up as they felt.
Dads swallowed hard behind broad smiles, and Moms freely brushed away tears.
This class would NOT pray during the commencements - not by choice, but because of a recent court ruling prohibiting it.
The principal and several students were careful to stay within the guidelines allowed by the ruling. They gave inspirational and challenging speeches, but no one mentioned divine guidance and no one asked for blessings on the graduates or their families.
The speeches were nice, but they were routine ... until the final speech received a standing ovation.
A solitary student walked proudly to the microphone. He stood still and silent for just a moment, and then, it happened.
All 92 students, every single one of them, suddenly SNEEZED!!!!
The student on stage simply looked at the audience and said, "GOD BLESS YOU, each and every one of you!" And he walked off stage ...
The audience exploded into applause. This graduating class had found a unique way to invoke God's blessing on their future with or without the court's approval.
Monday, July 6, 2015
Jesus Saves
Author unknown...
Howard County Sheriff Jerry Marr got a disturbing call one Saturday afternoon a few months ago. His 6-year-old grandson Mikey had been hit by a car while fishing in Greentown with his dad.
The father and son were near a bridge by the Kokomo Reservoir when a woman lost control of her car, slid off the bridge and hit Mikey at a rate of about 50 mph. Sheriff Marr had seen the results of accidents like this and feared the worst. When he got to Saint Joseph Hospital , he rushed through the emergency room to find Mikey conscious and in fairly good spirits.
"Mikey, what happened?" Sheriff Marr asked. Mikey replied, "Well, Papaw, I was fishin' with Dad, and some lady runned me over, I flew into a mud puddle, and broke my fishin' pole and I didn't get to catch no fish!"
As it turned out, the impact propelled Mikey about 500 feet, over a few trees and an embankment and in to the middle of a mud puddle. His only injuries were to his right femur bone, which had broken in two places. Mikey had surgery to place pins in his leg. Otherwise the boy is fine.
Since all the boy could talk about was that his fishing pole was broken, the Sheriff went out to Wal-Mart and bought him a new one while he was in surgery so he could have it when he came out.
The next day the Sheriff sat with Mikey to keep him company in the hospital. Mikey was enjoying his new fishing pole and talked about when he could go fishing again as he cast into the trash can.
When they were alone Mikey, just as matter-of-fact, said, "Papaw, did you know Jesus is real?"
"Well," the Sheriff replied, a little startled. "Yes, Jesus is real to all who believe in him and love him in their hearts."
"No," said Mikey. "I mean Jesus is REALLY real."
"What do you mean?" asked the Sheriff.
"I know he's real 'cause I saw him," said Mikey, still casting into the trash can.
"You did?" said the Sheriff.
"Yep," said Mikey. "When that lady runned me over and broke my fishing pole,
Jesus caught me in his arms and laid me down in the mud puddle."
Howard County Sheriff Jerry Marr got a disturbing call one Saturday afternoon a few months ago. His 6-year-old grandson Mikey had been hit by a car while fishing in Greentown with his dad.
The father and son were near a bridge by the Kokomo Reservoir when a woman lost control of her car, slid off the bridge and hit Mikey at a rate of about 50 mph. Sheriff Marr had seen the results of accidents like this and feared the worst. When he got to Saint Joseph Hospital , he rushed through the emergency room to find Mikey conscious and in fairly good spirits.
"Mikey, what happened?" Sheriff Marr asked. Mikey replied, "Well, Papaw, I was fishin' with Dad, and some lady runned me over, I flew into a mud puddle, and broke my fishin' pole and I didn't get to catch no fish!"
As it turned out, the impact propelled Mikey about 500 feet, over a few trees and an embankment and in to the middle of a mud puddle. His only injuries were to his right femur bone, which had broken in two places. Mikey had surgery to place pins in his leg. Otherwise the boy is fine.
Since all the boy could talk about was that his fishing pole was broken, the Sheriff went out to Wal-Mart and bought him a new one while he was in surgery so he could have it when he came out.
The next day the Sheriff sat with Mikey to keep him company in the hospital. Mikey was enjoying his new fishing pole and talked about when he could go fishing again as he cast into the trash can.
When they were alone Mikey, just as matter-of-fact, said, "Papaw, did you know Jesus is real?"
"Well," the Sheriff replied, a little startled. "Yes, Jesus is real to all who believe in him and love him in their hearts."
"No," said Mikey. "I mean Jesus is REALLY real."
"What do you mean?" asked the Sheriff.
"I know he's real 'cause I saw him," said Mikey, still casting into the trash can.
"You did?" said the Sheriff.
"Yep," said Mikey. "When that lady runned me over and broke my fishing pole,
Jesus caught me in his arms and laid me down in the mud puddle."
Monday, June 29, 2015
Strugglng Is Important
Author Unknown
A man found a cocoon of a butterfly. One day a small opening appeared. He sat and watched the butterfly for several hours as it struggled to force its body through that little hole.
Then it seemed to stop making any progress. It appeared as if it had gotten as far as it could, and it could go no further.
So the man decided to help the butterfly. He took a pair of scissors and snipped off the remaining bit of the cocoon.
The butterfly then emerged easily. But it had a swollen body and small, shriveled wings.
The man continued to watch the butterfly because he expected that, at any moment, the wings would enlarge and expand to be able to support the body, which would contract in time.
Neither happened! In fact, the butterfly spent the rest of its life crawling around with a swollen body and shriveled wings. It never was able to fly.
What the man, in his kindness and haste, did not understand was that the restricting cocoon and the struggle required for the butterfly to get through the tiny opening were God's way of forcing fluid from the body of the butterfly into its wings so that it would be ready for flight once it achieved its freedom from the cocoon.
-----
Sometimes struggles are exactly what we need in our lives.
If God allowed us to go through our lives without any obstacles, it would cripple us.
We would not be as strong as what we could have been. We could never fly!
I asked for Strength... and God gave me Difficulties to make me strong.
I asked for Wisdom... and God gave me Problems to solve.
I asked for Prosperity... and God gave me Brain and Brawn to work.
I asked for Courage... and God gave me Danger to overcome.
I asked for Love... and God gave me Troubled people to help.
I asked for Favors... and God gave me Opportunities.
I received nothing I wanted ... I received everything I needed!
May God Bless You.
May God Bless you with unspeakable joy, not only in the world to come, but in this world also.
May your path be bright and full of light everywhere you go.
May God tell darkness that it must flee at your command.
And, I pray your feet will never stumble out of God's plan.
May the desires of your heart come true, And may you experience Peace in everything you do.
May Goodness, Kindness, and Mercy come your way.
And may you gain Wisdom and grow in the Lord everyday.
A man found a cocoon of a butterfly. One day a small opening appeared. He sat and watched the butterfly for several hours as it struggled to force its body through that little hole.
Then it seemed to stop making any progress. It appeared as if it had gotten as far as it could, and it could go no further.
So the man decided to help the butterfly. He took a pair of scissors and snipped off the remaining bit of the cocoon.
The butterfly then emerged easily. But it had a swollen body and small, shriveled wings.
The man continued to watch the butterfly because he expected that, at any moment, the wings would enlarge and expand to be able to support the body, which would contract in time.
Neither happened! In fact, the butterfly spent the rest of its life crawling around with a swollen body and shriveled wings. It never was able to fly.
What the man, in his kindness and haste, did not understand was that the restricting cocoon and the struggle required for the butterfly to get through the tiny opening were God's way of forcing fluid from the body of the butterfly into its wings so that it would be ready for flight once it achieved its freedom from the cocoon.
-----
Sometimes struggles are exactly what we need in our lives.
If God allowed us to go through our lives without any obstacles, it would cripple us.
We would not be as strong as what we could have been. We could never fly!
I asked for Strength... and God gave me Difficulties to make me strong.
I asked for Wisdom... and God gave me Problems to solve.
I asked for Prosperity... and God gave me Brain and Brawn to work.
I asked for Courage... and God gave me Danger to overcome.
I asked for Love... and God gave me Troubled people to help.
I asked for Favors... and God gave me Opportunities.
I received nothing I wanted ... I received everything I needed!
May God Bless You.
May God Bless you with unspeakable joy, not only in the world to come, but in this world also.
May your path be bright and full of light everywhere you go.
May God tell darkness that it must flee at your command.
And, I pray your feet will never stumble out of God's plan.
May the desires of your heart come true, And may you experience Peace in everything you do.
May Goodness, Kindness, and Mercy come your way.
And may you gain Wisdom and grow in the Lord everyday.
Monday, June 22, 2015
Child Like Innocence?
--Author Unknown
We were the only family with children in the restaurant. I sat Erik in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly eating and talking. Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee and said, “Hi there.” He pounded his fat baby hands on the high chair tray. His eyes were crinkled in laughter and his mouth was bared in a toothless grin, as he wriggled and giggled with merriment.
I looked around and saw the source of his merriment. It was a man whose pants were baggy with a zipper at half-mast and his toes poked out of would-be shoes. His shirt was dirty and his hair was uncombed and unwashed. His whiskers were too short to be called a beard and his nose was so varicose it looked like a road map. We were too far from him to smell, but I was sure he smelled.
His hands waved and flapped on loose wrists. Hi there, baby; Hi there, big boy. I see ya, buster,” the man said to Erik. My husband and I exchanged looks, “What do we do?” Erik continued to laugh and answer, “Hi, hi there.” Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked at us and then at the man. The old geezer was creating a nuisance with my beautiful baby.
Our meal came and the man began shouting from across the room, “Do ya patty cake? Do you know peek-a-boo? Hey, look, he knows peek-a-boo.” Nobody thought the old man was cute. He was obviously drunk. My husband and I were embarrassed. We ate in silence; all except for Erik, who was running through his repertoire for the admiring skid row bum, who in turn, reciprocated with his cute comments. We finally got through the meal and headed for the door. My husband went to pay the check and told me to meet him in the parking lot. The old man sat poised between me and the door.
“Lord, just let me out of here before he speaks to me or Erik,” I prayed. As I drew closer to the man, I turned my back trying to sidestep him and avoid any air he might be breathing. As I did, Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby’s “pick-me-up” position. Before I could stop him, Erik had propelled himself from my arms to the man’s. Suddenly a veryold smelly man and a very young baby consummated their relationship. Erik in an act of total trust, love, and submission laid his tiny head upon the man’s ragged shoulder.
The man’s eyes closed, and I saw tears hover beneath his lashes. His aged hands full of grime, pain, and hard labor, cradled my baby’s bottom and stroked his back. No two beings have ever loved so deeply for so short a time. I stood awestruck. The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms and his eyes opened and set squarely on mine. He said in a firm commanding voice, “You take care of this baby.” Somehow I managed, “I will,” from a throat that contained a stone.
He pried Erik from his chest unwillingly, longingly, as though he were in pain. I received my baby, and the man said, “God bless you, ma’am, you’ve given me my Christmas gift. You see, m’am, I never saw my child grow up. My wife and son were taken from me in an automobile accident when they were both too young. I was never able to get over it.”
I said nothing more than a muttered thanks and “I’m sorry to hear that.” With Erik in my arms, I ran for the car. My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Erik so tightly, and why I was saying, “My God, my God, forgive me.” I had just witnessed Christ’s love shown through the innocence of a tiny child who saw no sin, who made no judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a mother who saw a suit of clothes. I was a Christian who was blind, holding a child who was not. I felt it was God asking, “Are you willing to share your son for a moment?” when He shared His for all eternity. The ragged old man, unwittingly, had reminded me...
“I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” -- Matthew 18:3 (NIV)
We were the only family with children in the restaurant. I sat Erik in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly eating and talking. Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee and said, “Hi there.” He pounded his fat baby hands on the high chair tray. His eyes were crinkled in laughter and his mouth was bared in a toothless grin, as he wriggled and giggled with merriment.
I looked around and saw the source of his merriment. It was a man whose pants were baggy with a zipper at half-mast and his toes poked out of would-be shoes. His shirt was dirty and his hair was uncombed and unwashed. His whiskers were too short to be called a beard and his nose was so varicose it looked like a road map. We were too far from him to smell, but I was sure he smelled.
His hands waved and flapped on loose wrists. Hi there, baby; Hi there, big boy. I see ya, buster,” the man said to Erik. My husband and I exchanged looks, “What do we do?” Erik continued to laugh and answer, “Hi, hi there.” Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked at us and then at the man. The old geezer was creating a nuisance with my beautiful baby.
Our meal came and the man began shouting from across the room, “Do ya patty cake? Do you know peek-a-boo? Hey, look, he knows peek-a-boo.” Nobody thought the old man was cute. He was obviously drunk. My husband and I were embarrassed. We ate in silence; all except for Erik, who was running through his repertoire for the admiring skid row bum, who in turn, reciprocated with his cute comments. We finally got through the meal and headed for the door. My husband went to pay the check and told me to meet him in the parking lot. The old man sat poised between me and the door.
“Lord, just let me out of here before he speaks to me or Erik,” I prayed. As I drew closer to the man, I turned my back trying to sidestep him and avoid any air he might be breathing. As I did, Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby’s “pick-me-up” position. Before I could stop him, Erik had propelled himself from my arms to the man’s. Suddenly a veryold smelly man and a very young baby consummated their relationship. Erik in an act of total trust, love, and submission laid his tiny head upon the man’s ragged shoulder.
The man’s eyes closed, and I saw tears hover beneath his lashes. His aged hands full of grime, pain, and hard labor, cradled my baby’s bottom and stroked his back. No two beings have ever loved so deeply for so short a time. I stood awestruck. The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms and his eyes opened and set squarely on mine. He said in a firm commanding voice, “You take care of this baby.” Somehow I managed, “I will,” from a throat that contained a stone.
He pried Erik from his chest unwillingly, longingly, as though he were in pain. I received my baby, and the man said, “God bless you, ma’am, you’ve given me my Christmas gift. You see, m’am, I never saw my child grow up. My wife and son were taken from me in an automobile accident when they were both too young. I was never able to get over it.”
I said nothing more than a muttered thanks and “I’m sorry to hear that.” With Erik in my arms, I ran for the car. My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Erik so tightly, and why I was saying, “My God, my God, forgive me.” I had just witnessed Christ’s love shown through the innocence of a tiny child who saw no sin, who made no judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a mother who saw a suit of clothes. I was a Christian who was blind, holding a child who was not. I felt it was God asking, “Are you willing to share your son for a moment?” when He shared His for all eternity. The ragged old man, unwittingly, had reminded me...
“I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” -- Matthew 18:3 (NIV)
Monday, June 15, 2015
Playing Baseball With God
Author Unknown:
Freddy and the Lord stood by to
observe a baseball game. The Lord's team was playing Satan's team.
The Lord's team was at bat, the score was tied zero to zero,
and it was the bottom of the 9th inning with two outs. They continued to watch
as a batter stepped up to the plate named "Love."
Love swung at the first pitch and hit a single, because
"Love never fails."
The next batter was named Faith, who also got a single
because Faith works with Love.
The next batter up was named Godly Wisdom. Satan wound up
and threw the first pitch.
Godly Wisdom looked it over and let it pass: ball one. Three
more pitches and Godly Wisdom walked because he never swings at what Satan
throws.
The bases were now loaded. The Lord then turned to Freddy
and told him He was now going to bring in His starplayer. Up to the plate
stepped Grace. Freddy said, "He sure doesn't look like much!"
Satan's whole team relaxed when they saw Grace. Thinking he
there was no way he could lose, Satan wound up and fired his first pitch. To
the shock of everyone, Grace hit the ball harder than anyone had ever seen!
However, Satan was not worried; his center fielder let very few get by.
He went up for the ball, but it went right through his
glove, hit him on the head and sent him crashing on the ground; the roaring
crowds went wild as the ball continued over the fence for a home run!
The Lord's team won!
The Lord then asked Freddy if he knew why Love, Faith, and
Godly Wisdom could get on base but couldn't win the game. Freddy answered that
he didn't know why.
The Lord explained, "If your love, faith, and wisdom
had won the game, you would think you had done it by yourself. Love, Faith, and
Wisdom will get you on base, but only My Grace can get you Home.
"For by Grace are you saved, it is a gift of God; not
of works, lest any man should boast." Ephesians 2:8-9
"For the Lord God is a sun and shield; the Lord will
give grace and glory; no good thing will He withhold from those who walk
uprightly." Psalm 84:11
Monday, June 8, 2015
Smiling For God?
Unknown Author
A little girl walked to and from school daily. 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 up and smile. Another and another were to follow quickly and with each the little girl would look at the streak of light and smile.
When the mother’s car drove up beside the child she lowered the window and called to her.
“What are you doing? Why do you keep stopping?”
The child answered, “I am trying to look pretty, God keeps taking my picture.”
May God bless you today as you face the storms that come your way.
A little girl walked to and from school daily. 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 up and smile. Another and another were to follow quickly and with each the little girl would look at the streak of light and smile.
When the mother’s car drove up beside the child she lowered the window and called to her.
“What are you doing? Why do you keep stopping?”
The child answered, “I am trying to look pretty, God keeps taking my picture.”
May God bless you today as you face the storms that come your way.
Monday, June 1, 2015
The Devil's Work
Satan called a worldwide convention. In his opening address to his evil angels, he said, "We can't keep Christians from going to church. We can't keep them from reading their Bibles and knowing the truth. We can't even keep them from conservative values. But we can do something else. We can keep them from forming an intimate, abiding relationship experience in Christ. If they gain that connection with Jesus, our power over them is broken. So let them go to church, let them have their conservative lifestyles, but steal their time, so they can't gain that experience in Jesus Christ. This is what I want you to do, angels. Distract them from gaining hold of their Savior and maintaining that vital connection throughout their day!"
"How shall we do this?" shouted his angels.
"Keep them busy in the nonessentials of life and invent unnumbered schemes to occupy their minds" he answered. "Tempt them to spend, spend, spend then borrow, borrow, borrow. Convince the wives to go to work for long hours and the husbands to work six or seven days a week, ten to twelve hours a day so they can afford their lifestyles. Keep them from spending time with their children. As their family fragments, soon their homes will offer no escape from the pressures of work."
"Overstimulate their minds so that they cannot hear that still small voice. Entice them to play the radio or cassette player whenever they drive, to keep the TV, VCR, CD's and their PC's going constantly in their homes. And see to it that every store and restaurant in the world plays non-biblical music constantly. This will jam their minds and break that union with Christ."
Fill their coffee tables with magazines and newspapers. Pound their minds with news 24 hours a day. Invade their driving moments with billboards. Flood their mailboxes with junk mail, sweepstakes, mail order catalogues, and every kind of newsletter and promotional offering, free products, services and false hopes."
"Even in their recreation, let them be excessive. Have them return from their recreation exhausted, disquieted, and unprepared for the coming week. Don't let them go out in nature to reflect on God's wonders. Send them to amusement parks, sporting events, concerts and movies instead. And when they meet for spiritual fellowship, involve them in gossip and small talk so that they leave with troubled consciences and unsettled emotion."
"Let them be involved in soul-winning. But crowd their lives with so many good causes they have no time to seek power from Christ. Soon they will be working in their own strength, sacrificing their health and family unity for the good of the cause."
It was quite a convention in the end. And the evil angels went eagerly to their assignments causing Christians everywhere to get busy, busy, busy and rush here and there.
Has the devil been successful at his schemes? You be the judge.
"How shall we do this?" shouted his angels.
"Keep them busy in the nonessentials of life and invent unnumbered schemes to occupy their minds" he answered. "Tempt them to spend, spend, spend then borrow, borrow, borrow. Convince the wives to go to work for long hours and the husbands to work six or seven days a week, ten to twelve hours a day so they can afford their lifestyles. Keep them from spending time with their children. As their family fragments, soon their homes will offer no escape from the pressures of work."
"Overstimulate their minds so that they cannot hear that still small voice. Entice them to play the radio or cassette player whenever they drive, to keep the TV, VCR, CD's and their PC's going constantly in their homes. And see to it that every store and restaurant in the world plays non-biblical music constantly. This will jam their minds and break that union with Christ."
Fill their coffee tables with magazines and newspapers. Pound their minds with news 24 hours a day. Invade their driving moments with billboards. Flood their mailboxes with junk mail, sweepstakes, mail order catalogues, and every kind of newsletter and promotional offering, free products, services and false hopes."
"Even in their recreation, let them be excessive. Have them return from their recreation exhausted, disquieted, and unprepared for the coming week. Don't let them go out in nature to reflect on God's wonders. Send them to amusement parks, sporting events, concerts and movies instead. And when they meet for spiritual fellowship, involve them in gossip and small talk so that they leave with troubled consciences and unsettled emotion."
"Let them be involved in soul-winning. But crowd their lives with so many good causes they have no time to seek power from Christ. Soon they will be working in their own strength, sacrificing their health and family unity for the good of the cause."
It was quite a convention in the end. And the evil angels went eagerly to their assignments causing Christians everywhere to get busy, busy, busy and rush here and there.
Has the devil been successful at his schemes? You be the judge.
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
Is God Welcome In Your School?
Author Unknown
Billy Graham's daughter, Anne, was being interviewed on the Early Show by Jane Clayson, regarding 9/11/2001. She was asked, "How could God let something like this happen?" Ms. Graham gave an extremely profound and insightful response. She said, "I believe that God is deeply saddened by this, just as we are. But, for years we've been telling God to get out of our schools, to get out of our government and to get out of our lives. And being the gentleman that He is, I believe that He has calmly backed out. How can we expect God to give us His blessing and His protection if we demand that He leave us alone?"
This form of rejection seemed to begin when Madeline Murray O'Hare complained she did not want any more prayers in our schools. And we said, "OK." (Side note: Madeline was murdered, and her corpse was found)
Then, someone said, "you better not read the Bible in school"... the Bible that says thou shalt not kill; thou shalt not steal, and love your neighbor as yourself. And we said, "OK."
Then, Dr. Benjamin Spock said, "we shouldn't spank our children when they misbehave, because their little personalities would be warped and we might damage their self-esteem." And we said, "an expert should know what he's talking about," so we said "OK."
Then, someone said, "teachers and principals better not discipline our children when they misbehave. And the school administrators said no faculty member in this school better touch a student when they misbehave, because we don't want any bad publicity, and we surely don't want to be sued." And we said, "OK." (Side note: There's huge difference between disciplining and touching, beating, smacking, humiliating, kicking, etc.)
Then someone said, "let's let our daughters have abortions if they want, and they won't even have to tell their parents." And we said, "OK."
Then some wise school board member said, "since boys will be boys and they're going to do it anyway, let's give our sons all the condoms they want, so they can have all the fun they desire, and we won't have to tell their parents they got them at school." And we said, "OK."
Then some of our top elected officials said, "it doesn't matter what we do in private, as long as we do our jobs." And agreeing with them, we said, "it doesn't matter to us what anyone, including the President, does in private as long as we have a job and the economy is good."
And then someone said, "let's print magazines with pictures of nude women and call it wholesome, down-to-earth appreciation for the beauty of the female body." And we said, "OK."
And then someone else took that appreciation a step further and published pictures of nude children, and then stepped further still by making them available on the Internet. And we said, "OK... they're entitled to their free speech."
And then the entertainment industry said, "let's make TV shows and movies that promote profanity, violence, and illicit sex. And let's record music that encourages rape, drugs, murder, suicide, and satanic themes." And we said, "it's just entertainment, it has no adverse effect, and nobody takes it seriously anyway," so we said, "OK."
Now we're asking ourselves why our children have no conscience, why they don't know right from wrong, and why it doesn't bother them to kill strangers, their classmates, and themselves. More than likely, if we think long and hard enough about it, we can figure it out. I think it has a great deal to do with... "WE REAP WHAT WE SOW."
-----
"Dear God, Why didn't you save the little girl killed in her classroom?" Sincerely, Concerned Student.
"Dear Concerned Student, I am not allowed in schools." Sincerely, God.
Billy Graham's daughter, Anne, was being interviewed on the Early Show by Jane Clayson, regarding 9/11/2001. She was asked, "How could God let something like this happen?" Ms. Graham gave an extremely profound and insightful response. She said, "I believe that God is deeply saddened by this, just as we are. But, for years we've been telling God to get out of our schools, to get out of our government and to get out of our lives. And being the gentleman that He is, I believe that He has calmly backed out. How can we expect God to give us His blessing and His protection if we demand that He leave us alone?"
This form of rejection seemed to begin when Madeline Murray O'Hare complained she did not want any more prayers in our schools. And we said, "OK." (Side note: Madeline was murdered, and her corpse was found)
Then, someone said, "you better not read the Bible in school"... the Bible that says thou shalt not kill; thou shalt not steal, and love your neighbor as yourself. And we said, "OK."
Then, Dr. Benjamin Spock said, "we shouldn't spank our children when they misbehave, because their little personalities would be warped and we might damage their self-esteem." And we said, "an expert should know what he's talking about," so we said "OK."
Then, someone said, "teachers and principals better not discipline our children when they misbehave. And the school administrators said no faculty member in this school better touch a student when they misbehave, because we don't want any bad publicity, and we surely don't want to be sued." And we said, "OK." (Side note: There's huge difference between disciplining and touching, beating, smacking, humiliating, kicking, etc.)
Then someone said, "let's let our daughters have abortions if they want, and they won't even have to tell their parents." And we said, "OK."
Then some wise school board member said, "since boys will be boys and they're going to do it anyway, let's give our sons all the condoms they want, so they can have all the fun they desire, and we won't have to tell their parents they got them at school." And we said, "OK."
Then some of our top elected officials said, "it doesn't matter what we do in private, as long as we do our jobs." And agreeing with them, we said, "it doesn't matter to us what anyone, including the President, does in private as long as we have a job and the economy is good."
And then someone said, "let's print magazines with pictures of nude women and call it wholesome, down-to-earth appreciation for the beauty of the female body." And we said, "OK."
And then someone else took that appreciation a step further and published pictures of nude children, and then stepped further still by making them available on the Internet. And we said, "OK... they're entitled to their free speech."
And then the entertainment industry said, "let's make TV shows and movies that promote profanity, violence, and illicit sex. And let's record music that encourages rape, drugs, murder, suicide, and satanic themes." And we said, "it's just entertainment, it has no adverse effect, and nobody takes it seriously anyway," so we said, "OK."
Now we're asking ourselves why our children have no conscience, why they don't know right from wrong, and why it doesn't bother them to kill strangers, their classmates, and themselves. More than likely, if we think long and hard enough about it, we can figure it out. I think it has a great deal to do with... "WE REAP WHAT WE SOW."
-----
"Dear God, Why didn't you save the little girl killed in her classroom?" Sincerely, Concerned Student.
"Dear Concerned Student, I am not allowed in schools." Sincerely, God.
Thursday, May 14, 2015
You're All Welcome Here
Great story and how we should treat all visitors!!!
By Tyann Sheldon Rouw for The Mighty
My son, Isaac, lifted the items out of our cart one by one and placed them carefully on the conveyor belt: a bunch of bananas, two dozen eggs and an egg dyeing kit.
When the cashier announced the amount we owed, Isaac took the credit card from my hand, skillfully swiped it through the payment terminal and handed it to me without looking my way. His eyes were transfixed on the receipt that rose and curled from the register on aisle three.
“You have a nice day,” the cashier said, as I folded the receipt and tucked it into my wallet. Isaac didn’t move from the end of the aisle. He was happy watching customers come and go. I lifted our bag of groceries into the cart and touched his arm.
“Wait,” I said. “Wait. I need to go to customer service. You need to wait for me.”
Waiting is not easy for Isaac, and I always wonder what’s going to happen. He’s a wildcard. Will he sprint towards the automatic doors by the credit union, laughing when he sees people entering the store? Or will he stand nearby for a few short minutes and express his displeasure by screaming? Will he stare endlessly at people who are buying groceries?
I hoped Isaac’s patience would be longer than the line.
As luck would have it, there were a gazillion people in line: a woman wanting to mail a package, a man with a mail order, a woman who needed to buy stamps…
Every Tuesday I drive Isaac to our local Hy-Vee grocery store whether or not anything’s on my shopping list. He also goes with my husband, Chris, every Saturday for our weekly grocery haul – and he’s there any day in between when we need an item or two.
I’d guess Isaac visits the store five times a week – that’s a grand total of 260 visits for the year. I might be wrong. If so, I’m probably underestimating how often he’s there. If the grocery store were an airport, we’d be frequent flyers – the gold elite status members entitled to all the perks.
The employees at Hy-Vee are nice enough, although I don’t always think they live up to their slogan: “A helpful smile in every aisle.” My 10-year-old son, Henry, joked the slogan should be changed to “A helpful smile in the bakery once in a while.” Nobody gives us the evil eye, and I’ve never heard a manager or an employee say anything rude, even years ago when Isaac spent considerable time playing with the automatic doors. We’ve always felt welcome in the store, which is one of the reasons we return so often. If Isaac could put a bed in aisle four and convince management to turn off most of the lights by 9:30 p.m., he’d likely move in.
Fortunately, Isaac was content to wait while I stood in line. He stayed about 15 yards from me, his eyes glued to the checkout lanes. I wondered how long he’d stay there without taking off and abandoning our cart. I figured if he ran off, I’d chased after him and we’d go home.
After a few minutes of waiting, an older man wearing a blue plaid shirt walked towards the front of the line. I wasn’t going to let him get in front of me, no matter what he needed. What if my son ran off before I was helped? Didn’t he know it was a gamble for me to be in line in the first place? Didn’t he know by looking at my gray hair and the bags under my eyes that my son has autism?
Suddenly I found myself at the front of the line explaining what I needed to the woman behind the customer service counter.
“His mind is always thinking, isn’t it? It’s going a million miles an hour,” she said.
I looked at the older gentleman who’d been trying to cut in line. Was that an offhanded comment directed towards him? Was his mind going a million miles an hour, trying to find ways to cut in line? Had she seen him do this before?
Then it hit me. She was talking about Isaac. Of course she had seen us often in the store and knew we were together. I nodded and pulled out a pile of receipts.
“We just love when he comes in here,” she said. Her words were genuine and so was her smile.
I couldn’t believe it.
We just love when he comes in here.
“That’s so nice of you to say,” I stammered, struck silent for a bit. “We’re here a lot. He loves coming in here.” She nodded. “Is it the bright colors he likes?”
“Oh, it’s the whole experience – the people coming and going, the automatic doors, the loudspeaker, the conveyor belts, the elevator by the bathrooms, the sound when an item is scanned at the registers. It would be his dream to work here, I think,” I said.
She nodded and continued scanning my receipts.
“He has autism,” I added. His diagnosis is something I don’t disclose in public unless someone really needs to know. Because she was so friendly and interested, I wanted to tell her.
She didn’t say anything. She looked at me compassionately, as though she’d known her entire life that a little boy named Isaac had been diagnosed with autism 11 years earlier.
“He’s even looked me in the eye before,” she said proudly. Her statement made me wonder if she, too, knew and loved someone with autism.
She counted the money and placed it in my hand. As I opened my purse, she said, “Thank you. You two have a good day.”
Then she paused and really looked at me. She saw me. She saw Isaac. This is what I saw in her kind eyes and heard in the tone of her voice:
I’ve seen you in this store a million times.
I’ve seen your son walk with you, hand in hand.
I’ve seen him give you a kiss on your cheek.
I bet you’re tired.
I bet you’re frustrated at times.
I bet some days you feel like the luckiest mama in the world.
I’ve seen your son’s love for the automatic doors.
I’ve seen your son’s love for the elevator by the bathrooms.
I’ve seen the love you have for your son.
I’ve seen the love your son has for you.
Your son is incredible.
We just love when he comes in here.
Isaac was still standing in the same location, gazing out into the sea of people and carts and conveyor belts. “It’s time to go, Isaac,” I said. “Push the cart out.”
As usual, we exited through the wine and spirits department. Even though there’s a checkout there, we’ve never used it. It’s Isaac’s favorite store entrance, though, so we enter and exit there every time. I reminded Isaac to slow down as he put away the cart and bounded through the automatic doors.
The moment I stepped outside, my eyes filled with tears. It caught me off guard. Isaac had taken the van keys and was leading me towards our vehicle. He always remembers exactly where I parked the van. And as we were walking in the parking lot, I wiped away tears.
For a few minutes we sat in the van and listened to his favorite country music station, 98.5 FM. I replayed the scene over and over in my mind.
Isaac’s been to Hy-Vee a few thousand times in his short life. Although employees have been friendly enough, nobody had spoken up until today.
We just love when he comes in here.
I heard:
You matter.
Your son matters.
We appreciate differences.
We just love when he comes in here.
On the drive home I fought back tears, bit my lip and dabbed my eyes with a tissue. Like usual, I drove the long way home – past the library and coffee shop and McDonald’s and up the hill to the car wash — because the routine makes Isaac happy.
I was happy, too, because a stranger — who didn’t have to say anything — was considerate enough to share her encouraging words with me.
It only took one kind heart and eight words.
We just love when he comes in here.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)