The Signal
The young man sat alone on the bus and most of the time stared out the window. He was in his mid-twenties, nice looking with a kind face. His dark blue shirt matched the color of his eyes. His hair was short and neat. Occasionally he would look away from the window and the anxiety on his young face touched the heart of the grandmotherly woman sitting across the aisle. The bus was just approaching the outskirts of a small town when she was so drawn to the young man that she scooted across the aisle and asked permission to sit next to him.
After a few moments of small talk about the warm spring weather, he blurted out, "I've been in prison for two years. I just got out this morning and I'm going home." His words tumbled out as he told her he was raised in a poor but proud family and how his crime had brought his family shame and heartbreak. In the whole two years he had not heard from them. He knew they were too poor to travel the distance to where he had been in prison and his parents probably felt too uneducated to write. He had stopped writing them when no answers came.
Three weeks before being released, he desperately wrote one more letter to his family. He told them how sorry he was for disappointing them and asked for their forgiveness.
He went on to explain about being released from prison and that he would take the bus to his hometown-the one that goes right by the front yard of the house where he grew up and where his parents still lived. In his letter, he said he would understand if they wouldn't forgive him.
He wanted to make it easy for them and so asked them to give him a signal that he could see from the bus. If they had forgiven him and wanted him to come back home, they could tie a white ribbon on the old apple tree that stood in the front yard. If the signal wasn't there, he would stay on the bus, leave town and be out of their lives forever.
As the bus neared his street, the young man became more and more anxious to the point he was afraid to look out the window because he was so sure there would be no ribbon.
After listening to his story, the woman asked simply, "Would it help if we traded seats and I'll sit near to the window and look for you?" The bus traveled a few more blocks and then she saw the tree. She gently touched the young man's shoulder and choking back tears said, "Look! Oh look! The whole tree is covered with white ribbons."
Retold by Alice Gray in Stories for the Heart compiled by Alice Gray (Portland: Multnomah Press, 1996), p. 81-82.
Homeless Man
The Day I Met Daniel It was an unusually cold day for the month of May. Spring had arrived and everything was alive with color. But a cold front from the north had brought winter's chill back to Indiana. I sat with two friends in the picture window of a quaint restaurant just off the corner of the town square. The food and the company were both especially good that day. As we talked, my attention was drawn outside, across the street. There, walking into town, was a man who appeared to be carrying all his worldly goods on his back. He was carrying a well-worn sign that read, "I will work for food."
My heart sank. I brought him to the attention of my friends and noticed that others around us had stopped eating to focus on him. Heads moved in a mixture of sadness and disbelief. We continued with our meal, but his image lingered in my mind. We finished our meal and went our separate ways. I had errands to do and quickly set out to accomplish them. I glanced toward the town square, looking somewhat half-heartedly for the strange visitor. I was fearful, knowing that seeing him again would call for some response. I drove through town and saw nothing of him. I made some purchases at a store and got back in my car. Deep within me, the Spirit of God kept speaking to me: "Don't go back to the office until you've at least driven once more around the square." And so, with some hesitancy, I headed back into town. As I turned the square's third corner, I saw him. He was standing on the steps of the stone-front church, going through his sack.
I stopped and looked, feeling both compelled to speak to him, yet wanting to drive on. The empty parking space on the corner seemed to be a sign from God: an invitation to park. I pulled in, got out and approached the town's newest visitor. "Looking for the pastor?" I asked. "Not really," he replied, "Just resting." "Have you eaten today?" "Oh, I ate something early this morning." "Would you like to have lunch with me? " Do you have some work I could do for you?" "No work," I replied. "I commute here to work from the city, but I would like to take you to lunch." "Sure," he replied with a smile. As he began to gather his things, I asked some surface questions. "Where you headed?" "St. Louis." "Where you from?" "Oh, all over; mostly Florida." "How long you been walking?" "Fourteen years," came the reply.
I knew I had met someone unusual. We sat across from each other in the same restaurant I had left only minutes earlier. His hair was long and straight, and he had a neatly trimmed dark beard. His skin was deeply tanned, and his face was weathered slightly beyond his 38 years. His eyes were dark yet clear, and he spoke with an eloquence and articulation that was startling. He removed his jacket to reveal a bright red T-shirt that said, "Jesus is The Never Ending Story." Then Daniel's story began to unfold.
He had seen rough times early in life. He'd made some wrong choices and reaped the consequences. Fourteen years earlier, while backpacking across the country, he had stopped on the beach in Daytona. He tried to hire on with some men who were putting up a large tent and some equipment. A concert, he thought. He was hired, but the tent would not house a concert but revival services, and in those services he saw life more clearly. He gave his life over to God. "Nothing's been the same since," he said, "I felt the Lord telling me to keep walking, and so I did, some 14 years now." "Ever think of stopping?" I asked. "Oh, once in a while, when it seems to get the best of me. But God has given me this calling. I give out Bibles. That's what's in my sack. I work to buy food and Bibles, and I give them out when His Spirit leads."
I sat amazed. My homeless friend was not homeless. He was on a mission and lived this way by choice. The question burned inside for a moment and then I asked: "What's it like?" "What?" "To walk into a town carrying all your things on your back and to show your sign?" "Oh, it was humiliating at first. People would stare and make comments. Once someone tossed a piece of half-eaten bread and made a gesture that certainly didn't make me feel welcome. But then it became humbling to realize that God was using me to touch lives and change people's concepts of other folks like me." My concept was changing, too.
We finished our dessert and gathered his things. Just outside the door, he paused. He turned to me and said, "Come ye blessed of my Father and inherit the kingdom I've prepared for you. For when I was hungry you gave me food, when I was thirsty you gave me drink, a stranger and you took me in." I felt as if we were on holy ground. "Could you use another Bible?" I asked. He said he preferred a certain translation. It traveled well and was not too heavy. It was also his personal favorite. "I've read through it 14 times," he said. "I'm not sure we've got one of those, but let's stop by our church and see." I was able to find my new friend a Bible that would do well, and he seemed very grateful.
"Where you headed from here?" I asked. "Well, I found this little map on the back of this amusement park coupon." "Are you hoping to hire on there for a while?" "No, I just figure I should go there. I figure someone under that star right there needs a Bible, so that's where I'm going next." He smiled, and the warmth of his spirit radiated the sincerity of his mission. I drove him back to the town square where we'd met two hours earlier, and as we drove, it started raining. We parked and unloaded his things. "Would you sign my autograph book?" he asked. "I like to keep messages from folks I meet." I wrote in his little book that his commitment to his calling had touched my life. I encouraged him to stay strong. And I left him with a verse of scripture, Jeremiah 29:11: "I know the plans I have for you," declared the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a future and a hope."
"Thanks, man," he said. "I know we just met and we're really just strangers, but I love you." "I know," I said, "I love you, too." "The Lord is good." "Yes. He is. How long has it been since someone hugged you?" I asked. "A long time," he replied. And so on the busy street corner in the drizzling rain, my new friend and I embraced, and I felt deep inside that I had been changed. He put his things on his back, smiled his winning smile and said, "See you in the New Jerusalem." "I'll be there!" was my reply.
He began his journey again. He headed away with his sign dangling from his bed roll and pack of Bibles. He stopped, turned and said, "When you see something that makes you think of me, will you pray for me?" "You bet," I shouted back, "God bless." "God bless." And that was the last I saw of him. Late that evening as I left my office, the wind blew strong. The cold front had settled hard upon the town. I bundled up and hurried to my car. As I sat back and reached for the emergency brake, I saw them....a pair of well-worn brown work gloves neatly laid over the length of the handle. I picked them up and thought of my friend and wondered if his hands would stay warm that night without them. I remembered his words: "If you see something that makes you think of me, will you pray for me?" Today his gloves lie on my desk in my office. They help me to see the world and its people in a new way, and they help me remember those two hours with my unique friend and to pray for his ministry. "See you in the New Jerusalem," he said. Yes, Daniel, I know I will....
Did Jesus Use a Modem?
Did Jesus use a modem, at the sermon on the mount?
Did He ever use a broadcast fax, to get His message out?
Did the disciples carry beepers, as they went out and about?
Did Jesus use a modem, at the sermon on the Mount?
Did the Apostle use a laptop, with lots of RAM and ROM?
Did he use an email alias such as [email protected]?
Did the man from Macedonia post an email saying "come?"
Did the Apostle use a laptop With lots of RAM and ROM?
Did Moses use a joystick at the parting of the sea?
And a Satellite Guidance Tracking System to show him where to be?
Did he write the law on tablets, or are they really on CD?
Did Moses use a joystick at the parting of the sea?
Did Jesus really die for us that Friday on the tree?
Or was it just a hologram, a bit of wizardry?
Can you download the video clip to play on your PC?
Did Jesus really die for us one day upon a tree?
If in your life, the voice of God is sometimes hard to hear.
With other voices calling, His doesn't touch your ear.
Then set aside the laptop and modem, unplug the fancy gear,
Open up that dusty Bible, And talk to Him in prayer.
Author Unknown
Keep on Singing
Like any good mother, when Karen found out that another baby was on the way, she did what she could to help her 3-year old son, Michael, prepare for a new sibling. They find out that the new baby is going to be a girl, and day after day, night after night, Michael sings to his sister in Mommy's tummy.
The pregnancy progresses normally for Karen, an active member of the Panther Creek United Methodist Church in Morristown, Tennessee. Then the labor pains come. Every five minutes ... every minute. But complications arise during delivery. Hours of labor. Would a C-section be required?
Finally, Michael's little sister is born. But she is in serious condition. With siren howling in the night, the ambulance rushes the infant to the neonatal intensive care unit at St. Mary's Hospital, Knoxville, Tennessee. The days inch by. The little girl gets worse. The pediatric specialist tells the parents, "There is very little hope. Be prepared for the worst."
Karen and her husband contact a local cemetery about a burial plot. They have fixed up a special room in their home for the new baby-now they plan a funeral. Michael, keeps begging his parents to let him see his sister, "I want to sing to her," he says. Week two in intensive care. It looks as if a funeral will come before the week is over. Michael keeps nagging about singing to his sister, but kids are never allowed in Intensive Care. But Karen makes up her mind. She will take Michael whether they like it or not. If he doesn't see his sister now, he may never see her alive.
She dresses him in an oversized scrub suit and marches him into ICU. He looks like a walking laundry basket, but the head nurse recognizes him as a child and bellows, "Get that kid out of here now! No children are allowed." The mother rises up strong in Karen, and the usually mild-mannered lady glares steel-eyed into the head nurse's face, her lips a firm line. "He is not leaving until he sings to his sister!"
Karen tows Michael to his sister's bedside. He gazes at the tiny infant losing the battle to live. And he begins to sing. In the pure hearted voice of a 3-year-old, Michael sings: "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray…" Instantly the baby girl responds. The pulse rate becomes calm and steady. Keep on singing, Michael. "You never know, dear, how much I love you, Please don't take my sunshine away." The ragged, strained breathing becomes as smooth as a kitten's purr.
Keep on singing, Michael. "The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms..." Michael's little sister relaxes at rest, healing rest, seems to sweep over her. Keep on singing, Michael.
Tears conquer the face of the bossy head nurse. Karen glows. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. Please don't take my sunshine away." Funeral plans are scrapped. The next day-the very next day-the little girl is well enough to go home! Woman's Day magazine called it "the miracle of a brother's song." The medical staff just called it a miracle.
Karen called it a miracle of God's Love! NEVER GIVE UP ON THE PEOPLE YOU LOVE
Wired for Sound
The preacher was wired for sound with a lapel mike, and as he preached, he moved briskly about the platform, jerking the mike cord as he went. Then he moved to one side, getting wound up in the cord and nearly tripping before jerking it again. After several circles and jerks, a little girl in the third pew leaned toward her mother and whispered, "If he gets loose, will he hurt us?"
Good News ... Bad News
Good News:-You baptized seven people today in the river.
Bad News: -You lost two of them in the swift current.
Good News: -The Women's Guild voted to send you a get-well card.
Bad News:-The vote passed by 31-30.
Good News: -The Elder Board accepted your job description the way you wrote it.
Bad News: -They were so inspired by it, they also formed a search committee to find somebody capable of filling the position.
Good News:-You finally found a choir director who approaches things exactly the same way you do.
Bad News:-The choir mutinied.
Good News:-Mrs. Jones is wild about your sermons.
Bad News:-Mrs. Jones is also wild about the "Gong Show," "Beavis and Butthead" and "Texas Chain Saw Massacre."
Good News:-Your women's softball team finally won a game.
Bad News:-They beat your men's softball team.
Good News:-The trustee's finally voted to add more church parking.
Bad News:-They are going to blacktop the front lawn of your parsonage.
Good News:-Church attendance rose dramatically the last three weeks.
Bad News:-You were on vacation.
Good News:-Your deacons want to send you to the Holy Land.
Bad News:-They are stalling until the next war.
Good News:-Your biggest critic just left your church.
Bad News:-He has been appointed the Head Bishop of your denomination.
Cyber Psalm
The Lord is my programmer, I shall not crash.
He installed his software on the hard disk of my heart;
all of His commands are user-friendly.
His directory guides me to the right choices for His name's sake.
Even though I scroll through the problems of life,
I will fear no bugs, for He is my backup.
His password protects me.
He prepares a menu before me in the presence of my enemies.
His help is only a keystroke away.
Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life,
and my file will be merged with His and saved forever.
Amen.
Bible Quiz
Q. Who was the greatest financier in the Bible?
A. Noah: he was floating his stock while everyone else was in liquidation.
Q. Who was the greatest female financier in the Bible?
A. Pharaoh's daughter: she went down to the bank of the Nile and drew out a little prophet.
Q. What kind of man was Boaz before he got married?
A. Ruth-less.
Q. Who was the first drug addict in the Bible?
A. Nebuchadnezzar: he was on grass for seven years.
Q. What kind of motor vehicles are in the Bible?
A. Jehovah drove Adam and Eve out of the Garden in a Fury.
David's Triumph was heard throughout the land.
Honda... because the apostles were all in one Accord.
Volkswagen Beetle: 2 Cor. 4:8 "We are pressed in every way, but not cramped beyond movement."
Q. Where is the first baseball game in the Bible?
A. In the big inning. Eve stole first, Adam stole second. Cain struck out Abel. The Giants and the Angels were rained out.
Q. How did Adam and Eve feel when expelled from the Garden of Eden?
A. They were really put out.
Q. What is one of the first things that Adam and Eve did after they were kicked out?
A. They really raised Cain.
Q. What excuse did Adam give to his children as to why he no longerlived in Eden?
A. Your mother ate us out of house and home.
Q. The ark was built in 3 stories, and the top story had a window to let light in, but how did they get light to the bottom 2 stories?
A. They used floodlights.
Q. Who is the greatest baby-sitter mentioned in the Bible?
A. David: he rocked Goliath to sleep.
Q. Why was Goliath so surprised when David hit him with a slingshot?
A. The thought had never entered his head before.
Q. If Goliath is resurrected, would you like to tell him the joke about David and Goliath?
A. No, he already fell for it once.
Q. What do they call pastors in Germany?
A. German Shepherds.
Q. What is the best way to get to Paradise?
A. Turn right and go straight.
Q. Which servant of Jehovah was the most flagrant lawbreaker in the Bible?
A. Moses, because he broke all 10 commandments at once.
Q. Which area of Palestine was especially wealthy?
A.The area around the Jordan: the banks were always overflowing.
Q. How do we know that Job went to a chiropractor?
A. Because in Job 16:12, 14, 16 we read, "I had come to be at ease, but he proceeded to shake me up: and he grabbed me by the back of the neck and proceeded to smash me."
Q. Where is the first tennis match mentioned in the Bible?
A. When Joseph served in Pharaoh's court.
Q. Which bible character had no parents?
A. Joshua, son of Nun.
Q. Why didn't Noah go fishing?
A. He only had two worms!
Q. How do we know that they played cards in the ark?
A. Because Noah sat on the deck
Q. Who was the greatest comedian in the Bible?
A. Samson; he really brought the house down.
The Harvest of Blame
The senseless slaughter at Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado, has sparked considerable debate in our society. Human nature being what it is, we're desperately trying to blame someone (or something) for these senseless acts that have been committed by fellow humans. It's easier for us to deal with these situations when we can firmly and decisively blame someone else, even if that blame is undeserved. Some are blaming the existence of firearms in our society, arguing that guns should be outlawed, thereby preventing future acts of violence. Others blame the assailants' parents for not noticing their hobbies of sawing off shotgun barrels and building bombs. Still others blame the computer killing game "Doom," which, they say, trained the two young men to become cold-blooded killers.
When I look at the situation, and America's reaction to it, I see a farmer standing in a field of ripe, mature soybeans ready for harvest. The farmer is angry and frustrated, because he doesn't want soybeans in his field-he wants cotton. Cotton prices are high, soybean prices are low, and he's standing out in the middle of his bean field, yelling and fussing and jumping around, cussin' those soybean plants and trying to convince them to become cotton plants.
The farmers in our readership know how silly that would look. Our farmer has a field full of soybean plants, because he planted soybeans there. If he had wanted cotton, he should have planted cotton-but in the Spring, when he planted the field, he thought soybeans were a better crop. Now, he's going to harvest soybeans, no matter how much he wants the field to be filled with cotton. Just as Paul told the Galatians, "A man reaps what he sows."
Blame whomever you will; there is still an underlying truth that cries out to be heard: It's harvest time for America, and America is, indeed, "reaping what we have sown." We have raised a generation of children who have been mentored by the "one eyed babysitters"-TV, video games, and computers-whose role models are fantasy characters and day care workers, whose weary mothers and fathers have pursued "success" as defined by our society, only to find its promise of satisfaction to be hollow and empty. We have abandoned the barbaric concept of discipline, in the name of "building self esteem." We have educated our children in schools where prayer-even voluntary prayer-is forbidden, and the very mention of the reality of God can cause a good teacher's career to come to an abrupt halt. We have taught our children that there are no absolutes, removing anything resembling a solid foundation for living, and taught them to "seek their own reality" at a time in their development when they don't even know what reality looks like. We have devalued human life by making it easy and legal for girl to kill her unborn baby for the sake of convenience. We have bombarded our children with images of violence and bloodshed, and stripped them of the joy and innocence of their childhood by making images, situations, and dialogue, that would have once been considered pornographic, standard fare on prime time network TV.
Then, like the farmer in the bean field, we wonder why they've turned out so warped and twisted. We wonder where in the world they got their values (or lack thereof); and, in a true exercise in denial, we look for someone (or something) that we can blame for the things that they've done.
Are there answers? Is there any hope? Yes, there most certainly is, and it is found within a verse of Scripture that we have heard used so often in recent years that perhaps we've learned to take it for granted. I invite you to "read it again, for the first time:"
"If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land." (2 Chronicles 7:14, NIV).
The answer is clear: It's time for Americans to get on our faces before the Almighty God of the Universe, and pray earnestly-for crop failure.
Anon
The Fork
There was a woman who had been diagnosed with cancer and had been given three months to live. Her doctor said she should start making preparations to die (something we all should be doing all of the time.)
She contacted her pastor and asked him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes. She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what she wanted to be wearing. The woman also told her pastor that she wanted to be buried with her favorite bible.
Everything was in order and the pastor was preparing to leave when the woman suddenly remembered something very important to her. "There's one more thing." She said excitedly. "What's that?" asked the pastor. "This is very important," the woman continued, I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand." The pastor stood looking at the woman not knowing quite what to say. "That shocks you doesn't it?" the woman asked. "Well to be honest, I'm puzzled by the request," said the pastor.
The woman explained. "In all my years of attending church socials and functions where food was involved (and let's be honest, food is an important part of any church event; spiritual or otherwise); my favorite part was when whoever was clearing away the dishes of the main course would lean over and say you can keep your fork. It was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming. When they told me to keep my fork, I knew that something great was about to be given to me. It wasn't Jell-O or pudding. It was cake or pie. Something with substance. So I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder ‘What's with the fork?' Then I want you to tell them: ‘Something better is coming, so keep your fork too.'"
The pastor's eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the woman good-bye. He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her before her death. But he also knew that the woman had a better grasp of heaven than he did. She KNEW that something better was coming.
At the funeral people were walking by the woman's casket and they saw the pretty dress she was wearing and her favorite bible and the fork placed in her right hand. Over and over the pastor heard the question "What's with the fork?" And over and over he smiled.
During his message, the pastor told the people of the conversation he had with the woman shortly before she died. He also told them about the fork and about what it symbolized to her. The pastor told the people how he could not stop thinking about the fork and told them that they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it either. He was right. So the next time you reach down for your fork, let it remind you, oh so gently, that there is something better coming.