Even Though!: (author
unknown)
Submitted by Linda Powell
Dear Lord;
Even though I clutch my blanket and growl when the alarm rings, thank
you, Lord, that I can hear.
There are many who are deaf.
Even though I keep my eyes closed against the morning light as long
as possible, thank you, Lord, that I can see.
Many are blind
Even though I huddle in my bed and put off rising, thank you Lord,
that I have the strength to rise.
There are many who are bedridden.
Even though the first hour of my day is hectic, when socks are lost,
toast is burned and tempers are short, thank you, Lord, for My family.
There are many who are lonely.
Even though our breakfast table never looks like the pictures in
magazines and the menu is at times
unbalanced, thank you, Lord, for the food we have.
There are many who are hungry;
Even though the routine of my job often is hard, hard, thank you,
Lord, for the opportunity to work.
There are many who have no job.
Even though I grumble and bemoan my fate from day to day and wish
my circumstances were not so modest, thank you, Lord, for life.
MORE: Pass this on to the friends you know.
A friend is someone we turn to when our spirits need a lift.
A friend is someone we treasure for our friendship is a gift,
A friend is someone who fills our lives with Beauty, Joy, and Grace
And makes the world we live in A Better and Happier Place.
TOP INDEX
EMERGENCY SPIRITUAL PHONE NUMBERS - A Quick Reference
Submitted by Dave Singer When in sorrow, - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
- - call John 14
When men fail you, - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - call
Psalm 27
If you want to be fruitful,- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
call John 15
When you have sinned, -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - call
Psalm 51
When you worry, -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
call Matthew 6:19-34
When you are in danger, -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - call Psalm
91
When God seems far away,
-
- - - - - - - - - - - call Psalm 139
When your faith needs stirring,
-
- - - - - - - - call Hebrews 11
When you are lonely and fearful,-
- - - - - - - call Psalm 23
When you grow bitter and
critical, - - - - - - - call
I Corinthians 13
For Paul's secret to happiness,
-
- - - - - - - - call Colossians 3:12-17
When you feel down and out,
-
- - - - - - - - - call Romans 8:31
When you want peace and rest,-
- - - - - - - - call Matthew 11:25-30
When the world seems bigger
than God, - call Psalm 90
When you want Christian assurance,-
- - - call Romans 8:1-30
When you leave home for labor
or travel, - call Psalm 121
When your prayers grow narrow
or selfish, ----- call Psalm 67
For a great invention/opportunity,
call Isaiah 55
When you want courage for
a task, call
Joshua 1
For how to get along with
fellow men, call Romans 12
When you think of investments
and returns, call
Mark 10
If you are depressed,
call Psalm 27
If your pocketbook is empty,
call Psalm 37
If you are losing confidence
in people, call I Corinthians
13
If people seem unkind,
call John 15
If discouraged about your
work,
call Psalm 126
If you find the world growing
small and yourself great, call Psalm 19
Alternate numbers:
For dealing with fear,
call Psalm 34:7
For security,
call Psalm 121:3
For assurance, .
call Mark 8:35
For reassurance,
call Psalm 145:18
Emergency numbers may be dialed
direct. No operator assistance is
necessary.
All lines to Heaven are open
24 hours a day!
Feed your faith, and doubt
will starve to death ! ! ! ! TOP
INDEX
When
I say I am a Christian:
Submitted by Cindy
When I say, "I am a Christian,"
I'm not shouting, "I am saved."
I'm whispering, "I get lost."
That is why I'm going this way.
When I say, "I am a Christian,"
I don't speak of this with pride.
I'm confessing that I stumble
And need someone to be my guide.
When I say, "I am a Christian,"
I'm not trying to be strong.
I'm professing that I am weak
And pray for strength to carry
on.
When I say, "I am a Christian,"
I'm not bragging of success.
I'm admitting I have failed
And cannot ever pay the debt.
When I say, "I am a Christian,"
I'm not claiming to be perfect.
My flaws are too visible
But God believes I'm worth it.
When I say, "I am a Christian,"
I still feel the sting of pain.
I have my share of heartaches,
Which is why I seek HIS name.
When I say, "I am a Christian,"
I do not wish to judge.
I have no authority
I only know I'm loved.
--Author unknown. TOP
INDEX
Angels,
Once in a While:
Barb Irwin
In September 1960, I woke up one
morning with six hungry babies and just 75 cents in my pocket. Their
father was gone.
The boys ranged from three months
to seven years; their sister was two. Their Dad had never been much more
than a presence they feared. Whenever they heard his tires crunch
on the gravel driveway they would scramble to hide under their beds. He
did manage to leave 15 dollars a week to buy groceries. Now that he had
decided to leave, there would be no more beatings, but no food
either. If there was a welfare
system in effect in southern Indiana at that time, I certainly knew nothing
about it.
I scrubbed the kids until they looked
brand new and then put on my best homemade dress. I loaded them into
the rusty old 51 Chevy and drove off to find a job. The seven of us went
to every factory, store and restaurant in our small town. No luck. The
kids stayed, crammed into the car and tried to be quiet while I tried to
convince whomever would listen that I was willing to learn or do
anything. I had to have a job.
Still no luck.
The last place we went to, just
a few miles out of town, was an old Root Beer Barrel drive-in that had
been converted to a truck stop. It was called the Big Wheel. An old lady
named Granny owned the place and she peeked out of the window from time
to time at all those kids. She needed someone on the graveyard shift, 11
at night until seven in the morning. She paid 65 cents an hour and I could
start that night.
I raced home and called the teenager
down the street that baby-sat for people. I bargained with her to come
and sleep on my sofa for a dollar a night. She could arrive with her pajamas
on and the kids would already be asleep. This seemed like a good arrangement
to her, so we made a deal.
That night when the little ones
and I knelt to say our prayers we all thanked God for finding Mommy a job.
And so I started at the Big Wheel. When I got home in the mornings I woke
the baby-sitter up and sent her home with one dollar of my tip money -
fully half of what I averaged every night.
As the weeks went by, heating bills
added another strain to my meager wage. The tires on the old Chevy had
the consistency of penny balloons and began to leak. I had to fill them
with air on the way to work and again every morning before I could go home.
One bleak fall morning, I dragged
myself to the car to go home and found four tires in the back seat. New
tires! There was no note, no nothing, just those beautiful brand new tires.
Had angels taken up residence in Indiana? I wondered. I made a deal with
the owner of the local service station. In exchange for his mounting the
new tires, I would clean up his office. I remember it took me a lot longer
to scrub his floor than it did for him to do the tires.
I was now working six nights instead
of five and it still wasn't enough. Christmas was coming and I knew there
would be no money for toys for the kids. I found a can of red paint and
started repairing and painting some old toys. Then I hid them in the basement
so there would be something for Santa to deliver on Christmas morning.
Clothes were a worry too. I was sewing patches on top of patches on the
boys pants and soon they would be too far gone to repair.
On Christmas Eve the usual customers
were drinking coffee in the Big Wheel. These were the truckers, Les, Frank,
and Jim, and a state trooper named Joe. A few musicians were hanging around
after a gig at the Legion and were dropping nickels in the pinball machine.
The regulars all just sat around and talked through the wee hours of the
morning and then left to get home before the sun came up. When it was time
for me to go home at seven o'clock on Christmas morning I hurried to the
car.
I was hoping the kids wouldn't wake
up before I managed to get home and get the presents from the basement
and
place them under the tree. (We had cut down a small cedar tree by the side
of the road down by the dump.)
It was still dark and I couldn't
see much, but there appeared to be some dark shadows in the car - or was
that just a trick of the night? Something certainly looked different, but
it was hard to tell what. When I reached the car I peered warily into one
of the side windows. Then my jaw dropped in amazement. My old battered
Chevy was full-full to the top with boxes of all shapes and sizes. I quickly
opened the driver's side door, scrambled inside and kneeled in the front
facing the back seat.
Reaching back, I pulled off the
lid of the top box. Inside was a whole case of little blue jeans, sizes
2-10! I looked inside another box: It was full of shirts to go with the
jeans. Then I peeked inside some of the other boxes: There were candy and
nuts and bananas and bags of groceries. There was an enormous ham for baking,
and canned vegetables and potatoes. There was pudding and Jell-O and cookies,
pie filling and flour. There was a whole bag of laundry supplies and cleaning
items. And there were five toy trucks and one beautiful little doll. As
I drove back through empty streets as the sun slowly rose on the most amazing
Christmas Day of my life, I was sobbing with gratitude. And I will never
forget the joy on the faces of my little ones that precious morning. Yes,
there were angels in Indiana that
long-ago December. And they all hung out at the Big Wheel truck stop.
TOP INDEX
The
Bible in 50 Words AND Tagged!:
Submitted by Dave Singer
God made
Adam bit
Noah arked
Abraham split
Joseph ruled
Jacob fooled
Bush talked
Moses balked
Pharaoh plagued
People walked
Sea Divided
Tablets guided
Promise landed
Saul freaked
David peeked
Prophets warned
Jesus born
God walked
Love talked
Anger crucified
Hope died
Love rose
Spirit flamed
Word spread
God remained
Tag - you're it ... ----- GOTCHA!!!
Consider yourself hit by
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\ | /
\ | /
\ /
_ _ _
| |
____| |____
|____ _____|
| |
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------
The Love Of GOD!
TAG EVERYONE YOU KNOW BEFORE THEY
CAN TAG YOU. TAG SOMEONE TODAY, EXCEPT THE PERSON THAT HIT YOU. SORRY,
NO TAG BACKS!
TOP INDEX
Witnessing
Christ's Love Through A Child:
Submitted by Esther & John
Baker
A friend sent this to me this morning
and said:
I'm sending it around because it
is a needed message for the 'body of Christ'.....Can we love like that
child loved? Or have we "grown up" so much that "knowledge" has kept
us from experiencing what the "love of Christ" really means....in a lost
and dying world.
Rosemary Colvin wrote:
This is a first-person account from
a mother about her family as they ate dinner on Christmas Day in a small
restaurant many miles from their home.
Nancy, the mother, relates: We were
the only family with children in the restaurant. I sat Erik in a
high chair and noticed everyone was quietly eating and talking.
Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee
and said, "Hi there." He pounded his fat baby hands on the highchair
tray. His eyes were wide with excitement and his mouth was bared
in a toothless grin. He wriggled and giggled with merriment.
I looked around and saw the source
of his merriment. It was a man with a tattered rag of a coat; dirty,
greasy and worn. His pants were baggy with a zipper at half-mast
and his toes poked out of would-be shoes. His shirt was dirty and his hair
was uncombed and unwashed. His whiskers were too short to be called
a beard and his nose was so varicose it looked like a road map.
We were too far from him to smell,
but I was sure he smelled. His hands waved and flapped on loose wrists.
"Hi there, baby; hi there, big boy. I see ya, buster," the man said to
Erik.
My husband and I exchanged looks,
"What do we do?" Erik continued to laugh and answer, ""Hi, hi there."
Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked at us and then at the man.
The old geezer was creating a nuisance with my beautiful baby.
Our meal came and the man began
shouting from across the room, "Do ya know patty cake? Do you know
peek-a-boo? Hey, look, he knows peek-a-boo."
Nobody thought the old man was cute.
He was obviously drunk. My husband and I were embarrassed. We ate
in silence; all except for Erik, who was running through his repertoire
for the admiring skid-row bum, who in turn, reciprocated with his cute
comments.
We finally got through the meal
and headed for the door. My husband went to pay the check and told
me to meet him in the parking lot. The old man sat poised between the door
and me. "Lord, just let me out of here before he speaks to me or
Erik," I prayed.
As I drew closer to the man, I turned
my back trying to sidestep him and avoid any air he might be breathing.
As I did, Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby's
pick-me-up, position. Before I could stop him, Erik had propelled
himself from my arms to the man's. Suddenly a very old smelly man and a
very young baby consummated their love relationship. Erik in an act
of total trust, love and submission laid his tiny head upon the man's ragged
shoulder. The man's eyes closed, and I saw tears hover beneath his
lashes. His aged hands full of grime, pain and hard labor -- gently,
so gently cradled my baby's bottom and stroked his back. No two beings
have ever loved so deeply for so short a time. I stood awestruck.
The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms for a moment, and then
his eyes opened and set squarely on mine. He said in a firm commanding
voice, "You take care of this baby."
Somehow I managed, "I will," from
a throat that contained a stone. He pried Erik from his chest unwillingly,
longingly, as though in pain. I received my baby, and the man said,
"God bless you, ma'am, you've given me my Christmas gift."
I said nothing more than a muttered
thanks. With Erik in my arms, I ran for the car. My husband
was wondering why I was crying and holding Erik so tightly, and why I was
saying, "My God, my God, forgive me."
I had just witnessed Christ's love
shown through the innocence of a tiny child who saw no sin, who made no
judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a mother who saw a suit of clothes.
I was a Christian who was blind,
holding a child who was not. I felt it was God asking --"Are you
willing to share your son for a moment?" when He shared His for all eternity.
The ragged old man, unwittingly,
had reminded me, "To enter the Kingdom of God, we must become as
little children." TOP
INDEX
Intuitive
Whispers
by Pat Worrell
-
Glistening sunlight washes the
air in the spaces between the leaves and branches as it completes it's
journey, falling and dissolving on the path where I walk. I cup my hands
and catch some and hold it for a time enjoying the warmth as it kisses
my skin.
"It's here everyday," whispers the
voice of my soul,
"Here whether you're lost or in
the holy flow,
Here, created for your delight,
you know?"
I realize truth when I hear it and
wonder how much holy sunlight has spilled upon the ground without 'me'
being aware, perhaps while I was lost within the care. "I have more, the
Holy Spirit whispers ~ billions of dancing beams, oceans of flowing streams,
come along, they are waiting here for you."
I listen in between the spaces of
my heartbeat, listen to revelation written on the wind and come to know
the wonders of the Lord, come to know the awesome majesty of my King. "You
are a royal priesthood whispers the voice, a creation of beauty, an object
of My love."
How could you~ love me, I wonder.
"How could you seek me, my soul asks?" "Because you are My creation, the
object of My affection, an affirmation of delight, a poem with wings of
flight," says He.
I walk along the path of dancing
sunlight
Marveling at the lightness of soul
And feeding on this truth I know
I am cherished
I am blessed
I am loved.
My wings unfold
Once again free to fly
In unison two hearts beat as one
Among the dancing rays of the sun.
-
Copyright © 1999 by Pat Worrell
"Disciple's Den" http://www.disciplesden.org
TOP INDEX
The Rosebud:
Submitted by
Dave Singer
A young, new preacher was walking with an older, more
seasoned preacher
in the garden one day and feeling a bit insecure about what God had for him to
do, he was inquiring of the older preacher. The older preacher
walked up to a rosebush and handed the young preacher a rosebud and told him to
open it without tearing off any petals.
The young preacher looked in disbelief at the older preacher and was trying to
figure out what a rosebud could possibly have to do with his wanting to know the
WILL OF GOD for his life and for his ministry. Because of his high
respect for the older preacher, he proceeded to TRY to unfold the rose, while
keeping every petal intact...It wasn't long before he realized how impossible it
was to do so. Noticing the younger preacher's inability to unfold
the rosebud while keeping it intact, the older preacher began to recite the
following poem...
UNFOLDING THE ROSEBUD
It is only a tiny rosebud,
A flower of GOD's design;
But I cannot unfold the petals
With these clumsy hands of mine.
The secret of unfolding flowers
Is not known to such as I.
GOD opens this flower so sweetly,
When in my hands they fade and die.
If I cannot unfold a rosebud,
This flower of GOD's design,
Then how can I think I have wisdom
To unfold this life of mine?
So I'll trust in Him for His leading
Each moment of every day.
I will look to him for His guidance
Each step of the pilgrim way.
The pathway that lies before me,
Only my Heavenly Father knows.
I'll trust Him to unfold the moments,
Just as He unfolds the rose (Author Unknown)
TOP INDEX
Let me be:
Let me be a little kinder,
Let me be a little blinder
To the faults of those about me.
Let me praise a little more.
Let me be, when I am weary,
Just a little bit more cheery;
Let me serve a little better
Those whom I am working for.
Let me be a little braver
When temptation makes me waver;
Let me strive a little harder
To be all that I should be.
Let me be a little meeker
With the person who is weaker;
Let me think more of my neighbor
And a little less of me. - (Author Unkown) TOP INDEX
I'm Praying Grandpa:
A grandfather overheard his granddaughter repeating the
alphabet in reverent, hushed tones. "What are you doing?" he asked.
"I'm praying, Grandpa," she said. "I
can't think of the right words, so I just say all the letters. God will put them
together for me, 'cause He knows what I'm thinking."
TOP
INDEX
Who'll Take the Son?
Submitted by Shelley Askins
A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works
of art. They had everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They
would often sit together and admire the great works of art.
When the Viet Nam conflict broke out, the son went to
war. He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier.
The father was notified and grieved deeply for his son.
About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a
knock at the door. A young man stood at the door with a large package in his
hands.
He said, "Sir, you don't know me, but I am the
soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he
was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died
instantly. He often talked about you , and your love for art." The young
man held out his package. "I know this isn't much. I'm not really a great
artist, but I think your son would have wanted you to have this."
The father opened the package. It was a portrait of his
son, painted by the young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had
captured the personality of his son in the painting. The father was so drawn to
the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the young man and
offered to pay him for the picture.
"Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your son did
for me. It's a gift."
The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every
time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son
before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected. The man
died awhile later. There was to be a great auction of his paintings. Many
influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having
an opportunity to purchase on for their collection. On the platform sat the
painting of the son.
"We will start the bidding with this picture of
the son. Who will bid for this picture?" There was silence. Then a voice in
the back of the room shouted. "We want to see the famous paintings. Skip
this one." But the auctioneer persisted. "Will someone bid for this
painting? Who will start the bidding? $100, $200?" Another voice shouted
angrily. "We didn't come to see this painting. We came to see the Van Goghs,
the Rembrandts. Get on with the real bids!" But still the auctioneer
continued. "The son! The son! Who'll take the son?" Finally a voice
came from the very back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the man and
his son. "I'll give$10 for the painting."
Being a poor man, it was all he could afford. "We
have $10, who will bid $20?" "Give it to him for $10. Let's see the
masters." $10 is the bid, won't someone bid $20?" The crowd was
becoming angry. They didn't want the picture of the son. They wanted the more
worthy investments for their collections. The auctioneer pounded the gavel.
"Going once, twice, SOLD for $10!" A man sitting on the second row
shouted. "Now let's get on with the collection!"
The auctioneer laid down this gavel. "I'm sorry
the auction is over." "What about the paintings?" "I am
sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret
stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this
time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned. Whoever bought that
painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings. The man who
took the son gets every thing!"
God gave his son 2,000 years ago to die on a cruel
cross. Much like the auctioneer, His message today is, "The son, the son,
who'll take the son?" Because you see, whoever takes the Son gets
everything -- author unknown
TOP
INDEX
The Three
Little Birds . . .
Submitted by Barb Kidwell
There once was a man named George Thomas, a pastor in a
small New England town. One Easter Sunday morning he came to the Church carrying
a rusty, bent, old bird cage, and set it by the pulpit. Several eyebrows were
raised and, as if in response, Pastor Thomas began to speak. "I was
walking through town yesterday when I saw a young boy coming toward me swinging
this bird cage. On the bottom of the cage were three little wild
birds, shivering with cold and fright. I stopped the lad and asked,
"What you got there son?"
"Just some old birds," came the reply.
"What are you gonna do with them?" I asked
"Take 'em home and have fun with 'em," he answered. I'm gonna tease 'em
and pull out their feathers to make 'em fight. I'm gonna have a real good
time."
"But you'll get tired of those birds sooner or later. What will you
do then?"
"Oh, I got some cats," said the little boy. "They like birds.
I'll take em to them."
The pastor was silent for a moment. "How much do you want for those birds,
son?"
"Huh??!!! Why, you don't want them birds, mister. They're just plain
old field birds. They don't sing - they ain't even pretty!"
How much?" the pastor asked again.
The boy sized up the pastor as if he were crazy and said, "$10?"
The pastor reached in his pocket and took out a ten dollar bill. He
placed it in the boy's hand. In a flash, the boy was gone. The pastor picked up the cage and gently carried it to the end of the alley where
there was a tree and a grassy spot. Setting the cage down, he opened the
door, and by softly tapping the bars persuaded the birds out, setting them
free. Well, that explained the empty bird cage on the pulpit, and then the
pastor began to tell this story.
One day Satan and Jesus were having a conversation.
Satan had just come from the Garden of Eden, and he was gloating and boasting.
"Yes, sir, I just caught the world full of people down there. Set me
a trap, used bait I knew they couldn't resist. Got 'em all!"
"What are you going to do with them?" Jesus
asked.
Satan replied, "Oh, I'm gonna have fun! I'm gonna
teach them how to marry and divorce each other, how to hate and abuse each
other, how to drink and smoke and curse. I'm gonna teach them how to
invent guns and bombs and kill each other. I'm really gonna have
fun!"
"And what will you do when you get done with
them?" Jesus asked.
"Oh, I'll kill 'em," Satan glared
proudly.
"How much do you want for them?" Jesus
asked.
"Oh, you don't want those people. They ain't no
good. Why, you'll take them and they'll just hate you. They'll spit on
you, curse you and kill you!! You don't want those people!!"
"How much?" He asked again.
Satan looked at Jesus and sneered, "All your
tears, and all your blood."
Jesus said, "DONE!" Then He paid the price.
The pastor picked up the cage he opened the door and he
walked from the pulpit.
TOP
INDEX
Where is God's
Perfection:
Submitted by Dave Singer
In Brooklyn, New York, Chush is a school that caters to
teaching
disabled children. Some children remain in Chush for their entire
school career, while others can be main-streamed into conventional
schools. At a Chush fund-raising dinner, the father of a Chush child delivered a
speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended.
After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he cried out,
"Where is the perfection in my son Shaya? Everything God does is done with
perfection. But my child cannot understand things as other children do. My child
cannot remember facts and figures as other children do. Where is God's
perfection?"
The audience was shocked by the question, pained by the father's
anguish and stilled by the piercing query. " I believe," the father
answered, "that when God brings a child like this into the world, the
perfection that he seeks is in the way people react to this child."
He then told the following story about his son Shaya: One afternoon, Shaya
and his father walked past a park where some boys Shaya knew were playing
baseball. Shaya asked, "Do you think they will let me play?"
Shaya's father knew that his son was not at all athletic and that most boys
would not want him on their team. But Shaya's father understood that if his son
was chosen to play it would give him a comfortable sense of belonging. Shaya's
father approached one of the boys in the field and asked if his son could play.
The boy looked around for guidance from his team-mates. Getting none, he took
matters into his town hands and said "We are losing by six runs and the
game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put
him up to bat in the ninth inning."
Shaya's father was ecstatic as Shaya smiled broadly. Shaya was told to put on a
glove and go out to play short center field. In the bottom of the eighth inning,
Shaya's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the bottom of
the ninth inning, Shaya's team scored again and now with two outs and the bases
loaded with the potential winning run on base, Shaya was scheduled to be up.
Would the team actually let Shaya bat at this juncture and give away their
chance to win the game?
Surprisingly, Shaya was given the bat As Shaya stepped up to the
plate, the pitcher moved a few steps to lob the ball in softly so
Shaya should at least be able to make contact. The first pitch came in and Shaya
swung clumsily and missed.
One of Shaya's team-mates came up to Shaya and together the held the bat and
faced the pitcher waiting for the next pitch. The pitcher again took a few steps
forward to toss the ball softly toward Shaya. As the pitch came in, Shaya and
his team-mate swung at the bat and together they hit a slow ground ball to the
pitcher. The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could easily have thrown
the ball to the first baseman. Shaya would have been out and that would have
ended the game.
Instead, the pitcher took the ball and threw it on a high arc to right
field, far beyond reach of the first baseman. Everyone started
yelling, "Shaya, run to first. Run to first." Never in his life had
Shaya
run to first. He scampered down the baseline wide- eyed and
startled. By the time he reached first base, the right fielder had the ball. He
easily have thrown the ball to the second baseman. But the
right fielder understood what the pitcher's intentions were, so he threw the
ball high and far over the third baseman's head. Everyone yelled, "Run to
second, run to second."
Shaya ran towards second base as the runners ahead of him deliriously circled
the bases towards home. As Shaya reached second base, the opposing short stop
ran to him, turned him in the direction of third base and shouted, "Run to
third." As Shaya rounded third, the boys from both teams ran behind him
screaming, "Shaya run home." Shaya ran home, stepped on home plate and
all 18 boys lifted him on their shoulders and made him the hero, as he had just
hit a "grand slam" and won the game for his team. "That
day," said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face,
"those 18 boys reached their level of God's perfection."
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Satan vs Jesus:
Submitted by Lorrie Johnson
The Lord is not good some of the time-he is good all of
the time! Wow. Powerful stuff! After living a "decent" life, my
time on earth came to an end.
The first thing I remember is sitting on a bench in the
waiting room of what I thought to be a courthouse. The doors opened and I was
instructed to come in and have a seat by the defense table. As I looked
around I saw the "prosecutor", he was a villainous looking gent who
snarled as he stared at me, he definitely was the most evil person have ever
seen. I sat down and looked to my left and there sat my lawyer, a kind and
gentle looking man whose appearance seemed very familiar to me. The corner
door flew open and there
appeared the judge in full flowing robes. He commanded an awesome presence
as he moved across the room and I couldn't take my eyes off of him. As he took
his seat behind the bench he said, "Let us begin." The
prosecutor rose and said
"My name is Satan and I am here to show you why
this man belongs in hell. He proceeded to tell of lies that I had told, things
that I had stolen in the past, and when I had cheated others. Satan told
of other horrible perversions that were once in my life and the more he spoke
the further down in my seat I sank. I was so
embarrassed that I couldn't look at anyone, even my own lawyer, as the Devil
told of sins that even I had completely forgotten about. As upset as I was at
Satan for telling all these things about me, I was equally upset at my
representative who sat there silently not offering any form of defense at
all. I know I had been guilty
of those things, but I had done some good in my life - couldn't that at least
cancel out part of the harm I've done? Satan finished with a fury and said
"This man belongs in hell, he is guilty of all that I have charged and
there is not a person who can prove otherwise."
When it was his turn, my lawyer first asked if he might approach the bench.
The judge allowed this over the strong objection of Satan, and beckoned
him to come forward. As he got up and started walking I was able to see him in
his full splendor and majesty. Now I realized why he seemed so familiar, this
was Jesus representing me: my Lord and my Savior. He stopped at the bench and
softly said to the judge "Hi Dad" and then he turned to address the
court. "Satan was correct in saying that this man had sinned, I
won't deny any of these allegations. And yes the wages of sin is death and this
man deserves to be punished". Jesus took a deep breath and turned to his
Father with outstretched arms and proclaimed "However, I died on the
cross so that this person might have eternal life and he has accepted me as his
Savior, so he is mine." My Lord continued with "His name is written in
the book of life and no one can snatch him from me. Satan still does not
understand yet, this man is not to be given justice but rather mercy."
As Jesus sat down, he quietly paused, looked at his
Father and said, "There is nothing else that needs to be done, I've done it
all".
The Judge lifted his mighty hand and slammed the gavel down and the following
words bellowed from his lips, "This man is free - the penalty for him
has already been paid in full, case dismissed."
As my Lord led me away I could hear Satan ranting and
raving "I won't give up, I'll win the next one."
I asked Jesus as he gave me my instructions of where to
go next, "Have you ever lost a case?"
Christ lovingly smiled and said, "Everyone that
has come to me and asked me to represent them has received the same verdict as
you...Paid in Full."
In this world of terrible hurt, pain, suffering, and extremely self-centered
focus to the exclusion of everyone and everything else there are times when
logic, thought, discussion, etc. do nothing. It is in these times I have learned
that I have only one place to turn to ease the pain.
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