Six Hours One Friday for Youth

sixhours.jpgWas Reading “Six Hours One Friday” written by Max Lucado.

In it he says…

“Six hours. One Friday.

Let me ask you a question: What do you do with that day in history? What do you do with its claims?

If it really happened…if God did commandeer his own crucifixion…if he did turn his back on his own son…if he did storm Satan’s gate, then those 6 hours that Friday were packed with tragic triumph. If that was God on that cross, then the hill called Skull is granite studded with stakes to which you can anchor.

Those 6 hours were no normal 6 hours. They were the most critical hours in history. For during those 6 hours on that Friday, God embedded in the earth 3 anchor points sturdy enough to withstand any hurricane.

Anchor point #1 – My life is not futile. This rock secures the hull of your heart. Its sole function is to give you something which you can grip when facing the surging tides of futility and relativism. It’s a firm grasp on the conviction that there is truth. Someone is in control and you have a purpose.

Anchor point #2 – My failures are not fatal. It’s not that he loves what you did, but he loves who you are. You are his. The one who has the right to condemn you provided the way to acquit you. You make mistakes. God doesn’t. And he made you.

Anchor point #3 – My death is not final. There is one more stone to which you should tie. It’s large. It’s round. And it’s heavy. It blocked the door of a grave. It wasn’t big enough though. The tomb that it sealed was the tomb of a transient. He only went in to prove he could come out. And on the way out he took the stone with him and turned it into an anchor point. He dropped it deep into the uncharted waters of death. Tie to his rock and the typhoon of the tomb becomes a spring breeze on Easter Sunday.

There they are. Three anchor points. The anchor points of the cross.

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I think all three of these have powerful lessons for our youth.

Life is not futile. Everyone seems to be looking for gloom on the horizon. The economy is on edge. Jobs are uncertain. The future looks difficult. And in this uncertain time, many youth are also uncertain of themselves. They wonder why they are here. Is there a reason for them to be here? Is there meaning in life.

Failures are not fatal. Youth make mistakes. We all do. It’s not making the mistake that is important, but learning from the mistakes we make. God has forgiven those mistakes and even the willful choices. Forgiveness is there for the asking. When youth fall, they need to get up, grab the hand of Jesus and keep moving forward .

Death is not final. That is powerful. Youth aren’t often concerned with death. But knowing that there is more beyond this life is important. That out time here is momentary compared to eternity. So with youthful zeal, make every moment count.

 


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Money for Preaching

After the church service, a young boy told the Youth Pastor: “When I graduate and get a job, I’m going to give you some money.” “Well, thank you,” the youth pastor replied, “but why?” “Because my dad says you’re one of the poorest preachers we’ve ever had.”

The Day Peter Ran

I ran across this story in my my email archives today. I had saved it as i thought the message was quite powerful. As it is getting close to Easter, I thought I’d share it with you as well. Use it with your youth or adults for a great message.

An Easter Story based on John 20:1-9
by Dr. Ralph F. Wilson

Source: http://www.wilsonweb.com/archive/easter/peter-ran.htm

By day it gnawed at him, but nights were even worse. He had betrayed his dearest friend. Not privately, not secretly, but blatantly, out in the open for all the world to see. And now it was too late to say, “I’m sorry.” His friend was dead.

Peter tossed sleeplessly, unable to find a position that felt comfortable. Outside he could hear the sounds of Jerusalem stirring to life. This city he had once loved to visit, he now hated. It held too many painful memories impossible to erase from his mind. Today he would leave for Galilee and fishing, though even fishing held no allure for him now. Nothing did.

“How could I have so utterly shamed himself? How could I? Peter, you d— coward!” For the thousandth time he cursed himself. “He was my friend! How could I have done this to my very best friend?”

He could see Jesus riding that donkey down the hill into Jerusalem to the cheers of thousands. He saw him in hot anger overturning coin-laden tables in the temple. “You have made my Father’s house a den of thieves!” the Master had told them in carefully measured but biting words.

Peter recalled blind men abruptly seeing, lame men suddenly walking, and loathsome lepers’ skin turning baby-soft within a moment of Jesus’ touch. He saw Jesus’ smile, his compassion, his hours of gentle teaching. He felt the Master’s hand on his shoulder after a long day of caring for the multitudes. The accompanying words repeated themselves over and over in his mind, “Thanks, Peter, for your help today. You are a faithful friend … a faithful friend … a faithful friend.” Tears began to well up in Peter’s eyes. Faithful? Me?

When the High Priest’s soldiers had tried to arrest Jesus, Peter had defended his Master with a sword. But later, when a servant girl had challenged him with: “You’re one of his disciples, aren’t you?” he had denied it with an oath. A mere servant girl! But again and again he had compounded the cowardly lie until the cock crowed, and Jesus’ eyes from far across the courtyard met his. Sad, disappointed eyes. Then he had broken and run. Run from the High Priest’s home into the dark streets. Run until he could run no more. Run until he had flung himself onto the cobbled streets sobbing.

Later that morning he had watched from a distance as they mocked and tormented his friend, finally nailing hands and feet with huge spikes, and suspending him from a cross until his life was spent. He couldn’t bear another day in this city!

The thin light of dawn had appeared under the door. Night was finally over; today he would leave. Today he would run away, back to the only life he knew. Today Peter would leave this bloody city
behind.

Bang! Bang! The nearby door shook as someone kept banging on it. Peter reached for his sword, and quietly took his place behind the door.

“Peter, John, it’s Mary! Let me in.”

It was a woman’s voice, Mary Magdalene, one of Jesus’ close friends who had traveled with them for months. He unbolted the door and Mary slipped inside. She took several deep breaths before she could speak, then blurted out her message: “They’ve stolen the body! Jesus’ body is gone, and we don’t know where they’ve put him!”

John, who was wide awake by now, looked at Peter, and then threw on his clothes. Peter was out the door running, running down the streets, tearing around corners, headed for the garden tomb where Jesus’ body had been laid.

Now John was close behind. Younger and faster, John soon outdistanced Peter. By the time Peter got to the tomb, John was standing outside the door peering in. The huge stone, designed to prevent desecration of the tomb, was rolled away. Peter brushed inside. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimness of the damp limestone cave.

There was the linen gravecloth that had been wrapped turn after turn around the body. It lay on the chiseled stone shelf where the body had been. Yet now with nothing inside, its coils lay collapsed, empty, like a chrysalis after the butterfly has emerged. Folded separately was the cloth that had been around Jesus’ head.

Peter looked at John and motioned him inside. How curious! If the tomb had been robbed and the body stolen, he would have expected the wrappings to be nowhere in sight. Or perhaps strewn in haste around the narrow stone room. Yet here they were, orderly, as if laid aside, no longer needed.

John looked at Peter. Peter looked at John. Peter could catch the faintest smile playing at the corners of John’s mouth.

What if …? What if … he is risen?

Peter walked back into Jerusalem, but each step was a bit quicker than the one before. What if he is risen?

As Peter turned the corner onto the street where he was staying he say a figure waiting for him at the door. A very familiar figure — Jesus!

Peter ran to meet him!

——————————–

The Scripture records, “For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day according to the scripture, and that he appeared to Peter, and then to the Twelve. After that, he appeared to more than 500 of the brothers at the same time, most of whom are still living, though some have fallen asleep” (1 Corinthians 15:3-6).

“They got up and returned at once to Jerusalem. There they found the Eleven and those with them assembled together and saying, ‘It is true! The Lord has risen and has appeared to Simon'” (Luke 24.33-34). Note: Peter is referred to by three names in Scripture: Simon son of Jonas, his Hebrew name, Peter (Rock, the Greek form of the name Jesus bestowed on him), and Cephas (the Aramaic word for Rock).

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Seagull In the Sand

  • I was at the beach with my children when my four-year-old son ran up to me, grabbed my hand, and led me to the shore, where a sea gull lay dead in the sand. “Mommy, what happened to him?” the little boy asked. “He died and went to Heaven,” I replied. My son thought a moment and then said, “And God threw him back down?”

Easter Candy

  • 90 million chocolate Easter bunnies are made for Easter each year.
  • Each day, five million marshmallow chicks and bunnies are produced in preparation for Easter.
  • 16 billion jelly beans are made for Easter
  • 63 percent of Americans would most like to receive a chocolate bunny on Easter morning, followed by marshmallow bunnies (10 percent).
  • The world’s largest jar of jelly beans weighed 6,050 pounds.
  • 75 percent of kids are willing to do extra chores for extra Easter candy
  • According to the Guinness Book of World Records, the largest Easter egg ever made was just over 25-ft high and made of chocolate and marshmallow. The egg weighed 8,968 lbs. and was supported by an internal steel frame.
  • 88 percent of adults carry on the Easter tradition of creating Easter baskets for their kids & 90 percent of adults hope for their own treat from the Easter Bunny. Who wouldn’t want chocolate?!
  • The first chocolate eggs were made in Europe in the early 19th century and remain among the most popular treats associated with Easter.
  • Kids first grab for chocolate bunnies (76 percent) when checking out their Easter baskets, followed by marshmallow treats (18 percent), malted milk balls/eggs (17 percent) and jelly beans (16 percent).
  • When it comes to knowing which types of bunnies please the palate, the majority of Americans say a solid chocolate bunny (42 percent) first and foremost, followed by a hollow chocolate bunny (21 percent), marshmallow bunny (10 percent) and other types of Easter bunny candy (9 percent).
  • Red jelly beans are kids’ favorite.

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Erasing

family_circus.jpgBill Keane, creator of the Family Circus cartoon strip tells of a time when he was penciling one of his cartoons and his son Jeffy said, “Daddy, how do you know what to draw?” I said, “God tells me.” Jeffy said, “Then why do you keep erasing parts of it?”

Church for One?

1118843_cow.jpgOn a very cold, snowy Sunday in February, only the pastor and one farmer arrived at the village church. The pastor said, “Well, I guess we won’t have a service today.” The farmer replied: “Heck, if even only one cow shows up at feeding time, I feed it.”