Category Archives: Teaching Illustrations

Youth Illustrations: Ken’s favorite Quotes, Anecdotes, Real-Life Events, Modern Parables, Sermon Illustrations, Jokes, Humor and other stories to add a little punch to your Bible Studies, Sermons, Youth Ministry talks and Children’s sermons.

Rules of the Game

I am giving you the ball son, and naming you the quarterback for your team in the game of life. I am your coach, so I’ll tell you straight.

There is only one schedule to play. It lasts all your life, but consists of only one game. It is long, with no time out and no substitutions. you play the whole game – all your life.

You’ll have a great backfield. .You are calling all the signals, but the other three guys in the backfield with you have great reputations. They are named Faith, Hope and Charity.

You’ll work behind a truly powerful line. End to end it consists of Honesty, Loyalty, Devotion to duty, Self Respect, Sturdy Cleanliness, Good behavior, and Courage.

The goal posts are the Gates of Heaven.

God is the referee and sole official. He makes all the rules and there is no appeal from them.

There are ten rules. You know them as the Ten Commandments and you play them strictly in accordance with your own religion.

There is also an important ground rule. It is “do unto others as you would have done to you”.

Here is the ball. It is your immortal soul! Hold on to it. Now, son, get in there and let’s see what you can do with it!

 


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Jesus Sees Us with the Eye of a Carpenter

I wonder if He grew impatient as He awaited word from His Father that now He might proceed. Surely it was a difficult thing for Jesus of Nazareth to work day by day in the carpentry shop, while daily He could see the suffering, the pain, the torment His people were living through, dying through, while He did nothing more than watch and pray. Watch and pray! How many times did He petition His Father, how many times did He take His request to the great throne and ask, “Now, Father? Do I start now?”

We know He was a carpenter’s son, and that He had taken up His earthly father’s trade. Think of the chair that He would fashion. It would be level beyond that which any tool could measure. It would be smooth, every square inch planed and sanded to perfection. And why not? The wood He used was from the tree He created. And what of a bed made by the hands of the Creator? Would one sleep an especially good night’s sleep in such a bed?

I often wonder about the people, who lived in His village. Did they threaten Him, intimidate Him? Did they demand He stop what He was doing and satisfy their needs immediately. Did they haggle price with Him, demean His work in order to achieve special discounts. Did they treat Him like an inferior person because He worked with His hands, while many of His customers lived a style of life much higher than His?

Or did they know, somehow recognize the peace that was surely His trademark? Did they speak softly in His presence, or did they curse, brag and demand? How often I have spoken to a tradesman and felt that this man could not begin to have the importance I felt I possessed.

How often I have condescended to bribe, to intimidate, to distract a worker from his appointed task, feeling that which I needed would be of greater import than anything else he was engaged with at the time. How often I have been arrogant, how often I have been proud!

And did they treat Him like that? Imagine the Son of God listening with patience while a woman describes how he wants a table made, or a cabinet hung. He listens gently, as He did all things gently, and waits for her to finish. She is concerned that His work last a long time. A guarantee, she asks? She wanted assurances from this craftsman that His work will last as long as she expects it to.

How kind He was to listen, to explain, to be one of us, to interact with us, and to do so from an inferior posture. He would someday judge her, this customer in His shop. But not that day. That day He would listen. That day He would give to her all she demanded. He would not be offended by her bickering, her incessant chatter about the quality of workmanship being less now than when she was a girl.

And when she had finished, He would guide her out of His workshop, and return to begin the task for which she had engaged Him. He would select the right piece of lumber, lumber He Himself had caused to grow, and He would carry it to the bench. His hands were strong, His back was solid.

He worked with skill and confidence, for his father, Joseph, had taught Him, the creator of the universe, how to build. He would look at the coarse lumber, and see a finished cabinet, much as He still looks at the sinner and sees a saint. Working with patience, tenacity and love, He would take ordinary, common wood and turn it into a work of art. He could do no less. For the Son of Man would do nothing cheaply, nothing slipshod.

And to this day, He still takes the common, the ordinary, the unspecial material, and produces works of art. There is nothing in me to catch the eye of a Master, I was cheap and common and of no value to anyone save myself. But His learned eye saw past what the world would see, and He knew I was indeed a special piece of wood. He took me in His hands and molded me, sanded me and polished me.

When He is finished with me, He will present me to His Father and say, “Behold, Father, this one is mine.” And on that day, as I stand before the God that created me, and the One that drew me to His Son, I will be grateful that it is into the hands of a gentle, loving carpenter that I came to be a finished work of art. Not by virtue of what I was, but by virtue of the Master’s hand!

Author: Phillip E. Mahfood
Source: Unknown

 


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Holy Alphabet

A lthough things are not perfect
B ecause of trial or pain
C ontinue in thanksgiving
D o not begin to blame
E ven when the times are hard
F ierce winds are bound to blow
G od is forever able
H old on to what you know
I magine life without His love
J oy would cease to be
K eep thanking Him for all the things
L ove imparts to thee
M ove out of “Camp Complaining”
N o weapon that is known
O n earth can yield the power
P raise can do alone
Q uit looking at the future
R edeem the time at hand
S tart every day with worship
T o “thank” is a command
U ntil we see Him coming
V ictorious in the sky
W e’ll run the race with gratitude
X alting God most high
Y es, there’ll be good times and yes some will be bad, but…
Z ion waits in glory…where none are ever sad!

Source Unknown: received as an email from internet


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Story of Valentine’s Day

The story of Valentine’s Day begins in the third century with an oppressive Roman emperor and a humble Christian martyr. The emperor was Claudius II. The Christian was Valentinus.

Claudius had ordered all Romans to worship twelve gods, and he had made it a crime punishable by death to associate with Christians. But Valentinus was dedicated to serving Christ, and not even the threat of death could keep him from following the Savior. He was therefore arrested and imprisoned.

During the last weeks of Valentinus’ life a remarkable thing happened. Seeing that he was a man of learning, the jailer asked whether his daughter, Julia, might be brought to Valentinus for lessons. She had been blind since birth. Julia was a pretty, young girl with a quick mind.

Valentinus told stories of Rome’s history to her. He described the world of nature to her. He taught her arithmetic and told her about God. She saw the world through his eyes, trusted his wisdom, and found comfort in his quiet strength.

“Valentinus, does God really hear our prayers?” Julia asked one day.

“Yes my child, He hears each one,” he replied.

“Do you know what I pray for every morning and every night? I pray that I might see. I want so much to see everything you have told me about.”

“God does what is best for us if we put our trust in Him,” Valentinus said.

“Oh, Valentinus, I do believe in Him,” Julia said intensely. “I do.” She knelt and grasped his hand. They sat quietly together praying when suddenly there was a brilliant light in the prison cell. Radiant, Julia shouted, “Valentinus, I can see! I can see!”

“Praise be to God” Valentinus exclaimed, and they knelt to thank God.

On the eve of his death Valentinus wrote a last note to Julia, urging her to stay close to God, and he signed it “From Your Valentine.”

His sentence was carried out the next day, February 14, 270 A.D. near the gate that was later named Porta Valentini in his memory. He was buried at what is now the Church of Praxedes in Rome.

Source: Email circulating around the internet

 


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Turtle Picnic

A turtle family went on a picnic.. The turtles, being naturally slow about things, took seven years to prepare for their outings. Finally the family left home looking for a suitable place. During the second year of their journey they found it. For about six months they cleaned up the area, unpacked the picnic basket, and completed the arrangements. Then they discovered the had forgotten the salt. A picnic without salt would be a disaster, they all agreed.

After a lengthy discussion, the youngest turtle was chosen to retrieve the salt from home. Although he was the fastest of the slow moving turtles, the little turtle whined, cried, and wobbled in his shell. He agreed to go on one condition: that no one would eat until he returned. the family consented and the little turtle left.

Three years passed– and the little turtle had not returned. Five years… six years.. then in the seventh year of his absence, the eldest turtle could no longer contain his hunger. He announced that he was going to eat and began to unwrap a sandwich. At that point the little turtle suddenly popped out from behind a tree shouting, “SEE I knew you wouldn’t wait. Now I am not going to go get the salt.”

Too often in the church, we are too concerned about what others are doing / not doing rather than focusing on the fact that we are responsible for our own actions, not theirs. When Judgment day comes Jesus doesn’t evalauate our lives compared to others, whether we did better than those around us, but compared to total obedience to his commands.

 


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Christ’s Heirs

Watchman Nee tells about a new convert who came in deep distress to see him. “No matter how much I pray, no matter how hard I try, I simply cannot seem to be faithful to my Lord. I think I’m losing my salvation.” Nee said, “Do you see this dog here? He is my dog. He is house-trained; he never makes a mess; he is obedient; he is a pure delight to me. Out in the kitchen I have a son, a baby son. He makes a mess, he throws his food around, he fouls his clothes, he is a total mess. But who is going to inherit my kingdom? Not my dog; my son is my heir. You are Jesus Christ’s heir because it is for you that He died.” We are Christ’s heirs, not through our perfection but by means of His grace.


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Slow Starters

Winston Churchill seemed so dull as a youth that his father thought he might be incapable of earning a living in England. Charles Darwin did so poorly in school that his father once told him, “You will be a disgrace to yourself and all your family.”

G.K. Chesterton, the English writer, could not read until he was eight. One of his teachers told him, “If we could open your head we should not find any brain but only a lump of white fat.”Thomas Edison’s first teacher described him as “addled,” and his father almost convinced him he was a “dunce.”

Albert Einstein’s parents feared their child was dull, and he performed so badly in all high school courses except mathematics that a teacher asked him to drop out.

Source: Book of Lists, 1986, Irving Wallace, Wm. Morrow & Co


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Brave Training

The early American Indians had a unique practice of training young braves. On the night of a boy’s thirteenth birthday, after learning hunting, scouting, and fishing skills, he was put to one final test. He was placed in a dense forest to spend the entire night alone. Until then, he had never been away from the security of the family and the tribe. But on this night, he was blindfolded and taken several miles away. When he took off the blindfold, he was in the middle of a thick woods and he was terrified! Every time a twig snapped, he visualized a wild animal ready to pounce. After what seemed like an eternity, dawn broke and the first rays of sunlight entered the interior of the forest. Looking around, the boy saw flowers, trees, and the outline of the path. Then, to his utter astonishment, he beheld the figure of a man standing just a few feet away, armed with a bow and arrow. It was his father. He had been there all night long.

Sometime it seems our heavenly father has left us alone and defenseless, in a dark world. But in truth, he never leaves our side, and is ever watchful over us, protecting us.


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The Emperor Moth

A man found a cocoon of the emperor moth and took it home to watch it emerge. One day a small opening appeared, and for several hours the moth struggled but couldn’t seem to force its body past a certain point. Deciding something was wrong, the man took scissors and snipped the remaining bit of cocoon. The moth emerged easily, its body large and swollen, the wings small and shriveled. He expected that in a few hours the wings would spread out in their natural beauty, but they did not. Instead of developing into a creature free to fly, the moth spent its life dragging around a swollen body and shriveled wings. The constricting cocoon and the struggle necessary to pass through the tiny opening are God’s way of forcing fluid from the body into the wings. The “merciful” snip was, in reality, cruel. Sometimes the struggle is exactly what we need.

Author: Beth Landers
Source: Unknown

 


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Around The Rim

One day a biologist came to his lab and, as always, he went first to look lovingly at his most prized possession, a lovely geranium in a beautiful clay pot. The biologist had worked years to develop this geranium, and it was the picture of perfection. This morning, to the amazement of the biologist, he saw a line-up of a large number of caterpillars on the rim of the clay pot. The caterpillars were moving in a constant column, and were lined up in such a way that the caterpillar who was in the lead was actually immediately behind the last caterpillar in the line-up. The rim was completely encircled by beautiful, healthy caterpillars. Inside the clay pot, just a few inches from the rim, and from the caterpillars, was the biologist’s pride and joy, the geranium.

Now the biologist knew that this luxuriant geranium was of a species most favored by caterpillars. And he knew too that the caterpillars would see that at the foot of the geranium the biologist had formed a small pool of clear, cool, inviting water.

The biologist watched, entranced as the caterpillar in the lead started moving ahead, and all behind him followed, around and around the rim of the clay pot. A young caterpillar near the middle of the line-up said, “Where are we going?” An older caterpillar just up ahead shot back, “Where do you think we are going? We are walking around the edge of this clay pot!” The older caterpillar bemoaned, “I sometimes wonder about the younger generation. Why must they question every single turn in the road of life? Why can they not be just like everyone else; keep their eyes on where we are going and learn to conform?” And with much tongue clicking and nodding of heads, all of the caterpillars continued following the leader on their trek around the rim of the clay pot.

Soon the young caterpillar began to get somewhat bored by the monotony of the walk around the rim of the clay pot. He had made a mental note of a large bump on the rim of the clay pot, and, (for lack of anything better to do), he had kept track of the number of revolutions which he and the other caterpillars had made around the rim of the clay pot. Also he had been watching as the sun moved across the sky, faded into starry night, only to rise again the following morning. The young caterpillar kept track of the number of days which had gone by since he and the other caterpillars had started on their trek around the rim of the clay pot.

“Did you know that we have now made 686 revolutions around the rim of this clay pot?”, the young caterpillar asked of no one in particular. All of the caterpillars merely rolled their eyes, shook their heads and tried to ignore the young upstart. “Well, it’s true”, he continued. “And more than that, I can tell you that we have now been 4 days on this continuous trek around the rim of the clay pot”.

One of the elder caterpillars could take this no longer. And between deep gasps for breath, (for the elder caterpillar was nearing exhaustion), he shot back, “Will you please just fall into line?”

Days went by and the caterpillars, (particularly the older ones), were becoming very tired and thirsty and hungry. So the biologist had compassion on the caterpillars and, in spite of the fact that it would ruin his favorite geranium, he broke off a beautiful branch and laid it up close to the edge of the rim of the clay pot, right where every caterpillar went by. “Much as it pains me to do this to my favorite geranium, there is no other way to make these caterpillars see that here just alongside of the rim of the clay pot is all of the food and water they so desperately need. The caterpillars can’t help but see that the way is now open for them to come and eat and drink”. To the biologist’s surprise however, not a single caterpillar seemed aware that the tasty branch from the biologist’s favorite geranium was right there along side of the rim of the clay pot. One particularly luscious looking leaf fell right on the path; the caterpillar’s tired feet tramped right over it until soon it was ground into the rim of the clay pot. And the caterpillars continued on their walk to doom, around the rim of the clay pot.

The older, weaker caterpillars began, one by one, to be overcome by hunger and thirst and exhaustion. And they fell to the ground dead. Soon only the young caterpillar remained.

The biologist couldn’t understand! “I have given of my best. I have provided food and water, more than you could ever need. I have shown you the way. All that you have to do is to come. Why do you not come?”

The young caterpillar knew he must make a decision. With tired eyes he looked longingly at the beautiful geranium just right there at his feet. Oh how wonderful to eat of that luscious fiber! And he saw the inviting pool of cool, fresh water. He could just feel the relief that would come from the sweet coolness of water in his parched throat.

Then he thought of the words of the older caterpillars and how they had warned that he must learn to conform. Slowly, wearily, the young caterpillar turned and moved off, now alone on the trek around the rim of the clay pot.

And the biologist cried. . . . . . .

How often do we miss out on the blessings and provision of God because we are too focused on religion rather than what our living God is doing?


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The Frog and the Ox

“Oh Father,” said a little Frog to the big one sitting by the side of a pool, “I have seen such a terrible monster! It was as big as a mountain, with horns on its head, and a long tail, and it had hoofs divided in two.”

“Tush, child, tush,” said the old Frog, “that was only Farmer White’s Ox. It isn’t so big either; he may be a little bit taller than I, but I could easily make myself quite as broad; just you see.” So he blew himself out, and blew himself out, and blew himself out. “Was he as big as that?” asked he.

“Oh, much bigger than that,” said the young Frog.

Again the old one blew himself out, and asked the young one if the Ox was as big as that.

“Bigger, father, bigger,” was the reply.

So the Frog took a deep breath, and blew and blew and blew, and swelled and swelled and swelled. And then he said: “I’m sure the Ox is not as big as, But at this moment he burst.

Source: Aesop’s Fables

Take it to the next level
Draw the face of an ox on a white balloon and a frog’s face onto two green balloons in permanent marker. It helps if the balloon used for the ox is of a larger size. Fully inflate the Ox balloon and set it aside for the group to see as you tell the story. inflate one frog balloon just enough to make it visible. The other frog balloon inflate to a larger size, but not near as large as the ox. Then as you tell the story, keep inflating the larger frog balloon until it bursts.

Scripture and Pride
Pride sets people in opposition to each other and to God. A proud person sets himself above those around him and follows his own will rather than God’s will. Pride will end in destruction, but when we are humble God himself will lift us up.

  • Whosoever shall exalt himself shall be abased, Matt. 23: 12
  • Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall. – Prov. 16: 18
  • Do you see a man wise in his own eyes? There is more hope for a fool than for him. – Proverbs 26:12
  • But, “Let him who boasts boast in the Lord.” – 2 Corinthians 10:17
  • Before destruction a man’s heart is haughty, but humility comes before honor. – Proverbs 18:12
  • “God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble.” – James 4:6
  • Humble yourselves in the presence of the Lord, and He will exalt you – James 4: 10

 


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Unless the Corn Die

Years ago a minister in Iowa went home from a service for dinner with a wealthy farmer. This man, though not a Christian, was moral and upright. As they entered the house from the rear through a shed, the minister noticed several bushels of corn twisted together by the husks and hung from the open rafters. The farmer pointer out to the minister the finest seed corn he had ever raised. Said the preacher: “If I were you, I would always keep that corn there. You will never get any more like it.”

“You must think I’m a fool,” said the farmer. “I must plant that corn or I’ll have no more crop.” And the preacher rejoined: “That corn is like yourself. I never knew a man so rich in natural endowments as you. If something would only happen to let the seed corn be planted, be buried, you would be so useful to God and humanity!”

Months later the minister received a call to visit the farmer. The old farmer surprised him by saying, “Glory to God!” The seed corn has been planted.” He related gladly how it happened. He had been currying a mule when the mule let both heels fly at him, cutting open his face with a sharp-shod hoof. The injured man got on his knees and surrendered to God. “And now,” said he, “I want to make my life yield a harvest for Him.”

Author: W.W. Clay
Source: “Choice Illustrations” W.W. Clay pg. 12-13.

 


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Two Nickels and Five Pennies

In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10-year-old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him. “How much is an ice cream sundae?”

“Fifty cents,” replied the waitress. The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied a number of coins in it.

“How much is a dish of plain ice cream?” he inquired. Some people were now waiting for a table and the waitress was a bit impatient.

“Thirty-five cents,” she said brusquely. The little boy again counted the coins.

“I’ll have the plain ice cream,” he said. The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, got up and paid the cashier the thirty-five cents, then departed.

When the waitress came back, she began wiping down the table and then swallowed hard at what she saw. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies – her tip.

Source: Unknown


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Rabbit on the Swim Team

Once upon a time, the animals decided they should do something meaningful to meet the problems of the new world. So they organized a school. They adopted an activity curriculum of running, climbing, swimming and flying. To make it easier to administer the curriculum, all the animals took all the subjects.

The duck was excellent in swimming; in fact, better than his instructor. But he made only passing grades in flying, and was very poor in running. Since he was slow in running, he had to drop swimming and stay after school to practice running. This caused his web feet to be badly worn, so that he was only average in swimming. But average was quite acceptable, so nobody worried about that – except the duck.

The rabbit started at the top of his class in running, but developed a nervous twitch in his leg muscles because of so much make-up work in swimming.

The squirrel was excellent in climbing, but he encountered constant frustration in flying class because his teacher made him start from the ground up instead of from the treetop down. He developed “charlie horses” from overexertion, and so only got a C in climbing and a D in running.

The eagle was a problem child and was severely disciplined for being a non-conformist. In climbing classes he beat all the others to the top of the tree, but insisted on using his own way to get there…”

The obvious moral of that story is a simple one – each creature has its own set of capabilities in which it will naturally excel -unless it is expected or forced to fill a mold that doesn’t fit. When that happens, frustration, discouragement, and even guilt bring overall mediocrity or complete defeat. A duck is a duck – and only a duck. It is built to swim, not to run or fly and certainly not to climb. A squirrel is a squirrel – and only that. To move it out of its forte, climbing, and then expect it to swim or fly will drive a squirrel nuts. Eagles are beautiful creatures in the air but not in a foot race. The rabbit will win every time unless, of course, the eagle gets hungry.

Source: Unknown

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Christmas Old, Christmas New

Like the beautiful Christmas wreath
Whose circle knows no end,
So becomes the life of us
When the Savior enters in.

Like the brilliant shining star
That guided shepherds of old –
So may Christ shine in us,
As His likeness we unfold.

Like the joyous carols we sing
To cheer our special friends –
Christ’s presence fills us with joy,
A joy that never ends.

Like the lowly stable manger
That held our infant King,
So now the arms of Jesus
Cradle us and comfort bring.

Like the fragrant, twinkling tree
Whose sights and smells delight
The life we choose with Jesus
Delights us in doing right.

Like the crowded sleepy town
In which the babe was born,
His gentle spirit fills us
As in Him we are reborn.

Like the special gifts we choose
And to our loved ones bring,
He gave His life a gift to us –
O’let His praises ring!

Like the peaceful nativity child
Whose power wrote history’s pages,
Even now that peace and power
Saves men sin and its wages!

Like that first Christmas long ago
That bridged men back to God,
No Christmas now can e’er exist
Without His Holy nod.

So Christ embodies Christmas
As much now as He did then –
It’s only men who’ve been misled
O’ give Him first place again!

Julie Winton, Christmas 1980
Thanks Julie for being such a friend when I was a University student

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The Glory of the Manger

Night had come, their rest at hand
The shepherds laid down on the sand

With heavy lids they closed their eyes
In hopes no cause would bid them rise

When suddenly they heard a noise!
They feared to hear the radiant voice:

“Good news! Go now and see this sight
A baby shivers in the night

Your Savior has at long last come
To do what none before has done

The King of Kings is laid in straw
And even we are filled with awe

Make haste, go now behold your king
And see the reason why we sing,

The King of Heaven has come down
And in His blood your sins will drown

And never more you’ll be afraid
For God is in a manger laid!”

Used by Permission. Copyright 12-14-00 by Cindy Blackamore


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Height of a Building

A young boy was touted as the next Einstein. One of the world’s greatest thinkers was brought in to test him to see how smart he really was… They set him down and gave him an exam. On the exam there was ONE question alone…

“Using a barometer, how would you determine the height of a building?”

The boy read the question, quickly wrote an answer and turned it in to the examiner. The examiner was quite surprised the young boy finished so quickly.. He read the answer.

“I would tie a sting to the barometer, lower it until it touches the ground, and then measure the string to determine the height of the building.”

The examiner said, “While that would work, that is not the answer I am looking for. Please try again..”

The boy went back to his desk.. He was troubled.. he was scratching his head and in such concentration that the examiner thought to ask him if he was OK… if he needed some help. Was he having difficulty coming up with an answer?

The boy replied, “oh no… that’s not my trouble… I have so many good answers I cannot decide which one to write down.”

Eventually the boy wrote down a formula involving barometric pressure to calculate the height above sea level and determine the building’s height.

The examiner was satisfied with the answer, but was also curious… “Do you mind telling me what some of your other answers were?”

The boy replied:

“I could measure the length of the barometer and then use it to mark the wall in the stairwell. When I reached the top I would multiply the marks on the wall by the length of the barometer and would be able to calculate the height of the building.”

“Or I could drop it from the top of the building and use a stop watch to time the fall. I could then use the formula for gravity and acceleration to determine the height of the building.”

“Or I could get up early and as the sun rises, measure the shadow cast by the barometer and the shadow cast by the building and using a simple ratio, determine the height of the building according to proportion.”

The boy continued with several more ideas.. Eventually the examiner asked him, “What was your favorite solution?”

The boy replied, “I would go to the guardhouse and show the barometer to the guard. I would tell him how this was such a wonderful barometer and all the wonderful things it could do for him.. I would then tell him… If you will only tell me the height of this building I will give you this barometer for free”

There are many solutions to a problem… Sometimes we are so intent on elaborate strategies and methods to solve a problem that we forget the simple things… Maybe we should just ask…

Are you bringing your problems to God?


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Thanksgiving Dinner

“It was the day before Thanksgiving–the first one my three children and I would be spending without their father, who had left several months before. Now the two older children were very sick with the flu, and the eldest had just been prescribed bed rest for a week.

It was a cool, gray day outside, and a light rain was falling. I grew wearier as I scurried around, trying to care for each child: thermometers, juice, diapers. And I was fast running out of liquids for the children. But when I checked my purse, all I found was about $2.50–and this was supposed to last me until the end of the month. That’s when I heard the phone ring.

It was the secretary from our former church, and she told me that they had been thinking about us and had something to give us from the congregation. I told her that I was going out to pick up some more juice and soup for the children, and I would drop by the church on my way to the market.

I arrived at the church just before lunch. The church secretary met me at the door and handed me a special gift envelope. ‘We think of you and the kids often,’ she said, ‘and you are in our hearts and prayers. We love you.’ When I opened the envelope, I found two grocery certificates inside. Each was worth $20. I was so touched and moved, I broke down and cried.

‘Thank you very much,’ I said, as we hugged each other. ‘Please give our love and thanks to the church.’ Then I drove to a store near our home and purchased some much-needed items for the children.

At the check-out counter I had a little over $14.00 worth of groceries, and I handed the cashier one of the gift certificates. She took it, then turned her back for what seemed like a very long time. I thought something might be wrong. Finally I said, ‘This gift certificate is a real blessing. Our former church gave it to our family, knowing I’m a single parent trying to make ends meet.’

The cashier then turned around, with tears in her loving eyes, and replied, ‘Honey, that’s wonderful! Do you have a turkey?’

‘No. It’s okay because my children are sick anyway.’

She then asked, ‘Do you have anything else for Thanksgiving dinner?’

Again I replied, ‘No.’

After handing me the change from the certificate, she looked at my face and said, ‘Honey, I can’t tell you exactly why right now, but I want you to go back into the store and buy a turkey, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie or anything else you need for a Thanksgiving dinner.’

I was shocked, and humbled to tears. ‘Are you sure?’ I asked.

‘Yes! Get whatever you want. And get some Gatorade for the kids.’

I felt awkward as I went back to do more shopping, but I selected a fresh turkey, a few yams and potatoes, and some juices for the children. Then I wheeled the shopping cart up to the same cashier as before. As I placed my groceries on the counter, she looked at me once more with giant tears in her kind eyes and began to speak.

‘Now I can tell you. This morning I prayed that I could help someone today, and you walked through my line.’ She reached under the counter for her purse and took out a $20 bill. She paid for my groceries and then handed me the change. Once more I was moved to tears.

The sweet cashier then said, ‘I am a Christian. Here is my phone number if you ever need anything.’ She then took my head in her hands, kissed my cheek and said, ‘God bless you, honey.’

As I walked to my car, I was overwhelmed by this stranger’s love and by the realization that God loves my family too, and shows us his love through this stranger’s and my church’s kind deeds.

The children were supposed to have spent Thanksgiving with their father that year, but because of the flu they were home with me, for a very special Thanksgiving Day. They were feeling better, and we all ate the goodness of the Lord’s bounty–and our community’s love. Our hearts were truly filled with thanks.”

Source: Andrea Nannette Mejia- in “Chicken Soup for the Christian Soul.” 101 Stories to Open the Heart and Rekindle the Spirit

Chicken Soup for the Christian Soul — Conversation Starters to Open the Heart and Rekindle the Spirit

 

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The Greatest

baseball.jpgA little boy was overheard talking to himself as he strutted through the backyard, wearing his baseball cap and toting a ball and bat: “I’m the greatest hitter in the world,” he announced.

Then, he tossed the ball into the air, swung at it, and missed.

“Strike One!” he yelled. Undaunted, he picked up the ball and said again,”I’m the greatest hitter in the world!”

He tossed the ball into the air. When it came down he swung again and
missed. “Strike Two!” he cried.

The boy then paused a moment to examine his bat and ball carefully. He spit on his hands and rubbed them together. He straightened his cap and said once more, “I’m the greatest hitter in the world!”

Again he tossed the ball up in the air and swung at it. He missed. “Strike Three!”

“Wow!” he exclaimed. “I’m the greatest pitcher in the world!”

 


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Small Expectations

A fisherman sat on a dock with a ruler and a basket beside him. He caught a fish and measured it. The fish was six inches long. He threw the fish in the basket. He got another bite and pulled in a nine inch fish. In the basket it went.

A little later he felt a violent jerk on the line. He pulled in a twenty inch fish. That fish he threw back in the water!

A little girl had been watching this procedure. She asked him, “Why did you throw back the big fish and keep the little ones?” The fisherman replied, “Because my frying pan is only ten inches across!”

Too often, we receive tiny yields from our efforts because our expectations were too small! There is something to be said for the ‘power of positive thinking’; if we do not expect God to fill our cups as we surrender ourselves to Him, then we should not be surprised when we receive less-than-spectacular returns on our spiritual investments.


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Helping Others Win

At the Seattle Special Olympics, nine contestants, all physically or mentally disabled, assembled at the starting line for the 100-yard dash.

At the gun, they all started out, not exactly in a dash, but with a relish to run the race to the finish and win.

All, that is, except one little boy who stumbled on the asphalt, tumbled over a couple of times, and began to cry. The other eight heard the boy cry.

They slowed down and looked back. Then they all turned around and went back……every one of them. One girl with Down’s Syndrome bent down and kissed him and said, “This will make it better.” Then all nine linked arms and walked together to the finish line.

Everyone in the stadium stood, the cheering went on for several minutes.

People who were there are still telling the story… Why? Because deep down we know this one thing: What matters in this life is more than winning for ourselves. What matters in this life is helping others win, even if it means slowing down and changing our course.

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Seventy times seven

“How many times must I forgive my brother?” the disciple Peter had asked Jesus.

“Seven times?” Lisa’s Sunday school teacher had read Jesus’ surprise answer to the class.

“Seventy times seven.”

Lisa had leaned over to her brother Brent as the teacher continued reading. “How many times is that?” she whispered. Brent, though two years younger, was smarter than she was.

“Four hundred and ninety,” Brent wrote on the corner of his Sunday school paper.

Lisa saw the message, nodded, and sat back in her chair. She watched her brother as the lesson continued. He was small for his age, with narrow shoulders and short arms. His glasses were too large for his face, and his hair always matted in swirls. He bordered on being a nerd, but his incredible skills at everything, especially music, made him popular with his classmates.

Brent had learned to play the piano at age four, the clarinet at age seven, and had just begun to play oboe. His music teachers said he’d be a famous musician someday. There was only one thing at which Lisa was better than Brent-basketball. They played it almost every afternoon after school. Brent could have refused to play, but he knew that it was Lisa’s only joy in the midst of her struggles to get C’s and D’s at school.

Lisa’s attention came back to her Sunday school teacher as the woman finished the lesson and closed with prayer. That same Sunday afternoon found brother and sister playing basketball in the driveway. It was then that
the counting had begun. Brent was guarding Lisa as she dribbled toward the basket. He had tried to bat the ball away, got his face near her elbow, and took a shot on the chin. “Ow!”, he cried out and turned away. Lisa saw
her opening and drove to the basket, making an easy lay-up.She gloated over her success but stopped when she saw Brent.

“You okay?”, she asked. Brent shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry,” Lisa said. “Really. It was a cheap shot.” “It’s all right. I forgive you,” he said. A thin smile then formed on his face. “Just 489 more times though.”

“Whaddaya mean?” Lisa asked. “You know…what we learned in Sunday school today. You’re supposed to forgive someone 490 times. I just forgave you, so now you have 489 left,” he kidded. The two of them laughed at the thought of keeping track of every time Lisa had done something to Brent. They were sure she had gone past 490 long ago.

The rain interrupted their game, and the two moved indoors. “Wanna play Battleship?” Lisa asked. Brent agreed, and they were soon on the floor of the living room with their game boards in front of them. Each took turns calling out a letter and number combination, hoping to hit each other’s ships. Lisa knew she was in trouble as the game went on. Brent had only lost one ship out of five. Lisa had lost three. Desperate to win, she found herself leaning over the edge of Brent’s barrier ever so slightly.

She was thus able to see where Brent had placed two of his ships. She quickly evened the score. Pleased, Lisa searched once more for the location of the last two ships. She peered over the barrier again, but this time Brent caught her in the act. “Hey, you’re cheating!” He stared at her in disbelief.

Lisa’s face turned red. Her lips quivered. “I’m sorry,” she said, staring at the carpet. There was not much Brent could say. He knew Lisa sometimes did things like this. He felt sorry that Lisa found so few things she could do well. It was wrong for her to cheat, but he knew the temptation was hard for her. “Okay, I forgive you,” Brent said. Then he added with a small laugh,”I guess it’s down to 488 now, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” She returned his kindness with a weak smile and added, “Thanks for being my brother, Brent.”

Brent’s forgiving spirit gripped Lisa, and she wanted him to know how sorry she was. It was that evening that she had made the chart with the 490 boxes. She showed it to him before he went to bed. “We can keep track of every time I mess up and you forgive me,” she said.

“See, I’ll put a check in each box-like this.” She placed two marks in the upper left-hand boxes. “These are for today.” Brent raised his hands to protest. “You don’t need to keep-” “Yes I do!” Lisa interrupted. “You’re always forgiving me, and I want to keep track. Just let me do this!” She went back to her room and tacked the chart to her bulletin board.

There were many opportunities to fill in the chart in the years that followed. She once told the kids at school that Brent talked in his sleep and called out Rhonda Hill’s name, even though it wasn’t true. The teasing caused Brent days and days of misery. When she realized how cruel she had been, Lisa apologized sincerely. That night she
marked box number 96.

Forgiveness number 211 came in the tenth grade when Lisa failed to bring home his English book. Brent had stayed home sick that day and had asked her to bring it so he could study for a quiz. She forgot and he got a C.

Number 393 was for lost keys…418 for the extra bleach she put in the washer, which ruined his favorite polo shirt…449, the dent she had put in his car when she had borrowed it.

There was a small ceremony when Lisa checked number 490. She used a gold pen for the check mark, had Brent sign the chart, and then placed it in her memory box.”I guess that’s the end,” Lisa said. “No more screw-ups from me anymore!”

Brent just laughed. “Yeah, right.”

Number 491 was just another one of Lisa’s careless mistakes, but its hurt lasted a lifetime. Brent had become all that his music teachers said he would. Few could play the oboe better than he. In his fourth year at the best music school in the United States, he received the opportunity of a lifetime-a chance to try out for New York City’s great
orchestra.

The tryout would be held sometime during the following two weeks. It would be the fulfillment of his young dreams. But he never got the chance. Brent had been out when the call about the tryout came to the house. Lisa was the only one home and on her way out the door, eager to get to work on time.

“Two-thirty on the tenth,” the secretary said on the phone. Lisa did not have a pen, but she told herself that she could remember it.”Got it. Thanks.” I can remember that, she thought. But she did not. It was a week later around the dinner table that Lisa realized her mistake.

“So, Brent,” his mom asked him, “When do you try out?” “Don’t know yet. They’re supposed to call.” Lisa froze in her seat.

“Oh, no!” she blurted out loud. “What’s today’s date? Quick!”

“It’s the twelfth,” her dad answered. “Why?”

A terrible pain ripped through Lisa’s heart. She buried her face in her hands, crying. “Lisa, what’s the matter?” her mother asked. Through sobs Lisa explained what had happened. “It was two days ago…the tryout….two-thirty…the call came…last week.”

Brent sat back in his chair, not believing Lisa.

“Is this one of your jokes, sis?” he asked, though he could tell her misery was real. She shook her head, still unable to look at him.

“Then I really missed it?” She nodded.

Brent ran out of the kitchen without a word. He did not come out of his room the rest of the evening. Lisa tried once to knock on the door, but she could not face him. She went to her room where she cried bitterly. Suddenly she knew that she had to do. She had ruined Brent’s life. He could never forgive her for that. She had failed her family,and there was nothing to do but to leave home. Lisa packed her pickup truck in the middle of the night and left a note behind, telling her folks she’d be all right. She began writing a note to Brent, but her words sounded empty to her. Nothing I say could make a difference anyway, she thought.

Two days later she got a job as a waitress in Boston. She found an apartment not too far from the restaurant. Her parents tried many times to reach her, but Lisa ignored their letters. “It’s too late,” she wrote them once. “I’ve ruined Brent’s life, and I’m not coming back.” Lisa did not think she would ever see home again. But one day in the
restaurant where she worked she saw a face she knew. “Lisa!” said Mrs.Nelson, looking up from her plate. What a surprise.”

The woman was a friend of Lisa’s family from back home. “I was so sorry to hear about your brother,” Mrs. Nelson said softly. “Such a terrible accident. But we can be thankful that he died quickly. He didn’t suffer.” Lisa stared at the woman in shock.

“Wh-hat,” she finally stammered.

It couldn’t be! Her brother? Dead? The woman quickly saw that Lisa did not know about the accident. She told the girl the sad story of the speeding car, the rush to the hospital, the doctors working over Brent. But all they could do was not enough to save him.

Lisa returned home that afternoon.

Now she found herself in her room thinking about her brother as she held the small box that held some of her memories of him. Sadly, she opened the box and peered inside. It was as she remembered, except for one item-Brent’s chart. It was not there. In its place, at the bottom of the box, was an envelope. Her hands shook as she tore it open and removed a letter.

The first page read:

————————-

Dear Lisa,
It was you who kept count, not me. But if you’re stubborn enough to keep count, use the new chart I’ve made for you.

Love,
Brent

————————-

Lisa turned to the second page where she found a chart just like the one she had made as a child, but on this one the lines were drawn in perfect precision. And unlike the chart she had kept, there was but one check mark in the upper left- hand corner. Written in red felt tip pen over the entire page were the words: “NUMBER 491. Forgiven,
FOREVER.”

Forgive others…
Forgive yourself…
The Bible’s 70*7=infinity

Source: Unknown

 


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What Makes a Dad

 

God took the strength of a mountain,
The majesty of a tree,
The warmth of a summer sun,
The calm of a quiet sea,
The generous soul of nature,
The comforting arm of night,
The wisdom of the ages,
The power of the eagle’s flight,
The joy of a morning in spring,
The faith of a mustard seed,
The patience of eternity,
The depth of a family need,
Then God combined these qualities,
When there was nothing more to add,
He knew His masterpiece was complete,
And so,
He called it … Dad

Author Unknown

 

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What are Fathers Made Of?

A father is a thing that is forced to endure childbirth without an anesthetic.

A father is a thing that growls when it feels good–and laughs very loud when it’s scared half to death.

A father never feels entirely worthy of the worship in a child’s eyes. He’s never quite the hero his daughter thinks, never quite the man his son believes him to be–and this worries him, sometimes. So he works too hard to try and smooth the rough places in the road for those of his own who will follow him.

A father is a thing that gets very angry when the first school grades aren’t as good as he thinks they should be. He scolds his son though he knows it’s the teacher’s fault. Fathers are what give daughters away to other men who aren’t nearly good enough so they can have grandchildren who are smarter than anybody’s .

Fathers grow old faster than other people.

And while mothers can cry where it shows, fathers stand there and beam outside–and die inside. Fathers have very stout hearts, so they have to be broken sometimes or no one would know what is inside. Fathers give daughters away to other men who aren’t nearly good enough so they can have grandchildren who are smarter than anybody’s. Fathers fight dragons almost daily. They hurry away from the breakfast table, off to the arena which is sometimes called an office or a workshop… where they tackle the dragon with three heads: Weariness, Work and Monotony.

Knights in shining armor.

Fathers make bets with insurance companies about who’ll live the longest. Though they know the odds, they keep right on betting. Even as the odds get higher and higher, they keep right on betting more and more. And one day they lose.

But fathers enjoy an earthly immortality and the bet is paid off to the part of him he leaves behind.

I don’t know where fathers go when they die. But I’ve an idea that after a good rest, wherever it is, he won’t be happy unless there’s work to do. He won’t just sit on a cloud and wait for the girl he’s loved and the children she bore. He’ll be busy there, too, repairing the stairs, oiling the gates, improving the streets, smoothing the way.

[SOURCE: Paul Harvey]

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A Father’s Support

In the 1992 Olympics in Barcelona Derek Redmond of Great Britain was on the way to fulfilling his lifetime dream of winning a gold medal in the Olympics.

He had earned a spot in the semifinals of the 400 meter race, and as the gun sounded to start the race, Derek got off to a great start. He was running the race of his life, and the finish line was in sight, when suddenly he felt a stab of pain in his right leg. He fell face first onto the track with a torn hamstring.

The race was over for Derek. He struggled to his feet before the medical team could reach him. Though every runner had passed him, he began hopping forward, tears of pain and disappointment streaking his face, determined to finish the race.

Suddenly, a man plowed through the security guards on the sidelines and ran onto the track. He raced up to Derek and hugged him, “You don’t have to do this,” Jim Redmond told his weeping son. “Yes I do,” Derek answered. “Well, then,” his father said, “we’re going to finish the race together.”

Derek’s father gripped his son around the shoulders, and they faced the finish line, resolutely waving off the security men who hovered around them. They limped and hopped together, Derek’s head sometimes buried in his father’s shoulder, and stayed in Derek’s lane all the way to the end.

The watching crowd gaped at first at the unusual scene. Then one by one, they rose to their feet, and began cheering and crying at the son’s determination and the father’s support.

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A Father’s Hugs

A cartoon strip reveals a father coming into the room where his teenage daughter was sitting on the couch watching television and eating popcorn. He decides to sit down next to her and help himself to some of the popcorn.

As he was sitting there, a little thought balloon appears over his head. He’s thinking, “I remember when she was so young. I held her in my arms & loved her, and it was wonderful. Now look at her. She’s all grown up, and such a beautiful girl, too. I wonder what she would think if I held her like I used to and told her again that I love her?” He finally concludes that she would be uncomfortable if he did that.

While he’s thinking that, his daughter is thinking, “I wonder why Dad never hugs me anymore?”

Source: From the comic strip “For Better or for Worse”


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A Father’s Influence

Various studies conducted by Yale, John Hopkins and other groups have documented the following;
The absence of a father is a stronger factor than poverty in contributing to juvenile delinquency.

In 48 cultures around the world crime rates were highest among adults who as children had been raised solely by women. Closeness with parents was the common factor in hypertension, coronary heart disease, malignant tumors, mental illness and suicide. A study of 39 teenage girls suffering from anorexia nervosa showed that 36 of them had one common denominator; lack of closeness with their fathers.

An emotionally or physically absent father contributes to a child’s

  1. low motivation for achievement;
  2. inability to defer immediate gratification for later rewards;
  3. low self esteem;
  4. susceptibility to group influence and juvenile delinquency.

(Again the stats speak for themselves, father’s are important in the lives of their children, and they need to be there not just physically but emotionally as well).

And let me say something up front again, when I say fathers, I am not referring solely to biological fathers; I am also speaking of step-dads as well. Over 40% of all marriages in the US involve a remarriage of 1 or both parties. 1 out of 3 Americans (80 million people) is either a step parent, step child or step sibling. 1 out of 5 children under the age of 18 is a step child. And by the year 2,000 step families (involving 1 spouse who has children) and complex families (in which both spouse have children) will soon be the majority.

Now, If you’re like most men – even those who had a poor or harmful experience with their own fathers – you have a general idea of the kind of father you want to be. You have a picture in your mind of what a model father looks like: you want to be the kind of father: whose children feel secure, confident, loved and accepted whose children save sex for marriage, and remain faithful to their spouse in marriage. whose children develop a reputation as men and women of integrity; honest, ethical, hardworking. whose child might say, “my dad keeps his promises. whose children stand up to unhealthy peer pressure, children who develop healthy friendships,. whose kids say no to drugs and alcohol and risky behavior. whose children quickly admit their mistakes, who are forgiving and patient with others and who enjoy a healthy sense so self- esteem and self confidence. whose children have a hard time picking out a fathers day card (not because they say too much but say too little)

That’s the kind of father we all want to be. That’s the kind of father I want to be. But I know that I am not all I should be. And I know that for me to do this I need a model, I need an example of a father that I can pattern myself after, a father from who I can learn from and imitate.

Source: www.Sermoncentral.com


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Open Arms (by Max Lucado)

If you ever wonder how in the world God could use you to change the world, look at the people God used to change history. A ragbag of ne’er-do-wells and has-beens who found hope, not in their performance, but in God’s proverbially open arms.

Abraham- God took what was good and forgave what was bad and used “old forked tongue” to start a nation. Moses- would you call upon a fugitive to carry the Ten Commandments? God did. David- his track record left little to be desired, but his repentant spirit was unquestionable. Jonah- God put him in a whale’s belly to bring him back to his senses. But even the whale couldn’t stomach this missionary for too long.

On and on the stories go: Elijah, the prophet who pouted; Solomon, the king who knew too much; Jacob, the wheeler-dealer; Gomer, the prostitute; Sarah, the woman who giggled at God. One story after another of God using man’s best and overcoming man’s worst.

The reassuring lesson is clear. God used (and uses!) people to change the world. People! Not saints or superhumans or geniuses, but people. Crooks, creeps, lovers, and liars—he uses them all. And what they may lack in perfection, God makes up for in love.

Jesus later summarized God’s stubborn love with a parable. He told about a teenager who decided that life at the farm was too slow for his tastes. So with pockets full of inheritance money, he set out to find the big time. What he found instead were hangovers, fair-weather friends, and long unemployment lines. When he had had just about as much of the pig’s life as he could take, he swallowed his pride, dug his hands deep into his empty pockets, and began the long walk home; all the while rehearsing a speech that he planned to give to his father.

He never used it. Just when he got to the top of the hill, his father, who’d been waiting at the gate, saw him. The boy’s words of apology were quickly muffled by the father’s words of forgiveness. And the boy’s weary body fell into his father’s opened arms.

The same open arms welcomed him that had welcomed Abraham, Moses, David, and Jonah. No wagging fingers. No clenched fists. No “I told you so!” slaps or “Where have you been?” interrogations. No crossed arms. No black eyes or fat lips. No. Only sweet, open arms. If you ever wonder how God can use you to make a difference in your world, just look at those he has already used and take heart. Look at the forgiveness found in those open arms and take courage.

And, by the way, never were those arms opened so wide as they were on the Roman cross. One arm extending back into history and the other reaching into the future. An embrace of forgiveness offered for anyone who’ll come. A hen gathering her chicks. A father receiving his own. A redeemer redeeming the world.

No wonder they call him the Savior.

Source: No Wonder They Call Him the Savior © (W Publishing Group, 1986, 2004) Max Lucado


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Need Washing?

A little girl had been shopping with her Mom in Target. She must have been 6 years old, this beautiful red haired, freckle faced image of innocence. It was pouring outside. The kind of rain that gushes over the top of rain gutters, so much in a hurry to hit the earth it has no time to flow down the spout. We all stood there under the awning and just inside the door of the Target.

We waited, some patiently, others irritated because nature messed up their hurried day. I am always mesmerized by rainfall. I got lost in the sound and sight of the heavens washing away the dirt and dust of the world. Memories of running, splashing so carefree as a child came pouring in as a welcome reprieve from the worries of my day.

The little voice was so sweet as it broke the hypnotic trance we were all caught in “Mom let’s run through the rain,” she said.

“What?” Mom asked.

“Lets run through the rain!” She repeated.

“No, honey. We’ll wait until it slows down a bit,” Mom replied.

This young child waited about another minute and repeated: “Mom, let’s run through the rain,”

“We’ll get soaked if we do,” Mom said.

“No, we won’t, Mom. That’s not what you said this morning,” the young girl said as she tugged at her Mom’s arm.

This morning? When did I say we could run through the rain and not get wet?

“Don’t you remember? When you were talking to Daddy about his cancer, you said, ‘If God can get us through this, he can get us through anything!”

The entire crowd stopped dead silent. I swear you couldn’t hear anything but the rain. We all stood silently. No one came or left in the next few minutes.

Mom paused and thought for a moment about what she would say. Now some would laugh it off and scold her for being silly. Some might even ignore what was said. But this was a moment of affirmation in a young child’s life. A time when innocent trust can be nurtured so that it will bloom into faith.

“Honey, you are absolutely right. Let’s run through the rain. If GOD let’s us get wet, well maybe we just needed washing,” Mom said.

Then off they ran. We all stood watching, smiling and laughing as they darted past the cars and yes, through the puddles. They held their shopping bags over their heads just in case. They got soaked. But they were followed by a few who screamed and laughed like children all the way to their cars.

And yes, I did. I ran. I got wet. I needed washing.

Circumstances or people can take away your material possessions, they can take away your money, and they can take away your health. But no one can ever take away your precious memories…So, don’t forget to make time and take the opportunities to make memories everyday. To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under heaven.

TAKE THE TIME TO RUN THROUGH THE RAIN.

Source Unknown

 


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Mother’s Translation

Four preachers were discussing the merits of the various translations of the Bible.

  • One liked the King James Version best because of its simple, beautiful English.
  • Another liked the American Revised Version best because it was closer to the original Hebrew and Greek.
  • Still another liked a contemporary version because of its up-to-date vocabulary.
  • The fourth minister was silent for a moment, then said, “I like my mother’s translation best.”

Surprised, the other three men said they didn’t know his mother had translated the Bible. “Yes,” he replied. “She translated it into life, and it was the most convincing translation I ever saw.”

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George Washington’s Mother

George Washington, “father of his country,” was a Christian gentleman, of whom Thomas Jefferson said, “He was, indeed, in every sense of the word, a wise, a good, and a great man.” George Washington’s father died when
he was just 11, but a Christian mother, Mary Ball Washington, molded his character with Bible reading, and with CONTEMPLATIONS MORAL AND DIVINE by Sir Matthew Hale.

He wrote later: “All that I am I owe to my mother. I attribute all my success in life to the moral, intellectual, and physical education I received from her.”

 

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Augustine’s Mother

Around Mother’s Day we hear the old saying, “The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world.” But is that true?

Augustine was a fourth-century scholar who is considered one of the greatest thinkers of all times. He was born under Roman rule in what is now Algeria. His Christian mother, Monica, was married to a pagan who lived an immoral lifestyle. Even so, she gained a reputation as a peacemaker and counselor in turbulent times.

At 23, Monica had her firstborn, Augustine, and she dedicated her life to raising him as a Christian. Despite their pagan culture, Monica won her husband to Christ just before his death, and her mother-in-law as well.

Augustine was 17 when his father died and he was sent to the University at Carthage for a classical education. But Carthage was a decadent place, and he wallowed in carnal pleasures. Monica cried and continually prayed for his soul. When Augustine did come to faith, years later, Monica rejoiced and told him her work was done. One week later she died.

Augustine, who went on to become a great saint of the Church, wrote this prayer:

“My mother, Your faithful servant, wept to You for me, shedding more tears for my spiritual death than others shed for the bodily death of a son. You heard her.”

Source: Mom’s who changed the World by Lindsey O’Connor.

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America’s Greatest Source of Strength

What is America’s greatest source of strength and inspiration?

According to the U.S. Congress, it’s American mothers. Stay-at-home moms, Congress declared, are “doing so much for the home . . . and [for] religion,” which leads to “good government and humanity.”

Congress use these in 1914 when it created Mother’s Day. The words reflect the widespread belief that full-time mothers were performing a vitally important task.

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Outstretched Arms

A story from Scotland tells of a mother’s dramatic rescue of her child. Workmen were blasting rock in a quarry. One day after they had attached the fuse and retired to a safe place and gave the alarm they saw a three year old child wandering across the open space where danger threatened. Every passing second meant death was closing in on the child.

The workmen called to the child and waved their arms, but he only looked on their strange antics with amusement. No man dared run forward knowing the explosion was only seconds away. The child most certainly would have been killed, had not his mother appeared at this moment of crisis.

Taking in the situation at a glance she did what her mother’s heart dictated. She did not run toward her son or yell to frighten him. Instead, she knelt down, opened wide her arms and smiled for him to come. Instantly the child ran towards her. Shortly later the area shook with the force of the explosion, yet the child was safe in his mother’s arms.

What a picture of the grace of God and of the cross. With outstretched arms on the cross Jesus gives his gracious invitation to the world. Indicating we are to come to him for eternal safety.

Source: PULPIT HELPS, Sept., 1990

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Chicken Soup for the Mother’s Soul

“There were two warring tribes in the Andes, one that lived in the lowlands and the other high in the mountains. The mountain people invaded the lowlanders one day, and as part of their plundering of the people, they kidnapped a baby of one of the lowlander families and took the infant with them back up into the mountains.

The lowlanders didn’t know how to climb the mountain. They didn’t know any of the trails that the mountain people used, and they didn’t know where to find the mountain people or how to track them in the steep terrain.

Even so, they sent out their best part of fighting men to climb the mountain and bring the baby home.

The men tried first one method of climbing and then another. They tried one trail and then another. After several days of effort, however, they had climbed only a couple of hundred feet.

Feeling hopeless and helpless, the lowlander men decided that the cause was lost, and they prepared to return to their village below.

As they were packing their gear for the descent, they saw the baby’s mother walking toward them. They realized that she was coming down the mountain that they hadn’t figured out how to climb.

And then they saw that she had the baby strapped to her back. How could that be?

One man greeted her and said, “We couldn’t climb this mountain. How did you do this when we, the strongest and most able men in the village, couldn’t do it?”

She shrugged her shoulders and said, “It wasn’t your baby.”

Jim Stovall- “Bits & Pieces” in
“Chicken Soup for the Mother’s Soul”
ISBN 1-55874-460-6

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God’s Embroidery

When I was a little boy, my mother used to embroider a great deal. I would sit at her knee and look up from the floor and ask what she was doing. She informed me that she was embroidering. I told her that it looked like a mess from where I was. As from the underside I watched her work within the boundaries of the little round hoop that she held in her hand, I complained to her that it sure looked messy from where I sat. She would smile at me, look down and gently say, “My son, you go about your playing for awhile, and when I am finished with my embroidering, I will put you on my knee and let you see it from my side.” I would wonder why she was using some dark threads along with the bright ones and why they seemed so jumbled from my view.

A few minutes would pass and then I would hear Mother’s voice say, “Son, come and sit on my knee.” This I did only to be surprised and thrilled to see a beautiful flower or a sunset. I could not believe it, because from underneath it looked so messy. Then Mother would say to me, “My son, from underneath it did look messy and jumbled, but you did not realize that there was a pre-drawn plan on the top. It was a design. I was only following it. Now look at it from my side and you will see what I was doing.”

Many times through the years I have looked up to my Heavenly Father and said, “Father, what are You doing?” He has answered, “I am embroidering your life.” I say, “But it looks like a mess to me. It seems so jumbled. The threads seem so dark. Why can’t they all be bright?” The Father seems to tell me, “‘My child, you go about your business of doing My business, and one day I will bring you to Heaven and put you on My knee and you will see the plan from My side.”

Author Unknown

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Defeated

It was June 18, 1815, the Battle of Waterloo. The French under the command of Napoleon were fighting the Allies (British, Dutch, and Germans) under the command of Wellington. The people of England depended on a system of semaphore signals to find out how the battle was going. One of these signal stations was on the tower of Winchester Cathedral.

Late in the day it flashed the signal: “W-E-L-L-I-N-G-T-O-N—D-E-F-E-A-T-E-D- -.” Just at that moment one of those sudden English fog clouds made it impossible to read the message. The news of defeat quickly spread throughout the city. The whole countryside was sad and gloomy when they heard the news that their country had lost the war. Suddenly the fog lifted, and the remainder of the message could be read. The message had four words, not two. The complete message was: “W-E-L-L-I-N-G-T-O-N- – -DE-F-E-A- T-E-D- – -T-H-E- – -E-N- E-M-Y!” It took only a few minutes for the good news to spread. Sorrow was turned into joy, defeat was turned into victory!

So it was when Jesus was laid in the tomb on the first Good Friday afternoon. Hope had died even in the hearts of Jesus’ most loyal friends. After the frightful crucifixion, the fog of disappointment and misunderstanding had crept in on the friends of Jesus. They had “read” only part of the divine message. “Christ defeated” was all that they knew. But then on the third day–Easter Sunday–the fog of disappointment and misunderstanding lifted, and the world received the complete message: “Christ defeated death!” Defeat was turned into victory; death was turned to life!

James S. Hewett, Illustrations Unlimited (Wheaton: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc, 1988) pp. 165-166.


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Icebergs

iceberg.jpgIn the frigid waters around Greenland are countless icebergs, some little and some gigantic. If you’d observe them carefully, you’d notice that sometimes the small ice floes move in one direction while their massive counterparts flow in another. The explanation is simple. Surface winds drive the little ones, whereas the huge masses of ice are carried along by deep ocean currents.

When we face trials and tragedies, it’s helpful to see our lives as being subject to two forces–surface winds and ocean currents. The winds represent everything changeable, unpredictable, and distressing. But operating simultaneously with these gusts and gales is another force that’s even more powerful. It is the sure movement of God’s wise and sovereign purposes, the deep flow of His unchanging love.


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Sunday’s A Comin’

Tony Campolo tells the story of a black Baptist preacher in the inner city of Philadelphia who preached a sermon Tony says he’ll never forget. Tony preached first. He was “hot,” so “hot” he says, that he even stopped and listened to himself. He sat down and said to his pastor: “Now see if you can top that one!”

“Son,” said the black pastor, “you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” For an hour and a half the pastor repeated these words over and over again: “It’s Friday, but Sunday’s a comin’.”

“I’ve never heard anything like it,” Tony said. “He just kept saying it. The congregation was spellbound by the power of it.”

“It’s Friday. Mary, Jesus’ mother is crying her eyes out. That’s her son up there on the cross. He’s dying the agonizing death of crucifixion as a criminal. But it’s only Friday,” the preacher said. “Sunday’s a comin’.

“The apostles were really down and out. Jesus, their leader, was being killed by evil men. But it was only Friday. Sunday is a comin’.

“The Devil thought he had won. ‘You thought you could outwit me,’ he said, ‘but I’ve got you now.’ But it was only Friday. Sunday is a comin’.”

“He went on like that for 30 minutes, 40 minutes, an hour. Each time he said, ‘It’s Friday,’ the crowd began to respond, ‘but Sunday’s comin’. An hour and 15 minutes.

“It’s Friday and evil has triumphed over good. Jesus is dying up there on the cross. The world is turned upside down. This shouldn’t happen. But it’s only Friday. Sunday’s a comin’.

“It’s Friday. But Sunday is comin’. Mary Magdalene was out of her mind with grief. Her Lord was being killed. Jesus had turned her life from sin to grace. Now he was dead. But it’s only Friday. Sunday is a comin’.”

The place was rocking. For an hour and a half. “Friday! But Sunday is a comin’. Friday. But Sunday is a comin’.

“The sisters and the brothers are suffering. It just isn’t fair…all they have to go through, but it’s only Friday. Sunday is comin’.”

“I was exhausted,” Tony said. “It was the best sermon I’ve ever heard. The old preacher was saying it and the people were with him. ‘It’s Friday, but Sunday is a comin’. It was powerful,” Tony said. “It was personal.”

“I Am the Resurrection and the Life,” by Ronald J. Lavin

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Good Friday

One spring, day on an apple farm in. Michigan, some men who had been pruning an, orchard made. a great pile of branches about 100 yards from the farmer’s barn. One morning the farmer saw a bird carrying to that pile of prunings materials for a nest. So he marked the spot with a stick. At sundown, with the bird flying about and chirping wildly, the man reached into the pile and tore the nest apart. If the bird were thinking, she was saying to herself, “How cruel this man is!” Next day the man saw the bird again trying to build at another place in the same pile. Again he marked it with a stick, and at night he destroyed all the work that the bird had done. No doubt the bird’s wild flutterings and chirpings were bird language for “This evil man! How terrible he is to destroy my nest!” On the third day he noticed that the bird was building in a rose bush near the house. He smiled and let the bird alone. The farmer had intended to burn the branch pile, and he knew if the bird were allowed to build among the branches, the nest and its little fledglings would have been destroyed. So in great kindness he had torn the two earlier nest apart. On the cross of Calvary we see that there are no accidents! As Jesus hung there, “the just for the unjust,” it looked as though there had been an accident; that God had made a mistake. But on the third day after, when “God raised him for our justification,” all believers knew that “the cross was for our good” and so the previous Friday was called “Good.” Out of that seeming tragedy, Christ paid the eternal price demanded by God for our sins. “The Lord laid on him the iniquity of us all.”

Dennis A Kastens, Once You Were Darkness, CSS, 1980, p. 80.

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Who is the Greatest?

A friend shared with me a beautiful legend about a king who decided to set aside a special day to honor his greatest subject. When the big day arrived, there was a large gathering in the palace courtyard. Four finalists were brought forward, and from these four, the king would select the winner.

The first person presented was a wealthy philanthropist. The king was told that this man was highly deserving of the honor because of his humanitarian efforts. He had given much of his wealth to the poor.

The second person was a celebrated physician. The king was told that this doctor was highly deserving of the honor because he had rendered faithful and dedicated service to the sick for many years.

The third person was a distinguished judge. The king was told that the judge was worthy because he was noted for his wisdom, his fairness, and his brilliant decisions.

The fourth person presented was an elderly woman. Everyone was quite surprised to see her there, because her manner was quite humble, as was her dress. She hardly looked the part of someone who would be honored as the greatest subject in the kingdom. What chance could she possibly have, when compared to the other three, who had accomplished so much? Even so, there was something about her— the look of love in her face, the understanding in her eyes, her quiet confidence.

The king was intrigued, to say the least, and some-what puzzled by her presence. He asked who she was. The answer came: “You see the philanthropist, the doctor, and the judge? Well, she was their teacher!”

That woman had no wealth, no fortune, and no title, but she had unselfishly given her life to produce great people. There is nothing more powerful or more Christlike than sacrificial love

James W. Moore, Some Things Are Too Good Not To Be True,
Dimensions, 1994, 129.

 


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Difficulties and Discouragements

John Milton lost one eye, and then the second one too, but he didn’t lose heart. Instead he produced some of the world’s greatest poetry. His blindness was an opportunity to stimulate his verbal richness.

Helen Keller was deaf, dumb and blind since childhood. But she never thought of herself as handicapped. Her positive attitude in her world of darkness brought light to others and transformed every difficulty into an opportunity to overcome.

Socrates was ugly and uneducated. But his thoughts were always lofty, his attitude always positive. His wife would always find faults with him but he never let a sense of defeat overpower him. Once finding his wife extremely angry, he sat on a stone slab near his gate and started basking in the sun. When the angry woman rushed out and emptied a pitcher of cold water over his head, he praised his wife instead of retaliating: “I was wondering dear, why after thundering it hadn’t rained yet!” Such a peaceful bent of mind gave him the opportunity to be the number one philosopher in the world.

Abraham Lincoln was the son of a poor farmer who could never afford to buy books and clothes for him. But Lincoln had a positive attitude about life. He would wash his only suit at night so that it would dry by the morning. Covering himself with a rough towel he would study the books borrowed from his friends under the street lamp as there was no light in his own house. One day an envious neighbor made a taunting remark to Lincoln: “Why study in the mosquito-ridden street at night! After all you are not going to become the President of America?” Lincoln took it as a positive challenge and one day occupied the White House as President.

Difficulties and discouragements are often merely a rung on the ladder of life. Where you stand on the ladder of life is not as important as how many rungs you have persistently climbed and the character you have developed in the journey!

Have you allowed difficulties and discouragements to prevent you from reaching God’s purpose for your life?


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Unseen Player

Imagine a family of mice who lived all their lives in a large piano. In their piano world the music of the instrument filled all the dark spaces with sound and harmony. At first the mice were impressed by it. They drew comfort and wonder from the thought that there was Someone who made the music – though invisible to them – above, yet close to them. They loved to think of the Great Player whom they could not see. Then one day a daring mouse climbed up part of the piano and returned very thoughtful. He had found out how the music was made. Wires were the secret; tightly stretched wires of graduated lengths which tremble and vibrate. The mice must revise all their old beliefs. Some, however, still held on to the faith in the Unseen Player.

Later, another explorer carried the explanation further. Hammers were now the secret, many hammers dancing and leaping on the wires. This was a more complicated theory, but it all went to show that they lived in a purely mechanical and mathematical world. Now mothers told their little ones about the myth of the Unseen Player.

But the pianist continued to play.


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Valentine’s Day Trivia

About 1 billion Valentine’s Day cards are exchanged each year. That’s the largest seasonal card-sending occasion of the year, next to Christmas.

February 14, 270 A.D. : Roman Emperor Claudius II, dubbed “Claudius the Cruel,” beheaded a priest named Valentine for performing marriage ceremonies. Claudius II had outlawed marriages when Roman men began refusing to go to war in order to stay with their wives.

In the Middle Ages, young men and women drew names from a bowl to see who their valentines would be. They would wear these names on their sleeves for one week. To wear your heart on your sleeve now means that it is easy for other people to know how you are feeling.

Some people used to believe that if a woman saw a robin flying overhead on Valentine’s Day, it meant she would marry a sailor. If she saw a sparrow, she would marry a poor man and be very happy. If she saw a goldfinch, she would marry a millionaire.

In the 17th century a hopeful maiden ate a hard-boiled egg and pinned five bay leaves to her pillow before going to sleep on Valentine’s eve. It was believed this would make her dream of her future husband.

The Italian city of Verona, where Shakespeare’s lovers Romeo and Juliet lived, receives about 1,000 letters addressed to Juliet every Valentine’s Day.

The red rose was the favorite flower of Venus, the Roman goddess of love. Red stands for strong feelings which is why a red rose is a flower of love.

Wearing a wedding ring on the fourth finger of the left hand dates back to ancient Egypt, where it was believed that the vein of love ran from this finger directly to the heart.

 


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Love: A Paraphrase of 1 Corinthians 13

If I talk a lot about God and the Bible and the Church, but I fail to ask about your needs and then help you, I’m simply making a lot of empty religious noise.

If I graduate from theological seminary and know all the answers to questions you’ll never even think of asking, and if I have all the degrees to prove it and if I say I believe in God with all my heart, and soul and strength, and claim to have incredible answers to my prayers to show it, but I fail to take the time to find out where you’re at and what makes you laugh and why you cry, I’m nothing.

If I sell an extra car and some of my books to raise money for some poor starving kids somewhere, and if I give my life for God’s service and burn out after pouring everything I have into the work, but do it all without ever once thinking about the people, the real hurting people-the moms and dads and sons and daughters and orphans and widows and the lonely and hurting-if I pour my life into the Kingdom but forget to make it relevant to those here on earth, my energy is wasted, and so is my life.

Here is what love is like–genuine love. God’s kind of love. It’s patient. It can wait. It helps others, even if they never find out who did it. Love doesn’t look for greener pastures or dream of how things could be better if I just got rid of all my current commitments. Love doesn’t boast. It doesn’t try to build itself up to be something it isn’t. Love doesn’t act in a loose, immoral way. It doesn’t seek to take, but it willingly gives. Love doesn’t lose its cool. It doesn’t turn on and off. Love doesn’t think about how bad the other person is, and certainly doesn’t think of how it could get back at someone. Love is grieved deeply (as God is) over the evil in this world, but it rejoices over truth.

Love comes and sits with you when you’re feeling down and finds out what is wrong. It empathizes with you and believes in you. Love knows you’ll come through just as God planned, and love sticks right beside you all the way. Love doesn’t give up, or quit, or diminish or go home. Love keeps on keeping on, even when everything goes wrong and the feelings leave and the other person doesn’t seem as special anymore. Love succeeds 100 percent of the time. That, my friend, is what real love is!

Copyright 2003 David Sanford. Not to be used for commercial purposes.


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Scars of Love

Some years ago on a hot summer day in south Florida a little boy decided to go for a swim in the old swimming hole behind his house. In a hurry to dive into the cool water, he ran out the back door, leaving behind shoes, socks, and shirt as he went.

He flew into the water, not realizing that as he swam toward the middle of the lake, an alligator was swimming toward the shore. His mother in the house was looking out the window saw the two as they got closer and closer together. In utter fear, she ran toward the water, yelling to her son as loudly as she could. Hearing her voice, the little boy became alarmed and made a U-turn to swim to his mother. It was too late. Just as he reached her, the alligator reached him. From the dock, the mother grabbed her little boy by the arms just as the alligator snatched his legs. That began an incredible tug-of-war between the two. The alligator was much stronger than the mother, but the mother was much too passionate to let go. A farmer happened to drive by, heard er screams, raced from his truck, took aim and shot the alligator.

Remarkably, after weeks and weeks in the hospital, the little boy survived. His legs were extremely scarred by the vicious attack of the animal. And, on his arms, were deep scratches where his mother’s fingernails dug into his flesh in her effort to hang on to the son she loved.

The newspaper reporter, who interviewed the boy after the trauma, asked if he would show him his scars. The boy lifted his pant legs. And then, with obvious pride, he said to the reporter, “But look at my arms. I have great scars on my arms, too. I have them because my Mom wouldn’t let go.”

You and I can identify with that little boy. We have scars, too. Not from an alligator, but the scars of a painful past. Some of those scars are unsightly and have caused us deep regret. But, some wounds, my friend, are because God has refused to let go. In the midst of your struggle. He’s been there holding on to you.

The Scripture teaches that God loves you. You are a child of God. He wants to protect you and provide for you in every way. But sometimes we foolishly wade into dangerous situations, not knowing what lies ahead. The swimming hole of life is filled with peril – and we forget that the enemy is waiting to attack. That’s when the tug-of-war begins – and if you have the scars of His love on your arms be very, very grateful. He did not and will not ever let you go.

Never judge another person’s scars, because you don’t know how they were made.

Author Unknown


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John 3:16

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 for tonight. 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 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. The boy sat there for a while and thought to himself: John 3:16…I don’t understand it, but it sure makes
a cold boy warm.

Later she came back and asked him “Are you hungry ?” He said, “Well, just a little. I haven’t eaten in a couple of
days, and I guess I could stand a little bit of food,” The lady took him in the kitchen and sat him down to a table full of wonderful food. He ate and ate until he couldn’t eat any more. Then he thought to himself: John 3:16 …Boy, I sure don’t understand it but it sure makes a hungry boy full.

She took him upstairs to a bathroom to a huge bathtub filled with warm water, and he sat there and soaked for a
while. As he soaked, he thought to himself: John 3:16… I sure don’t understand it, but it sure makes a dirty boy
clean. You know, I’ve not had a bath, a real bath, in my whole life. The only bath I ever had was when I stood in
front of that big old fire hydrant as they flushed it out. The lady came in and got him. She took him to a room,
tucked him into a big old feather bed, pulled the covers up around his neck, kissed him goodnight and turned out
the lights. As he lay in the darkness and looked out the window at the snow coming down on that cold night,
he thought to himself: John 3:16 …I don’t understand it but it sure makes a tired boy rested.

The next morning the lady 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 picked up a big old Bible.

She sat down in front of him and looked into his young face. “Do you understand John 3:16 ? ” she asked gently. He
replied, “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 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 — don’t understand it, but it sure makes a lost boy feel safe.

You know, I have to confess I don’t understand it either, how God was willing to send His Son to die for me, and how Jesus would agree to do such a thing. I don’t understand the agony of the Father and every angel in heaven as they watched Jesus suffer and die. I don’t understand the intense love for ME that kept Jesus on the cross till the end. I don’t understand it, but it sure does make life worth living.

John 3:16 For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should
not perish, but have everlasting life.

Circulating around the internet

 


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Box Full of Kisses

The story goes that some time ago, a man punished his 3-year-old daughter for wasting a roll of gold Christmas wrapping paper. Money was tight and he became infuriated when the child tried to decorate a box to put under the Christmas tree. Nevertheless, the little girl brought the Christmas gift to her father the next morning and said, “This is for you, Daddy.”

The man was embarrassed by his earlier overreaction, but his anger flared again when he found out the box was empty. He yelled at her, stating, “Don’t you know, when you give someone a Christmas present, there is supposed to be something inside? The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes and cried, “Oh, Daddy, it’s not empty at all. I blew kisses into the box. They’re all for you, Daddy.”

The father was crushed. He put his arms around his little girl, and he begged for her forgiveness.

Only a short time later, an accident took the life of the child. It is also said that her father kept that gold Christmas box by his bed for many years and, whenever he was discouraged, he would take out an imaginary kiss and remember the love of the child who had put it there.

In a very real sense, each one of us, as humans beings, have been given a gold container filled with unconditional love and kisses… from our children, family members, friends, and God. There is simply no other possession, anyone could hold, more precious than this.


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Christmas Oranges

Jake lived in and orphanage with nine other boys. In the wintertime it seemed that any extra money went for coal to heat the old buildings. At Christmas, the buildings always seemed a little warmer and food a little more plentiful. But more that this, Christmas meant an orange. It was the only time of the year such a rare treat was provided, and it was coveted by each boy, like no other thing they possessed.

Each boy would save his orange for several days, admiring it, feeling it, loving it, and contemplating the moment he would eat it. Some would even save it until New Year’s Day or later, much as many of us relish saving our Christmas trees and decorations until New Year’s to remind us of the joy of Christmas.

This particular day, Jake had broken the orphanage rules by starting a fight. The orphanage Mother took Jake’s orange away as punishment for breaking the rules. Jake spent Christmas day empty and alone. Nighttime came and Jake could not sleep. Silently, he sobbed because this year he would not have his orange with the other boys.

A soft hand placed on Jake’s shoulder startled him and an object was quickly shoved in Jake’s hand. The child then disappeared into the dark to leave Jake alone to discover a strange looking orange. An orange made from the segment of nine other oranges…nine highly prized oranges that the boys would have had to break open that Christmas night, instead of saved, admired, and cherished until a later date.

At this Christmas time, may oranges remind us all of the unselfish love of nine orphaned boys. Unselfish love taught to us by our Savior, whose birth we celebrate

Author Unknown

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Thanksgiving Illustrations

Whether you are giving a Thanksgiving Sermon, a Thanksgiving youth talk, or just discussing things around the dinner table over Thanksgiving dinner, these stories and thoughts from the “Creative Youth Ideas” archives will provide food for thought and meaningful discussion on being thankful to God for his blessings in our lives.

Have a Blessed Thanksgiving!

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Trouble Tree

I hired a carpenter to help me restore an old farmhouse. He had a rough first day on the job. A flat tire made him lose an hour of work, his electric saw quit, and now his ancient pickup truck refused to start. While I drove him home, he sat in stony silence.

On arriving, he invited me in to meet his family. As we walked toward the front door, he paused briefly at a small tree, touching the tips of some branches with both hands. As he opened the door, he underwent an amazing
transformation. His tanned face was wreathed in smiles and he hugged his two small children and gave his wife a kiss.

Afterward he walked me to the car. We passed the tree and my curiosity got the better of me. I asked him about what I had seen him do earlier. “Oh, that’s my trouble tree,” he replied. “I know I can’t help having troubles on the job, but one thing’s for sure, troubles don’t belong in the house with my wife and the children. So, I just hang them up on the tree every night when I come home. Then in the morning I pick them up again.” Then he smiled and said, “Funny thing is, when I come out in the morning to pick ’em up, there aren’t nearly as many as I remember hanging up the night before.”

Author Unknown

 


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Cell Phone Christianity

I wonder what would happen if we treated our Bible like we treat our cell phone.

  • What if we carried it around in our purses or pockets?
  • What if we referred to it several times a day?
  • What if we turned back to go get it if we forgot it?
  • What if we used it to receive messages from the text?
  • What if we treated it like we couldn’t live without it?
  • What if we gave it to kids as gifts?
  • What if we used it when we traveled?
  • What if we used it in case of emergency?

 

But, unlike our cell phone, we don’t have to worry about our Bible being disconnected because Jesus already paid the bill. And no dropped calls!

Adapted. Original author unknown

 


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Disciple’s Personality Evaluation

ATTENTION

Jesus, Son of Joseph,
Woodcrafters Carpenter Shop
Nazareth 91365

Dear Sir,

Thank you for submitting the names of the twelve men you have chosen for management positions in your new organization. All of them have now taken our series of tests; and we have not only run the results through our computer, but also arranged personal interviews for each of them with our psychologist and vocational aptitude consultant.

The profiles of all tests are included and you will want to study each of them carefully.

As part of our service, and for your guidance, we make some general comments, much as an auditor will include general statements. This is given as a result of staff consultation and comes without any additional fee.

It is the staff opinion, that most of your nominees are lacking in the background, education, and vocational aptitude for the type of enterprise you are undertaking. They do not have the team concept. We would recommend that you continue your search for persons of experience in managerial ability and proven capability.

Simon Peter is emotionally unstable and given to fits of temper. Andrew has absolutely no qualities of leadership and would surely stay in the background. The two brothers, James and John, Sons of Zebedee, place personal interests above company loyalty. Thomas demonstrates a questioning attitude that would tend to undermine morale. We feel that it is our duty to tell you that Matthew has been blacklisted by the Greater Jerusalem Better Business Bureau. James the Son of Alphaeus, and Thaddeus definitely have radical leanings, and they both registered high on the manic-depressive scale.

One of the candidates, however, shows great potential. He is a man of ability and resourcefulness, meets people well, has a keen business mind, and has contact in high places. He is highly motivated, ambitious, and responsible. We recommend Judas Iscariot as your accountant and right hand man. All of the other profiles are self-explanatory and will follow.

We wish you every success in your new venture.

Sincerely yours,
The Jordan Management Consulting Company

Jordan Management
Consulting Company
123 Money Changer’s Court
Nazareth 91365

Sometimes our Human evaluation of a person’s suitability to ministry and God’s evaluation are quite different


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Sermon from a Salmon

“Years ago I got a sermon from a salmon.

Here’s how it happened. While riding on a ferryboat to Galiano Island in British Columbia, I struck up a conversation with Mr. Thompson, a dignified and friendly gentleman who served as the Chief Clerk for the City of Vancouver.

I said, ‘I’ve heard that after a salmon is spawned, it will swim out into the ocean, and that after an extended time something happens inside the brain of the salmon, and it will then have the overwhelming urge to return to the place where it was spawned. The salmon will swim along the coast, find the right harbor, the right river, the right stream; and finally it will get back to the very spot where it started out. How in the world does the salmon do all that?’ I added, hoping it would taken as a joke, ‘After all, the salmon is underwater all the way, and it has no periscope.’

Mr. Thompson chuckled, thought a bit, then replied, ‘Yes, that is true, but it is even more remarkable than that. An experiment was recently carried out in which salmon eggs were removed from the stream where they had been laid and were put into another stream some distance away.’ Thompson then added with a questioning grin, ‘When the salmon grows up and swims out to the ocean and finally swims back home, which location will it swim to? Will it swim to the place where the eggs were laid–or to the place where they had been moved to?’

I paused for a moment, then I gave what I thought was the only sensible answer, ‘The salmon will swim back to the place where the eggs had been transported, of course. That’s where the salmon actually turned into a fish and got to know its environment.’

‘Wrong!’ said Mr. Thompson. ‘The salmon will swim back to the original place where the eggs were laid.’

I was dumbfounded then, and I still am, by the uncanny built-in guidance system of the salmon.

What a sermon on the guidance of God! If God provides such a marvelous guidance for a fish, there is certainly nothing fishy about believing that He can provide guidance for us. We are far more important to God than any fish. We are created in God’s own image.

God only knows how much we need His wise and loving guidance as we try to find our way through the jungle of ‘this world.’ And, thank God, He has personally promised His guidance.”

Donald Russell Robertson- “Dear You” 1989, Word, Inc.

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Irish Blessing

May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
The rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of his hand.

May God be with you and bless you:
May you see your children’s children.
May you be poor in misfortune,
Rich in blessings.
May you know nothing but happiness
From this day forward.

May the road rise up to meet you
May the wind be always at your back
May the warm rays of sun fall upon your home
And may the hand of a friend always be near.

May green be the grass you walk on,
May blue be the skies above you,
May pure be the joys that surround you,
May true be the hearts that love you.


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Heaven and Hell

A holy man was having a conversation with the Lord one day and said, Lord, I would like to know what Heaven and Hell are like.” The Lord led the holy man to two doors. He opened one of the doors and the holy man looked in. In the middle of the room was a large round table. In the middle of the table was a large pot of stew which smelled delicious and made the holy man’s mouth water. The people sitting around the table were thin and sickly. They appeared to be famished. They were holding spoons with very long handles that were strapped to their arms and each found it possible to reach into the pot of stew and take a spoonful, but because the handle was longer than their arms, they could not get the spoons back into their mouths. The holy man shuddered at the sight of their misery and suffering. The Lord said, “You have seen Hell.”

They went to the next room and opened the door. It was exactly the same as the first one. There was the large round table with the large pot of stew which made the holy man’s mouth water. The people were equipped with the same long-handled spoons, but here the people were well nourished and plump, laughing and talking. The holy man said, “I don’t understand.” It is simple” said the Lord, “it requires but one skill.

You see, they have learned to feed each other, while the greedy think only of themselves.”

 


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Stained Glass Windows

(c) Copyright 2007 by Ken Sapp

Broken, incomplete,
shattered, rough edges,
cutting, scattered.

Different shapes,
reflecting different colors.

But the Master takes them,
fits them together according to His pattern and vision,
and from the broken pieces,
creates a masterpiece of color and light.

And when the Son shines through,
the colors reflect on the faces,
of those inside.

Bound together,
the brokenness is forgotten
as each contributes to the whole.

Together they reveal the stories of God’s love
and give us a beautiful image of our Redeemer who lives among us.

Vivid reds, yellows, oranges,
combine with muted browns and grays,
each in its place,
even the smallest sliver
a sparkle in the Savior’s eye.

Stained glassed windows,
a simple reminder of who we were
and a promise of what we can become
in the church of the loving Redeemer.


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Accident Report

Dear Sir,

I am writing in response for your request for additional information in Block #3 of the accident report form. I put “trying to do the job alone” as the cause of my accident.

You said in your letter that I should explain more fully and I trust that the following details should be sufficient:

I’m a brick layer by trade. On the day of the accident, I was working alone on the roof of a six story building. When I completed my work, I discovered that I had approximately 500 lbs of brick left over. Rather than carry the bricks down by hand, I decided to lower them in a barrel by using a pulley that was attached to the side of the building at the sixth floor.

Securing the rope at ground level, I went up to the roof. I swung the barrel out and loaded the bricks into it. I then went down to the ground and untied the rope, holding it tightly to insure a slow decent of the brick. You will note in Block #2 of the accident report form that I weigh 135 lbs.

Due to my surprise in being jerked off the ground, I lost my presence of mind and did not let go of the rope. Needless to say I proceeded at a rather rapid rate up the side of the building.

In the vicinity of the third floor, I met the barrel coming down. This explains my broken collar bone. Slowed only slightly, I continued my rapid ascent up the side of the building until the fingers on my right hand were two knuckles deep into the pulley six floors up. Fortunately, I had the presence of mind to hold on to the rope in spite of my pain.

At approximately the same time however, the barrel hit the ground, and the bottom came out of the barrel. Without the weight of the bricks, the barrel weighed approximately 50lbs. I refer you again to my weight in Block #2.

As you might imagine, I began a rapid decent down the side of the building. In the vicinity of the third floor, I again met the barrel coming up. This accounts for my fractured ankles and the lacerations on my lower body.

The encounter with the barrel slowed me down enough to lessen my injuries when I landed on the pile of bricks. As I lay there on the bricks in pain and unable to move, I let go of the rope. I was helpless to lay there and watch as the barrel came back down and broke my legs.

I hope I have furnished enough information to explain how the accident occurred.

It occurred because I was trying to do the job alone.


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The Bible in a Word

An old Christian woman whose age began to tell on her had once known much of the bible off by heart. Eventually only one precious bit stayed with her, ‘I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I have committed unto Him against that day’ (2 Tim. 1:12). By and by, part of that slipped its hold and she would quietly repeat, “That which I have committed unto Him.’ At last, as she hovered on the borderline between this world and heaven, her loved ones noticed her lips moving. They bent down to see if she needed anything. She was repeating over and over again to herself the one word of the text, ‘Him, Him, Him.’

She had lost the whole Bible but one word. But she had the whole Bible in that one word.


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1 Corinthians 13 for Youth Workers

Paraphrased for youth workers

Though I lecture with eloquence and use big words, but have not love, I am a discordant sound whom youth will not hear.

If I am extremely wise and have an answer for each youth’s problems, but do not listen, I am of little help.

If I give all I possess to aid the youth group and use varied learning techniques, yet do not give of myself or my time, I am nothing.

Love for youth is patient; it allows a youth to grow at his own pace. Love for youth is kind, it remembers the frailty of young self-esteem. It does not envy — another worker’s popularity or that of a youth leader. It does not boast of spirituality, but is consistent in its practice. It is not proud of accomplishments, but ever seeks to learn better ways to reach youth and better methods to teach youth.

It is not rude; it does not interrupt when a youth is sharing. It is not self-seeking; it does not want to be noticed or praised for a job well done. It is not easily angered when youth do not sit down or settle down to study. It keeps no record of the times youth say and do things to hurt, or of times youth stray.

Love does not delight when youth gossip about another, or get into trouble, but rejoices when a youth grasps the meaning of a lesson being taught.

Love always trusts the youth with assignments given and truths revealed. Love always hopes for the potential to be reached in youth. Love always perseveres even when working with youth is hard and seemingly fruitless.

Love for youth never fails; if it does, it was not fed by God’s unconditional love. Remember all our teaching will cease, our activities will be stilled, our knowledge will pass away.

We are incomplete in our abilities as workers with youth; but when Christ comes, we will all be complete.

When I was a child, I acted childishly and needed guidance. When I became an adult I put away childish behavior and chose to guide youth.

Now we are clouded in our attempts of leadership, nor do we always see results, but one day we will see, face to face, the one who called us, and the fruit of our labors. And we shall know our youth as we cannot know them now.

Of all we do for youth–teaching, guiding, loving; it is the love they will remember.

Sharon Gresham – Source Unknown


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Dad’s Blessings

A young man was getting ready to graduate from college. For many months he had admired a beautiful sports car in a dealer’s showroom, and knowing his father could well afford it, he told him that was all he wanted.

As Graduation Day approached, the young man awaited signs that his father had purchased the car. Finally, on the morning of his graduation, his father called him into his private study. His father told him how proud he was to have such a fine son, and told him how much he loved him. He handed his son a beautifully wrapped gift box. Curious, but somewhat disappointed, the young man opened the box and found a lovely, leather-bound Bible, with the young man’s name embossed in gold. Angry, he raised his voice to his father and said “With all your money, you give me a Bible?” and stormed out of the house, leaving the Bible.

Many years passed and the young man was very successful in business. He had a beautiful home and wonderful family, but realized his father was very old, and thought perhaps he should go to him. He had not seen him since that graduation day. Before he could make arrangements, he received a telegram telling him his father had passed away, and willed all of his possessions to his son. He needed to come home immediately and take care of things.

When he arrived at his father’s house, sudden sadness and regret filled his heart. He began to search through his father’s important papers and saw the still new Bible, just as he had left it years ago. With tears, he opened the Bible and began to turn the pages. And as he did, a car key dropped from the back of the Bible. It had a tag with the dealer’s name, the same dealer who had the sports car he had desired. On the tag was the date of his graduation, and the words PAID IN FULL.

How many times do we miss Spirit’s blessings and answers to our prayers because they do not arrive exactly as we have expected?


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Prayer for Nation

Pastor Joe Wright of Kansas was asked to lead the Kansas State Senate in prayer.

They were expecting the usual formal prayer to open the session but that is not what happened. The pastor used the moment as a confessional and prophetic opportunity. As he prayed there were some senators who got up and walked out but Paul Harvey got a hold of the prayer and read it on his program; he got more requests for copies of it than any other thing he had ever done. Here¹s what he prayed:

“Heavenly Father, we come before you today to ask Your forgiveness and to seek Your direction and guidance. We know Your Word says, “Woe to those who call evil good,” but that’s exactly what we have done. We have lost our spiritual equilibrium and inverted our values. We confess that: We have ridiculed the absolute truth of Your Word and called it pluralism. We have worshipped other gods and called it multi-culturalism. We have endorsed perversion and called it an alternative lifestyle. We have exploited the poor and called it the lottery. We have neglected the needy and called it self-preservation. We have rewarded laziness and called it welfare. We have killed our unborn and called it a choice. We have shot abortionists and called it justifiable. We have neglected to discipline our children and called it building self-esteem. We have abused power and called it political savvy. We have coveted our neighbor¹s possessions and called it ambition. We have polluted the airwaves with profanity and called it freedom of expression. We have ridiculed the time-honored values of our forefathers and called it enlightenment. Search us, O God, and know our hearts today; try us and see if there be some wicked way in us; cleanse us from every sin and set us free. Guide and bless these men and women who have been sent here by the people of Kansas, and who have been ordained by You, to govern this great state. Grant them Your wisdom to rule and may their decisions direct us to the center of Your will… Amen.”

While not word for word accurate, this is a good transcript of the actual sermon delivered before the Kansas House of Representatives by Central Christian Church Pastor Joe Wright on January 23, 1996. It has circulated continuously on the Internet ever since.

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Locked up?

The great Houdini was a master magician and a great locksmith. He once bragged that there wasn’t a jail cell in the world he couldn’t escape from, provided he could go into the cell dressed in his street clothes and work in complete privacy.

A small town in England had built a new jail, which they believed was escape-proof, so they invited Houdini to come and try to break out. Houdini accepted the challenge. They put him in the cell and closed the door. He was left alone.

He took off his belt and took from it a tough, flexible steel rod. He went to work on the lock. Listening for the tell-tale click that indicated the latch had been released and his freedom was assured. He worked longer than it had ever taken him before and he still couldn’t get the lock open! It seemed all the little tumblers were in place, but the bolt into the door frame didn’t budge a bit. As time passed, he was becoming exhausted. He was stumped!

Finally, after two solid hours of work, Houdini collapsed from exhaustion. He leaned against the door handle to the cell, and when he did the door swung open! It had been unlocked all the time.

Houdini worked so hard to gain his freedom yet all his efforts were useless because he was already free. I wonder how many of us as Christians fail to realize the freedom we have in Christ. How many of us fail to take advantage of it and live the abundant life Jesus promised?

 


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Word of Life

“The Bible is the Word of Life. I beg you will read it and find this out for yourself–read, not little snatches here and there, but long passages that will really be the road to the heart of it.

You will not only find it full of real men and women, but also of things you have wondered about and been troubled about all your life, as men have been always, and the more you read, the more will it become plain to you what things are worthwhile and what are not; what things make men happy–loyalty, right dealing, speaking the truth, readiness to give everything for what they think their duty, and, most of all, the wish that they may have the real approval of the Christ, who gave everything for them; and the things that are guaranteed to make men unhappy–selfishness, cowardice, greed, and everything that is low and mean.

When you have read the Bible, you will know that it is the Word of God, because you will have found it the key to your own heart, your own happiness, and your own duty.”

Woodrow Wilson, 28th President of the United States of America


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Price of Freedom

Fifty-six men signed the Declaration of Independence. Their conviction resulted in untold sufferings for themselves and their families. Of the 56 men, five were captured by the British and tortured before they died. Twelve had their homes ransacked and burned. Two lost their sons in the Revolutionary Army. Another had two sons captured. Nine of the fifty-six fought and died from wounds or hardships of the war. Carter Braxton of Virginia, a wealthy planter and trader, saw his ships sunk by the British navy. He sold his home and properties to pay his debts and died in poverty. At the battle of Yorktown, the British General Cornwallis had taken over Thomas Nelson’s home for his headquarters. Nelson quietly ordered General George Washington to open fire on the Nelson home. The home was destroyed and Nelson died bankrupt. John Hart was driven from his wife’s bedside as she was dying. Their thirteen children fled for their lives. His fields and mill were destroyed. For over a year, he lived in forest and caves, returning home only to find his wife dead and his children vanished. A few weeks later, he died from exhaustion.

Kenneth L. Dodge, Resource, Sept./ Oct., 1992, Page 5.


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Born on the 4th of July

“The men who laid the foundations and reared the soaring arches of our great republic had a vigorous, indomitable, and all-encompassing belief in God. Faith permeated their thoughts, their words and deeds. We see Thomas Jefferson’s hand guiding the quill which wrote, ‘I have sworn upon the altar of God, eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man.’ We see George Washington, when the fires of hope had flickered to embers, kneeling in the snow at Valley Forge. And we see wise old Ben Franklin suggesting to a Constitutional Convention, deadlocked time after time, that ‘we have prayers every morning.’

This nation was born out of faith in God. It can continue to exist in freedom only as that faith remains forthright and strong. A statesman of a past age said, ‘Despotism may govern without faith, but Liberty cannot.’

Faith in God remains the solid rock that stands unmoved amid the sliding sands. The antithesis of cynicism, it is the dynamo which sparks the minds and actions of men who think beyond the pettiness of self. It is the tie which binds mankind in mystic unity, exalting the human creature until, indeed, he is ‘little lower than the angels.’ And it is the balm which salves the sting of time and death.

Faith in God has meant to me the enjoyment of those manifold ‘blessings of liberty’ which the Founding Fathers sought to secure for all posterity.

It is a fathomless source from which to draw strength in times of adversity. And it has helped me to catch a glimpse of the wisdom implicit in those immutable laws by which He rules His universe.”

J. Edgar Hoover


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The Room

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order.

But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, They had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read “Girls I have liked.” I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, Shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life.

Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn’t match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.

A file named “Friends” was next to one marked “Friends I have betrayed.” The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. “Books I Have Read,” “Lies I Have Told,” “Comfort I have Given”, “Jokes I Have Laughed at.” Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: “Things I’ve yelled at my brothers.”

Others I couldn’t laugh at: “Things I Have Done in My Anger” “Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents.” I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.

Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to write each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.

When I pulled out the file marked “TV Shows I have watched,” I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn’t found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.

When I came to a file marked “Lustful Thoughts,” I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me.

One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!” In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. It’s size didn’t matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.

And then I saw it. The title bore “People I Have Shared the Gospel With.” The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand. And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me.

I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn’t bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes.

Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn’t anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn’t say a word. He just cried with me. Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card.

“No!” I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was “No, no,” as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn’t be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive.

The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don’t think I’ll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, “It is finished.” I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.

 


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New Gorilla

A man was looking for a job and he noticed that there was an opening at the local zoo. He inquired about the job and discovered that the zoo had a very unusual position that they wanted to fill. Apparently their gorilla had died, and until they could get a new one, they needed someone to dress up in a gorilla suit and act like a gorilla for a few days. He was to just sit, eat and sleep. His identity would be kept a secret, of course. Thanks to a very fine gorilla suit, no one would be the wiser.

The zoo offered good pay for this job, so the man decided to do it. He tried on the suit and sure enough, he looked just like a gorilla. They led him to the cage; he took a position at the back of the cage and pretended to sleep. But after a while, he got tired of sitting, so he walked around a little bit, jumped up and down and tried a few gorilla noises.

The people who were watching him seemed to really like that. When he would move or jump around, they would clap and cheer and throw him peanuts. And the man loved peanuts. So he jumped around some more and tried climbing a tree. That seemed to really get the crowd excited.

They threw more peanuts. Playing to the crowd, he grabbed a vine and swung from one side of the cage to the other. The people loved it and threw more peanuts. Wow, this is great, he thought. He swung higher and the crowd grew bigger. He continued to swing on the vine, getting higher and higher-and then all of a sudden, the vine broke! He swung up and out of the cage, landing in the lion’s cage that was next door.

He panicked. There was a huge lion not twenty feet away, and it looked very hungry. So the man in the gorilla suit started jumping up and down, screaming and yelling, “Help, help! Get me out of here! I’m not really a gorilla! I’m a man in a gorilla suit! Heeelllp!”

The lion quickly pounced on the man, held him down and said, “Will you SHUT UP! You’re going to get both of us fired!”

Unfortunately, when it comes to spiritual lives we are like a man in a gorilla suit. We are very quick to change what is on the outside and make ourselves seem something we are not. We come to church in our Spirituality suit like the man went to the zoo in his gorilla suit. Our relationship has become a religion and we are simply acting our part.


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I’ll Always be There for You!

It’s a fascinating story that comes out of the 1989 earthquake which almost flattened Armenia. This deadly tremor killed over 30,000 people in less than four minutes. In the midst of all the confusion of the earthquake, a father rushed to his son’s school. When he arrived there he discovered the building was flat as a pancake.

Standing there looking at what was left of the school, the father remembered a promise he made to his son, “No matter what, I’ll always be there for you!” Tears began to fill his eyes. It looked like a hopeless situation, but he could not take his mind off his promise.

Remembering that his son’s classroom was in the back right corner of the building, the father rushed there and started digging through the rubble. As he was digging other grieving parents arrived, clutching their hearts, saying: “My son! “My daughter!” They tried to pull him off of what was left of the school saying: “It’s too late!” “They’re dead!” “You can’t help!” “Go home!” Even a police officer and a fire-fighter told him he should go home. To everyone who tried to stop him he said, “Are you going to help me now?” They did not answer him and he continued digging for his son stone by stone.

He needed to know for himself: “Is my boy alive or is he dead?” This man dug for eight hours and then twelve and then twenty-four and then thirty-six. Finally in the thirty-eighth hour, as he pulled back a boulder, he heard his son’s voice. He screamed his son’s name, “ARMAND!” and a voice answered him, “Dad?” It’s me Dad!” Then the boy added these priceless words, “I told the other kids not to worry. I told ’em that if you were alive, you’d save me
and when you saved me, they’d be saved. You promised that, Dad. ‘No matter what,’ you said, ‘I’ll always be there for you!’ And here you are Dad. You kept your promise!”

Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen, “Chicken Soup for the Soul.”

 


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Father’s Day: A Tribute

Today is Father’s Day. A day of cologne. A day of hugs, new neckties, long-distance phone calls, and Hallmark cards.

Today is my first Father’s Day without a father. For thirty-one years I had one. I had one of the best. But now he’s gone. He’s buried under an oak tree in a west Texas cemetery. Even though he’s gone, his presence is very near–especially today.

It seems strange that he isn’t here. I guess that’s because he was never gone. He was always close by. Always available. Always present. His words were nothing novel. His achievements, though admirable, were nothing extraordinary.

But his presence was.

Like a warm fireplace in a large house, he was a source of comfort. Like a sturdy porch swing or a big-branched elm in the backyard, he could always be found…and leaned upon.

During the turbulent years of my adolescence, Dad was one part of my life that was predictable. Girl friends came and girl friends went, but Dad was there. Football season turned into baseball season and turned into football season again and Dad was always there. Summer vacation, Homecoming dates, algebra, first car, driveway basketball–they all had one thing in common: his presence.

And because he was there life went smoothly. The car always ran, the bills got paid, and the lawn stayed mowed. Because he was there, the laughter was fresh and the future was secure. Because he was there my growing up was what God intended growing up to be; a storybook scamper through the magic and mystery of the world.

Because he was there we kids never worried about things like income tax, savings accounts, monthly bills, or mortgages. Those were the things on Daddy’s desk.

We have lots of family pictures without him. Not because he wasn’t there, but because he was always behind the camera.

He made the decisions, broke up the fights, chuckled at Archie Bunker, read the paper every evening, and fixed breakfast on Sundays. He didn’t do anything unusual. He only did what dads are supposed to do–be there.

He taught me how to shave and how to pray. He helped me memorize verses for Sunday school and taught me that wrong should be punished and that rightness has its own reward. He modeled the importance of getting up early and staying out of debt. His life expressed the elusive balance between ambition and self-acceptance.

He comes to mind often. When I smell “Old Spice” aftershave, I think of him. When I see a bass boat I see his face. And occasionally, not too often, but occasionally when I hear a good joke, (the kind Red Skelton would tell), I hear him chuckle. He had a copyright chuckle that always came with a wide grin and arched eyebrows.

Daddy never said a word to me about sex or told me his life story. But I knew that if I ever wanted to know, he would tell me. All I had to do was ask. And I knew if I ever needed him, he’d be there.

Like a warm fireplace.

Maybe that’s why this Father’s Day is a bit chilly. The fire has gone out. The winds of age swallowed the late splendid flame, leaving only golden embers. But there is a strange thing about those embers…stir them a bit and a flame will dance. It will dance only briefly, but it will dance. And it will knock just enough chill out of the air to remind me that he is still…in a special way…very present.

Max Lucado
God Came Near (Lucado, Max)


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A Father’s Words of Wisdom

Don’t ask me, ask your mother.
Were you raised in a barn? Close the door.
You didn’t beat me. I let you win.
Big boys don’t cry.
Don’t worry. It’s only blood.
Now you listen to ME, Buster!
I’ll play catch after I read the paper.
A little dirt never hurt anyone.
Get your elbows off the table.
Keep your eye on the ball.
Who said life was supposed to be fair.
Always say please and thank you. That way, you get more.
If you forget, you’ll be grounded till the end of the world.
You call that a haircut?
“Hey” is for horses.
This will hurt me a lot more than it hurts you.
Turn off those lights. Do you think I am made of money?
Don’t give me any of your lip, young lady.
You call that noise “music”?
We’re not lost. I’m just not sure where we are.
No, we’re not there yet.
Shake it off.
When I was your age , I treated MY father with respect.
As long as you live under my roof, you’ll live by my rules.
I’ll tell you why. Because I said so. That’s why.
Do what I say, not what I do.
Sit up straight!
So you think you’re smart, do you?
What’s so funny?
Wipe that smile off your face.
If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times.
C’mon, you throw like a girl.
You want something to do? I’ll give you something to do.
This is your last warning.
Your mother worries.
I’m not sleeping, I was watching that channel.
I’m not just talking to hear my own voice!
Don’t believe anything you hear and only half of what you see.
What do you think I am, a bank?
What part of NO don’t you understand?
I don’t care what other people are doing! I’m not everybody else’s father!
You’re not leaving my house dressed like that!
If you’re gonna be dumb, you’ve gotta be tough.
Didn’t your teacher learn you anything?!
You can marry a rich guy just as easily as you can a poor guy.
It’s hard to be good, and easy to be bad.
Don’t tell on anybody unless you tell on yourself first.
Hey, did you hear me talking to you?
You know you’re always gonna be Daddy’s little girl.
I’m not watching television. I’m resting my eyes.
Don’t use that tone with me!
Am I talking to a brick wall?
If I catch you doing that one more time, I’ll…
Act your age.
Two wrongs do not make a right.
Wipe your feet!
Enough is enough!
Don’t make me stop the car!
What did I just get finished telling you?

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Your Father

Fred Craddock while lecturing at Yale University, told of going back one summer to Gatlinburg, Tennessee, to take a short vacation with his wife. One night they found a quiet little restaurant where they looked forward to a private meal—just the two of them.

While they were waiting for their meal they noticed a distinguished looking, white-haired man moving from table to table, visiting guests. Craddock whispered to his wife, “I hope he doesn’t come over here.” He didn’t want the man to intrude on their privacy.

But the man did come by his table.

“Where you folks from?” he asked amicably.

“Oklahoma.”

“Splendid state, I hear, although I’ve never been there. What do you do for a living?

“I teach homiletics at the graduate seminary of Phillips University.”

“Oh, so you teach preachers, do you. Well, I’ve got a story I want to tell you.” And with that he pulled up a chair and sat down at the table with Craddock and his wife.

Dr. Craddock said he groaned inwardly: Oh no, here comes another preacher story. It seems everyone has one.

The man stuck out his hand. “I’m Ben Hooper. I was born not far from here across the mountains. My mother wasn’t married when I was born so I had a hard time. When I started to school my classmates had a name for me, and it wasn’t a very nice name. I used to go off by myself at recess and during lunch-time because the taunts of my playmates cut so deeply.

“What was worse was going downtown on Saturday afternoon and feeling every eye burning a hole through you. They were all wondering just who my real father was.

“When I was about 12 years old a new preacher came to our church. I would always go in late and slip out early. But one day the preacher said the benediction so fast I got caught and had to walk out with the crowd. I could feel every eye in church on me. Just about the time I got to the door I felt a big hand on my shoulder. I looked up and the preacher was looking right at me.

“Who are you, son? Whose boy are you?’

I felt the old weight come on me. It was like a big black cloud. Even the preacher was putting me down.

But as he looked down at me, studying my face, he began to smile a big smile of recognition. “Wait a minute,” he said, “I know who you are. I see the family resemblance. You are a son of God.”

With that he slapped me across the rump and said, “Boy you’ve got a great inheritance. Go and claim it.”

The old man looked across the table at Fred Craddock and said, “That was the most important single sentence ever said to me.” With that he smiled, shook the hands of Craddock and his wife, and moved on to another table to greet old friends.

Suddenly, Fred Craddock remembered. On two occasions the people of Tennessee had elected an illegitimate to be their governor. One of them was Ben Hooper.

Jamie Buckingham, Power for Living


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The Price of Children

The US government calculated the cost of raising a child from birth to 18 and came up with $160,140 for a middle-income family. Talk about sticker shock! That doesn’t even touch college tuition. But $160,140 isn’t so bad if you break it down. It translates into $8,896.66 a year, $741.38 a month, or $171.08 a week. That’s a mere $24.24 a day! Just over a dollar an hour. Still, you might think the best financial advice is don’t have children if you want to be “rich.” Actually, it is just the opposite. What do you get for your $160,140?

  • Naming rights. First, middle, and last!
  • Glimpses of God every day.
  • Giggles…. under the covers every night.
  • More love than your heart can hold
  • Butterfly kisses and Velcro hugs.
  • Endless wonder over rocks, ants, clouds, and warm cookies.
  • A hand to hold, usually covered with jelly or chocolate.
  • A partner for blowing bubbles, flying kites, building sandcastles, and skipping down the sidewalk in the pouring rain.
  • Someone to laugh yourself silly with, no matter what the boss said or how your stocks performed that day.

For $160,140, you never have to grow up. You get to finger-paint, carve pumpkins, play hide-and-seek, catch lightning bugs, and never stop believing in Santa Claus. You have an excuse to keep reading the Adventures of Piglet and Pooh, watching Saturday morning cartoons, going to Disney movies, and wishing on stars. You get to frame rainbows, hearts, and flowers under refrigerator magnets and collect spray painted noodle wreaths for Christmas, hand prints set in clay for Mother’s Day, and cards with backward letters for Father’s Day.

For $160,140, there is no greater bang for your buck. You get to be a hero just for retrieving a Frisbee off the garage roof, taking the training wheels off a bike, removing a splinter, filling a wading pool, coaxing a wad of gum out of bangs, and coaching a baseball team that never wins but always gets treated to ice cream regardless.

You get a front row seat to history to witness the first step, first word, first date, and first time behind the wheel. You get to be immortal. You get another branch added to your family tree, and if you’re lucky, a long list of limbs in your obituary called grandchildren and great grandchildren.

In the eyes of a child, you rank right up there under God. You have all the power to heal a boo-boo, scare away the monsters under the bed, patch a broken heart, police a slumber party, ground them forever, and love them without limits, so . . . one day they will, like you, love without counting the cost.

Source: Unknown

 

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Father’s Influence

When parents understand the source of joy, when they decide to let Christ rule in their home, they have chosen the way of joy that will never disappoint them.

Billy Graham’s parents were both committed Christians. Although he was a businessman, his father had at one time felt a desire to preach. The way never seemed opened for him. After Billy entered the ministry, the father said, “I prayed for years for a way to be opened. But never once was there the slightest encouragement from God. My heart burned and I wondered why God did not answer my prayer. Now I feel I have the answer. I believe that my part was to raise a son to be a preacher.”

Imagine the joy that thought brought to him and to his wife.

Proclaim, Father’s Day Sermon: Joy in the Home, June 18, 1989

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Praying Hands

Note there is considerable debate about the truthfulness of this story, but the idea is touching nonetheless. When I tell it I just preface it with: “Many of you have seen the famous painting by Albrecht Durer entitled “The praying hands”. There’s a story, fictional but still touching about how the drawing was created. The story goes like this….”

Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived a family with eighteen children. Eighteen! In order merely to keep food on the table for this mob, the father and head of the household, a goldsmith by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any other paying chore he could find in the neighborhood. Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, two of Albrecht Durer the Elder’s children had a dream. They both wanted to pursue their talent for art, but they knew full well that their father would never be financially able to send either of them to Nuremberg to study at the Academy.

After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boys finally worked out a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would go down into the nearby mines and, with his earnings, support his brother while he attended the academy. Then, when that brother who won the toss completed his studies, in four years, he would support the other brother at the academy, either with sales of his artwork or, if necessary, also by laboring in the mines.

They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer won the toss and went off to Nuremberg. Albert went down into the dangerous mines and, for the next four years, financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate sensation. Albrecht’s etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.

When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held a festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht’s triumphant homecoming. After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter, Albrecht rose from his honored position at the head of the table to drink a toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that had enabled Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. His closing words were, “And now, Albert, blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and I will take care of you.”

All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered head from side to side while he sobbed and repeated, over and over, “No …no …no …no.”

Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced down the long table at the faces he loved, and then, holding his hands close to his right cheek, he said softly, “No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is too late for me. Look … look what four years in the mines have done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. No, brother …for me it is too late.”

More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Durer’s hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, watercolors, charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great museum in the world, but the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer’s works. More than merely being familiar with it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.

One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brother’s abused hands with palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful drawing simply “Hands,” but the entire world almost immediately opened their hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love “The Praying Hands.”

The next time you see a copy of that touching creation, take a second look. Let it be your reminder, if you still need one, that no one – no one – – ever makes it alone!

“Even though the story is fiction, I hope the intent of the story touches your heart…”


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How to Stay Young

  • Throw out nonessential numbers. 
    This includes age, weight and height. Let the doctors worry about them. That is why you pay “them.”
  • Keep only cheerful friends. 
    The grouches pull you down.
  • Keep learning. 
    If your passion is music, start learning a musical instrument. Piano Nadu is a great resource if you’re planning to get a digital piano. Never let the brain idle. “An idle mind is the devil’s workshop.” And the devil’s name is Alzheimer’s.
  • Enjoy the simple things.
  • Laugh
    often, long and loud. Laugh until you gasp for breath.
  • The tears happen. 
    Endure, grieve, and move on. The only person, who is with us our entire life, is ourselves. Be ALIVE while you are alive.
  • Surround yourself with what you love
    whether it’s family, pets, keepsakes, music, plants, hobbies, whatever. Your home is your refuge.
  • Cherish your health: 
    If it is good, preserve it.
    If it is unstable, improve it.
    If it is beyond what you can improve, get help.
  • Don’t take guilt trips. 
    Take a trip to the mall, even to the next county; to a foreign country but NOT to where the guilt is.
  • Tell the people you love that you love them, at every opportunity.

AND ALWAYS REMEMBER:
Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take,
but by the moments that take our breath away.

Source: Circulating on the internet


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Angel

Once upon a time, there was a child ready to be born. She asked God, “They tell me you are sending me to earth tomorrow, but how am I going to live there being so small and helpless?”

God replied, “Among the many angels, I chose one for you. She will be >waiting for you and will take care of you.”

“But tell me, here in Heaven, I don’t do anything but sing and smile, that’s enough for me to be happy.”

He said, “Your angel will sing for you and will also smile for you every day. And you will feel your angel’s love and be happy.”

And how am I going to be able to understand when people talk to me, if I don’t know the language that men talk?”

“Your angel will tell you the most beautiful and sweet words you will ever hear, and with much patience and care, your angel will teach you how to speak.”

And what am I going to do when I want to talk to you,” the little child asked.

God said, “Your angel will place your hands together and will teach you how to pray.”

“I’ve heard that on earth there are bad people, who will protect me? “Your angel will defend you even if it means risking its life,” God promised.

“But I will always be sad because I will not see You anymore,” she said.

“Your angel will always talk to you about me and will teach you the way for you to come back to me, even though I will always be next to you.”

At that moment, there was much peace in Heaven, but voices from earth could already be heard, and the child in a hurry asked softly, “Oh God, if I am about to leave now, please tell me my angel’s name.”

God silenced all fear when He said, “Your angel’s name is of no importance. You will simply call her Mommy.”

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Love in the Home

If I live in a house of spotless beauty with everything in its place, but
have not love, I am a housekeeper–not a homemaker.

If I have time for waxing, polishing, and decorative achievements, but have
not love, my children learn cleanliness–not godliness.

Love leaves the dust in search of a child’s laugh.
Love smiles at the tiny fingerprints on a newly cleaned window.
Love wipes away the tears before it wipes up the spilled milk.
Love picks up the child before it picks up the toys.

Love is present through the trials.
Love reprimands, reproves, and is responsive.
Love crawls with the baby, walks with the toddler, runs with the child,
then stands aside to let the youth walk into adulthood.
Love is the key that opens salvation’s message to a child’s heart.

Before I became a mother I took glory in my house of perfection.
Now I glory in God’s perfection of my child.
As a mother, there is much I must teach my child,
but the greatest of all is love.

 

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Children Learn What They Live

If a child lives with criticism,
HE learns to condemn.
If a child lives with hostility,
HE learns to fight.
If a child lives with ridicule,
HE learns to be shy.
If a child lives with shame,
HE learns to feel guilty.
If a child lives with tolerance,
HE learns to be patient.
If a child lives with encouragement,
HE learns confidence.
If a child lives with praise,
HE learns to appreciate.
If a child lives with fairness,
HE learns justice.
If a child lives with security, HE learns to have faith.
If a child lives with approval,
HE learns to like himself.
If a child lives with acceptance and friendship,
HE learns to find love in the world.

Dorothy Law Nolte

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Thomas Edison’s Mother

Who was greater, Thomas A. Edison or his mother?

When he was a young lad his teacher sent him home with a note which said, ‘Your child is dumb. We can’t do anything for him.’ Mrs. Edison wrote back, ‘You do not understand my boy. I will teach him myself’. And she did, with results that are well known.

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The Greatest Preacher

Dr. G. Campbell Morgan had 4 sons and they were all preachers. Someone once came into the drawing room when all the family was there. They thought they would see what Howard, one of the sons, was made of so they asked him this question: “Howard, who is the greatest preacher in your family?” Howard had a great admiration for his father and he looked straight across at him and then without a moments hesitation he answered, “Mother.”

A. Edersheim, Sketches of Jewish Social Life, , Eerdmans, p. 139

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Mother’s Influence

When Robert Ingersoll, the notorious skeptic, was in his heyday, two college students went to hear him lecture. As they walked down the street after the lecture, one said to the other, “Well, I guess he knocked the props out from under Christianity, didn’t he?” The other said, “No, I don’t think he did. Ingersoll did not explain my mother’s life, and until he can explain my mother’s life I will stand by my mother’s God.”

James S. Hewett, Illustrations Unlimited, Tyndale, 1972, p. 381

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A mother’s Sacrificial Love

Years ago, a young mother was making her way across the hills of South Wales, carrying her tiny baby in her arms, when she was overtaken by a blinding blizzard.

She never reached her destination and when the blizzard had subsided her body was found by searchers beneath a mound of snow. But they discovered that before her death, she had taken off all her outer clothing and wrapped it about her baby. When they unwrapped the child, to their great surprise and joy, they found he was alive and well.

She had mounded her body over his and given her life for her child, proving the depths of her mother love. Years later that child, David Lloyd George, grown to manhood, became prime minister of Great Britain, and, without doubt, one of England’s greatest statesman.

Source: James S. Hewett, Illustrations Unlimited, Tyndale, 1972, p. 375

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Winners in Life

“One of our family’s all-time favorite pets was a dog named Scampy. He was a black-and-tan, rag-eared mutt, part cocker, part Schnauzer, part whatcha-ma-call-it. When he was six months old, he was hit by a car and suffered a broken hind leg, which was put in a splint. Gangrene developed, and the veterinarian recommended euthanasia. My children, however, full of love and affection for Scampy, lobbied for amputation, and their tearful motion, put to a vote in a family council, was carried.

To my pleasant surprise, Scampy adjusted beautifully. Like a tricycle with the wheels reversed, he developed excellent balance, and although running in unorthodox motion, he moved amazingly fast. Squirrels scattered when he flew off the back porch as though propelled by a pogo stick.

Friends of the children called him Hopalong or Tripod or Crip, among other names, but Scampy had a couple of advantages over people: He didn’t understand their jibes, and he didn’t know that he had a disability. He lived on courageously for many years, doing the best with what he had. People who can do the same are, I am convinced, the winners in life.”

Fred Bauer “Dog Tales – Lessons in Love” from Guideposts

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Need an evangelistic Youth Camp/ Bible Study Series with an Olympic Theme?

What is salvation all about? What does it mean to be saved? This sports themed Bible Study / Camp Curriculum uses the Olympic Flag to introduce the concepts of sin (black circle), forgiveness (red circle), purity (white background), spiritual growth (green circle), heaven (Yellow Circle) and (Baptism) blue circle.
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The race as a metaphor for the Christian life is used in several places in the Bible. This series is a great follow up for new Christians or to re-emphasize the basics of our spiritual Journey in the Faith. This Bible Study / Camp Curriculum has a sports theme and is great for athletes as well as a tie in to the youth Olympic Games.
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Dog Tales – Lessons in Love

“Ashley–a pre-owned Yorkie from the Humane Society–came into my home with his head hung low. The neighbors were all waiting for me at home to meet the newest member of my family. That was when we learned that this little dog was terrified of men.

In their presence, Ashley would shake like a leaf. All my men friends are gentle, but their imposing sizes and booming voices seemed to terrorize him. I had to find a way for Ashley to be healed of his fear!

Whenever a male visitor came to the door, I would pick up Ashley and hold him in my arms. I would ask my friend to pet the dog gently and talk to him in a soothing voice. When the little guy relaxed, I would hand him over to my friend to hold and continue petting for a few more minutes.

After some weeks, Ashley seemed to remember each man he met in this way, and he stopped cowering and shaking in their presence. In fact, after meeting my next door neighbor, Bob, Ashley stole into his house, then reappeared a few minutes later to drop one of Bob’s dirty socks at his feet. Bob, he seemed to be saying, was not only safe, he was accepted!

Since coming into my family, Ashley has been healed of his fear and to this day lives at peace with all men. It’s the love he’s been getting that’s healed his fear–I’m sure of it.

And not only is Ashley a beloved family member now, but he also reminds me how to approach all the abused and fearful people I meet. The best way is to start with love.

Diane Komp – “Dog Tales Lessons in Love” from Guideposts Magazine


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The Color Yellow

starrynight.jpg
Noted artist Vincent Van Gogh turned away from the faith which had been imparted to him in his Christian home and sank into depression and self-destruction. But later in his life by the grace of God, as he began to embrace that faith again, his life took on new hope, and he gave to that hope color, specifically the color yellow, which evoked for him hope and warmth in then truth of God’s love.

In his depression period, seen in his The Starry Night, there is a yellow sun and yellow swirling stars because Van Gogh thought that truth was only present in nature. The church, which stands tall in the painting and should be the house of truth, is the only item with no traces of yellow.

raising_lazarus.jpg
But later, when his life was on the mend, he painted The Raising of Lazarus, and the entire picture is bathed in yellow. He even put his own face on Lazarus to express his hope in the Resurrection.

Yellow tells the whole story. Like Van Gogh, we can start over.

Source: Unknown

 


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Four Wives

There was a rich merchant who had 4 wives. He loved the 4th wife the most and adorned her with rich robes and treated her to delicacies. He took great care of her and gave her nothing but the best.

He also loved the 3rd wife very much. He’s very proud of her and always wanted to show off her to his friends. However, the merchant is always in great fear that she might run away with some other men.

He too, loved his 2nd wife. She is a very considerate person, always patient and in fact is the merchant’s confidante. Whenever the merchant faced some problems, he always turned to his 2nd wife and she would always help him out and tide him through difficult times.

Now, the merchant’s 1st wife is a very loyal partner and has made great contributions in maintaining his wealth and business as well as taking care of the household. However, the merchant did not love the first wife and although she loved him deeply, he hardly took notice of her.

One day, the merchant fell ill. Before long, he knew that he was going to die soon. He thought of his luxurious life and told himself, “Now I have 4 wives with me. But when I die, I’ll be alone. How lonely I’ll be!”

Thus, he asked the 4th wife, “I loved you most, endowed you with the finest clothing and showered great care over you. Now that I’m dying, will you follow me and keep me company?” “No way!” replied the 4th wife and she walked away without another word.

The answer cut like a sharp knife right into the merchant’s heart. The sad merchant then asked the 3rd wife, “I have loved you so much for all my life. Now that I’m dying, will you follow me and keep me company?” “No!” replied the 3rd wife. “Life is so good over here! I’m going to remarry when you die!” The merchant’s heart sank and turned cold.

He then asked the 2nd wife, “I always turned to you for help and you’ve always helped me out. Now I need your help again. When I die, will you follow me and keep me company?” “I’m sorry, I can’t help you out this time!” replied the 2nd wife. “At the very most, I can only send you to your grave.” The answer came like a bolt of thunder and the merchant was devastated.

Then a voice called out : “I’ll leave with you. I’ll follow you no matter where you go.” The merchant looked up and there was his first wife. She was so skinny, almost like she suffered from malnutrition. Greatly grieved, the merchant said, “I should have taken much better care of you while I could have !”

Actually, we all have 4 wives in our lives

a. The 4th wife is our body. No matter how much time and effort we lavish in making it look good, it’ll leave us when we die.

b. Our 3rd wife ? Our possessions, status and wealth. When we die, they all go to others.

c. The 2nd wife is our family and friends. No matter how close they had been there for us when we’re alive, the furthest they can stay by us is up to the grave.

d. The 1st wife is in fact our soul, often neglected in our pursuit of material, wealth and sensual pleasure.

Guess what? It is actually the only thing that follows us wherever we go. Perhaps it’s a good idea to cultivate and strengthen it now rather than to wait until we’re on our deathbed to lament

 


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Dart Test

A young lady named Sally, relates an experience she had in a seminary class, given by her teacher, Dr. Smith. She says Dr. Smith was known for his elaborate object lessons.

One particular day, Sally walked into the seminary class and knew they were in for a fun day. On the wall was a big target, and on a nearby table were many darts. Dr. Smith told his students to draw a picture of someone that they disliked or someone who had made them angry, and he would allow them to throw darts at the person’s picture, if they wished.

Sally’s girlfriend drew a picture of a girl who had stolen her boyfriend. Another friend drew a picture of his little brother. Sally drew a picture of a former friend, putting a great deal of detail into her drawing, even drawing pimples on the face. Sally was pleased with the overall effect she had achieved.

The class lined up and began throwing darts. Some of the students threw their darts with such force that their targets were ripped apart. Sally looked forward to her turn, and was filled with disappointment when Dr. Smith, because of time limits, asked the students to return to their seats.

As Sally sat thinking about how angry she was because she didn’t have a chance to throw any darts at her target. Dr. Smith began removing the target from the wall.

Underneath the Target was a picture of Jesus.

A hush fell over the room as each student viewed the mangled picture of Jesus; holes and jagged marks covered His face, and His eyes were pierced.

Dr. Smith said only these words…..

“In as much as ye have done it unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto Me.” Matthew 25:40.

No other words were necessary; tears filled the eyes of the students, focused only on the picture of Christ.

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Wooden Bowl

A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and a four-year old grandson. The old man’s hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered. The family ate together nightly at the dinner table. But the elderly grandfather’s shaky hands and failing sight made eating rather difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor. When he grasped the glass often 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 at the dinner table. Since grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden bowl. Sometimes when the family glanced in grandfather’s direction, he had a tear in his eye as he ate 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 from 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 for family members, they will imitate that attitude for the rest of their lives. The wise parent realizes that every day building blocks are being laid for the child’s future.

Let us all be wise builders and role models. Take care of yourself, … and those you love, … today, and everyday!


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Will Easter Make a Difference?

A pastor tells the following in the Augsburg Sermon Book for the year 1985

“I’ve never seen such a crowd in church, the woman exclaimed’. I didn’t know her, but apparently she was impressed by the number of people here for Easter worship. Then, as she was shaking my hand and moving toward the front door, she added, “Do you suppose it will make any difference?”

I held on to her hand so she couldn’t get away, “What do you mean?” I said ’’Will what make a difference?”

“Easter,” she shot back. “Will Easter make any difference for all these people, or will life tomorrow be the same as it was yesterday?”

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The Legend of the Sand Dollar (poem)

sand_dollar.jpgThere’s a pretty little legend
That I would like to tell
Of the birth and death of Jesus
Found in this lowly shell.

If you examine closely,
You’ll see that you find here
Four nail holes and a fifth one
Made by a Roman’s spear.

On one side the Easter lily,
Its center is the star
that appeared unto the shepherds
And led them from afar.

The Christmas poinsettia
Etched on the other side
Reminds us of His birthday
Our happy Christmas tide.

Now break the center open
And here you will release
The five white doves awaiting
To spread good will and peace.

Author Unknown


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While the Boss is Away

“To make the value of obedience just as practical as possible let’s play ‘Let’s Pretend”.

Let’s pretend that you work for me. In fact, you are my executive assistant in a company that is growing rapidly. I’m the owner and I’m interested in expanding overseas. To pull this off I make plans to travel abroad and stay there until a new branch office gets established. I make all the arrangements to take my family and move to Europe for six to eight months. I am leaving you in charge of the busy stateside organization. I tell you that I will write you regularly and leave I tell you that I will write you regularly and give you directions and instructions. I leave and you stay.

Months pass. A flow of letters are mailed from Europe and received by you at the national headquarters. I spell out all my expectations. Finally, I return. Soon after my arrival, I drive down to the office and I am stunned. Grass and weeds have grown up high. A few windows along the street are broken. I walk into the Receptionist’s room. She is doing her nails, chewing gum and listening to her favorite disco station. I look around and notice the wastebaskets are overflowing. The carpet hasn’t been vacuumed for weeks, and nobody seems concerned that the owner has returned. I asked about your whereabouts and someone in the crowded lounge area points down the hall and yells, “I think he’s down there.”

Disturbed, I move in that direction and bump into you as you are finishing a chess game with our sales manager. I ask you to step into my office, which has been temporarily turned into a television room for watching afternoon soap operas. “What in the world is going on, man?” “What do you mean, Chuck?” “Well, look at this place! Didn’t you get any of my letters?”

“Letters? Oh yes! Sure! I got every one of them. As a matter of fact, Chuck, we have had a letter study every Friday night since you left. We have even divided the personnel into small groups to discuss many of the things you wrote. Some of the things were really interesting. You will be pleased to know that a few of us have actually committed to memory some of your sentences and paragraphs. One or two memorized an entire letter or two – Great stuff in those letters.”

“OK. You got my letters. You studied them and meditated on them; discussed and even memorized them. But what did you do about them?”

“Do? We didn’t do anything about them.”

Source: Charles Swindoll, Improving Your Serve


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Other Side

A sick man turned to his doctor, as he was preparing to leave the examination room and said, “Doctor, I am afraid to die. Tell me what lies on the other side.”

Very quietly, the doctor said, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? You, a Christian man, do not know what is on the other side?”

The doctor was holding the handle of the door; on the other side of which came a sound of scratching and whining, and as he opened the door a dog sprang into the room and leaped on him with an eager show of gladness.

Turning to the patient, the doctor said, “Did you notice my dog? He’s never been in this room before. He didn’t know what was inside. He knew nothing except that his master was here, and when the door opened, he sprang in without fear. I know little of what is on the other side of death, but I do know one thing, I know my Master is there and that is enough.”

Author Unknown

 


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Points of Light

In the old days, on Easter night, the Russian peasants used to carry the blest fire home from church. The light would scatter and travel in all directions through the darkness, and the desolation of the night would be pierced and dispelled as lamps came on in the windows of the farm houses, one by one. Even so the glory of God sleeps everywhere, ready to blaze out unexpectedly in created things. Even so His peace and His order lie hidden in the world, even the world of today, ready to re-establish themselves in His way, in His own good time: but never without the instrumentality of free options made by free men.

Thomas Merton

Throwing back the Big Ones?

A fisherman sat on a dock with a ruler and a basket beside him. He caught a fish and measured it. The fish was six inches long. He threw the fish in the basket. He got another bite and pulled in a nine inch fish. In the basket it went.

A little later he felt a violent jerk on the line. He pulled in a twenty inch fish. That fish he threw back in the water!

A little girl had been watching this procedure. She asked him, “Why did you throw back the big fish and keep the little ones?” The fisherman replied, “Because my frying pan is only ten inches across!”

Too often, we receive tiny yields from our efforts because our expectations are too small! There is something to be said for the ‘power of positive thinking’; if we do not expect God to fill our cups as we surrender ourselves to Him, then we should not be surprised when we receive less-than-spectacular returns on our spiritual investments.

Puppies for Sale

A farmer had some puppies he needed to sell. He painted a sign advertising the pups and set about Nailing it to a post on the edge of his yard. As he was driving the last nail into the post, he felt a tug on his overalls. He looked down into the eyes of a little boy.

Mister,” he said, “I want to buy one of your puppies.”

“Well,” said the farmer, as he rubbed the sweat off the back of his neck, “these puppies come from fine parents and cost a good deal of money.”

The boy dropped his head for a moment. Then reaching deep into his pocket, he pulled out a handful of change and held it up to the farmer. “I’ve got thirty-nine cents. Is that enough to take a look?”

“Sure,” said the farmer.

And with that he let out a whistle,”Here,Dolly!” he called.

Out from the doghouse and down the ramp ran Dolly followed by four little balls of fur. The little boy pressed his face against the chain link fence. His eyes danced with delight.

As the dogs made their way to the fence, the little boy noticed something else stirring inside the doghouse. Slowly another little ball appeared; this one noticeably smaller. Down the ramp it slid. Then in a somewhat awkward manner the little pup began hobbling toward the others, doing its best to catch up….

“I want that one,” the little boy said, pointing to the runt.

The farmer knelt down at the boy’s side and said, “Son, you don’t want that puppy. He will never be able to run and play with you like these other dogs would.”

With that the little boy stepped back from the fence, reached down, and began rolling up one leg of his trousers. In doing so he revealed a steel brace running down both sides of his leg attaching itself to a specially made shoe.

Looking back up at the farmer, he said, “You see sir, I don’t run too well myself, and he will need someone who understands.”

The world is full of people who need someone who understands. Will you be that someone?

 


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Wait For The Brick

A young and successful executive was traveling down a neighborhood street, going a bit too fast in his new Jaguar. He was watching for kids darting out from between parked cars and slowed down when he thought he saw something. As his car passed, no children appeared. Instead, a brick smashed into the Jag’s side door! He slammed on the brakes and drove the Jag back to the spot where the brick had been thrown. The angry driver then jumped out of the car, grabbed the nearest kid and pushed him up against a parked car, shouting, “What was that all about and who are you?

Just what the heck are you doing?
That’s a new car and that brick you threw is going to cost a lot of money.
Why did you do it?”

The young boy was apologetic.
“Please mister … please, I’m sorry… I didn’t know what else to do,” he pleaded.
“I threw the brick because no one else would stop…”
With tears dripping down his face and off his chin, the youth pointed to a spot just around a parked car.
“It’s my brother,” he said.
“He rolled off the curb and fell out of his wheelchair and I can’t lift him up.”

Now sobbing, the boy asked the stunned executive, “Would you please help me get him back into his wheelchair? He’s hurt and he’s too heavy for me.”
Moved beyond words, the driver tried to swallow the rapidly swelling lump in his throat. He hurriedly lifted the handicapped boy back into the wheelchair, then took out his fancy handkerchief and dabbed at the fresh scrapes and cuts. A quick look told him everything was going to be okay.

“Thank you and may God bless you,” the grateful child told the stranger.
Too shook up for words, the man simply watched the little boy push his wheelchair-bound brother down the sidewalk toward their home. It was a long, slow walk back to the Jaguar. The damage was very noticeable, but the driver never bothered to repair the dented side door. He kept the dent there to remind him of this message:

Don’t go through life so fast that someone has to throw a brick at you to get your attention!

God whispers in our souls and speaks to our hearts. Sometimes when we don’t have time to listen, He has to throw a brick at us.

It’s our choice: Listen to the whisper … or wait for the brick!

 


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Two Frogs

A group of frogs were traveling through the woods, and two of them fell into a deep pit. When the other frogs saw how deep the pit was, they told the two frogs that they were as good as dead. The two frogs ignored the comments and tried to jump up out of the pit with all their might. The other frogs kept telling them to stop, that they were as good as dead. Finally, one of the frogs took heed to what the other frogs were saying and gave up. He fell down and died.

The other frog continued to jump as hard as he could. Once again, the crowd of frogs yelled at him to stop the pain and just die. He jumped even harder and finally made it out. When he got out, the other frogs said, “Did you not hear us?” The frog explained to them that he was deaf. He thought they were encouraging him the entire time.

The Lessons:

  1. There is power of life and death in the tongue. An encouraging word to someone who is down can lift them up and help them make it through the day.
  2. A destructive word to someone who is down can be what it takes to kill them.

 

Be careful of what you say. Speak life to those who cross your path. The power of words… it is sometimes hard to understand that an encouraging word can go such a long way. Anyone can speak words that tend to rob another of the spirit to continue in difficult times. Special is the individual who will take the time to encourage another.

 


MORE IDEAS? See “Creative Object Lessons”

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The Penny

Several years ago, a friend of mine and her husband were invited to spend the weekend at the husband’s employer’s home. My friend, Arlene, was nervous about the weekend. The boss was very wealthy, with a fine home on the water-way, and cars costing more than her house. The first day and evening went well, and Arlene was delighted to have this rare glimpse into how the very wealthy live.

The husband’s employer was quite generous as a host, and took them to the finest restaurants. Arlene knew she would never have the opportunity to indulge in this kind of extravagance again, so was enjoying herself immensely.

As the three of them were about to enter an exclusive restaurant that evening, the boss was walking slightly ahead of Arlene and her husband. He stopped suddenly, looking down on the pavement for a long, silent moment. Arlene wondered if she was supposed to pass him. There was nothing on the ground except a single darkened penny that someone had dropped, and a few cigarette butts.

Still silent, the man reached down and picked up the penny. He held it up and smiled, then put it in his pocket as if he had found a great treasure. How absurd! What need did this man have for a single penny? Why would he even take the time to stop and pick it up?

Throughout dinner, the entire scene nagged at her. Finally, she could stand it no longer. She causally mentioned that her daughter once had a coin collection, and asked if the penny he had found had been of some valuable. A smile crept across the man’s face as he reached into his pocket for the penny and held it out for her to see.

She had seen many pennys before! What was the point of this? “Look at it.” He said. “Read what it says.” She read the words “United States of America.” “No, not that; read further.” “One cent?” “No, keep reading.” “In God we Trust?” “Yes!” “And?” “And if I trust in God, the name of God is holy, even on a coin. Whenever I find a coin I see that inscription. It is written on every single United States coin, but we never seem to notice it! God drops a message right in front of me telling me to trust Him? Who am I to pass it by? When I see a coin, I pray, I stop to see if my trust IS in God at that moment. I pick the coin up as a response to God; that I do trust in Him.. For a short time, at least, I cherish it as if it were gold. I think it is God’s way of starting a conversation with me. Lucky for me, God is patient and pennies are plentiful!

When I was out shopping today, I found a penny on the sidewalk. I stopped and picked it up, and realized that I had been worrying and fretting in my mind about things I can not change. I read the words, “In God We Trust,” and had to laugh. Yes, God, I get the message. It seems that I have been finding an inordinate number of pennies in the last few months, but then, pennies are plentiful! And God is patient…

Author Unknown

 


MORE IDEAS? See “Creative Object Lessons”

200 page e-book that explains everything you need to know when planning your very own object lessons. It contains 90 fully developed object lesson ideas and another 200 object lesson starter ideas based on Biblical idioms and Names / Descriptions of God.

Learn More…