Gods Gift:
I ASKED GOD TO TAKE AWAY MY PRIDE...
And God said "No."
He said it was not for Him to take
away, but for me to give up.
I asked God to make my handicapped
child whole. And God said "No."
He said her spirit is whole, Her
body is only temporary.
I asked God to grant me patience.
And God said "No".
He said patience is a by-product
of tribulations. It isn't granted, it is earned.
I asked God to give me happiness.
And God said, "No".
He said He gives me blessings,
Happiness is up to me.
I asked God to spare me pain. And
God said "No".
He said suffering draws you apart
from worldly cares and brings you closer to Me.
I asked God to make my spirit grow.
And God said "No".
He said I must grow on my own,
but He would prune me to make me fruitful.
I asked God for all things that
I might enjoy life. And God said "No".
He said I will give you life, that
you may enjoy all things.
I asked God to help me LOVE others,
as much as He loves me... and God said, Ah, finally, you have the idea,
Amen!!!
Author Unknown
TOP
INDEX
Gods
Promise:
God didn't promise
Days without pain
Laughter without sorrow
Or sun without rain
But God did promise
Strength for day
Comfort for tears
And a light for the way
And for all who believe
In His kingdom above
He asweres their faith
With everlasting love
Author unknown
TOP INDEX
Not Yet!:
Sometimes I ask the question, "My
Lord, is this your will?"
It's then I hear you answer me,
"My Precious Child... be still."
Sometimes I feel frustrated, cause
I think I know what's best.
It's then I hear you say to me,
"My Busy Child... just rest"
Sometimes I feel so lonely and
I think I'd like a mate.
Your still small voice gets oh
so clear and says, "My Child... please wait"
"I know the plans I have for you,
the wondrous things you'll see; If you can just be patient, Child, and
put your trust in me. I've plans to draw you closer. I've plans to help
you grow. There's much I do you cannot see and much you do not know. But
know this, Child ..... I LOVE YOU. You are Precious unto Me. Before I formed
you in the womb, I planned your destiny. I've something very special I
hope for you to learn. The gifts I wish to give to you are gifts you cannot
earn. They come without a price tag, but not without a cost; at Calvary,
I gave My Son, so You would not be lost. Rest Child, and do not be weary
of doing what is good. I promise I'll come back for you just like I said
I would. Your name is written on my palm, I never could forget; Therefore,
do not be discouraged when my answer is... "Not Yet"
TOP
INDEX
The
Butterfly:
A man found a cocoon on a butterfly.
One day a small opening appeared, he sat and watched the butterfly for
several hours as it struggled to force it's body through that little hole.
Then it seemed to stop making any progress. It appeared as if it had gotten
as far as it could and it could go no farther.
So the man decided to help the butterfly,
He took a pair of scissors and snipped off the remaining bit of the cocoon.
The butterfly then emerged easily.
But, it had a swollen body, and small shriveled wings. He continued to
watch the butterfly, because he expected that, at any moment, the wings
would enlarge and expand to support the body, which would contract in time.
Neither happened! In fact, the butterfly spent the rest of its life crawling
around with a swollen body and shriveled wings. It was never able to fly.
What he had done in his well intentioned
kindness and haste, what he did not understand was that the restricting
cocoon and the struggle required to get through the tiny opening were God's
way of forcing fluid from the body of the butterfly into its wings so that
it would be ready for flight once it achieved its freedom from the cocoon.
Sometimes struggles are exactly
what we need in our life. If God allowed us to go through our life without
any obstacles, it would cripple us. We would not be as strong as we could
have been...
And we could never fly...
Have a great day, a great life,
struggle a little.. Then fly!
TOP
INDEX
WHAT
ARE YOU HANGING ON TO?
(Author Unknown)
The cheerful girl with bouncy golden
curls was almost five. Waiting with her mother at the checkout stand, she
saw them: a circle of glistening white pearls in a pink foil box.
"Oh please, Mommy. Can I have them?
Please, Mommy, please?"
Quickly the mother checked the
back of the little foil box and the looked back into the pleading blue
eyes of her little girl's upturned face.
"A dollar ninety-five. That's almost
$2.00. If you really want them, I'll think of some extra chores for you
and in no time you can save enough money to buy them for yourself. Your
birthday's only a week away and you might get another crisp dollar bill
from Grandma."
As soon as Jenny got home, she
emptied her penny bank and counted out 17 pennies. After dinner, she did
more than her share of chores and she went to the neighbor and asked Mrs.
McJames if she could pick dandelions for ten cents. On her birthday, Grandma
did give her another new dollar bill and at last she had enough money to
buy the necklace.
Jenny loved her pearls. They made
her feel dressed up and grown up. She wore them everywhere-Sunday School,
Kindergarten, even to bed. The only time she took them off was when she
went swimming or had a bubble bath. Mother said if they got wet, they might
turn her neck green.
Every night when she was ready
for bed, Jenny's daddy would stop whatever he was doing and come upstairs
to read her a story. One night when he finished the story, he asked Jenny,
"Do you love me?"
"Oh yes, Daddy. You know that I
love you."
"Then give me your pearls."
"Oh, Daddy, not my pearls. But
you can have Princess - the white horse from my collection. The one with
the pink tail. Remember, Daddy? The one you gave me. She's my favorite."
"That's okay, Honey. Daddy loves
you. Good night." And he brushed her cheek with a kiss.
About a week later, after the story
time, Jenny's daddy asked again, "Do you love me?"
"Daddy, you know I love you."
"Then give me your pearls."
"Oh Daddy, not my pearls. But you
can have my baby doll. The brand new one I got for my birthday. She is
so beautiful and you can have the yellow blanket that matches her sleeper."
"That's okay. Sleep well. God bless
you, little one. Daddy loves you." And as always, he brushed her cheek
with a gentle kiss.
A few nights later when her daddy
came in, Jenny was sitting on her bed with her legs crossed Indian-style.
As he came close, he noticed her chin was trembling and one silent tear
rolled down her cheek. "What is it, Jenny?
What's the matter?" Jenny didn't
say anything but lifted her little hand up to her daddy. And when she opened
it, there was her little pearl necklace.
With a little quiver, she finally
said, "Here, Daddy. It's for you."
With tears gathering in his own
eyes, Jenny's kind daddy reached out with one hand to take the dime-store
necklace, and with the other hand he reached into his pocket and pulled
out a blue velvet case with a strand of genuine pearls and gave them to
Jenny. He had had them all the time. He was just waiting for her to give
up the dime-store stuff so he could give her genuine treasure.
Jenny's father is like our heavenly
Father. He also is waiting for us to give up our dime store stuff and seek
Him first... so He can fling open the windows of Heaven and pour us out
such a blessing that we will not have room enough to hold it.
TOP
INDEX
Gold-Medal
Winner:
I spoke at a middle school in the
spring of 1995. When the program was over, the principal asked me if I
would pay a visit to a special student. An illness had kept the boy home,
but he had expressed an interest in meeting me, and the principal knew
it would mean a great deal to him. I agreed.
During the nine-mile drive to his
home, I found out some things about Matthew. He had muscular dystrophy.
When he was born, the doctors told his parents that he would not live to
see 5, then they were told he would make it to 10. He was 13 and from what
I was told, a real fighter. He wanted to meet me because I was a gold-medal
power lifter, and I knew about overcoming obstacles and going for your
dreams.
I spent over an hour talking to
Matthew. Never once did he complain or ask, "Why me?" He spoke about winning
and succeeding and going for his dreams. Obviously, he knew what he was
talking about. He didn't mention that his classmates had made fun of him
because he was different; he just talked about his hopes for the future,
and how one day he wanted to lift weights with me.
When we finished talking, I went
into my briefcase and pulled out the first gold medal I won for power lifting
and put it around his neck. I told him he was more of a winner and knew
more about success and overcoming obstacles than I ever would. He looked
at it for a moment, then took it off and handed it back to me. He said,
"Rick, you are a champion. You earned that medal. Someday, when I get to
the Olympics and win my gold medal, I will show it to you."
Last summer I received a letter
from Matthew's parents telling me that Matthew had passed away. They wanted
me to have a letter he had written to me a few days before.
Dear Rick,
My mom said I should send you a
thank-you letter for the neat picture you sent me. I also wanted to let
you know that the doctors tell me I don't have long to live anymore. It
is getting very hard for me to breathe and I get tired very easy, but I
still smile as much as I can. I know that I will never be as strong as
you and I know we will never get to lift weights together.
I told you someday I was going
to go to the Olympics and win a gold medal. I know now I will never get
to do that. But I know I am a champion, and God knows that too. He knows
I am not a quitter, and when I get to heaven, God will give me my gold
medal, and when you get there, I will show it to you. Thanks for loving
me.
Your friend,
Matthew
By Rick Metzger from Chicken Soup
for the Teenage Soul Copyright 1997 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen
and Kimberly Kirberger TOP
INDEX
Are
You Guilty?!:
Written and Submitted by Dave Singer
08/14/99
You occasionally hear Christians
complain about nonbelievers using our LORD'S name in vain. But how highly
do we put the name of our GOD?
In Old Testament times we can see
that the Hebrews would not use "I AM " as a reference to their God, but
today is different.
We, as Christians, will use our
LORDS name and put it on a bumper sticker. Maybe a billboard, or even written
on a bathroom wall.
Do we honor God this way or do we
treat Him as lowly as us? Not reverencing His name like we should. Christians
taking the LORDS name in vain offends me more than a non-Christian
cussing using God's name. I even have a hard time writing this without
using His Most Highly to be praised name. Praise His name with Gladness
and Singing. TOP
INDEX
Please
Dress Me in Red:
In my profession, I have worked with
children who have the virus that causes AIDS. The relationships that I
have had with these special kids have been gifts in my life. Let me tell
you about the courage of Tyler.
Tyler was born infected with HIV;
his mother was also infected. From the very beginning of his life, he was
dependent on medications to enable him to survive. At times, he also needed
supplemental oxygen to support his breathing.
Tyler wasn't willing to give up
one single moment of his childhood to this deadly disease. It was not unusual
to find him playing and racing around his backyard, wearing his medicine-laden
backpack and dragging his tank of oxygen behind him in his little wagon.
Tyler's pure joy in being alive gave him energy that caused all of us who
knew him to marvel. Tyler's mom often teased him by telling him that he
moved so fast, she needed to dress him in red. That way, when she peered
out the window to check on him playing in the yard, she could quickly spot
him.
This dreaded disease eventually
wore down even the likes of a little dynamo like Tyler. He became quite
ill and, unfortunately, so did his mother. When it became apparent that
he wasn't going to survive, Tyler's mom talked to him and she comforted
him by telling Tyler that she was dying, too, and that she would be with
him soon in heaven.
A few days before his death, Tyler
beckoned me over to his hospital bed and whispered, "I might die soon.
I'm not scared. When I die, please dress me in red. Mom promised she's
coming to heaven, too. I'll be playing when she gets there, and I want
to make sure she can find me."
-
By Cindy D. Holms from Condensed
Chicken Soup for the Soul Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor
Hansen & Patty Hansen
TOP
INDEX
"Yes,
Lord":
Submitted by Gene Richards:
URL: http://www.seekGODfirst.org/
This morning I asked, "How much
more can I take;
What else must I do for Your name's
sake?"
I'm running this race to get closer
to You.
But, my God, I can't believe the
things I go through.
The stress and struggles of this
thing called life.
The unknowns: will I marry and
be a good spouse?
What school shall I attend; Masters,
Doctorate, then what?
Am I even in the right profession
or just stuck in a rut?
Did I mail off that payment?
Did I pick up my suit?
I know I'm forgetting something.
Is patience part of the fruit?
We have rehearsal tonight?!
But, I have other plans.
Help the needy and greedy?
Lord, I've only got two hands.
There's Bible Study on Wednesdays
and meetings on Monday.
I am practically at Church from
Sunday to Sunday.
You've burned my insides like a
craftsman with gold.
Flames set hot and long enough,
gave newness to the old.
My old friends are gone and some
family members too.
You've got my attention, now what
must I do?
Dedicate my whole being to focus
on You?
Put aside my plans and desires
and give what is due?
Should I think of You each second
and meditate each day?
Should I fast and pray and watch
what I say?
Should I be humble and obedient
and forget about myself?
Shall I, Your vessel, just sit
here on a shelf?
Waiting to be used by You, is that
my only goal?
Have You the rights to my spirit
and the papers to my soul?
Pray harder, listen better, study
more and sin less?
And my God silenced me, as I felt
Him say. . ."Yes".
Whatever I command, you should
do with no delay.
You must study My Words and walk
in My Way.
I will cleanse you from all you
have done to yourself.
For you know not the time, you'll
be pulled from the shelf.
Like a glass that is dirty, with
smudges and spots.
You must be presentable, having
minimal blots.
For My Living Water must be sweet
to the taste.
Therefore, I must prepare the container
in which it is placed.
Your life is not yours, it belongs
to Me.
I knew you before you knew you,
now I want you to see.
Your true purpose in life is based
on My plans. So,
I'll mold you and shape you with
My own hands.
Yes, pain you feel and experience
loss.
But it's not as though I asked
you to carry a Cross.
Who has stretched you wide and
speared you deep?
Who has nailed your hands and pierced
your feet?
Are there stripes on your back
or bruises on your face?
When was the last time you saved
the human race?
Have you died lately and arisen
from the dead?
Did I ask you to adorn a crown
of thorns upon your head?
My Son wore that crown, so that
yours may be one of glory.
Now, all I'm asking of you, is
to tell the story.
Tell them where you were when you
heard the Good News.
How you came to know that Jesus
paid all your dues.
So, yes, you owe Me. But
your life is not all that fine.
As a matter of fact, you're only
giving Me back what's already Mine.
Just do what you must and give
it your best.
Don't worry, just have faith and
I'll take care of the rest.
I love you and want you to trust
and choose Me.
You must My dear child, if you
want to be free.
Free from the powers and bondage
of sin.
Able to choose eternal life instead
of an eternal end.
I want Us to be close and on one
accord.
Then His eyes asked if I understood.
And I humbly replied . . .
"Yes, Lord."
Sunset Road Baptist Church Email
Prayer Praise & Encouragement - http://come.to/sunsetrd
TOP
INDEX
The
Crooked Smile:
As we rolled five-year-old Mary into
the MRI room, I tried to imagine what she must be feeling. She had suffered
a stroke that left half of her body paralyzed, had been hospitalized for
treatment of a brain tumor, and had recently lost her father, her mother
and her home. We all wondered how Mary would react.
She went into the MRI machine without
the slightest protest, and we began the exam. At that time, each imaging
sequence required the patient to remain perfectly still for about five
minutes. This would have been difficult for anyone - and certainly for
a five-year-old who had suffered so much. We were taking an image of her
head, so any movement of her face, including talking, would result in image
distortion.
About two minutes into the first
sequence, we noticed on the video monitor that Mary’s mouth was moving.
We even heard a muted voice over the intercom. We halted the exam and gently
reminded Mary not to talk. She was smiling and promised not to talk.
We reset the machine and started
over. Once again we saw her facial movement and heard her voice faintly.
What she was saying wasn’t clear. Everyone was becoming a little impatient,
with a busy schedule that had been put on hold to perform an emergency
MRI on Mary.
We went back in and slid Mary out
of the machine. Once again, she looked at us with her crooked smile and
wasn’t upset in the least. The technologist, perhaps a bit gruffly, said,
"Mary, you were talking again, and that causes blurry pictures."
Mary’s smile remained as she replied,
"I wasn’t talking. I was singing. You said no talking." We looked at each
other, feeling a little silly. "
What were you singing?" someone
asked.
"Jesus Loves Me," came the barely
perceptible reply. "I always sing ‘Jesus Loves Me’ when I’m happy."
Everyone in the room was speechless.
"Happy? How could this little girl be happy?" The technologist and I had
to leave the room for a moment to regain our composure as tears began to
fall.
Many times since that day, when
feeling stresses, unhappy or dissatisfied with some part of my life, I
have thought of Mary and felt both humbled and inspired. Her example made
me see that happiness is a marvelous gift - free to anyone willing to accept
it.
-
By James C Brown, M.D. from A 5th
Portion of Chicken Soup for the Soul Copyright 1998 by Jack Canfield
and Mark Victor Hansen TOP
INDEX
Ten
Inches Of Water:
Submitted by Dave Singer
-
A boy was sitting on a park bench with
one hand resting on an open Bible. He was loudly exclaiming his praise
to God. "Hallelujah! Hallelujah! God is great!" he yelled without worrying
whether anyone heard him or not.
-
-
Shortly after, along came a man who
had recently completed some studies at a local university. Feeling
himself very enlightened in the ways of truth and very eager to show this
enlightenment, he asked the boy about the source of his joy.
-
-
"Hey" asked the boy in return with
a bright laugh, "Don't you have any idea what God is able to do?
-
-
I just read that God opened up the
waves of the Red Sea and led the whole nation of Israel right through the
middle."
-
-
The enlightened man laughed lightly,
sat down next to the boy and began to try to open his eyes to the "realities"
of the miracles of the Bible.
-
-
"That can all be very easily explained.
Modern scholarship has shown that the Red Sea in that area was only 10
inches deep at that time. It was no problem for the Israelites to wade
across."
-
-
The boy was stumped. His eyes wandered
from the man back to the Bible laying open in his lap.
-
-
The man, content that he had enlightened
a poor, naive young person to the finer points of scientific insight, turned
to go. Scarcely had he taken two steps when the boy began to rejoice and
praise louder than before. The man turned to ask the reason for this resumed
jubilation.
-
-
"Wow!" exclaimed the boy happily, "God
is greater than I thought! Not only did He lead the whole nation of Israel
through the Red Sea, He topped it off by drowning the whole Egyptian army
in 10 inches of water!" TOP
INDEX
Interview
with God:
Submitted by Jay Berkshire
-
With my newly acquired title as a journalist, I decided to strike a high
note. . . . I asked God for an interview. To my surprise, He granted
my request!
-
-
"Be still," God said to me. "So, you would like to interview
Me?"
"If you have the time," I said.
He smiled and said, "My time is called 'ETERNITY,' and there's enough time
to do everything. What questions do you have in mind to ask me?"
"None that are new to you. WHAT'S THE ONE THING THAT SURPRISES
YOU MOST ABOUT MANKIND?"
God answered, "That people get bored of being children, are in a rush to
grow up and then long to be children again. That they lose their
health to make money and then lose their money to restore their health.
That by thinking anxiously about the future, they forget the present, such
that they live neither for the present nor the future. That they
live as if they will never die, and then they die as if they had never
lived."
His hands took mine and we were silent. After a long period
I said, "May I ask you another question?"
"As my Father, " I asked, "WHAT DO YOU SUGGEST THAT I-AND ALL YOUR
CHILDREN-SHOULD RESOLVE TO DO?"
God replied with a smile, "To learn that you cannot make anyone love you.
What you can do is let yourself be loved. To learn that it
takes years to build trust and a few seconds to destroy it.
To learn that what is most valuable is not what you have in your life,
but WHO you have in your life. To learn that it is not good to compare
yourself to others. There will always be others better or worse
than you are. To learn that a rich person is not one who has the most,
but is one who needs the least.
To learn that you should control your attitudes; otherwise your attitudes
will control you. To learn that it only takes a few seconds to open
profound wounds in persons we love, and that it takes many years to heal
them. To learn to forgive by practicing forgiveness. To learn that
there are persons that love you dearly, but simply do not know how to show
their feelings. To learn that money can buy everything but happiness.
To learn that while at times you may be entitled to be upset, that does
not give you the right to upset those around you. To learn
that great dreams do not require great wings, but landing gear. To learn
that true friends are scarce. Whoever has found one has found a true
treasure.
To learn that is not always enough that you be forgiven by others, but
that you forgive yourself. To learn that you are the master of what
you keep to yourself and a slave of what you say. To learn that you
shall reap what you plant; if you plant gossip you will harvest intrigues;
if you plant love, you will harvest happiness. To learn to be satisfied
with what you've already achieved. To learn that happiness is a decision.
Decide to be happy with what you are and have or be miserable from envy
and jealousy of what you lack. To learn that two people can look
at the same thing and see something totally different. To learn that
those who are honest with themselves without considering the consequences
go far in life. To learn that even though you may think you nothing
to give, when a friend cries with you, you find the strength to appease
the pain. To learn that by trying to hold on to loved ones, you very quickly
push them away; and by letting go of those you love, they will be by your
side forever.
To learn that you can never do something extraordinary for Me to love you;
I simply do. To learn that the shortest distance you could be from
Me is called a PRAYER." TOP
INDEX
Something
I need (but don't want)
October 24, 1999 A televangelist,
a secret viewer -- and a bigot Kathy Shaidle - Toronto Star
IN THE early '80s, I shared a Toronto
house with other young escapees from various hometowns we referred to collectively
as ``Armpit, Ontario.'' We're talking the PacMan era, pre-VCR, let alone
DVD. No Simpsons or Starbucks. No Internet, raves or karaoke. Plus
we were totally broke. So we kids made our own cheap fun. We played Trivial
Pursuit, took in movies on $2 Tuesdays. And every Sunday night, we polished
off that weekend's beer and played Spot The Bigot. The Reagan presidency
had loosed a swarm of Bible-banging preachers upon the airwaves, and Rev.
Jerry Falwell's Moral Majority wielded considerable political power.
So my housemates and I (left-leaning Catholic Canucks and budding urban
sophisticates) considered it our civic duty to keep a bloodshot eye on
all these televangelists - a challenging task since we couldn't quite tell
them apart. They all stalked the stage like caged tigers in identical shiny
suits, throwing Joe Pesci fits about - well, who knew what? At least Catholic
priests let you get some sleep during their sermons.
The only woman in sight was Tammy
Faye Baker, and we weren't too sure about her. (Dolled up as the
Bride of Frankenstein, her cheeks skid marked with mascara, I now think
of her as a grown-up JonBenet Ramsey.)
Yes, there was something crooked
about the world of televangelists, and not just the non-stop pleas to Send
Money Now!!! It was all yang and no yin. Our familiar Catholic
Church and these
``foreign'' southern Baptists had
something cruddy in common: The sign on the preacher-boy treehouse said:
No Girls Allowed.
Fifteen years later, I discovered
Joyce Meyer - Missouri grandmother, author and televangelist. Meyer's favorite
earrings resemble Titanic chandeliers and her rhinestone-studded, pastel
polyester ensembles scream, Welcome to WalMart. She also has the last frizzy
perm born in captivity before aerosols were banned by the U.N. So
Joyce is not a gal I'd normally pick as my new best friend. But then,
she opens her mouth. Meyer says she always had the clever, embittered person's
talent for the perfect, searing put-down. Then, one day, God`` baptized
her in the Holy Spirit'' and now she tries to use her sharp tongue for
good instead of evil. She has slowly built up a loyal following as a charismatic
Christian preacher, despite critics who don't believe a woman's
place is in the pulpit.
Meyer is like Carol Burnett trance-channeling
Billy Sunday. I've yet to hear her preach about homosexuality, abortion,
creationism or party politics (although I'm sure her views on those subjects
are fairly predictable). However, instead of yelling about the big bad
``unsaved'' world out there, Meyer's unique insight is that her born-again
audiences are their own worst enemies. ``We've got our JESUS bumper stickers
and extra-large Bibles,'' she'll say, ``but we grumble when someone cuts
us off in the parking lot outside?! We can get spirit-filled, all right,
but we can also spring a leak pretty quick. ``A lot of you wanna
cast out devils and demons but don't even have authority over a sink full
of dirty dishes.'' She is able to pull off this nagging because she knows
her listeners are just like her: fearful and furious, hypercritical and
legalistic, struggling to believe, to survive, in a society that makes
it difficult to be good. They're folks who believe in God but aren't quite
sure He believes in them. So Meyer talks about housework and shopping,
raising teenagers and hating your boss.
She candidly reveals her own humiliations
without histrionics or any loss of authority: a childhood stained by years
of sexual abuse, her loving but imperfect marriage to husband No. 2 (who
- in spite of Meyer's opinion that men are the head of the family - sits
in the audience, dutifully making notes in his Bible like everyone else).
Because, of course, Meyer talks scripture up a storm, performing CPR on
the dullest, most obscure stories and sayings: ``Why'd it take the Israelites
40 years to make an 11-day trip through the desert? 'Cause they were just
dumb? No! 'Cause they wanted to go their own way. ``Get a clue, people.
It's about trust. God won't send you a video of how it's all gonna turn
out beforehand.''
I don't like - or even get - everything
Meyer says. Some cultural and denominational divides I just can't cross.
I've never had kids or a husband and I somehow doubt she has a maxed-out
Frederick's of Hollywood charge card. I doubt she thinks much of
Noel Coward or St. John of the
Cross. But I find myself
watching her show more often than not, kidding myself that it's just Southern
Gothic kitsch, after all, and turning down her big Dixie voice if I hear
my cool neighbors getting off the elevator - the cute young couple who
wear the same Clash and Dead Kennedys T-shirts that I used to wear.
Fifteen years ago. Sometimes,
Joyce Meyer says something I need (but don't want) to hear and my day or
week is better because of it. That this surprises me, even embarrasses
me, says more about the state of my soul than hers. These days, when
I want to play Spot The Bigot, I turn off the TV and look in the mirror.
Relapsed Catholic Kathy Shaidle
is a contributor to ``The New Millennium Spiritual Journey: Change Your
Life With Help From Today's Most Inspiring Spiritual Teachers'' (Skylight
Paths). TOP
INDEX
See
you in the New Jerusalem
Submitted by Gary Sharp
It was an unusually cold day for
the month of May. Spring had arrived and everything was alive with color.
But a cold front from the north had brought winter's chill back to Indiana.
I sat with two friends in the picture window of a quaint restaurant just
off the corner of the town square.
The food and the company were
both especially good that day. As we talked, my attention was drawn outside, across
the street. There, walking into town, was a man who appeared to be carrying
all his worldly goods on his back. He was carrying, a well-worn sign that
read, "I will work for food." My heart sank.
I brought him to the attention
of my friends and noticed that others around us had stopped eating to focus
on him. Heads moved in a mixture of sadness and disbelief. We continued
with our meal, but his image lingered in my mind.
We finished our meal and went
our separate ways. I had errands to do and quickly set out to accomplish
them. I glanced toward the town square, looking somewhat halfheartedly
for the strange visitor. I was fearful, knowing that seeing him again would
call some response. I drove through
town and saw nothing of him.
I made some purchases at a store and got back in my car. Deep within me,
the Spirit of God kept speaking to me: "Don't go back to the office until
you've at least driven once more around the square."
And so, with some hesitancy,
I headed back into town. As I turned the square's third corner. I saw him.
He was standing on the steps of the storefront church, going through his
sack. I stopped and looked, feeling both compelled to speak to him, yet
wanting to drive on. The empty parking space on the corner seemed to be
a sign from God: an invitation to park. I pulled in, got out and approached
the town's newest visitor.
"Looking for the pastor?" I
asked.
"Not really," he replied, "Just
resting."
"Have you eaten today?"
"Oh, I ate something early this
morning."
"Would you like to have lunch
with me?"
"Do you have some work I could
do for you?"
"No work," I replied. "I commute
here to work from the city, but I would like to take you to lunch."
"Sure," he replied with a smile.
As he began to gather his things.
I asked some surface questions. "Where you headed?"
"St. Louis."
"Where you from?"
"Oh, all over; mostly Florida."
"How long you been walking?"
"Fourteen years," came the reply.
I knew I had met someone unusual.
We sat across from each other in the same restaurant I had left earlier.
His face was weathered slightly beyond his 38 years. His eyes were dark
yet clear, and he spoke with an eloquence and articulation that was startling.
He removed his jacket to reveal a bright red T-shirt that said, "Jesus
is The Never Ending Story."
Then Daniel's story began to
unfold. He had seen rough times early in life. He'd made some wrong choices
and reaped the consequences. Fourteen years earlier, while backpacking
across the country, he had stopped on the beach in Daytona. He tried to
hire on with some men who were putting up a large tent and some equipment.
A concert, he thought. He was hired, but the tent would not house a concert
but revival services, and in those services he saw life more clearly. He
gave his life over to God. "Nothing's been the same since," he said, "I
felt the Lord telling me to keep walking, and so I did, some 14 years now."
"Ever think of stopping?" I
asked.
"Oh, once in a while, when it
seems to get the best of me. But God has given me this calling. I give
out Bibles. That's what's in my sack. I work to buy food and Bibles, and
I give them out when His Spirit leads."
I sat amazed. My homeless friend
was not homeless. He was on a mission and lived this way by choice. The
question burned inside for a moment and then I asked:
"What's it like?"
"What?"
"To walk into a town carrying
all your things on your back and to show your sign?"
"Oh, it was humiliating at first.
People would stare and make comments. Once someone tossed a piece of half-eaten
bread and made a gesture that certainly didn't make me feel welcome. But
then it became humbling to realize that God was using me to touch lives
and change people's concepts of other folks like me."
My concept was changing, too.
We finished our dessert and
gathered his things. Just outside the door, he paused. He turned to me
and said, "Come ye blessed of my Father and inherit the kingdom I've prepared
for you. For when I was hungry you gave me food, when I was thirsty you
gave me drink, a stranger and you took me in."
I felt as if we were on holy
ground.
"Could you use another Bible?"
I asked.
He said he preferred a certain
translation. It traveled well and was not too heavy. It was also his personal
favorite. "I've read through it 14 times," he said.
"I'm not sure we've got one
of those, but let's stop by our church and see."
I was able to find my new friend
a Bible that would do well, and he seemed very grateful.
"Where you headed from here?"
"Well, I found this little map
on the back of this amusement park coupon."
"Are you hoping to hire on there
for awhile?"
"No, I just figure I should
go there. I figure someone under that star right there needs a Bible, so
that's where I'm going next." He smiled, and the warmth of his spirit radiated
the sincerity of his mission. I drove him back to the town square where
we'd met two hours earlier, and as we drove, it started raining. We parked
and unloaded his things.
"Would you sign my autograph
book?" he asked. "I like to keep messages from folks I meet."
I wrote in his little book that
his commitment to his calling had touched my life. I encouraged him to
stay strong. And I left him with a verse of scripture from Jeremiah, "I
know the plans I have for you,"
declared the Lord, "plans to
prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a future and a hope."
"Thanks, man," he said. "I know
we just met and we're really just strangers, but I love you."
"I know," I said, "I love you,
too."
"The Lord is good."
"Yes. He is. How long has it
been since someone hugged you?" I asked.
"A long time," he replied.
And so on the busy street corner
in the drizzling rain, my new friend and I embraced, and I felt deep inside
that I had been changed. He put his things on his back, smiled his winning
smile and said, "See you in the New Jerusalem."
"I'll be there!" was my reply.
He began his journey again.
He headed away with his sign dangling from his bed roll and pack of Bibles.
He stopped, turned and said, "When you see something that makes you think
of me, will you pray for me?"
"You bet," I shouted back, "God
bless."
"God bless."
And that was the last I saw
of him.
Late that evening as I left
my office, the wind blew strong. The cold front had settled hard upon the
town. I bundled up and hurried to my car. As I sat back and reached for
the emergency brake, I saw them....a pair of well-worn brown work gloves
neatly laid over the length of the handle. I picked them up and thought
of my friend and wondered if his hands would stay warm that night without
them. I remembered his words: "If you see something that makes you think
of me, will you pray for me?"
Today his gloves lie on my desk
in my office. They help me to see the world and its people in a new way,
and they help me remember those two hours with my unique friend and to
pray for his ministry. "See you in the New Jerusalem," he said.
Yes, Daniel, I know I will....
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