I need a laugh don't you?

Many think Christians are those people who carry a 3'x 5' Bible and sing "Oh, how happy I am and here is the reason why" with a face that looks like they been sucking on a lemon! Not so. Read On.


An atheist was taking a walk through the woods.

What majestic trees!

What powerful rivers!

What beautiful animals!" he said to himself.

As he was walking alongside the river he heard a rustling in the bushes behind him. He turned to look. He saw a 7 foot grizzly charge towards him.

He ran as fast as he could up the path. He looked over his shoulder and saw that the bear was closing in on him. He looked over his shoulder again, and the bear was even closer. He tripped and fell on the ground. He rolled over to pick himself up but saw the bear right on top of him, reaching for him with his left paw and raising his right paw to strike him.

At that instant the Atheist cried out: "Oh my God!..."

Time stopped.
The bear froze.

The forest was silent.

As a bright light shone upon the man, a voice came out of the sky: "You deny my existence for all of these years, teach others I don't exist, and even credit creation to a cosmic accident. Do you expect me to help you out of this predicament? Am I to count you as a believer?"

The atheist looked directly into the light, "It would be hypocritical of me to suddenly ask You to treat me as a Christian now, but perhaps could you make the BEAR a Christian?"

"Very well," said the voice.

The light went out.

The sounds of the forest resumed.

And then the bear dropped his right paw, brought both paws together and bowed his head and spoke:

"Lord, bless this food, which I am about to receive from thy bounty, through Christ our Lord, Amen."

Want More? O.K. try this:

Three nurses went to heaven, and were awaiting their turn with St. Peter to plead their case to enter the pearly gates.

The first nurse said, "I worked in an emergency room. We tried our best to help patients, even though occasionally we did lose one. I think I deserve to go to heaven."

St. Peter looks at her file and admits her to heaven.

The second nurse says, "I worked in an operating room. It's a very high stress environment and we
do our best. Sometimes the patients are too sick and we lose them, but overall we try very hard."

St. Peter looks at her file and admits her to heaven.

The third nurse says, "I was a case manager for an HMO."

St. Peter looks at her file. He pulls out a calculator and starts punching away at it furiously, constantly going back to the nurse's file. After a few minutes St. Peter looks up, smiles, and says,

"Congratulations! You've been admitted to heaven ...for five days!"

And my favorite:

You Know You're A Missionary Kid When . . .
You can't answer the question, "Where are you from?"

You speak two languages, but can't spell either.

You flew before you could walk.

You embarrass yourself by asking what swear words mean.

You have a passport, but no driver's license.

You watch National Geographic specials and recognize someone.

You have a time zone map next to your telephone.

You don't know how to play Pac-Man.

You would rather eat seaweed than cafeteria food.

Your life story uses the phrase "Then we went to..." five times.

You speak to different ethnic groups in their own language.

You think in grams, metres, and litres.

You speak with authority on the quality of airline travel.

You send your family peanut butter and Kool-Aid for Christmas.

You worry about fitting in, and wear a native wrap around the dorm.

National Geographic makes you homesick.

You have strong opinions about how to cook bugs.

You live at school, work in the tropics, and go home for vacation.

You don't know where home is.

Strangers say they can remember you when you were "this tall."

You have friends from or in 29 different countries.

You do your devotions in another language.

You sort your friends by continent.

You keep dreaming of a green Christmas.

You tell people where you're from, and their eyes get big.

You are grateful for the speed and efficiency of any postal service.

You rrealizethat furlough is not a vacation.

You wince when people mispronounce foreign words.

You've spoken in dozens of churches, but aren't a pastor.

Furlough means that you are stuffed every night . . . and have to eat it all to seem polite.

Your parents decline your cousin's offer to let them use his BMW, and stuff all six of you into an old VW Beetle instead.

You stockpile mangoes.

You know what REAL coffee tastes like.

The majority of your friends don't speak English as a first language.

Someone brings up the name of a team, and you get the sport wrong.

You believe vehemently that football is played with a round, spotted ball.

You know there is no such thing as an international language.

You know the difference between patriotism and nationalism.

You realize what a small world it is, after all.

You never take anything for granted.

You watch a movie set in a foreign country, and you know what the nationals are REALLY saying into the camera.

You know how to pack.

All preaching sounds better under a corrugated tin roof.

Having four distinct seasons other than: dry, very dry, rainy, very rainy, is a new experience.

After a couple of years in one spot, you're ready to move again.

You frequently say, "I don't know, I was out of the country."

You feel uncomfortable in school without a uniform.

School gets cancelled due to flash flooding.

Tropical fruits aren't imported.

Walking miles to and from school is "normal."

If someone asks what school you went to, you reply, "depends on the year."

You are afraid to ask what you are eating. But munch away, with a smile on your face.

Until next Time Gentle Reader

The Vacation

Gentle Reader,
When was the last time you took a long look at nature? Lest week? Last month? Last year, Perhaps never! Why don't you stop right now step outside or look out window and tell me what you see, then come back and reread this little offering


Marty, who’s father was killed in a car accident when he was two, always looked up to his Uncle Jack. And Jack was wild about Marty! He also felt a heavy responsibility for the boy and did his best to provide him with a positive male role model. They spent a lot of time together. Especially in the summer when Jack, a high school guidance counselor was off on vacation and Marty was out of school. This summer, they had planned to tour the whole United States!

The trip was great! They really made the rounds and saw everything! They even spent two days at Disneyland. Marty loved being with Uncle Jack but when summer was coming close to an end, he was ready to go home. He couldn’t wait to tell his Mom and Grandparents of all his wonderful advertures.

Upon his arrival, Marty’s Mom greeted him with a big hug. Then, as he showed her all the pictures he’d taken, she asked him to tell her about his favorite place to visit. After giving it a little thought, Marty answered, "It would have to be the Grand Canyon!" When asked why, the boy said, "Because Uncle Jack said that you could see all the layers of time which have gone by by looking at the stripes in the rock. He told me that the very first layer was put there by God, and that God was there when every other layer was laid on top. And then, you know what? He also told me that before God ever started making the Grand Canyon, He started thinking of me and loving me. And then he prayed with me. And Momma, that’s where I asked Jesus to come into my heart!"

And I listened!

Do you listen I mean really listen? Think you do? Read on!

A young man had been to Wednesday night Bible Study. The Pastor had shared about listening to God. The young man couldn't help but wonder, "Does God still speak to people?"
After service he went out with some friends for coffee and pie and they discussed the idea. Several different people talked about how God had led them to do things in different ways.

It was about ten o'clock when the young man started driving home. Sitting in his car, he just began to pray, "God.. If you still speak to people, speak to me. I will listen. I will do my best to serve your wishes."

As he drove down the main street of his town, he had the strangest thought, to stop and buy a gallon of milk. He shook his head and said out loud, "God is that you?" He didn't get a reply and started on toward home.

But again, the thought was there, "Buy a gallon of milk."

The young man thought about how he'd heard that not all those spoken to recognized God's quiet voice inside of one's mind. Then he said, "Okay, God, in case that is you, I will buy the milk."
It didn't seem like too hard a request to fulfill. He could always use the milk himself if nothing else. So he stopped and purchased the gallon of milk and started off toward home.

As he passed Seventh street, he again felt the urge, "Turn down that street." "This is crazy," he thought and drove on pass the intersection.

Again, he felt that he should turn down seventh street. At the next intersection, he turned back and headed down Seventh. Half jokingly, he said out loud, "Okay, God, I will."
He drove several blocks, when suddenly, he felt like he should stop. He pulled over to the curb and looked around. He was in a semi-commercial area of town. It wasn't the best but it wasn't the worst of neighborhoods either.

The businesses were closed and most of the houses looked dark like the people were already in bed. Again, he sensed something, "Go and give the milk to the people in the house across the street." The young man looked at the house. It was dark and it looked like the people were either gone or they were already asleep.

He started to open the door and then sat back in the car seat. "God, this is insane. Those people are asleep and if I wake them up, they are going to be mad and I will look stupid."
Again, he felt like he should go and give the milk. Finally, he opened the car door, "Okay God, if this is you, I will go to the door and I will give them the milk. If you want me to look like a crazy person, okay. I want to do as I wish. I guess that will count for something, but if they don't answer right away, I am out of here."

He walked across the street and rang the bell. He could hear some noise inside. A man's voice yelled out, "Who is it? What do you want?" Then the door opened before the young man could get away. The man was standing there in his jeans and t-shirt. He looked like he'd just gotten out of bed. He had a strange look on his face and he didn't seem too happy to have some stranger standing on his doorstep.

"What is it?"

The young man thrust out the gallon of milk. "Here, I brought this to you," he said nervously.

The man took the milk and rushed down a hall way speaking loudly in Spanish. Then from down the hall came a woman carrying the milk toward the kitchen. The man was following her holding a baby. The baby was crying. The man had tears streaming down his face.

The man began speaking and half crying, "We were just praying. We had some big bills this month and we ran out of money. We didn't have any milk for our baby. I was just praying and asking God to show me how to get some milk." His wife in the kitchen yelled out, "I ask Him to send an Angel with some milk. Are you an Angel?"
In response to hearing this, the young man reached into his wallet and pulled out all the money he had on him and put in the man's hand. He turned and walked back toward his car as the tears were streaming down his face. He knew that God still answers prayers and that God still speaks to people!

The Seven Wonders of the World

Gentle Reader, can you name all Seven Wonders of the World? If not read below, You just may want to!

A group of students was asked to list what they thought were the present Seven Wonders of the World. Though there was some disagreement, the following got the most votes:
1. Egypt's Great Pyramids
2. Taj Mahal
3. Grand Canyon
4. Panama Canal
5. Empire State Building
6. St. Peter's Basilica
7. China's Great Wall

While gathering the votes, the teacher noted that one quiet student hadn't turned in her paper yet. So she asked the girl if she was having trouble with her list.

The girl replied, "Yes, a little. I couldn't quite make up my mind because there were so many."

The teacher said, "Well, tell us what you have, and maybe we can help." The girl hesitated, then read, "I think the Seven Wonders of the World are:

1. to touch
2. to taste
3. to see
4. to hear

. . . She hesitated a little,
. . . and then added

5. to feel
6. to laugh!
7. and to love

The room was so full of silence you could have heard a pin drop. Those things we overlook as simple and "ordinary" are truly wondrous.

A gentle reminder that the most precious things are before you: your family, your faith, your love, your good health and your friends.

When Christ Comes

No room for those who need the most help during these trying times. "They should't live there anyway" "It's better they they they deserve" "They don't need our help" "It's their own fault" Gentle Reader, I hope you aren't one of those who have thought or said these things. What do you suppose these statments tell those who spoke these words?
Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me. Revelation 3:20

Some of the saddest words on earth are: "We don't have room for you.

Jesus knew the sound of those words. He was still in Mary's womb when the innkeeper said, "We don't have room for you. ...

And when he was hung on the cross, wasn't the message one of utter rejection? "We don't have room for you in this world."

Even today Jesus is given the same treatment. He goes from heart to heart, asking if he might enter....

Every so often, he is welcomed. Someone throws open the door of his or her heart and invites him to stay. And to that person Jesus gives this great promise: In my father's house are many rooms.

What a delightful promise he makes us! We make room for him in our hearts and he makes room for us in his house.

Father, as your love has given us great joy and encouragement, help us to refresh the hearts of others by reaching out beyond our "comfort zone." Help us to make room your You.. We thank you for your great gift of love. We thank you for showing us by your life what it means to love. Help us to understand and to love those whom you bring into our lives, in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen and Amen.

Past vs Present

It' not always clear to some what is past in Scripture. Perhaps this will help.

A Look at the "past and present" in the Scripture:
a.. In God's reckoning, the work of the cross was once and for all finished. We should always make this distinction. When we reckon upon Christ's death for ourselves and our death with Him, we use the past tense, saying with Paul: "I have been crucified..." "Our old man was crucified..." "Reckon yourselves... to be dead..." In these and many other instances, Paul pictures our union as being "together with Him" in the past. We were and continually are delivered from sin's guilt and power by reckoning on our identification with the finished work of Christ on the cross. There is a finality in this and we are to reckon on it as a past and finished work.
b.. There are some who confuse this with another of Paul's statements and assure us that we are called upon to "die daily" to sin. NO! A THOUSAND TIMES NO! Paul insists that we are "dead to sin." From the time of our first knowledge of Christ's redemptive work, and our appropriation by reckoning it as ours, we have been "dead to sin." In any dispute with our friends, our enemy or the uprising of the flesh, we reckon it to be so from the time of our first reckoning. It is always past! Finished!
c.. When Paul said, "I die daily," he was not saying that we are called to die daily to sin. It is just at this point many confuse the "work" of the cross to be the "way" of the cross. The "work" of the cross is a past tense reality that we reckon upon. The "way" of the cross is a present tense reality that we share with Christ continually.
d.. Jesus, as the last Adam entered the world and embraced the "way" of the cross. He said, "If an man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me" [Luke 9:23]. This is often misused by "Christians" to teach that by some measure of self-discipline a person can put the old self to death by a daily denial. This is utterly frustrating to the grace of God! We must keep these two aspects of truth in their proper place. Two different men are involved. The Lord Jesus identified Himself with the human race, enfolding believers in Himself and taking all into the tomb. Now, God reckons that believers are dead through the "work" of the cross and buried "in Him." This was the end of the Adamic race. This made the Lord Jesus as "the last Adam." At Calvary, believers arose from the dead and are alive in the Lord Jesus, who is also spoken of as the second Man. All those that are in "the second man" are a new creation -- a completely "new man."

What is Life about?

Life isn't about keeping score.
It's not about how many friends you have
Or how accepted you are.
Not about if you have plans this weekend or if you're alone.
It isn't about who you're dating, who you used to date,
how many people you've dated, or if you haven't been
with anyone at all.
It isn't about who you have kissed,
It isn't about who your family is or
how much money they have
Or what kind of car you drive.
Or where you are sent to school.
It's not about how beautiful or ugly you are.
Or what clothes you wear, what shoes you have on,
Or what kind of music you listen to.
It's not about if your hair is blonde, red, black, or brown,
Or if your skin is too light or too dark.
Not about what grades you get how smart you are, how smart
everybody else thinks you are, or how smart
standardized tests say you are.
It's not about what clubs you're in or how good
you are at "your" sport.
It's not about representing your whole being on a piece of
paper and seeing who will "accept the written you."

Life just isn't.

Life is about who you love and who you hurt.
It's about who you make happy or unhappy purposely.
It's about keeping or betraying trust.
It's about friendship, used as a sanctity or as a weapon.
It's about what you say and mean, maybe hurtful, maybe heartening.
It's about starting rumors and contributing to petty gossip.
It's about what judgments you pass and why.
And who your judgments are spread to.
It's about who you've ignored with full control and intention.
It's about jealousy, fear, ignorance, and revenge.
It's about carrying inner hate and love, letting it grow
and spreading it.
But most of all, it's about using your life to touch or poison
other people's hearts in such a way that could have
never occurred alone.
Only you choose the way those hearts are affected, and those choices are what life's all about.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

All this was said a long time ago. It was very simply put.

"Do unto others as you would have them do unto you."

The Empty Chair

When You lose a loved one how to do you feel? What do you think?

A man's daughter had asked the local pastor to come and pray with her father. When the pastor arrived, he found the man lying in bed with his head propped up on two pillows and an empty chair beside his bed.

The pastor assumed that the old fellow had been informed of his visit. "I guess you were expecting me," he said. No, who are you?" "I'm the new associate at your local church," the pastor replied. "When I saw the empty chair, I figured you knew I was going to show up." "Oh yeah, the chair: said the bedridden man. "Would you mind closing the door?"

Puzzled, the pastor shut the door. "I've never told anyone this, not even my daughter," said the man. "But all of my life I have never known how to pray. At church I used to hear the pastor talk about prayer, but it always went right over my head. I abandoned any attempt at prayer, "the old man continued, "until one day about four years ago my best friend said to me, 'Joe, prayer is just a simple matter of having a conversation with Jesus.

Here's what I suggest: Sit down on a chair; place an empty chair in front of you, and in faith see Jesus on the chair. It's not spooky because he promised, 'I'll be with you always. 'Then just speak to him and listen in the same way you are doing with me right now.' So, I tried it and I've liked it so much that I do it a couple of hours every day. I'm careful, though, if my daughter saw me talking to an empty chair, she'd either have a nervous breakdown or sent me off to the funny farm."

The pastor was deeply moved by the story and encouraged the old guy to continue on the journey. Then he prayed with him, and returned to the church. Two nights later the daughter called to tell the pastor that her daddy had died that afternoon. "Did he seem to die in peace?" he asked. "Yes, when I left the house around two o'clock, he called me over to his bedside, told me one of his corny jokes and kissed me on the cheek. When I got back from the store an hour later, I found him dead. But there was something strange, in fact beyond strange-really weird. Apparently, Just before Daddy died, he leaned over and rested his head on a chair beside the bed."

A Prayer for 2005

This was written by a teen in Bagdad, Arizona. This is incredible! If I am wrong about prayer you have lost nothing! If you are wrong you have lost everything!

Now I sit me down in school
Where praying is against the rule
For this great nation under God
Finds mention of Him very odd.

If Scripture now the class recites,
It violates the Bill of Rights.
And anytime my head I bow
Becomes a Federal matter now.

Our hair can be purple, orange or green,
That's no offense; it's a freedom scene.
The law is specific, the law is precise.
Prayers spoken aloud are a serious vice.

For praying in a public hall
Might offend someone with no faith at all.
In silence alone we must meditate,
God's name is prohibited by the state.

We're allowed to cuss and dress like freaks,
And pierce our noses, tongues and cheeks.
They've outlawed guns, but FIRST the Bible.
To quote the Good Book makes me liable.

We can elect a pregnant Senior Queen,
And the 'unwed daddy,' our Senior King.
It's "inappropriate" to teach right from wrong,
We're taught that such "judgments" do not belong.

We can get our condoms and birth controls,
Study witchcraft, vampires and totem poles
But the Ten Commandments are not allowed,
No word of God must reach this crowd.

It's scary here I must confess,
When chaos reigns the school's a mess.
So, Lord, this silent plea I make:
Should I be shot; My soul please take!

Amen

All the Marbles

This is for all the marbles

During the waning years of the depression in a small south eastern Idaho community, I used to stop by Brother Miller's roadside stand for farm-fresh produce as the season made it available. Food and money were still extremely scarce and bartering was used, extensively.

One particular day Brother Miller was bagging some early potatoes for me. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily appraising a basket of freshly picked green peas. I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Brother Miller and the ragged boy next to me.

"Hello Barry, how are you today ?"

"H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas -- sure look good."

"They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?"

"Fine. Gittin' stronger alla'time."

"Good. Anything I can help you with "

"No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas."

"Would you like to take some home?"

"No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with."

"Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?"

"All I got's my prize aggie -- best taw around here."

"Is that right ? Let me see it."

"Here 'tis. She's a dandy."

"I can see that. Hmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?"

"Not 'zackley -- but, almost."

"Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red taw."

"Sure will. Thanks, Mr. Miller."

Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me. With a smile she said: "There are two other boys like him in our community -- all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes or whatever. When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, perhaps."

I left the stand, smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to Utah but I never forgot the story of this man and the boys -- and their bartering.

Several years went by each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there learned that Brother Miller had died. They were having his viewing that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them.

Upon our arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could. Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore short haircuts, dark suits and white shirts obviously potential or returned missionaries.

They approached Mrs. Miller, standing smiling and composed, by her husband's casket. Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket. Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary, awkwardly, wiping his eyes.

Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and mentioned the story she had told me about the marbles. Eyes glistening she took my hand and led me to the casket. "This is an amazing coincidence," she said. "Those three young men, that just left, were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim "traded" them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size...they came to pay their debt. We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world," she confided, "but, right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho."

With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three, magnificently shiny, red marbles.

After a while, you learn the subtle differences between holding a hand and chaining a soul; and you learn that love doesn't mean leaning and company doesn't mean security; and you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts and presents aren't promises, and you begin to accept your defeats with your head up and your eyes open, with the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child...you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers. And you learn that you really can endure, that you really are strong, and you really do have worth. And you learn and learn. With every good-bye you learn.

The Tapestry of Life

Do you ever dream? What about? Let me share one of mine.

As I faced my Maker at the last judgment, I knelt before the Lord along with all the other souls. Before each of us laid our lives like the squares of a quilt in many piles. An angel sat before each of us sewing our quilt squares together into a tapestry that is our life.


But as my angel took each piece of cloth off the pile, I noticed how ragged and empty each of my squares were. They were filled with giant holes.


Each square was labeled with a part of my life that had been difficult, the challenges and temptations I was faced with in everyday life. I saw hardships that I endured, which were the largest holes of all.


I glanced around me. Nobody else had such squares. Other than a tiny hole here and there, the other tapestries were filled with rich color and the bright hues of worldly fortune. I gazed upon my own life and was disheartened. My Angel was sewing the ragged pieces of cloth together, threadbare and empty, like binding air.


Finally the time came when each life was to be displayed, held up to the light, the scrutiny of truth. The others rose, each in turn, holding up their tapestries. So filled their lives had been. My angel looked upon me, and nodded for me to rise. My gaze dropped to the ground in shame. I hadn't had all the earthly fortunes. I had had love in my life, and laughter.


But there had also been trials of illness, and death, and false accusations that took from me my world as I knew it. I had to start over many times.


I often struggled with the temptation to quit, only to somehow muster the strength to pick up and begin again. I spent many nights on my knees in prayer, asking for help and guidance. In my life I had often been held up to ridicule, which I endured painfully, each time offering it up to the Father in hopes that I would not melt within my skin beneath the judgmental gaze of those who unfairly judged me.


And now, I had to face the truth. My life was what it was, and I had to accept it for what it was. I rose and slowly lifted the combined squares of my life to the light. An awe-filled gasp filled the air. I gazed around at the others who stared at me with wide eyes. Then I looked upon the tapestry before me.


Light flooded through the many holes, creating an image. The face of Christ.


Then our Lord stood before me, with warmth and love in His eyes. He said, "Every time you gave over your life to Me, it became My life, My hardships, My struggles. Each point of light in your life is when you stepped aside and let Me shine through, until there was more of Me than there was of you."


"'You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden.


Let your light shine before men is such a way that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven.'" Matthew 5:14,16

The 23rd Psalm for busy People

Are you too busy? I think I am at times so take a minute and read this! you won't be sorry it will give you time to catch your breath!

The Lord is my pace setter, I shall not rush.
He makes me to stop and rest for quiet intervals.
He provides me with images of stillness, which restores my serenity.
He leads me in ways of efficiency, through calmness of mind.
And His guidance is my peace.
Even though I have a great many things to accomplish each day
I will not fret, for His presence is here.
His timelessness, His all-importance will keep me in balance.
He prepares refreshment and renewal in the midst of my activity
By anointing my mind with His oils of tranquillity.
My cup of joyous energy overflows.
Surely harmony and effectiveness shall be the fruits of my hour, For I shall walk in the pace of the Lord and dwell in His house forever.

The Old fisherman

I passed a old man on the street the other day and he had his head down and shuffled as he walked. I thought how wonderful God is to love this man, if only I had as much love for this man as God does. I could you know!

Our house was directly across the street from the clinic entrance of a hospital in Baltimore. We lived downstairs and rented the upstairs rooms to out patients at the clinic.

One summer evening as I was fixing supper, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to see a truly awful looking man. "Why, he's hardly taller than my eight-year-old," I thought as I stared at the stooped, shriveled body. But the appalling thing was his face lopsided from swelling, red and raw.

Yet his voice was pleasant as he said, "Good evening. I've come to see if you've a room for just one night. I came for a treatment this morning from the eastern shore, and there's no bus 'til morning."

He told me he'd been hunting for a room since noon but with no success, no one seemed to have a room. "I guess it's my face . . . I know it looks terrible, but my doctor says with a few more treatments . . ."

For a moment I hesitated, but his next words convinced me: "I could sleep in this rocking chair on the porch. My bus leaves early in the morning." I told him we would find him a bed, but to rest on the porch. I went inside and finished getting supper. When we were ready, I asked the old man if he would join us. "No thank you. I have plenty." And he held up a brown paper bag.

When I had finished the dishes, I went out on the porch to talk with him a few minutes. It didn't take long time to see that this old man had an oversized heart crowded into that tiny body. He told me he fished for a living to support his daughter, her five children, and her husband, who was hopelessly crippled from a back injury.

He didn't tell it by way of complaint; in fact, every other sentence was prefaced with a thanks to God for a blessing. He was grateful that no pain accompanied his disease, which was apparently a form of skin cancer. He thanked God for giving him the strength to keep going. At bedtime, we put a camp cot in the children's room for him.

When I got up in the morning, the bed linens were neatly folded and the little man was out on the porch. He refused breakfast, but just before he left for his bus, haltingly, as if asking a great favor, he said, "Could I please come back and stay the next time I have a treatment? I won't put you out a bit. I can sleep fine in a chair." He paused a moment and then added, "Your children made me feel at home. Grownups are bothered by my face, but children don't seem to mind."

I told him he was welcome to come again. And on his next trip he arrived a little after seven in the morning. As a gift, he brought a big fish and a bucket of the largest oysters I had ever seen.

He said he had shucked them that morning before he left so that they'd be nice and fresh. I knew his bus left at 4:00 a.m. and I wondered what time he had to get up in order to do this for us.

In the years he came to stay overnight with us there was never a time that he did not bring us fish or oysters or vegetables from his garden. Other times we received packages in the mail, always by special delivery; fish and oysters packed in a box of fresh young spinach or kale, every leaf carefully washed.

Knowing that he must walk three miles to mail these, and knowing how little money he had made the gifts doubly precious. When I received these little remembrances, I often thought of a comment our next-door neighbor made after he left that first morning. "Did you keep that awful looking man last night? I turned him away! You can lose roomers by putting up such people!"

Maybe we did lose roomers once or twice. But oh! If only they could have known him, perhaps their illnesses would have been easier to bear. I know our family always will be grateful to have known him; from him we learned what it was to accept the bad without complaint and the good with gratitude to God.

Recently I was visiting a friend who has a greenhouse, As she showed me her flowers, we came to the most beautiful one of all, a golden chrysanthemum, bursting with blooms. But to my great surprise, it was growing in an old dented, rusty bucket. I thought to myself, "If this were my plant, I'd put it in the loveliest container I had!"

My friend changed my mind. "I ran short of pots," she explained, "and knowing how beautiful this one would be, I thought it wouldn't mind starting out in this old pail. It's just for a little while, 'til I can put it out in the garden."

She must have wondered why I laughed so delightedly, but my mind was on a parallel track. I was imagining just such a scene in heaven. "Here's an especially beautiful one," God might have said when he came to the soul of the sweet old fisherman. "There won't be any problem starting off in this body."

All this happened long ago - and now, in God's garden, how tall this lovely soul must stand.

"The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart." (1 Samuel 16:7b)

Tears in a Bottle

When the arrow of pain strikes me
My knees give up and I fall
When anguish and turmoil attack me
I am not strong enough to break the wall

When my close ones turn away from me
My heart is broken into two

When my back is stabbed by the ones I love
My vision is blurred and I don't know what to do

When wounding words are thrown at me
I feel like I am pierced with a hot knife

When isolation comes to intimidate me
I drown in the unbearable pain of my life

Lord, where are you?
Lord, are you here?

Lord, please see my streaming tears and put them in your bottle
My only comfort is that you will dry each tear and my life is yours to handle

You are my only solace, you are my only solution
Please run to me with your endless compassion

Where to find Bread

Sometimes we forget that WE All are just beggars showing another beggar where to find bread!A beggar came and sat before me. "I want bread," he said.

"How wise you are," I assured him. "Bread is what you need. And you have come to the right bakery." So I pulled my cookbook down from my shelf and began to tell him all I knew about bread.

I spoke of flour and wheat, of grain and barley. My knowledge impressed even me as I cited the measurements and recipe. When I looked up, I was surprised to see he wasn't smiling. "I just want bread," he said.

"How wise you are." I applauded his choice. "Follow me, and I'll show you our bakery." Down the hallowed halls I guided him, pausing to point out the rooms where the dough is prepared and the ovens where the bread is baked.

"No one has such facilities. We have bread for every need. But here is the best part," I proclaimed as I pushed open two swinging doors. "This is our room of inspiration." I knew he was moved as we stepped into the auditorium full of stained-glass windows.

The beggar didn't speak. I understood his silence. With my arm around his shoulder, I whispered, "It overwhelms me as well." I then leaped to the podium and struck my favorite pose behind the lectern.

"People come from miles to hear me speak. Once a week, my workers gather, and I read to them the recipe from the cookbook of life."

By now the beggar had taken a seat on the front row. I knew what he wanted. "would you like to hear me?"

"No," he said, "but I would like some bread."

"How wise you are," I replied. And I led him to the front door of the bakery.

"What I have to say next is very important," I told him as we stood outside.

"Up and down this street you will find many bakeries. But take heed; they don't serve the true bread. I know of one who adds two spoons of salt rather than one. I know of another whose oven is three degrees too hot. They may call it bread," I warned, "but it's not according to the book."

The beggar turned and began walking away. "Don't you want bread?" I asked him.

He stopped, looked back at me, and shrugged, "I guess I lost my appetite."

I shook my head and returned to my office. "What a shame," I said to myself. "The world just isn't hungry for true bread anymore."

Jesus said unto them. I am the BREAD of life: he that cometh to me shall not hunger, and he that believeth on me shall never thirst.

Seven World Wonders

A group of students were asked to list what they thought were the present "Seven Wonders of the World." Though there were some disagreements, the following received the most votes: 1. Egypt's Great Pyramids
2. Taj Mahal
3. Grand Canyon
4. Panama Canal
5. Empire State Building
6. St. Peter's Basilica
7. China's Great Wall

While gathering the votes, the teacher noted that one student had not finished her paper yet. So she asked the girl if she was having trouble with her list. The girl replied, "Yes, a little. I couldn't quite make up my mind because there were so many."
The teacher said, "Well, tell us what you have, and maybe we can help." The girl hesitated, then read, "I think the 'Seven Wonders of the World' are:
1. To See
2. To Hear
3. To Touch
4. To Taste
5. To Feel
6. To Laugh
7. And to Love." The room was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop.

The things we overlook as simple and ordinary and that we take for granted are truly wondrous!

A gentle reminder:
The most precious things in life cannot be built by hand or bought by man.

Don't talk just listen

Does God still guide? Well you read this offering and you tell me!
A young man had been to Wednesday night Bible Study. The Pastor had shared about listening to God. The young man couldn't help but wonder, "Does God still speak to people?"

After service he went out with some friends for coffee and pie and they discussed the idea. Several different people talked about how God had led them to do things in different ways.

It was about ten o'clock when the young man started driving home. Sitting in his car, he just began to pray, "God.. If you still speak to people, speak to me. I will listen. I will do my best to serve your wishes."

As he drove down the main street of his town, he had the strangest thought, to stop and buy a gallon of milk. He shook his head and said out loud, "God is that you?" He didn't get a reply and started on toward home.

But again, the thought was there, "Buy a gallon of milk."

The young man thought about how he'd heard that not all those spoken to recognized God's quiet voice inside of one's mind. Then he said, "Okay, God, in case that is you, I will buy the milk."

It didn't seem like too hard a request to fulfill. He could always use the milk himself if nothing else. So he stopped and purchased the gallon of milk and started off toward home.

As he passed Seventh street, he again felt the urge, "Turn down that street." "This is crazy," he thought and drove on pass the intersection.

Again, he felt that he should turn down seventh street. At the next intersection, he turned back and headed down Seventh. Half jokingly, he said out loud, "Okay, God, I will."

He drove several blocks, when suddenly, he felt like he should stop. He pulled over to the curb and looked around. He was in a semi-commercial area of town. It wasn't the best but it wasn't the worst of neighborhoods either.

The businesses were closed and most of the houses looked dark like the people were already in bed. Again, he sensed something, "Go and give the milk to the people in the house across the street." The young man looked at the house. It was dark and it looked like the people were either gone or they were already asleep.

He started to open the door and then sat back in the car seat. "God, this is insane. Those people are asleep and if I wake them up, they are going to be mad and I will look stupid."

Again, he felt like he should go and give the milk. Finally, he opened the car door, "Okay God, if this is you, I will go to the door and I will give them the milk. If you want me to look like a crazy person, okay. I want to do as I wish. I guess that will count for something, but if they don't answer right away, I am out of here."


He walked across the street and rang the bell. He could hear some noise inside. A man's voice yelled out, "Who is it? What do you want?"

Then the door opened before the young man could get away. The man was standing there in his jeans and t-shirt. He looked like he'd just gotten out of bed. He had a strange look on his face and he didn't seem too happy to have some stranger standing on his doorstep.

"What is it?"

The young man thrust out the gallon of milk. "Here, I brought this to you," he said nervously.

The man took the milk and rushed down a hall way speaking loudly in Spanish. Then from down the hall came a woman carrying the milk toward the kitchen. The man was following her holding a baby. The baby was crying. The man had tears streaming down his face.

The man began speaking and half crying, "We were just praying. We had some big bills this month and we ran out of money. We didn't have any milk for our baby. I was just praying and asking God to show me how to get some milk."

His wife in the kitchen yelled out, "I ask Him to send an Angel with some milk. Are you an Angel?"

In response to hearing this, the young man reached into his wallet and pulled out all the money he had on him and put in the man's hand. He turned and walked back toward his car as the tears were streaming down his face. He knew that God still answers prayers and that God still speaks to people.

The face of an Angel

Many years ago, when my children were ages 10 and 6, I went through a very trying time. I had just left my husband of 7 years, to escape abuse. I managed to get a job with a nursing home as an aide for the elderly and moved in with a "friend" to share living expenses. One afternoon, after work, I picked my girls up from the sitter, and we went to the fair for the afternoon. It was quite late, when we returned home, and the house was completely dark. I went to unlock the door, and discovered the my key wouldn't go in the lock but halfway. I kept trying for a few minutes, while my oldest daughter went to get a flashlight from the car. When she returned with it, we found that somehow the lock had been "stuffed" with sunflower seed shells. So we went around to the front door and tried to open it, with the same results. Thinking that one of the neighborhood children had been up to no-good, I didn't really give it much consideration. I went around the house trying to find a window that might have been left open enough for me to boost my 10 year old through. No luck. All was locked up tight. So I returned to the back door, and broke out a pane of glass and reached in and unlocked the door. Not wanting the girls to pick up any of the glass in their shoes and track it into the house, I told them to sit on the porch for a minute while I swept up the glass. I grabbed the broom and dustpan from behind the door and started sweeping up the glass. I heard a car pull into the driveway, and looked out to see two policemen walking up to the door. They inquired what I was doing, and why I had broken into the house. I explained the matter to them, and showed them the door locks. They then asked me for proof that I lived at that address, so I asked them to wait a minute, while I went to get my rent receipt and identification from inside the house. I then, for the first time, opened the door leading into the house itself.

Oh my, but I will never forget the shock of that moment. The house was empty! Other than a few things remaining on the back porch, everything was gone! I went through the house looking in each room in complete disbelief. In a daze, I went back outside where the officers were waiting and informed them that there was nothing left.

At this point, they were not buying any of my story. I could tell from their actions and tone of voice that they thought I was breaking into an empty house for some place to sleep.

I couldn't for the life of me remember the name of the owner of the house, or her phone number. After several minutes, of sitting on the steps in shock, I remembered the neighbor across the street was a good friend of the owners, and told that to the police officers. I asked if I could go ask her for the number, and they informed me that the incident call had originated from that address. I walked over with one of the officers, while the other stayed with my girls.

The neighbor was able to provide the owner's name and phone number, so the officers made the call. The owner was quite shocked to hear my story. As it turned out, my "friend" had been going through an eviction process through the courts when I moved in with her, and had lost the case. She had been ordered by the court to vacate the premises by 10 am on that date. The court order had been issued the same day I had paid her 1/2 of the rent and a deposit of $300.00.

The owner was very kind and understanding, but there was nothing she could do. The house had been rented already and the people were to move in the following weekend. She didn't press charges against me for breaking and entering and told me not to worry about replacing the pane of glass I had broken, since she had some extra panes from a previous time.

The officers let me go, and I went to gather my girls into the car. They were both exhausted and cold. Also, very frightened, because they thought their mamma was going to go to jail. I put them in the car and laid them on the back seat, covering them with my coat. They fell asleep almost instantly.

I got into the car, and drove away. I didn't go far though, before I had to pull over as the tears took control. I couldn't believe it!! Everything we owned was gone. I had used up all our money moving in and paying my "friend" our share of costs. I had about $11.00 to my name. And pay day was three days away. I knew very few people in town, as we had just moved there recently.

I realized that I was exhausted myself and had to be to work at 6 am the next morning, so I drove to the city park and curled up in the front seat to sleep. Needless to say, I overslept, and called into work to apprise them of my situation. My supervisor was very understanding, but the best she could do was to see if payroll could issue my wages early. I went to sit back in the car with the girls until enough time had passed to call back. I was talking to the girls, explaining our situation to them, so that they wouldn't be afraid. During this time, there was a "street person" with a shopping cart, sort of lingering near by, looking in the garbage cans for aluminum cans, bottles, and any other item that might bring him some cash. I hadn't paid much attention to him, as I was used to "seeing" these people without really seeing them. They were just part of the background.

After 45 minutes or so had passed, I tried calling my supervisor to find out what the verdict was, with no results. So, I decided to go get the girls something to eat for breakfast. We grabbed some bread, lunchmeat and chips, and returned to the park-for a "picnic."

When we got there, and while I was again trying to call work, I noticed that the "hobo" wasn't alone. He was with a small group of others "like" him, and they were passing a hat amongst themselves.

I, again, had no luck with my call, so the girls and I grabbed our bag of groceries and headed over to a picnic table. We set our things down on the table and Tami (my 6 year old) told me she needed to use the bathroom. So we walked to the restrooms - just a few feet from where we were. We cleaned up a little bit and returned to the table. On the way back, I tried the phone again. This time, I had success. I reached my supervisor and was informed that I could pick up my check at 1 PM that afternoon. Such a relief!!!

We sat down at the table, and I was busy setting up out little "picnic," when I heard a voice saying, "Ma'am, please excuse the intrusion, but...well..., I couldn't help but overhear the situation you are in, and well....., me and the fella's took up a collection for you and your little girls. It's not very much, but maybe it'll help a little." I looked up at this man - dirty, needing a shave, and smelling a bit "ripe" - and saw the face of an angel. I started crying. (Bawling...to be truthful.) The man tried to hand me something like $30.00, probably a small fortune to him and his friends. I folded his hand back over the money, and just hugged him as tight as I could. I told him, "Thank you very much for your more than generous offer, but we are going to be just fine." He didn't believe me at first, but I convinced him that it was okay.

Later, that afternoon, I picked up my paycheck and rented a room for the week, to give me and my girls a little time to work our situation out. Then I went to the market and bought the makings for a barbecue, and off to that little park we went. It didn't take us very long to find those gentlemen and invite them to join us for lunch, which they did. I had a wonderful afternoon that day, sitting there with those old "bums," singing songs while they drummed on the aluminum park table, and just talking to them. They had some of the most entertaining stories I've ever listened to, and they shared the dreams they once had. They shared of themselves...from the heart.

As long as I live, I will never forget that day, when God showed me what true generosity and giving meant. When He showed me LOVE comes from the most unexpected places, in the most unlikely way. Those old men will live in my heart and memories forever, as the richest people I ever knew, because they had enough love to share with a mother and her two daughters who would have never given them the time of day.

That was the day, I saw the face of an angel, and forever changed the way I view others. --

Author Unknown

God as seen by Children

Sometime we lose sight of what is really important in life.

THIS was written by an 8 year old from Chula Vista, CA, for his third grade homework assignment. The assignment was to explain God:

One of God's main jobs is making people. He makes them to replace the ones that die, so there will be enough people to take care of things on earth.

He doesn't make grown-ups, just babies. I think because they are smaller and easier to make. That way He doesn’t have to take up His valuable time teaching them to talk and walk. He can just leave that to mothers and fathers. God's second most important job is listening to prayers. An awful lot of this goes on, since some people, like preachers and things, pray at times beside bedtime. God doesn't have time to listen to the radio or TV because of this.

Because He hears everything, there must be a terrible lot of noise in His ears, unless He has thought of a way to turn it off." God sees everything and hears everything and is everywhere, which keeps Him pretty busy. So you shouldn't go wasting His time by going over your mom and dad's head asking for something they said you couldn't have."

Atheists are people who don't believe in God. I don't think there are any in Chula Vista. At least there aren't any who come to our church."

"Jesus is God's Son. He used to do all the hard work like walking on water and performing miracles and trying to teach the people who didn't want to learn about God. They finally got tired of Him preaching to them and they crucified Him. But He was good and kind, like His Father and He told His Father that they didn't know what they were doing and to forgive them and God said O.K." "His Dad (God) appreciated everything that He had done and all His hard work on earth so He told Him He didn't have to go out on the road anymore. He could stay in heaven. So He did. And now He helps His Dad out by listening to prayers and seeing things which are important for God to take care of and which ones He can take care of Himself without having to bother God. Like a secretary, only more important."

"You can pray anytime you want and they are sure to help you because they got it worked out so one of them is on duty all the time."

"You should always go to church on Sunday because it makes God happy, and if there's anybody you want to make happy, it's God. Don't skip church to do something you think will be more fun like going to the beach. This is wrong. And besides the sun doesn't come out at the beach until noon anyway."

If you don't believe in God, besides being an atheist, you will be very lonely, because your parents can't go everywhere with you, like to camp, but God can. It is good to know He's around you when you're scared in the dark or when you can't swim and you get thrown into real deep water by big kids."

But...you shouldn't just always think of what God can do for you. I figure God put me here and He can take me back anytime He pleases. And that's why I believe in God."

Dear God

Sometimes we take for granted those things which others do not have, abilities to write, read, speak. It's time to think about others more and ourselves less.....
This is Patrick. I turned twelve the other day. If you noticed, I'm typing this letter. Sometimes it's hard for me to write, you know. It's this thing called dysgraphia. I also have Attention Deficit Disorder-oftentimes learning disabilities accompany A.D.D. My IQ was tested at 140, but if you graded my cursive, you'd think I was dumb.

I never could hold a pencil the right way. I never could color in the lines. Every ime I would try, my hand would cramp up and the letters would come out sloppy, the lines too dark, and the marker would get all over my hands. Nobody wanted to switch papers with me to grade them because they couldn't read them. Keith could, but he moved away.

My brain doesn't sense what my hand is doing. I can feel the pencil, but the message doesn't get through right. I have to grip the pencil tighter so my brain knows that I have it in my hand.

It's much easier for me to explain things by talking than it is to write. I'm really good at dictating, but my teachers don't always let me. If I am asked to write an essay on my trip to Washington and Philadelphia, it's like a punishment. But if I can dictate it, or just get up and talk about it, I can tell everyone about the awesomeness of seeing the Declaration of Independence in the National Archives or the feeling of true patriotism that rushed through me when I stood in the room where our founding fathers debated the issues of freedom.

If I got graded on art, I'd fail for sure. There are so many things I can picture in my mind, but my hands just don't draw it the way I see it.
It's okay. I'm not complaining. I'm really doing fine. You see, you gave me a wonderful mind and a great sense of humor. I'm great at figuring things out, and I love to debate. We have some great Bible discussions in class, and that's where I really shine.

I want to be a lawyer when I group up, a trial lawyer in fact. I know I'd be good at that. I would be responsible for researching the crime, examining the evidence and truthfully presenting the case.

You have told me that you made me special when you said that I am fearfully and wonderfully made. You have assured me that you will see me through, and that you have plans for me to give me a future and hope.

My parents want to help me, so they bought me a laptop to take to school. My teacher is the best this year! I am allowed to do a lot of my work on the computer. We have a character trait book due every Friday, and guess what? She lets me use Print Shop Deluxe for the artwork. For the first time, I'll be able to show everyone some of the things I have in my mind.

Lord, this is a thank-you letter, just to let you know I'm doing fine. Life's hard sometimes, but you know what? I accept the challenge. I have the faith to see myself through anything. Thanks for making me me. Thanks for loving me unconditionally. Thanks for everything.

I love you,
Patrick

Eze 22:30 "So I sought for a man among them who would make a wall, and stand in the gap before Me on behalf of the land, that I should not destroy it; but I found no one.
Gentle Reader,
As I sit and watch so many tragic stories unfolding of loss and devastation in the wake of a disaster of Biblical proportions such loss will scar our memories for the rest of a lifetime. I feel so helpless I have nothing that I can give, nothing money to contribute I can only sit and pray. Join with me in a world-wide prayer chain for those left homeless, for their courage the midst of this For their safety, for their spirit for their anger at so little so late For all of their indescribable sadness
My Father, you remind us in the Scriptures that we don’t know how to pray as we ought.

Now, in the face of such over whelming sadness and devastation, this is now truer than ever.

But you also assure us that the Your Holy Spirit makes groaning and unintelligible utterances of prayer on our behalf.

Please accept the groaning of our emotions in this time of tragedy as our prayers to you.

Accept our feelings of grief as prayers for your consolation.

Accept our tears as prayers of compassion.

Accept our feelings of helplessness as acknowledgement of our utter dependence on you.

Accept our feelings of anger and disappointment as prayers for justice, but justice as you would have it, not as we would wish it.

And, Father, receive our feelings of confusion as prayers for your peace.

We ask this in your name, The Name above every name and in whose name I serve. Amen

Praying always with all prayer
and supplication in the Spirit,
and watching thereunto
with all perseverance and
supplication for all saints."
—Ephesians 6:18
"[Ancient saints] appear to have thought a great deal more seriously of prayer than many do now-a-days. It seems to have been a mighty business with them, a long-practiced exercise, in which some of them attained great eminence, and were thereby singularly blest. They reaped great harvests in the field of prayer, and found the mercy seat to be a mine of untold treasures."
—Charles Spurgeon

Ascension to Heaven

When times are such that we need to look for "outside help" here is my suggestion. Wrap your thought around these and warm yourself by the fires of my heart. Is Christianity valid? You decide but when you do remember there is nothing left if you have no hope!

The Old Testament records the ascent to the heavens of several mortal beings. The first was Enoch, a pre-Diluvial patriarch whom God befriended and who "walked with the Lord." He was the seventh from Adam and the great grandfather of Noah, hero of the Deluge. The fifth chapter of Genesis lists the genealogies of all these men and the ages at which they died (except for Enoch, who was gone, for the Lord had taken him.). By implication and tradition, it was heavenward, to escape mortality on Earth, that God took Enoch. The other mortal was the prophet Elijah, who was lifted off Earth and taken heavenward in a "whirlwind."
A little-known reference to a third mortal who visited the Divine Abode and was endowed there with great wisdom is provided in the Old Testament, and it concerns the ruler of Tyre (a Phoenician center on the eastern Mediterranean coast). We read in Chapter 28 of Ezekiel that the Lord commanded the prophet to remind the king how, perfect and wise, he was enabled by the Deity to visit with the gods:
"Thou art molded by a plan, full of wisdom, perfect in beauty.
Thou hast been in Eden, the garden of God; every precious
stone was thy thicket... Thou art an anointed Cherub, protected;
and I have placed thee in the sacred mountain; as a god werest
thou, moving within the Fiery Stones."
Predicting that the ruler of Tyre should die a death "of the uncircumcised" by the hand of strangers even if he called out to them "I am a Deity," the Lord then told Ezekiel the reason: After the king was taken to the Divine Abode and given access to all wisdom and riches, his heart "grew haughty," he misused his wisdom, and he defiled the temples.
"Because thine heart is haughty, saying "A god am I;
in the Abode of the Deity I sat, in the midst of the Waters";
Though thou art a Man, not a god, thou set thy heart as that of a Deity."
The Sumerian texts also speak of several other men who were privileged to ascend into the heavens. One was Adapa, the "model man" created by Ea/Enki. To him Ea "had given wisdom; eternal life he had not given him." As the years went by, Ea decided to avert Adapa's mortal end by providing him with and ascension into heaven.
What this suggests to us is that mankind has always been in search for immortality and his ascent into heaven. The Mesopotamian hero, Gilgamesh searched for the one that escaped the flood in order to obtain from him the secret of the "Tree of Life." This was the reason for his quest and journey in the "Epic of Gilgamesh." I hope many of you will read the book. It is the futile search by mortal Man for the "Tree of Life" and is the subject of one of the longest, most powerful epic texts bequeathed to human culture by the Sumerian civilization. Named by modern scholars "The Epic of Gilgamesh," the moving motif concerns the ruler of Uruk who was born to a mortal father and a divine mother. As a result, Gilgamesh was considered to be "two-thirds of him god, one-third of him human," a circumstance that prompted him to seek escape from the death that was the fate of mortals.
The search for eternal life ends when one comes to Jesus Christ, Son of God. In Him is life. And to as many as received Him, to them gave He the power to become the sons of God. This is the answer to immortality

"Be not afraid only Believe" _Jesus

The Mouse Trap

A Mouse looked through the crack in the wall to see the farmer and his wife opening a package. "What food might this contain?" He was devastated to discover it was a mousetrap.

Retreating to the farmyard, the mouse proclaimed the warning. "There is a mousetrap in the house!; there is a mousetrap in the house!"

The chicken clucked and scratched, raised her head and said "Mr. Mouse, I can tell this is a grave concern to you, but it is of no consequence to me. I cannot be bothered by it."

The mouse turned to the pig and told him, "There is a mousetrap in the house." The pig sympathized but said, "I am so very sorry Mr. Mouse, But there is nothing I can do about it but pray. Be assured that you are in my prayers."

The mouse turned to the cow. She said, "Wow, Mr. Mouse. I'm sorry for you. But it's no skin off my nose."

So the mouse returned to the house, head down and dejected, to face the farmer's mousetrap alone. That very night a sound was heard throughout the house like the sound of a mousetrap catching its prey. The farmer's wife rushed to see what was caught. In the darkness she did not see that it was a venomous snake whose tail the trap had caught. The snake bit the farmer's wife. The farmer rushed her to the hospital and she returned home with a fever. Now everyone knows you treat a fever with fresh chicken soup, so the farmer took his hatchet to the farmyard for the soup's main ingredient.

But his wife's sickness continued, so friends and neighbors came to sit with her around the clock. To feed them, the farmer butchered the pig.

The farmer's wife did not get well. She died; And so many people came for her funeral the farmer had the cow slaughtered to provide enough meat for all of them.

So next time you hear that someone is facing a problem and think that it doesn't concern you, remember that when one of us is threatened, we are all at risk.

In the book of Genesis, Cain said about Able his brother to our God: Am I my brother's keeper?" We are all involved in this journey called life. We must keep an eye out for one another and be willing to make that extra effort to encourage one another.

What do you think?

Another Look at the Pyramid:
"Never utter these words: 'I do not know this, therefore it is false,' One must study to know; know to understand; understand to judge." --Apothegm of Narada.

What I am about to say may be new to the reader... I took my car in for a check up and to fix a fuse that had blown. While I waited for the repair, I met a man who was full of questions. He seemed to try to fill the conversation with questions. I asked him if he had ever thought about the best questions that could be asked, which would lead people in proper paths. He looked at me and said, "I never thought of that. What kind of questions should I ask?" I told him that immortality and eternal life were probably the most important questions we could have answered. He said, "I do want to live a long time." He reached over and picked up a magazine that had a picture of the Great Pyramid on the front cover. To get his attention again, I asked, "What is your name?" He replied, "Mel." I said, "Mel..." and he said, "Nutrition." I asked, "Mel Nutrition?" He smiled and said, "NO! It's Mel Gibson." I tried not to show my disbelief. I asked him if he know who built the Pyramids. He said that they were built by primitive Egyptians. I said that that would have been remarkable. His car was ready and he handed me the magazine and said that it was enjoyable talking with me.

The Earth bristles with evidence that intelligent giants lived on the Earth and built megalithic monuments that cannot be duplicated today. Look again at the Great Pyramids of Giza, the remarkable city of Tiahuanaco on Lake Titicaca in Bolivia, Stonehenge in England, Baalbek in Lebanon, Teotihuacan in Mexico, Sacsahuaman, Ollantaytambu, Machu Picchu in Peru, Easter Island and the Sphinx. Authorities insist that these were all built by the primitive humans alive in those areas at those times. Yet, we can not duplicate the monuments today.

The smallest Pyramid contains about one million stones, while the larger two contain two and on-half to three million stones apiece. Each of those stones' average weight is three to four tons. The visible ones in the interior chambers weigh 50 tons or more. Also, much larger stones could be arrayed in the mostly hidden inner cores. Aside from the rough-hewn blocks that fill those cores, each stone that needed to be carefully crafted was cut and shaped and polished to a degree of perfection that must be seen and touched to be believed.

The exteriors were covered with white limestone polished so well they reflected the Sun brightly enough to be visible for twenty miles. Many internal surfaces (Queen's Chamber) were so lustrous they still cast reflections. Apart from surface perfection, all visible stones fit so flush against each other that a razor cannot be inserted between them. With no mortar to compensate for mistakes, there was no room for even a slight error. And, incredibly, none has ever been found. Each stone that had to be cut and shaped and placed perfectly was cut and shaped and placed perfectly, which is the technical/logistical equivalent of building a Rolex the size of Mt. Rushmore.

The magazine pointed out that the Pyramids were built with primitive stone and copper tools, plant-fiber ropes and wooden sledges-- no pulleys, draft animals, or wheeled vehicles. Let me use a low number of stones for the Pyramids. Assuming that six million stones were cut, hauled, shaped and positioned in only 100 years, let's look at the math. Start with 100 years at 12 months a year: 1200 months total. Dividing 6,000,000 stones by 1200 months equals 5,000 stones laid per month. 30 days per month means 166 stones laid per day. A 24 hour day means 6.9 stones laid every hour-- around the clock. So even if we grant the most generous figures possible, Egyptologists have to account for 7.0 stones laid every hour of every day for 100 straight years. No breaks, no bad weather days, no accidents, no down time of any kind-- just one stone fitted into place every 8.5 minutes.

Faced with what clearly seems to be an impossibility, where can we turn for more plausible answers? First, to the Sumerians, who assure us that the Anunnaki built the Great Pyramids much earlier than Egyptologists accept. The Anunnaki said that they built the Pyramids around 10,000 B.C., shortly after the so-called "Great Flood," which they knew was coming and were able to prepare for it. Supporting this timeframe are revelations offered by John Anthony West in "Serpent in the Sky" (Quest Books, 1993), the basis of an Emmy winning TV documentary narrated by Charlton Heston. In both his book and the documentary, West shows how deep weathering on the Sphinx (which rest in close proximity to the Pyramids) can only have been caused by heavy rainfall over a prolonged wet period, and the last such wet period in northern Egypt ended at around 8,000 B.C.

It seems reasonable to conclude that whoever built the Pyramids simultaneously built the much smaller Sphinx complex. Though a metaphor for silence, the Sphinx speaks volumes about its builders. The massive sculpture was carved in one piece from surrounding sandstone, leaving huge slabs of waste to be discarded or utilized. The builders use it, constructing a pair of temples in front of the crouching beast. Those temples are built with stones cut and shaped with the same precision as the finest in the Pyramids, yet relative to Pyramid stones several temple stones are much larger, 10x10x20 feet and weighing over 200 tons. Remember, today's timeframe for lifting and moving and placing large stones is counted in days, so imagine quarrying several 200-tone monoliths, shaping them to the dimensions of locomotives, moving them forward 100 yards and setting them in place as bricks in a wall built to microscopic tolerances. And do it using no draft animals, no wheels, no pulleys; only primitive tools like fiber ropes, wooden sledges, and human muscles. I DON'T THINK SO.
Ge 6:4 There were giants on the earth in those days, and also afterward, when the sons of God came in to the daughters of men and they bore children to them. Those were the mighty men who were of old, men of renown.

Could these Giants be the ones who built the Pyramids?

Holiness Isn't Contagious

A Pastor speaks to your spirit
Listens to your Heart
And Understands what words can never say!


Read: Haggai 2:10-14

Thus says the Lord of hosts: "Consider your ways!. --Haggai 1:7



Evil is like a contagious disease. Just as one person coughing in an airplane cabin can infect all the passengers, evil seems to spread among a group.

Holiness, on the other hand, must be deliberately sought. We do not become holy by associating with godly people in a cloistered environment. Holiness comes through faith and obedience to the Lord.

That is the point Haggai made centuries ago. He spoke about meat that had been set apart for sacrifice to God. If that meat touched some other food, it could not make the other food holy (2:12). On the other hand, ceremonial uncleanness could be easily transmitted by a mere touch (v.13).

Haggai told the people of Israel, who assumed they were holy because of their godly heritage, that they actually had become defiled because of their disobedience (v.14).

If you want to be holy, you must first give yourself in faith to God. Then you must learn what God wants you to do and in His strength obey Him. Having devout parents and associating with religious friends may help, but they cannot make you holy.

We become holy only as we live close to the Lord and do what He tells us to do. --HWR


Help me, O Lord, to be afraid
Of disobedient ways;
And may I seek what pleases You
And gives You highest praise. --Sper

Your Best Friend

There are times when you can't put your finger on it, but you just know when something is right. Here is one thought!

A man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was enjoying the Scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead. He remembered dying, and that the dog walking beside him had been dead for Years. He wondered where the road was leading them. After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the Road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken By a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight. When he was standing before it he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that Looked like mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked Like pure gold. He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got Closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side. When he was! Close enough, he called out, "Excuse me, where are we? ""This is Heaven, sir," the man answered. "Wow! Would you happen to have some water?" the man asked. "Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought right Up. "The man gestured, and the gate began to open." Can my friend," gesturing toward his dog, "come in, too?" the traveler Asked. "I'm sorry; sir, but we don't accept pets."

The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and Continued the way he had been going with his dog. After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a Dirt road leading through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence.
As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and Reading a book. "Excuse me!" he called to the man. "Do you have any water?" "Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there, come on in." "How about my friend here?" the traveler gestured to the dog. "There should be a bowl by the pump." They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned Hand pump with a bowl beside it.

The traveler filled the water bowl and took a long drink himself, and then he gave some to the dog. When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree.” What do you call this place?" the traveler asked.” This is Heaven," he answered.” Well, that's confusing," the traveler said. "The man down the road said that was Heaven, too." "Oh, you mean the place with the Gold Street and pearly gates? Nope. That's hell." "Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like that?” No, we're just happy that they screen out the folks who would leave their Best friends behind."

What are you looking for?

Just when you think you have had nothing say "speak of the Devil and up he jumps" I want to give you something away from the glitz of the spotlight of the "Net" something you can take away and hold in your mind. Wrap your thought around these and warm yourself by the fires of my heart.
Do you seek great things for yourself?
—Jeremiah 45:5
Are you seeking great things for yourself, instead of seeking to be a great person? God wants you to be in a much closer relationship with Himself than simply receiving His gifts— He wants you to get to know Him. Even some large thing we want is only incidental; it comes and it goes. But God never gives us anything incidental. There is nothing easier than getting into the right relationship with God, unless it is not God you seek, but only what He can give you.

If you have only come as far as asking God for things, you have never come to the point of understanding the least bit of what surrender really means. You have become a Christian based on your own terms. You protest, saying, "I asked God for the Holy Spirit, but He didn’t give me the rest and the peace I expected." And instantly God puts His finger on the reason-you are not seeking the Lord at all; you are seeking something for yourself. Jesus said, "Ask, and it will be given to you . . ." Matthew 7:7 Ask God for what you want and do not be concerned about asking for the wrong thing, because as you draw ever closer to Him, you will cease asking for things altogether. "Your Father knows the things you have need of before you ask Him" ( Matthew 6:8 ). Then why should you ask? So that you may get to know Him.

Are you seeking great things for yourself? Have you said, "Oh, Lord, completely fill me with your Holy Spirit"? If God does not, it is because you are not totally surrendered to Him; there is something you still refuse to do. Are you prepared to ask yourself what it is you want from God and why you want it? God always ignores your present level of completeness in favor of your ultimate future completeness. He is not concerned about making you blessed and happy right now, but He’s continually working out His ultimate perfection for you— ". . . that they may be one just as We are one . . ." ( John 17:22 ).

Parson to Person

The cost of a Miracle

A little girl went to her bedroom and pulled a glass jelly jar from its hiding place in the closet. She poured the change out on the floor and counted it carefully, three times, even. The total had to be exactly perfect. No chance here for mistakes.

Carefully placing the coins back in the jar and twisting on the cap, she slipped out the back door and made her way 6 blocks to Rexall's Drug Store with the big red Indian Chief sign above the door.

She waited patiently for the pharmacist to give her some attention but he was too busy at the moment. Tess twisted her feet to make a scuffing noise. Nothing. She cleared her throat with the most disgusting sound she could muster. No good. Finally she took a quarter from her jar and banged it on the glass counter. That did it!

"And what do you want?" the pharmacist asked in an annoyed tone of voice. "I'm talking to my brother from Chicago whom I haven't seen in ages." He said without waiting for her reply to his question.

"Well, I want to talk to you about my brother," Tess answered back in the same annoyed tone. "He's really, really sick... and I want to buy a miracle."

"I beg your pardon?" said the pharmacist.

"His name is Andrew and he has something bad growing inside his head and my Daddy says only a miracle can save him now. So how much does a miracle cost?"

"We don't sell miracles here, little girl. I'm sorry but I can't help you," the pharmacist said, softening a little.

"Listen, I have the money to pay for it. If it isn't enough, I will get the rest. Just tell me how much it costs."

The pharmacist's brother was a well dressed man. He stooped down and asked the little girl, "What kind of a miracle does your brother need?"

I don't know," Tess replied with her eyes welling up. "I just know he's really sick and Mommy says he needs an operation. But my Daddy can't pay for it, so I want to use my money."

"How much do you have?" asked the man from Chicago.

"One dollar and eleven cents," Tess answered barely audibly. "And it's all the money I have, but I can get some more if I need to."

"Well, what a coincidence," smiled the man, "one dollar and eleven cents is the exact price of a miracle for little brothers. "

He took her money in one hand and with the other hand he grasped her mitten and said "Take me to where you live. I want to see your brother and meet your parents. Let's see if I have the miracle you need."

That well dressed man was Dr. Carlton Armstrong, a surgeon, specializing in neuro-surgery. The operation was completed free of charge and it wasn't long until Andrew was home again and doing well.

Tess' mom and dad were happily talking about the chain of events that had led them to this place. "That surgery," her mom whispered, "was a real miracle. I wonder how much it would have cost?"

Tess smiled, because she knew exactly how much a miracle cost... one dollar and eleven cents... plus the faith of a little child..