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Page 1 2
Title: Great Stories 1
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A RED MARBLE
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Shining Brightly for Jesus |
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As I minister throughout China, I often hear moving stories of the good testimony
of Christians which gives glory to our Lord Jesus Christ ... In "K" city, a woman lived who survived by collecting garbage. One day she dug out a bag which she found contained 30,000 yuan (worth about US $3,700+). For a garbage collector, this was an astronomical amount. Without hesitation, she immediately looked for its rightful owner and the money was returned. This news spread and the whole area was stirred. A number of journalists came to interview her in her impoverished home. They were curious why she had returned such a large amount of money. Maybe she was following the example of Lei Feng -- a remarkably good soldier set as a model in China. The woman kept silent until they had all calmed down. She then pointed her finger to a portrait of Jesus hanging on the wall above her. She replied: "I have learned about Jesus. I am a Christian and I observe Jesus' teaching. I would not covet riches that do not belong to me!" This news was made public in the newspapers and has become a living
testimony to many in that city. Spiritual Nuggets is a special e-list service from Gloria a Deus@aol.com for
Christians who desire to receive it. The Nuggets are sent out at about three-week
intervals as a ministry service of ReubenHB@aol.com. |
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Showing the Love of God for the Lowest |
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Later that day I visited Sadan, another former [leprosy] patient.
He looked like a miniature version of Gandhi: skinny, balding, with thick spectacles, perched
cross-legged on the edge of a bed. The door to his modest apartment was open, and small birds flew in and out. A mangy dog lounged on the step. Sadan showed me his feet, which ended in smooth, rounded stumps instead of toes. "I met the Brands too late to save these," he said. "But they gave me shoes that let me walk." In a high-pitched, singsong voice Sadan told me wrenching stories of past rejection: the classmates who made fun of him in school, the driver who forcibly threw him off a public bus, the many employers who refused to hire him despite his training and talent, the hospitals that turned him away with a brusque "We don't treat lepers here." "When I got to Vellore, I spent the night on the Brands' veranda, because I had nowhere else to go," said Sadan. "That was unheard of for a person with leprosy back then. I can still remember when Dr. Brand took my infected, bleeding feet in his hands. I had been to many doctors. A few had examined my hands and feet from a distance, but Drs. Paul and Margaret were the first medical workers who dared to touch me. I had nearly forgotten what human touch felt like. Even more impressive, they let me stay in their house that night, and this was when even health workers were terrified of leprosy." Sadan then recounted the elaborate sequence of medical procedures -- tendon transfers, nerve strippings, toe amputations, and cataract removal -- performed by the Brands. By transferring tendons to his fingers, they made it possible for him to write again, and now he kept accounts for a program that gave free leprosy care through fifty-three mobile clinics. He spoke for half an hour. His past life was a catalog of human suffering. And the stigma continues to this day: just recently he had sat in a car alone and watched his daughter's wedding from a distance, afraid his presence would disturb the guests. As the Brands and I sipped our last cup of tea in his home, just before leaving [India] to catch a plane for England, Sadan made this astonishing statement: "Still, I must say that I am now happy that I had this disease." "Happy?" I asked, incredulous. "Yes," replied Sadan. "Apart from leprosy, I would have been a normal man with a normal family, chasing wealth and a higher position in society. I would never have known such wonderful people as Dr. Paul and Margaret, and I would never have known the God who lives in them." from by Philip Yancey, SOUL SURVIVOR, chapter on Dr. Paul Brand, Doubleday, 2001, 83-84. Spiritual Nuggets is a special e-list service from Gloria a Deus@aol.com for Christians who desire to receive it. The Nuggets are sent out at about three-week intervals as a ministry service of ReubenHB@aol.com. |
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The Measure of Wealth. The Story of Stanley Kresge |
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Stanley Kresge was born on June 11, 1900 in Detroit, Michigan. He graduated
from Albion College in 1923 and went to work for his father's company, the S.S.
Kresge Company. The S.S. Kresge Company later changed its name to K-Mart. For much of his
entire life, Stanley Kresge was a very wealthy man. But he was not spoiled by his
inherited wealth. He was a Christian philanthropist who maximized that fortune.
During his lifetime he gave away hundreds of millions of dollars to others, and especially
to his church. When he died in Detroit at the age of 85, his pastor said this in the
eulogy: "He considered what he had as a trust from God, and that he was a
steward of all that God had given to him." Before his death, Kresge told a newspaper reporter why he never let it be known how much of his personal fortune he had given away. He said, "I'd be embarrassed to have anybody think I was bragging about charity." But quietly and consistently, all of his check payments and charitable contributions were signed exactly the same way: "In the name and for the sake of Jesus Christ, Stanley S. Kresge." We come into and leave this world with no material possessions. The only true measure of wealth is our ability to praise the Lord throughout our life. By Peter Kennedy [from VIRTUOSITY] Spiritual Nuggets is a special e-list service from Gloria a Deus@aol.com for
Christians who desire to receive it. The Nuggets are sent out at about three-week
intervals as a ministry service of ReubenHB@aol.com. |
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One day a father of a very wealthy family took his son on a
trip to the country with the firm purpose of showing his son how poor people can be. They spent a couple of days and nights on the farm of what would be considered a very poor family. On their return from the trip, the father asked his son, "How was the trip?" "It was great, dad." "Did you see how poor people can be?" the father asked. "Oh yeah, said the son." "So what did you learn from the trip?" asked the father. The son answered, "I saw that we have one dog and they had four. We have a pool that reaches to the middle of our garden and they have a creek that has no end. We have imported lanterns in our garden and they have the stars at night. Our patio reaches to the front yard and they have the whole horizon. We have a small piece of land to live on and they have fields that go beyond our sight. We have servants who serve us, but they serve others. We buy food, but they grow theirs. We have walls around our property to protect us, they have friends to protect them. With this the boy's father was speechless. Then his son added, "Thanks dad for showing me how poor we are." May Your Life Be "Poorly" Blessed. |
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God Sees Everything! |
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There was a little boy visiting his grandparents on their farm. He was
given a slingshot to play with out in the woods. He practiced in the woods, but he
could never hit the target. Getting a little discouraged, he headed back to dinner. As he was walking back he saw Grandma's pet duck. Just out of impulse, he let the slingshot fly, hit the duck square in the head, and killed it. He was shocked and grieved. In a panic, he hid the dead duck in the wood pile, only to see his sister watching. Sally had seen it all, but she said nothing. After lunch the next day Grandma said, "Sally, let's wash the dishes." But Sally said, "Grandma, Johnny told me he wanted to help in the kitchen." Then she whispered to him, "Remember the duck?" So Johnny did the dishes. Later that day, Grandpa asked if the children wanted to go fishing and Grandma said, "I'm sorry but I need Sally to help make supper." Sally just smiled and said, "Well that's all right because Johnny told me he wanted to help. "She whispered again, "Remember the duck?" So Sally went fishing and Johnny stayed to help. After several days of Johnny doing both his chores and Sally's he finally couldn't stand it any longer. He came to Grandma and confessed that he had killed the duck. Grandma knelt down, gave him a hug, and said, Sweetheart, I know. You see, I was standing at the window and I saw the whole thing. But because I love you, I forgave you. I was just wondering how long you would let Sally make a slave of you. Thought for the day and everyday there after: Whatever is in your past, whatever you have done and the devil keeps throwing it up in your face (lying, debt, fear, hatred, anger, unforgiveness, bitterness, etc.) whatever it is, you need to know that God was standing at the window and He saw the whole thing, He has seen your whole life. He wants you to know that He loves you and that you are forgiven. He's just wondering how long you will let the devil make a slave of you. The great thing about God is that when you ask for forgiveness, He not only forgives you, but He forgets - It is by God's Grace and Mercy that we are saved. Go ahead and make the difference in someone's life today. Share this with a friend and always remember, God is at the window. |
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A Costly Conversion |
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After a student meeting in Los Angeles a few years ago, I
was approached by a student from the University of Southern California who was from the Middle
East. The young man had come to a meeting where I was speaking on "the uniqueness of Jesus." He said, "I was tremendously moved by what you said about Jesus tonight. My father is a religious leader in Pakistan. In my country when a person becomes a Christian he is often killed." The student related how a medical doctor and his wife had given him a New Testament when he arrived in America. He had been reading it, and decided that Jesus was the one for whom he had looked all his life. "I found no realities in my religion," he said. "I need Christ in my life, but I know if I receive Him, I must write my father and tell him what I have done. And he will disown me. My father is a very wealthy, influential man," he said. "If I receive Christ, he will cut off my allowance, and I will have no source of income. I will lose my student visa, and I will have to return to Pakistan in disgrace." And he added very soberly, "I will probably be killed, quite likely by my own family." I didn't press him, but waited prayerfully as he sat quietly, his head bowed. Finally after about 30 minutes, largely of silence, he said, "I am ready." I wept when I heard those words. We knelt and prayed, and this brilliant young student received Christ into his life. Immediately, He began to experience unusual persecution. He wrote his father, who did disown him. All of his personal belongings were stolen. I later learned that he had gone for many days without food. Then he lost his student visa and was forced to return to his country. I have had no contact with him since. I believe he was martyred for his faith. Before he left, I asked him, "Are you sorry you
received Christ?" I shall never forget the expression on his face as he
replied, "No, I am not sorry." When I think of that experience I realize how
fortunate I am. For the most |
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An Incredible Story! |
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In the 1930s, Stalin ordered a purge of all Bibles and all
believers in the former Soviet Union. Millions of Bibles were confiscated and multitudes
of believers were sent to the gulags (prison camps), where most died for being
"enemies of the state." In Stavropol, Russia, this order was carried out with
a vengeance.
Recently, the CoMission ministry, which Campus Crusade for
Christ sponsored, sent a team to Stavropol. The city's history was not known at that
time. But when our team was having difficulties getting Bibles shipped from Moscow,
someone mentioned the existence of a warehouse outside of town where these confiscated
Bibles had been stored ever since Stalin's day.
After much prayer by the team, one member finally got up the courage to go to the warehouse and ask the officials if the Bibles were still there. Sure enough, they were. Then the CoMission asked if the Bibles could be removed and distributed again to the people of Stavropol. The answer was "yes"! The next day the CoMission team returned with a truck and several Russian people to help load the Bibles. One helper was a young man, who was a skeptical, hostile, and agnostic collegian who had come only for the day's wages. As they were loading the Bibles, one team member noticed that the young man had disappeared. Eventually, they found him in a corner of the warehouse weeping. He had slipped away hoping to quietly take a Bible. What he found shook him to the core. The inside page of the Bible he picked up had the handwritten signature of his own grandmother! It had been her Bible! Out of the many thousands of Bibles still left in that warehouse, he stole the one belonging to his grandmother -- a woman persecuted for her faith all her life. No wonder he was weeping -- God had just dramatically revealed Himself to this young man. His grandmother had no doubt prayed for him and for her city. Her prayers had followed him, and now this young man's life has been transformed by the very Bible that his grandmother found so dear. "O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out! (Romans 11:33). |
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Grace |
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The boy stood with back arched, head cocked back and hands clenched defiantly.
"Go ahead, give it to me." The principal looked down at the young rebel. "How many times have you been here?" The child sneered rebelliously, "Apparently not enough." The principal gave the boy a strange look. "And you have been punished each time have you not?" "Yeah, I been punished, if that's what you want to call it." He threw out his small chest, "Go ahead I can take whatever you dish out. I always have." "And no thought of your punishment enters your head the next time you decide to break the rules does it?" "Nope, I do whatever I want to do. Ain't nothin' you people gonna do to stop me either." The principal looked over at the teacher who stood nearby. "What did he do this time?" "Fighting. He took little Tommy and shoved his face into the sandbox." The principal turned to look at the boy, "Why? What did little Tommy do to you?" "Nothin', I didn't like the way he was lookin' at me, just like I don't like the way you're lookin' at me! And if I thought I could do it, I'd shove your face into something." The teacher stiffened and started to rise but a quick look from the principal stopped him. He contemplated the child for a moment and then quietly said, "Today my young student, is the day you learn about grace." "Grace? Isn't that what you old people do before you sit down to eat? I don't need none of your stinkin' grace." "Oh but you do." The principal studied the young mans face and whispered. "Oh yes, you truly do..." The boy continued to glare as the principal continued, "Grace, in its short definition is unmerited favor. You cannot earn it, it is a gift and is always freely given. It means that you will not be getting what you so richly deserve." The boy looked puzzled. "You're not gonna whup me? You just gonna let me walk?" The principal looked down at the unyielding child. "Yes, I am going to let you walk." The boy studied the face of the principal, "No punishment at all? Even though I socked Tommy and shoved his face into the sandbox?" "Oh, there has to be punishment. What you did was wrong and there are always consequences to our actions. There will be punishment. Grace is not an excuse for doing wrong." "I knew it," Sneered the boy as he held out his hands. "Lets get on with it." The principal nodded toward the teacher. "Bring me the paddle." The teacher presented the paddle to the principal. He looked at it and then handed it back to the teacher. He looked at the child and said. "I want you to count the blows." He slid out from behind his desk and walked over to stand directly in front of the young man. He gently reached out and folded the child's outstretched, expectant hands together and then turned to face the teacher with his own hands outstretched. One quiet word came forth from his mouth. "Begin." The paddle whipped down on the outstretched hands of the principal. Crack! The young man jumped ten feet in the air. Shock registered across his face, "One" he whispered. Crack! "Two." His voice raised an octave. Crack! "Three..." He couldn't believe this. Crack! "Four." Big tears welled up in the eyes of the rebel. "OK stop! That's enough. Stop!" Crack! Came the paddle down on the callused hands of the principal. Crack! The child flinched with each blow, tears beginning to stream down his face. Crack! Crack! "No please," the former rebel begged, "Stop, I did it, I'm the one who deserves it. Stop! Please. Stop..." Still the blows came, Crack! Crack! One after another. Finally it was over. The principal stood with sweat glistening across his forehead and beads trickling down his face. Slowly he knelt down. He studied the young man for a second and then his swollen hands reached out to cradle the face of the weeping child. |
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The Carpenter |
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Two brothers who lived on adjoining farms fell into conflict. The long
collaboration fell apart. It was the first serious rift in 40 years of farming side by
side, sharing machinery and trading labor and goods as needed without a hitch. It began with a small misunderstanding and grew into a major difference, and finally exploded into an exchange of bitter words followed by weeks of silence. One morning there was a knock on John's door. He opened it to find a man with a carpenter's toolbox. "I'm looking for a few days work" he said. "Perhaps you would have a few small jobs here and there I could help with? "Yes," said the older brother, "I do have a job for you. Look across the creek at that farm. That's my neighbor; in fact, it's my younger brother. Last week there was a meadow between us, but he took his bulldozer to the river levee and now there is a creek between us. Well, he may have done this to spite me, but I'll go him one better. See that pile of lumber by the barn? I want you to build me a fence - an 8 foot fence - so I won't need to see his place or his face anymore." The carpenter said, "I think I understand the situation. Show me the nails and the post-hole digger and I'll be able to do a job that pleases you." The older brother needed to go to town, so he helped the carpenter get the materials ready and then he was off for the day. The carpenter worked hard all that day measuring, sawing, nailing. About sunset, when the farmer returned, the carpenter had just finished his job. The farmer's eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped. There was no fence there at all. It was a bridge - a bridge stretching from one side of the creek to the other! A fine piece of work - handrails and all - and the neighbor, his younger brother, was coming across with his hand outstretched. "You are quite a fellow to build this bridge after all I've said and done." The two brothers stood at each end of the bridge and then they met in the middle, taking each other's hand. They turned to see the carpenter hoist his toolbox on his shoulder. "No, wait! Stay a few days. I've a lot of other projects for you," said the older brother. "I'd love to stay on," the carpenter said, "but, I have many more bridges to mend and build." |
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A Great Scholar Humbles Himself |
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One day I received a telephone call from a friend. He was working for his
doctorate in one of the most prestigious theological seminaries in America.
He asked if I would go with him to call on the head of the seminary, who was also his professor. He explained to me that his professor was a good man, a wonderful person and a brilliant scholar, but that he denied the deity of Christ. This professor was one of the great church historians of this century. He was a famous theologian who had helped to train many thousands of young men to become pastors and other Christian leaders. When we arrived and I was introduced, his immediate response was: "Mr. Bright, when you talk to college students about becoming a Christian, what do you tell them?" I was skeptical of his sincerity and weighed my words carefully. He then asked a second question, "Better still, what would you tell me? I would like to become a Christian?" He added that his father was a great scholar who had greatly influenced his own views. The father did not believe in the deity of Christ. He believed Jesus was a good man who had a profound influence upon the world, but was not God. The professor continued, "About five years ago I began to reevaluate my personal beliefs and I began to study in earnest the writings of the church fathers and the original manuscripts concerning Jesus. The more I studied, the more convinced I became that Jesus is the Son of God." And when he asked, "Will you help me" (and I shall never forget this phrase) "know Him as my personal Savior?" I was deeply moved. He also made a profound statement: "As a result of my research," he said, "I am now convinced that no honest person who is willing to consider the overwhelming evidence proving the deity of Christ can deny that He is the Son of God." Then he said, "Now, will you pray for me? I want to know Jesus as my personal Savior?" I prayed for him, my friend prayed, and he prayed. And that day a great scholar met the living Christ in the spirit of a little child. |
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One Nation Under God |
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Now I sit me down in school
Our hair can be purple, orange or
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LET GOD ORCHESTRATE THE "MUSIC" |
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Wishing to encourage her young son's progress on the
piano, a mother took her boy to a Paderewski concert. After they
were seated, the mother spotted a friend in the audience and walked
down the aisle to greet her. Seizing the opportunity to explore the
wonders of the concert hall, the little boy rose and eventually explored his way
through a door marked "NO ADMITTANCE." When the house lights dimmed and
the concert was about to begin, the mother returned to her seat and discovered
that the child was missing. Suddenly, the curtains parted and spotlights
focused on the impressive Steinway on stage. In horror, the mother saw her
little boy sitting at the keyboard, innocently picking out "Twinkle, Twinkle
Little Star." At that moment, the great piano master made his entrance,
quickly moved to the piano, and whispered in the boy's ear, "Don't quit. Keep
playing" Then leaning over, Paderewski reached down with his left hand and
began filling in the bass part. Soon his right arm reached around to the other
side of the child and he added a running obbligato. Together, the old master and
the young novice transformed a frightening situation into a wonderfully creative
experience.
The audience was mesmerized. That is the way it is with our Heavenly Father. What we can accomplish on our own is hardly noteworthy. We try our best, but the results aren't exactly graceful flowing music. But with the hand of the Master, our life's work truly can be beautiful. Next time you set out to accomplish great feats, listen carefully. You can hear the voice of the Master whispering in your ear, "Don't quit. Keep playing." Feel His loving arms around you. Know that His strong hands are there helping you turn your feeble attempts into true masterpieces. Remember that God doesn't call the equipped, He equips the called. And He'll always be there to love and guide you on to great things. Keep the faith, and keep playing. Together, you and the Master will make beautiful music. |
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Revival In Wales |
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Dear friends: In 1904, the leader of a great spiritual awakening in Wales was a young Welsh miner with coal dust in his hair and grime beneath his fingernails. He possessed no skills as an orator, nor was he widely read. The only book he knew was the Bible, and his heart burned with a passion for God and His holy Word. For years, Evan Roberts yearned to preach the gospel. One day in 1904 while Roberts was in prayer, God revealed to him that He was going to send a revival to Wales. Burning with this vision, Roberts sought opportunity to preach, but found none. He begged his pastor to let him preach, but at first the bewildered minister said no to this overly enthusiastic coal miner. Finally, after much pleading, the pastor relented. "All right, Evan, you can preach following the Wednesday night service," he said, "if anyone chooses to stay and listen." Seventeen curious seekers stayed behind. The young evangelist boldly proclaimed that he had heard from God. His message was simple: (1) You must confess every known sin to God; (2) you must remove every doubtful habit from your life; (3) you must obey the Holy Spirit's prompting; and (4) you must go public with your witness for Christ. Although Roberts was unskilled in preaching, the pastor and those 17 church members began to burn with a fiery touch from God. The next night more came to hear the young preacher, and the fire quickly spread to other churches. In the next thirty days, 37,000 people came forward to repent of their sins and receive Jesus Christ as their Savior and Lord. Within five months, 100,000 were swept into Christ's kingdom across the country, and Roberts' vision was beginning to be fulfilled! Just as God had shown him, Roberts saw the revival leap to England. There, an estimated 2 million people received Christ. Then the Holy Spirit coursed out into Western and Northern Europe. When the Spirit "fell" upon Norway, so many packed the churches that the clergy had to ordain lay persons in order to serve communion to the masses. Then the Spirit of revival swept across the world to Africa, India, China, Korea and to America. Historians estimate that 20 million people came to Christ while this revival burned in America. I have personally fasted and prayed for 40 days for each of the last eight years, that God would visit America and the world in revival power again. Yours for fulfilling the Great Commission each year until our Lord returns, Bill Bright |
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What To Do When All Else Fails! |
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I was on my second solo. My instructor had told me to practice climbing,
turning stalls. To do that you climb and go in circles until you stall. Then you quickly
pull out of the stall and do it again. I just went into my stall when I must have hit an air pocket or my own prop wash. The earth was straight in front of me, spinning like a top. I was sitting perfectly still. I was in a tail spin. Now if you ever go into a tail spin, you kick opposite rudder, my instructor told me. The earth was spinning clockwise, so I kicked left rudder. What I didn't realize was that the earth was not moving; it was my plane that was spinning counterclockwise! I had kicked the wrong rudder. So the earth kept spinning and getting larger. I tried right rudder. Nothing happened. I tried turning the yoke, first left, then right. Nothing happened. I kept spinning. I tried pulling back on the yoke. I frantically tried moving the controls every which-way. I stayed in a spin. I looked at the altimeter. It read 600 feet. I had six seconds to live. I wanted to die with a Bible verse on my lips, so I said, "Give me a verse, Lord!" He said very fast, "And it shall be that anyone that calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved." I pulled my hands and feet off the controls, went into the fetal position, squeezed my eyes shut, and screamed, "JESUS!!!" at the top of my voice. I waited for the crash, eyes squeezed shut. Nothing happened. After a while, I slowly opened one eye at a time, still in the fetal position. I was flying straight and level, gently gaining altitude! I stayed in the fetal position for about twenty seconds, gradually looking around me, gradually relaxing. Finally I looked over to the co-pilot's seat, as if Jesus was sitting there, flying the plane. I said, "I'm okay now, Jesus. Thank you. I can fly home now." I put my hands and feet back on the controls, and flew back to the airfield. That experience ran through my mind thousands of times since. It taught me a lesson I shall never forget, and I hope you never forget: Whenever life's situations get out of control, let go of the controls and call on the name of the Lord Jesus. It works. You shall be saved! |
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The Benefits of Kindness |
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When I was quite young, my father had
one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember well, the polished old case
fastened to the wall and the shiny receiver on the side of the box. I was too little to
reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother would talk to it.
Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person and her name was "Information Please" and there was nothing she did not know. "Information Please" could supply anybody's number and the correct time. My first personal experience with this genie-in-a-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement. I whacked my finger with a hammer.
The pain was terrible but there didn't seem to be any reason in crying because there was
no one home to give me sympathy. I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger,
finally arriving at the stairway, The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the
parlor and held it to my ear. "Information Please" I said into the mouthpiece
just above my head. A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear. After that, I called "Information Please" for everything. I asked her for
help with my geography and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math.
She told me that my pet chipmunk, which I had caught in the park just the day before,
would eat fruit and nuts. Then there was the time Petey, our pet canary died. I called
"Information Please" and told her the sad story. She listened, then said the
usual things grown ups say to soothe a child. But, I was inconsolable. I asked her,
"Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only
to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?" Another day I was on the telephone. "Information Please." All this took place in a small town in the Pacific northwest. When I was nine years old, we moved across the country to Boston. I missed my friend very much. "Information Please" belonged in that old wooden box back home and somehow I never thought of trying the tall, new shiny phone that sat on the table in the hall. As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really
left me. Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of
security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding and kind she was to have
spent her time on a little boy. Three months later I was back in Seattle. A different voice answered, Never underestimate the impression you make on others. Whose life have you touched today? "It is God to whom and with whom we travel, and while He is the end of our journey, He is also at every stopping place." |
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Who Packed Your Parachute? |
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Charles Plumb was a U.S. Navy jet pilot in Vietnam. After 75 combat missions, his plane was destroyed by a surface-to-air missile. Plumb ejected and parachuted into enemy hands. He was captured and spent 6 years in a communist Vietnamese prison. He survived the ordeal and now lectures on lessons learned from that experience. One day, when Plumb and his wife were sitting in a restaurant, a man at another table came up and said, "You're Plumb! You flew jet fighters in Vietnam from the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk. You were shot down!" "How in the world did you know that?" asked Plumb. "I packed your parachute," the man replied. Plumb gasped in surprise and gratitude. The man pumped his hand and said, "I guess it worked!" Plumb assured him, "It sure did. If your chute hadn't worked, I wouldn't be here today." Plumb couldn't sleep that night, thinking about that man. Plumb says, "I kept wondering what he might have looked like in a Navy uniform: a white hat, a bib in the back, and bell-bottom trousers. I wonder how many times I might have seen him and not even said 'Good morning, how are you?' or anything because, you see, I was a fighter pilot and he was "just" a sailor." Plumb thought of the many hours the sailor had spent on a long wooden table in the bowels of the ship, carefully weaving the shrouds and folding the silks of each chute, holding in his hands each time the fate of someone he didn't know. Now, Plumb asks his audience, "Who's packing your parachute?" Everyone has someone who provides what they need to make it through the day. Plumb also points out that he needed many kinds of parachutes when his plane was shot down over enemy territory-he needed his physical parachute, his mental parachute, his emotional parachute, and his spiritual parachute. He called on all these supports before reaching safety. Sometimes in the daily challenges that life gives us, we miss what is really important. We may fail to say hello, please, or thank you, congratulate someone on something wonderful that has happened to them, give a compliment, or just do something nice for no reason. As you go through this week, this month, this year, recognize people who pack your parachute. I am sending you this as my way of thanking you for your part in packing my parachute!!! And I hope you will send it on to those who have helped pack yours! Sometimes, we wonder why friends keep forwarding jokes to us without writing a word, maybe this could explain: When you are very busy, but still want to keep in touch, guess what you do; you forward jokes. And to let you know that you are still remembered, you are still important, you are still loved, you are still cared for, guess what you get? --- A forwarded joke. So my friend, next time if you get a joke, don't think that you are being sent just another forwarded joke, but that you've been thought of today and your friend on the other end of your computer wanted to send you a smile. |
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57 CENTS |
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A sobbing little girl stood near a small church from which she had
been turned away because it "was too crowded". |
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Check'n In |
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A Minister passing through his church in
the middle of the day, decided to pause by the altar and see who had come to pray.
Just then the back door opened, a man came down the aisle, The minister frowned as he saw
the man hadn't shaved in a while. His shirt was kinda shabby and his coat was worn
and frayed, the man knelt, he bowed his head, then rose and walked away. In the days
that followed, each noon time he came to Church and each time he knelt just for a moment,
a lunch pail in his lap. Well, the minister's suspicions grew, with robbery a main
fear. He decided to stop the man and ask him, "What are you doing here?"
The old man said, he worked at the factory down the road and his lunch was only half an
hour. Lunchtime was his prayer time, for finding strength and power. "I stay
only moments, see, because the factory is so far away; as I kneel here talking to
the Lord, this is what I say: "I JUST CAME AGAIN TO TELL YOU, LORD, HOW HAPPY
I'VE BEEN, SINCE WE FOUND EACH OTHER'S FRIENDSHIP AND YOU TOOK AWAY MY SIN. DON'T
KNOW MUCH ABOUT HOW TO PRAY, BUT I THINK ABOUT YOU EVERYDAY. SO, JESUS, THIS IS JIM
CHECKING IN TODAY." |
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The Tablecloth |
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The
brand new pastor and his wife, newly assigned to their first ministry, to reopen a church
in suburban Brooklyn, arrived in early October excited about their opportunities. When
they saw their church, it was very run down and needed much work. They set a goal to have
everything done in time to have their first service on Christmas Eve. True
Story - submitted by Pastor Rob Reid |
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The Littlest Firefighter |
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The 26-yr-old mother stared down at her son who was dying of
terminal leukemia. Although her heart was filled with sadness, she also had a strong feeling
of determination. Like any parent she wanted her son to grow up & fulfill all his
dreams. Now that was no longer possible. The leukemia would see to that. But she still
wanted her son's dreams to come true. She took her son's hand & asked, "Billy, did you ever think about what you wanted to be once you grew up? Did you ever dream & wish what you would do with your life?" "Mommy, I always wanted to be a fireman when I grew up." Mom smiled back & said, "Let's see if we can make your wish come true." Later that day she went to her local fire department in Phoenix, Arizona, where she met Fireman Bob, who had a heart as big as Phoenix. She explained her son's final wish & asked if it might be possible to give her six year old son a ride around the block on a fire engine. Fireman Bob said, "Look, we can do better than that. If you'll have your son ready at seven o'clock Wednesday morning, we'll make him an honorary fireman for the whole day. He can come down to the fire station, eat with us, go on all the fire calls, the whole nine yards! And if you'll give us his sizes, we'll get a real fire uniform for him, with a real fire hat -- not a toy one -- with the emblem of the Phoenix Fire Department on it, a yellow slicker like we wear & rubber boots. They're all manufactured right here in Phoenix, so we can get them fast. Three days later Fireman Bob picked up Billy, dressed him in his fire uniform & escorted him from his hospital bed to the waiting hook & ladder truck. Billy got to sit on the back of the truck & help steer it back to the fire station. He was in heaven. There were 3 fire calls in Phoenix that day & Billy got to go out on all 3 calls. He rode in the different fire engines, the paramedic's van, & even the fire chief's car. He was also videotaped for the local news program. Having his dream come true, with all the love & attention that was lavished upon him, so deeply touched Billy that he lived 3 months longer than any doctor thought possible. One night all of his vital signs began to drop dramatically & the head nurse, who believed in the hospice concept that no one should die alone, began to call the family members to the hospital. Then she remembered the day Billy had spent as a fireman, so she called the Fire Chief & asked if it would be possible to send a fireman in uniform to the hospital to be with Billy as he made his transition. The chief replied, "We can do better than that. We'll be
there in 5 minutes. Will you please do me a favor? When you hear the sirens
screaming & see the lights flashing, will you announce over the PA system that
there is not a fire? It's just the fire department coming to see one of its finest
members one more time. And will you open the window to his room? |
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