THE FORK
From: Dave Singer
There was a woman who had been diagnosed
with cancer and had been given three months to live. Her Dr. told
her to start making preparations to die (something we all should
be doing all of the time). So she contacted her pastor and had him
come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes.
She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures
she would like read, and what she wanted to be wearing. The woman
also told her pastor that she wanted to be buried with her favorite
Bible.
Everything was in order and the
pastor was preparing to leave when the woman suddenly remembered something
very important to her.
"There is one more thing," she said
excitedly. "What's that?", came the pastor's reply. "This is
very important," the woman continued, "I want to be buried
with a fork in my right hand." The pastor stood looking at the woman,
not knowing quite what to say. "That shocks you, doesn't it?" the
woman asked.
"Well, to be honest, I'm puzzled
by the request," said the pastor. The woman explained. "In
all my years of attending church socials and functions where food was involved
(and let's be honest, food is an important part of any church event; spiritual
or otherwise), my favorite part was when whoever was clearing away the
dishes of the main course leaned over and said, 'you can keep your fork.'
It was my favorite part because I knew that something better
was coming. When they told me to keep my fork, I knew that
something great was about to be given to me. It wasn't Jell-O or
pudding. It was cake or pie. Something with substance. So I
just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand
and I want them to wonder 'What's with the fork?' Then I want you to tell
them: "Something better is coming so keep your fork.'"
The pastor's eyes were welled up
with tears of joy as he hugged the woman goodbye. He knew this
would be one of the last times he would see her before her death.
But he also knew that the woman had a better grasp of heaven than he did.
She KNEW that something better was coming.
At the funeral people were walking
by the woman's casket and they saw the pretty dress she was wearing and
her favorite Bible and the fork placed in her right hand. Over
and over the pastor heard the question "What's with the fork?" And
over and over he smiled. During his message, the pastor told the
people of the conversation he had with the woman shortly before she died.
He also told them about the fork and about what it symbolized to
her. The pastor told the people how he could not stop thinking
about the fork and told them that they probably would not be able to stop
thinking about it either. He was right.
So the next time you reach down
for your fork, let it remind you, oh so gently, that there is something
better coming. TOP INDEX
Mrs.Thompson
From: "Angels Online humor"
http://www.angelsonline.net
There is a story from many years
ago of an elementary teacher. Her name was Mrs.Thompson. And as she stood
in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told
the children a lie. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and
said that she loved them all the same. But that was impossible, because
there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy
Stoddard. Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that
he didn't play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy
and that he constantly needed a bath. And Teddy could be unpleasant. It
got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking
his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then putting a big
"F" at the top of his papers. At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught,
she was required to review each child's past records and she put Teddy's
off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise.
Teddy's first grade teacher wrote,
"Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and
has good manners...he is a joy to be around." His second grade teacher
wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but
he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home
must be a struggle." His third grade teacher wrote, "His mother's death
has been hard on him. He tries to do his best but his father doesn't show
much interest and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't
taken. "Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't
show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and sometimes
sleeps in class."
By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the
problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students
brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright
paper, except for Teddy's. His present which was clumsily wrapped in the
heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains
to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started
to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing,
and a bottle that was one quarter full of perfume. But she stifled the
children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting
it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist.
Teddy Stoddard stayed after school
that day just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just
like my Mom used to."
After the children left she cried
for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching reading, and
writing, and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children.
Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention
to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more
she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy
had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie
that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her
"teacher's pets."
A year later, she found a note under
her door, from Teddy, telling her that she was still the best teacher he
ever had in his whole life. Six years went by before she got another note
from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his
class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.
Four years after that, she got another
letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in
school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the
highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best
and favorite teacher he ever had in his whole life.
Then four more years passed and
yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's
degree, he decided to go a little further.
The letter explained that she was
still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a
little longer -- the letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, M.D.
The story doesn't end there. You
see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he'd met this
girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died
a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree
to sit in the place at the wedding that was usually reserved for the mother
of the groom. Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that
bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. And she made sure she
was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their
last Christmas together. They hugged each, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in
Mrs. Thompson's ear, "Thank you Mrs. Thompson for believing in me. Thank
you so much or making me feel important and showing me that I could make
a difference."
Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her
eyes, whispered back. She said, "Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were
the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn't know how
to teach until I met you." TOP
INDEX
The Cross:
From: "Angels Online humor"
God laid upon my back a grievous
load, a heavy cross to bear along the road.
I staggered on and lo! one weary
day, an angry lion sprang across my way.
I prayed to God and swift at His
command, the cross became a weapon in my hand.
It slued my raging enemy and then
became a cross upon my back again.
I reached a desert and o'er the
burning track. I persevered, the cross upon my back.
No shade was there and in the cruel
sun, I sank at last and thought my days were done.
But lo! the Lord works many a blest
a surprise, the cross became a tree before my eyes!
I slept and woke to feel the strength
of ten, and found the cross upon my back again.
And thus through all my days from
then to this, the cross, my burden, has become my bliss.
No, never shall I lay the burden
down, for God someday will make the cross a crown!
Written by Amos Wells
TOP INDEX
A
Christmas story:
"Angels Online humor"
It was only five days before Christmas.
The spirit of the season hadn't yet caught up with me, even though cars
packed the parking lot of our Houston area Target Shopping Center. Inside
the store, it was worse. Shopping carts and last minute shoppers jammed
the aisles. Why did I come today? I wondered. My feet ached almost as much
as my head. My list contained names of several people who claimed they
wanted nothing, but I knew their feelings would be hurt if I didn't buy
them anything. Buying for someone who had everything and deploring the
high cost of items, I considered gift-buying anything but fun.
Hurriedly, I filled my shopping
cart with last minute items and proceeded to the long checkout lines. I
picked the shortest but it looked as if it would mean at least a 20 minute
wait. In front of me were two small children, a boy of about 10 and a younger
girl about 5. The boy wore a ragged coat. Enormously large, tattered tennis
shoes jutted far out in front of his much too short jeans. He clutched
several crumpled dollar bills in his grimy hands. The girl's clothing resembled
her brother's. Her head was a matted mass of curly hair. Reminders of an
evening meal showed on her small face. She carried a beautiful pair of
shiny, gold house slippers. As the Christmas music sounded in the store's
stereo system, the girl hummed along off-key but happily.
When we finally approached the checkout
register, the girl carefully placed the shoes on the counter. She treated
them as though they were a treasure. The clerk rang up her bill. "That
will be $6.09" the clerk said, as the boy laid his crumpled dollars atop
the stand while he searched his pockets finally came up with $3.12. "I
guess we will have to put them back," he bravely said. "We will come back
some other time, maybe tomorrow." With that statement, a soft sob broke
from the little girl. "But Jesus would have loved these shoes," she cried.
"Well, we'll go home and work some more. Don't cry. We'll come back", he
said.
Quickly I handed $3.00 to the cashier.
These children had waited in line for a long time. And, after all, it was
Christmas. Suddenly a pair of arms came around me and a small voice said,
"Thank you Sir." "What did you mean when you said Jesus would like the
shoes?", I asked. The small boy answered, "Our mommy is sick and going
to heaven. Daddy said she might go before Christmas to be with Jesus."
The girl spoke, "My Sunday School teacher said the streets in heaven are
shiny gold, just like these shoes. Won't mommy be beautiful walking on
those streets to match these shoes?" My eyes flooded as I looked into her
tear streaked face. "Yes", I answered. "I am sure she will".
Silently, I thanked God for using
these children to remind me of the true spirit of giving. Christmas is
not about the amount of money paid, nor the amount of gifts purchased,
nor trying to impress friends and relatives. Christmas is about the love
in your heart to share with those as Jesus Christ has shared with each
of us. Christmas is about the Birth of Jesus whom God sent to show the
world how much he really loves us. Please show this love as we think of
the upcoming season. TOP INDEX
Smile:
"Angels Online humor"
The smile seemed to make him feel
better. He remembered past kindness' of a friend And wrote him a thank
you letter.
The friend was so pleased with
the thank you That he left a large tip after lunch.
The waitress, surprised by the
size of the tip, Bet the whole thing on a hunch.
The next day she picked up her
winnings, And gave part to a man on the street.
The man on the street was grateful;
For two days he'd had nothing to eat. After he finished his dinner, He
left for his small dingy room. He didn't know at that moment that he might
be facing his doom. On the way he picked up a shivering puppy And took
him home to get warm.
The puppy was very grateful To
be in out of the storm. That night the house caught on fire. The puppy
barked the alarm. He barked till he woke the whole household And saved
everybody from harm.
One of the boys that he rescued
Grew up to be President. All this because of a simple smile That hadn't
cost a cent. TOP
INDEX
Love story:
"Angels Online humor"
A LOVE STORY
Once upon a time, there was an island
where all the feelings lived: Happiness, Sadness, Anger.... and all the
others including Love.
One day it was announced to all
the feelings that the island would sink, so all repaired their boats and
left. Love was the only one to stay. Love wanted to persevere until the
last possible moment. When the island was almost sinking, Love decided
to ask for help.
Richness was passing by Love in
a grand boat. Love hailed, "Richness, can you take me with you?"
Richness answered, "No, I can't. There is a lot of gold and silver in my
boat! There is no place for you here!"
Love decided to ask Vanity who was
also passing by in a beautiful vessel. "Vanity, please help me!" "I can't
help you, Love. You are all wet and might damage my beautiful boat," Vanity
responded.
Sadness was close by so Love asked
for help, "Sadness, let me go with you." "Ohhhh.... Love, I am sooo sad
that I need to be by myself."
Happiness passed by Love, too, but
she was so happy that she did not even hear when Love called out to her!
Suddenly, there was a voice. "Come,
Love, I will take you." It was the voice of an elder. Love felt so blessed
and overjoyed that Love forgot to ask the elder her name.
When they arrived at dry land, the
elder went her own way. Love realized how much the elder had done and wanted
to thank her. So Love went to Knowledge, another elder, and asked, "Do
you know who helped me?" "It was Time", Knowledge answered. "Time?" asked
Love. "But why did Time help me? Knowledge smiled with deep wisdom and
said, "Because only Time is capable of understanding how great Love is."
TOP INDEX
How
much do you make?
"Angels Online humor"
The man came home from work late
again, tired and irritated, to find his 5year old son waiting for him at
the door.
"Daddy, may I ask you a question?"
"Yeah, sure, what is it?" replied
the man.
"Daddy, how much money do you make
an hour?"
"That's none of your business! What
makes you ask such a thing?" the man said angrily.
"I just want to know. Please tell
me, how much do you make an hour?" pleaded the little boy.
"If you must know, I make $20.00
an hour."
"Oh," the little boy replied, head
bowed. Looking up, he said, "Daddy, may I borrow $10.00 please?"
The father was furious.
"If the only reason you wanted to
know how much money I make is just so you can borrow some to buy a silly
toy or some nonsense, then you march yourself straight to your room and
go to bed. Think about why you're being so selfish. I work long, hard hours
everyday and don't have time for such childish games."
The little boy quietly went to his
room and shut the door.
The man sat down and started to
get even madder about the little boy's questioning. How dare he ask such
questions only to get some money.
After an hour or so, the man had
calmed down, and started to think he may have been a little hard on his
son. Maybe there was something he really needed to buy with that $10.00,
and he really didn't ask for money very often. The man went to the door
of the little boy's room and opened the door.
"Are you asleep son?" he asked.
"No daddy, I'm awake," replied the
boy.
"I've been thinking, maybe I was
too hard on you earlier," said the man. "It's been a long day and I took
my aggravation out on you. Here's that $10.00 you asked for."
The little boy sat straight up,
beaming.
"Oh, thank you daddy!" he yelled.
Then, reaching under his pillow, he pulled out some more crumpled bills.
The man, since the boy already had
money, started to get angry again.
The little boy slowly counted out
his money, then looked up at the man.
"Why did you want more money if
you already had some?" the father grumbled.
"Because I didn't have enough, but
now I do," the little boy replied.
"Daddy, I have $20.00 now. Can I
buy an hour of your time?" TOP
INDEX
THE
CRACKED POT
"Angels Online Humor"
A water bearer in India had two
large pots, each hung on each end of a pole which he carried across his
neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect
and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk
from the stream to the master's house, the cracked pot arrived only half
full.
For a full two years this went on
daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water
to his master's house. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments,
perfect to the end for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was
ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish
only half of what it had been made to do. After two years of what it perceived
to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream.
"I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you."
"Why?" asked the bearer. "What are
you ashamed of?"
"I have been able, for these past
two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes
water to leak out all the way back to your master's house. Because of my
flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don't get full value from
your efforts," the pot said.
The water bearer felt sorry for
the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, "As we return to the
master's house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path."
Indeed, as they went up the hill,
the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers
on the side of the path, and this cheered it some. But at the end of the
trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so
again it apologized to the bearer for its failure.
The bearer said to the pot, "Did
you notice that there were flowers only on your side of your path, but
not on the other pot's side? That's because I have always known about
your flaw, and I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side
of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you've watered
them.
For two years I have been able to
pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master's table. Without you
being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his
house."
Each of us has our own unique flaws.
We're all cracked pots. But if we will allow it, the Lord will use our
flaws to grace His Father's table.
In God's great economy, nothing
goes to waste. TOP
INDEX
The
Broken Harp:
"Angels Online Humor"
The Broken Harp by Corrie Ten Boom
as told by Mary Fader
After WWII in a bombed European
city, there weren't many houses and buildings left standing. In one section
of the city, there were two apartment buildings left undamaged in a city
block. Several people (now homeless) crowded into those buildings with
whatever belongings they could carry. Most of the stuff was junk, including
a broken harp, but it was all the people had to remember their previous
life.
It was a very cold night, the coldest
in the history of that city. In one of the buildings, because there wasn't
much room, the people put their belongings in the basement of the building
and they crowded together to get warm. During the evening, a knock came
at the door. When one of the men opened the door, a "bum" stood there.
At least the people thought he was a bum. He wore ragged thin clothes and
he was frozen. His beard and eyelashes had frost on them. The "bum" asked
if he could come in to get warm, just for the night. The man told him that
there wasn't any room but maybe they could make room for him in the basement
with the belongings. So they took the "bum" downstairs and made a place
for him among all the junk they had brought with them.
In the early hours of the next morning,
the people awoke to the sound of beautiful music coming from the basement.
They followed the music downstairs. Sitting on the bottom step was the
"bum" (now thawed out) playing the broken harp. It was wonderful. The man
who had answered the door said, "That's my harp. It was broken when my
house was bombed. I thought it would never play again but I couldn't part
with it. How did you fix my harp?"
The musician replied, "See those
initials on the bottom of the harp. Those are my initials. I made this
harp and when you make something, you know how to fix it."
Ever thing that was made was made
by GOD TOP
INDEX
The
Awesome Power Of Prayer:
From: "Angels Online Humor"
THE POWER OF PRAYER
As the true story you are about
to read clearly illustrates, "with God all things are possible" and more
importantly, how God hears and answers the prayers of the faithful.
After you read this, please pause and give God thanks for the beautiful
gift of your faith, for the powerful gift of prayer, and for the many miracles
He works in your own daily life... and then pass it on...
A missionary on furlough told this
true story while visiting his home church in Michigan...
While serving at a small field hospital
in Africa, every two weeks I traveled by bicycle through the jungle to
a nearby city for supplies. This was a journey of two days and required
camping overnight at the halfway point. On one of these journeys, I arrived
in the city where I planned to collect money from a bank, purchase medicine
and supplies, and then begin my two-day journey back to the field hospital.
Upon arrival in the city, I observed
two men fighting, one of whom had been seriously injured. I treated
him for his injuries and at the same time witnessed to him of the Lord
Jesus Christ. I then traveled two days, camping overnight, and arrived
home without incident.
Two weeks later I repeated my journey.
Upon arriving in the city, I was approached by the young man I had treated.
He told me that he had known I carried money and medicines. He said, "Some
friends and I followed you into the jungle, knowing you would camp overnight.
We planned to kill you and take your money and drugs. But just as
we were about to move into your camp, we saw that you were surrounded by
26 armed guards."
At this I laughed and said that
I was certainly all alone out in that jungle campsite. The young
man pressed the point, guards. My five friends also saw them and we all
counted them. It was because of those guards that we were afraid
and left you alone."
At this point in the sermon, one
of the men in the congregation jumped to his feet and interrupted the missionary
and asked if he could tell him the exact day that this happened.
The missionary told the congregation the date, and the man who interrupted
told him this story:
"On the night of your incident in
Africa, it was morning here and I was preparing to go play golf.
I was about to putt when I felt the urge to pray for you. In fact,
the urging of the Lord was so strong, I called men in this church to meet
with me here in the sanctuary to pray for you.
Would all of those men who met with
me on that day stand up?" The men who had met together to pray that
day stood up. The missionary wasn't concerned with who they were
he was to busy counting how many men he saw.
There were 26.
TOP INDEX
Science
& Philosophy Class:
Submitted by Carl Peikarski 04/24/99
"LET ME EXPLAIN the problem science
has with Jesus Christ." The atheist professor of philosophy pauses before
his class and then asks one of his new students to stand. "You're a Christian,
aren't you, son?"
"Yes, sir."
"So you believe in God?"
"Absolutely."
"Is God good?"
"Sure! God's good."
"Is God all-powerful? Can God do
anything?"
"Yes."
"Are you good or evil?"
"The Bible says I'm evil."
The professor grins knowingly. "Ahh!
THE BIBLE!" He considers for a moment. "Here's one for you. Let's say there's
a sick person over here, and you can cure him. You can do it. Would you
help them? Would you try?"
"Yes sir, I would."
"So you're good...!"
"I wouldn't say that."
"Why not say that? You would help
a sick and maimed person if you could...in fact most of us would if we
could... God doesn't." (No answer.)
"He doesn't, does he? My brother
was a Christian who died of cancer even though he prayed to Jesus to heal
him. How is this Jesus good? Hmmm? Can you answer that one?" (No answer.)
The elderly man is sympathetic. "No, you can't, can you?" He takes a sip
of water from a glass on his desk to give the student time to relax. In
philosophy, you have to go easy with the new ones. "Let's start again,
young fella. Is God good?"
"Er... Yes."
"Is Satan good?"
"No."
"Where does Satan come from?"
The student falters. "From...God..."
"That's right. God made Satan, didn't
he?" The elderly man runs his bony fingers through his thinning hair and
turns to the smirking, student audience. "I think we're going to have a
lot of fun this semester, ladies and gentlemen." He turns back to the Christian.
"Tell me, son. Is there evil in this world?"
"Yes, sir."
"Evil's everywhere, isn't it? Did
God make everything?"
"Yes."
"Who created evil?" (No answer.)
"Is there sickness in this world? Immorality? Hatred? Ugliness? All the
terrible things - do they exist in this world?"
The student squirms on his feet.
"Yes."
"Who created them?" (No answer.)
The professor suddenly shouts at his student. "WHO CREATED THEM? TELL ME,
PLEASE!" The professor closes in for the kill and climb into the Christian's
face. In a still small voice: "God created all evil, didn't He, son?"
(No answer.) The student tries to
hold the steady, experienced gaze and fails. Suddenly the lecturer breaks
away to pace the front of the classroom like an aging panther. The class
is mesmerized. "Tell me," he continues, "How is it that this God is good
if He created all evil throughout all time?" The professor swishes his
arms around to encompass the wickedness of the world. "All the hatred,
the brutality, all the pain, all the torture, all the death and ugliness
and all the suffering created by this good God is all over the world, isn't
it, young man?" (No answer.)
"Don't you see it all over the place?
Huh?" Pause. "Don't you?" The professor leans into the student's face again
and whispers, "Is God good?" (No answer.) "Do you believe in Jesus Christ,
son?"
The student's voice betrays him
and cracks. "Yes, professor. I do."
The old man shakes his head sadly.
"Science says you have five senses you use to identify and observe the
world around you. Have you ever seen your Jesus?"
"No, sir. I've never seen Him."
"Then tell us if you've ever heard
your Jesus?"
"No, sir. I have not."
"Have you ever felt your Jesus,
tasted your Jesus or smelt your Jesus... In fact, do you have any sensory
perception of your God whatsoever?" (No answer.) "Answer me, please."
"No, sir, I'm afraid I haven't."
"You're AFRAID... you haven't?"
"No, sir."
"Yet you still believe in him?"
"...yes..."
"That takes FAITH!" The professor
smiles sagely at the underling. "According to the rules of
empirical, testable, demonstrable protocol, science says your God doesn't
exist. What do you say to that, son? Where is your God now?" The student
doesn't answer. "Sit down, please." The Christian sits...Defeated.
Another Christian raises his hand.
"Professor, may I address the Class?"
The professor turns and smiles.
"Ah, another Christian in the vanguard! Come, come, young man. Speak
some proper wisdom to the gathering."
The Christian looks around the room.
"Some interesting points you are making, sir. Now I've got a question for
you. Is there such thing as heat?"
'Yes," the professor replies. "There's
heat."
"Is there such a thing as cold?"
"Yes, son, there's cold too."
"No, sir, there isn't."
The professor's grin freezes. The
room suddenly goes very cold. The second Christian continues. "You can
have lots of heat, even more heat, super-heat, mega-heat, white heat, a
little heat or no heat, but we don't have anything called 'cold'. We can
hit 458 degrees below zero, which is no heat, but we can't go any further
after that. There is no such thing as cold, otherwise we would be able
to go colder than 458. You see, sir, cold is only a word we use to describe
the absence of heat. We cannot measure cold. Heat we can measure in thermal
units because heat is energy. Cold is not the opposite of heat, sir, just
the absence of it."
Silence. A pin drops somewhere in
the classroom.
"Is there such a thing as darkness,
professor?"
"That's a dumb question, son. What
is night if it isn't darkness? What are you getting at...?"
"So you say there is such a thing
as darkness?"
"Yes..."
"You're wrong again, sir. Darkness
is not something, it is the absence of something. You can have low light,
normal light, bright light, flashing light, but if you have no light constantly,
you have nothing, and it's called darkness, isn't it? That's the meaning
we use to define the word. In reality, darkness isn't. If it were, you
would be able to make darkness darker and give me a jar of it. Can you...give
me a jar of darker darkness, professor?"
Despite himself, the professor smiles
at the young effrontery before him. This will indeed be a good semester.
"Would you mind telling us what your point is, young man?"
"Yes, professor. My point is, your
philosophical premise is flawed to start with and so your conclusion
must be in error...."
The professor goes toxic. "Flawed...?
How dare you...!"
"Sir, may I explain what I mean?"
The class is all ears.
"Explain... oh, explain..." The
professor makes an admirable effort to regain control. Suddenly he is affability
itself. He waves his hand to silence the class, for the student to continue.
"You are working on the premise
of duality," the Christian explains. "That for example there is life and
then here's death; a good God and a bad God. You are viewing the concept
of God as something finite, something we can measure. Sir, science cannot
even explain a thought. It uses electricity and magnetism but has never
seen, much less fully understood them. To view death as the opposite of
life is to be ignorant of the fact that death cannot exist as a substantive
thing. Death is not the opposite of life, merely the absence of it."
The young man holds up a newspaper
he takes from the desk of a neighbor who has been reading it. "Here is
one of the most disgusting tabloids this country hosts, professor. Is there
such a thing as immorality?"
"Of course there is, now look..."
"Wrong again, sir. You see, immorality
is merely the absence of morality. Is there such thing as injustice?
No. Injustice is the absence of justice. Is there such a thing as evil?"
The Christian pauses. "Isn't evil the absence of good?"
The professor's face has turned
an alarming color. He is so angry he is temporarily speechless. The Christian
continues. "If there is evil in the world, professor, and we all agree
there is, then God, if he exists, must be accomplishing a work through
the agency of evil. What is that work, God is accomplishing? The Bible
tells us it is to see if each one of us will, of our own free will, choose
good over evil."
The professor bridles. "As a philosophical
scientist, I don't view this matter as having anything to do with
any choice; as a realist, I absolutely do not recognize the concept of
God or any other theological factor as being part of the world equation
because God is not observable."
"I would have thought that the absence
of God's moral code in this world is probably one of the most observable
phenomena going," the Christian replies. "Newspapers make billions of dollars
reporting it every week! Tell me, professor. Do you teach your students
that they evolved from a monkey?"
"If you are referring to the natural
evolutionary process, young man, yes, of course I do."
"Have you ever observed evolution
with your own eyes, sir?"
The professor makes a sucking sound
with his teeth and gives his student a silent, stony stare.
"Professor. Since no-one has ever
observed the process of evolution at work and cannot even prove that this
process is an on-going endeavor, are you not teaching your opinion, sir?
Are you now not a scientist, but a priest?"
"I'll overlook your impudence in
the light of our philosophical discussion. Now, have you quite finished?"
the professor hisses.
"So you don't accept God's moral
code to do what is righteous?"
"I believe in what is - that's science!"
"Ahh! SCIENCE!" the student's face
spits into a grin. "Sir, you rightly state that science is the study of
observed phenomena. Science too is a premise which is flawed..."
"SCIENCE IS FLAWED..?" the professor
sputters.
The class is in uproar. The Christian
remains standing until the commotion has subsided. "To continue the
point you were making earlier to the other student, may I give you an example
of what I mean?" The professor wisely keeps silent. The Christian looks
around the room. "Is there anyone in the class who has ever seen the professor's
brain?" The class breaks out in laughter. The Christian points towards
his elderly, crumbling tutor. "Is there anyone here who has ever heard
the professor's brain... felt the professor's brain, touched or smelt the
professor's brain?"
No one appears to have done so.
The Christian shakes his head sadly. "It appears no-one here has
had any sensory perception of the professor's brain whatsoever. Well, according
to the rules of empirical, testable, demonstrable protocol, science says
the professor has no brain."
The class is in chaos. The Christian
sits... Because that is what a chair is for.
~ Unknown
TOP INDEX
What
Was In Jeremy's Egg?
Jeremy was born with a twisted body,
a slow mind and a chronic, terminal illness that had been slowly killing
him all his young life. Still his parents had tried to give him as normal
a life as possible and had sent him to St. Theresa's Elementary School.
At the age of 12, Jeremy was only
in the second grade, seemingly unable to learn. His teacher, Doris Miller,
soon became exasperated with him. He would squirm in his seat, drool and
make grunting noises. At other times he spoke clearly and distinctly, as
if a spot of light had penetrated the darkness of his brain. Most of the
time, however, Jeremy irritated his teacher. One day she called his parents
and asked them to come to St. Theresa's for a consultation.
As the Forresters sat quietly in
the empty classroom, Doris said to them "Jeremy really belongs in a special
school. It isn't fair to him to be with younger children who don't have
learning problems. Why, there is a five-year gap between his age and that
of the other students!"
Mrs. Forrester cried softly into
a tissue while her husband spoke. "Miss Miller," he said, " There is no
school of that kind nearby. It would be a terrible shock for Jeremy if
we had to take him out of this school. We know he really likes it here."
Doris sat for a long time after
they left, staring at the snow outside the window. Its coldness seemed
to seep into her soul. She wanted to sympathize with the Forresters. After
all, their only child had a terminal illness. But it wasn't fair to keep
him in her class. She had 18 other youngsters to teach and Jeremy was a
distraction. Futhermore, he would never learn to read and write. Why waste
any more time trying?
As she pondered the situation, guilt
washed over her "Oh God," she said aloud, "here I am complaining, when
my problems are nothing compared with that poor family! Please help
me to be more patient with Jeremy."
From that day on, she tried hard
to ignore Jeremy's noises and his blank stares. Then one day he limped
to her desk, dragging his bad leg behind him. " I love you , Miss
Miller," he exclaimed one day, loud enough for the whole class to hear
. The other students snickered, and Doris's face turned red. She
stammered, " Wh--why, that's very nice, Jeremy. Now please take your seat."
Spring came, and the children talked
excitedly about the coming of Easter. Doris told them the story of Jesus,
and then to emphasize the idea of the new springing forth, she gave each
of the children a large plastic egg. " Now," she said to them, " I want
you to take this home and bring it back tomorrow with something inside
that shows new life. Do you understand?" "Yes Miss Miller!" the children
responded enthusiastically -- all except for Jeremy. He just listened
intently; his eyes never left her face. He did not even make his usual
noises. Had he understood what she had said about Jesus's death and resurrection?
Did he understand the assignment? Perhaps she should call his parents and
explain the project to them.
That evening , Doris's kitchen sink
stopped up. She called the landlord and waited an hour for him to come
by and unclog it. After that, she still had to shop for groceries,
iron a blouse and prepare a vocabulary test for the next day. She
completely forgot about phoning Jeremy's parents. The next morning 19 children
came to school, laughing and talking as they placed their eggs in the large
wicker basket on Miss Miller's desk. After they completed their math lesson,
it was time to open the eggs.
In the first egg, Doris found a
flower, " Oh yes, a flower is certainly a sign of new life," she said.
" When plants peek through the ground , we know that spring is here."
A small girl in the first row waved her arm. "That's my egg, Miss Miller,"
she called out.
The next egg contained a plastic
butterfly, which looked very real. Doris held it up. " We all know that
a caterpillar changes and grows into a beautiful butterfly. Yes,
that is a new life too." Little Judy smiled proudly and said " Miss
Miller, that one is mine."
Next, Doris found a rock with moss
on it. She explained that moss too, showed life. Billy spoke up from the
back of the classroom. "My daddy helped me!" he beamed.
Then Doris opened the fourth egg.
She gasped. The egg was empty! Surely it must be Jeremy's, she thought,
and, of course he didn't understand her instructions. If only she had not
forgotten to phone his parents. Because she did not want to embarrass him,
she quietly set the egg aside and reached for another one.
Suddenly Jeremy spoke up. " Miss
Miller aren't you going to talk about my egg?" Flustered, Doris replied,"
But Jeremy - your egg is empty!" He looked into her eyes and said softly,
" Yes but Jesus's tomb was empty too!" Time stopped. When she could
speak again, Doris asked him, "Do you know why the Tomb was empty?" "Oh
yes!" Jeremy exclaimed. "Jesus was killed and put in there. Then his Father
raised him up!" The recess bell rang.
While the children excitedly ran
out to the school yard, Doris cried. The cold inside her melted completely
away. Three months later, Jeremy died. Those who paid their respects at
the mortuary were surprised to see 19 eggs on top of his casket, all of
them empty.
Prayer:
Lord, I pray right now that
this story touches everyone who reads it like it did me. I know You had
a friend share it with me for a certain reason. So I want You to touch
them like You did me. In JESUS'S Precious Name. Amen
TOP INDEX
WE
ARE NEVER ALONE!!!:
Sent by Dave Singer
This is a true story that occurred
in 1994 and told by Lloyd Glenn: Throughout our lives we are blessed with
spiritual experiences, some of which are very sacred and confidential,
and others, although sacred, are meant to be shared.
Last summer my family had a spiritual
experience that had a lasting and profound impact on us, one we feel must
be shared. It's a message of love. It's a message of regaining perspective,
and restoring proper balance and renewing priorities. In humility, I pray
that I might, in relating this story, give you a gift my little son, Brian,
gave our family one summer day last year.
On July 22nd I was enroute to Washington
DC for a business trip. It was all so very ordinary, until we landed in
Denver for a plane change. As I collected my belongings from the overhead
bin, an announcement was made for Mr. Lloyd Glenn to see the United Customer
Service Representative immediately. I thought nothing of it until I reached
the door to leave the plane and I heard a gentleman asking every male if
they were Mr. Glenn. At this point I knew something was wrong and my heart
sunk. When I got off the plane a solemn-faced young man came toward me
and said, "Mr. Glenn, there is an emergency at your home. I do not know
what the emergency is, or who is involved, but I will take you to the phone
so you can call the hospital." My heart was now pounding, but the will
to be calm took over. Woodenly, I followed this stranger to the distant
telephone where I called the number he gave me for the Mission Hospital.
My call was put through to the trauma center where I learned that my three-year-old
son had been trapped underneath the automatic garage door for several minutes,
and that when my wife had found him he was dead. CPR had been performed
by a neighbor, who is a doctor, and the paramedics had continued the treatment
as Brian was transported to the hospital.
By the time of my call, Brian was
revived and they believed he would live, but they did not know how much
damage had been done to his brain, nor to his heart. They explained that
the door had completely closed on his little sternum right over his heart.
He had been severely crushed. After speaking with the medical staff, my
wife sounded worried but not hysterical, and I took comfort in her calmness.
The return flight seemed to last
forever, but finally I arrived at the hospital six hours after the garage
door had come down. When I walked into the intensive care unit, nothing
could have prepared me to see my little son lying so still on a great big
bed with tubes and monitors everywhere. He was on a respirator. I glanced
at my wife who stood and tried to give me a reassuring smile. It all seemed
like a terrible dream. I was filled-in with the details and given a guarded
prognosis. Brian was going to live, and the preliminary tests indicated
that his heart was ok, two miracles in and of themselves. But only time
would tell if his brain received any damage.
Throughout the seemingly endless
hours, my wife was calm. She felt that Brian would eventually be all right.
I hung on to her words and faith like a lifeline. All that night and the
next day Brian remained unconscious. It seemed like forever since I had
left for my business trip the day before. Finally at two o'clock that afternoon,
our son regained consciousness and sat up uttering the most beautiful words
I have ever heard spoken. He said, "Daddy hold me" and he reached for me
with his little arms. By the next day he was pronounced as having no neurological
or physical deficits, and the story of his miraculous survival spread throughout
the hospital.
You cannot imagine our gratitude
and joy. As we took Brian home we felt a unique reverence for the life
and love of our Heavenly Father that comes to those who brush death so
closely.
In the days that followed there
was a special spirit about our home. Our two older children were much closer
to their little brother. My wife and I were much closer to each other,
and all of us were very close as a whole family. Life took on a less stressful
pace. Perspective seemed to be more focused, and balance much easier to
gain and maintain. We felt deeply blessed.
Our gratitude was truly profound.
The story is not over! Almost a month later to the day of the accident,
Brian awoke from his afternoon nap and said, "Sit down mommy. I have something
to tell you." At this time in his life, Brian usually spoke in small phrases,
so to say a large sentence surprised my wife. She sat down with him on
his bed and he began his sacred and remarkable story.
"Do you remember when I got stuck
under the garage door? Well it was so heavy and it hurt really bad. I called
to you, but you couldn't hear me. I started to cry, but then it hurt too
bad. And then the 'birdies' came."
"The birdies?" my wife asked puzzled.
"Yes," he replied. "The birdies made a whooshing sound and flew into the
garage. They took care of me." "They did?"
"Yes" he said. "One of the birdies
came and got you. She came to tell you I got stuck under the door." A sweet
reverent feeling filled the room. The spirit was so strong and yet lighter
than air. My wife realized that a three-year-old had no concept of death
and spirits, so he was referring to the beings who came to him from beyond
as "birdies" because they were up in the air like birds that fly.
"What did the birdies look like?"
she asked. Brian answered, "They were so beautiful. They were dressed in
white, all white. Some of them had green and white. But some of them had
on just white." "Did they say anything?" "Yes" he answered. "They told
me the baby would be alright." "The baby?" my wife asked confused. Brian
answered. "The baby laying on the garage floor." He went on, "You came
out and opened the garage door and ran to the baby. You told the baby to
stay and not leave." My wife nearly collapsed upon hearing this, for she
had indeed
gone and knelt beside Brian's body
and seeing his crushed chest and recognizable features, knowing he was
already dead, she looked up around her and whispered, "Don't leave us Brian,
please stay if you can."
As she listened to Brian telling
her the words she had spoken, she realized that the spirit had left his
body and was looking down from above on this little lifeless form. "Then
what happened?" she asked. "We went on a trip." He said, "far, far away."
He grew agitated trying to say the things he didn't seem to have the words
for. My wife tried to calm and comfort him, and let him know it would be
okay. He struggled with wanting to tell something that obviously was very
important to him, but finding the words was difficult.
"We flew so fast up in the air.
They're so pretty Mommy." he added. "And there is lots and lots of birdies."
My wife was stunned. Into her mind the sweet comforting spirit enveloped
her more soundly, but with an urgency she had never before known.
Brian went on to tell her that the
"birdies" had told him that he had to come back and tell everyone about
the "birdies". He said they brought him back to the house and that a big
fire truck, and an ambulance were there. A man was bringing the baby out
on a white bed and he tried to tell the man that the baby would be okay,
but the man couldn't hear him. He said the birdies told him he had to go
with the ambulance, but they would be near him. He said, they were so pretty
and so peaceful, and he didn't want to come back.
Then the bright light came. He said
that the light was so bright and so warm, and he loved the bright light
so much. Someone was in the bright light and put their arms around him,
and told him, "I love you but you have to go back. You have to play baseball,
and tell everyone about the birdies."
Then the person in the bright light
kissed him and waved bye-bye. Then woosh, the big sound came and they went
into the clouds. The story went on for an hour.
He taught us that "birdies" were
always with us, but we don't see them because we look with our eyes and
we don't hear them because we listen with our ears. But they are always
there, you can only see them in here (he put his hand over his heart).
they whisper the things to Help us to do what is right because they love
us so much. Brian continued, stating, "I have a plan, Mommy. You have a
plan. Daddy has a plan. Everyone has a plan. We must all live our plan
and keep our promises. The birdies help us to do that cause they love us
so much."
In the weeks that followed, he often
came to us and told all, or part of it again and again. Always the story
remained the same. The details were never changed or out of order. A few
times he added further bits of information and clarified the message he
had already delivered. It never ceased to amaze us how he could tell such
detail and speak beyond his ability when he spoke of his "birdies".
Everywhere he went, he told strangers
about the "birdies". Surprisingly, no one ever looked at him strangely
when he did this. Rather, they always got a softened look on their face
and smiled.
Needless to say, we have not been
the same ever since that day, and pray we never will be.
An Angel To Watch over You
Some people come into our lives
and quickly go...
Some people become friends and
stay a while...
leaving beautiful footprints on
our hearts...
and we are ~ never ~ quite the
same
because we have made a good friend!!
Yesterday is history. Tomorrow a
mystery. Today is a gift. That's why it's called the present!
Live and savor every moment.....this
is not a dress rehearsal!
TAKE A LITTLE ANGEL AND KEEP HER
CLOSE TO YOU SHE IS YOUR GUARDIAN ANGEL SENT TO WATCH OVER YOU
TOP INDEX
Heaven's
Grocery Store:
Submitted by Cindy - cfajardo
Agape Prayer
I was walking down life's highway
a long time ago. One day I saw a sign that read, "HEAVEN'S GROCERY STORE"
As I got a little closer, the door
opened wide and then I found myself standing inside. I saw a host of ANGELS.
They were standing everywhere. One handed me a basket and said, "My Child,
shop with care."
Everything a human needed was in
that grocery store. And if you couldn't carry all, you could come back
the next day for more.
First, I got some PATIENCE. LOVE
was in the same row. Further down was UNDERSTANDING; you need that everywhere
you go. I got a box or two of WISDOM, a bag or two of FAITH. I just couldn't
miss the HOLY GHOST, for it was all over the place. I stopped to get some
STRENGTH and COURAGE TO HELP ME RUN THIS RACE.
By then my basket was getting full,
but I remembered I needed some GRACE. I didn't forget SALVATION, for SALVATION
was free. So I tried to get enough of that to save both you and me. Then
I started up to the counter to pay my grocery bill. For I thought I had
everything to do the MASTER'S will. As I went up the aisle, I saw PRAYER;
and I just had to put that in, For I knew when I stepped outside, I would
run into sin. PEACE and JOY were plentiful; they were last on the shelf.
SONG and PRAISE were hanging near, so I just helped myself.
Then I said to the angel, "Now,
how much do I owe?" He smiled again and said, "MY CHILD, GOD PAID YOUR
BILL A LONG, LONG TIME AGO,"
This came from Venezuela and was
written by Saul Anthony Lavoid, a missionary from South America.
TOP INDEX
