There is a field with two horses. From a distance, each horse looks like any other horse. But if you stop your car, or are walking by, you will notice something quite amazing.
Looking into the eyes of one horse will disclose that he is blind. His owner has chosen not to have him put down, but has made a good home for him. This alone is amazing.
If you stand nearby and listen, you will hear the sound of a bell. Looking around for the source of the sound, you will see that it comes from the smaller horse in the field. Attached to the horse's halter is a small bell. It lets the blind friend know where the other horse is, so he can follow.
As you stand and watch these two horses, you'll see that the horse with the bell is always checking on the blind horse, and that the blind horse will listen for the bell and then slowly walk to where the other horse is, trusting that he will not be led astray. When the horse with the bell returns to the shelter of the barn each evening, it stops occasionally and looks back, making sure that the blind friend isn't too far behind to hear the bell.
Like the owners of these two horses, God does not throw us away just because we are not perfect or because we have problems or challenges. He watches over us and even brings others into our lives to help us when we are in need. Sometimes we are the blind horse being guided by the little ringing bell of those who God places in our lives. Other times we are the guide horse, helping others to find their way....
Good friends are like that... you may not always see them, but you know they are always there. Please listen for my bell and I'll listen for yours. And remember...be kinder than necessary-- everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.
Friday, March 28, 2008
TODAY I TAUGHT MY CHILD
When I got mad today and hit my child "For his own good, " I reconciled,and then I realized my plight...Today, I taught my child to fight.
When interrupted by the phone, I said, "tell them I'm not home." And then I thought, and had to sigh...Today I taught my child to lie.
I told the tax man what I made, forgetting cash that was paid, And than I blushed at this sad feat...Today I taught my child to cheat.
I smugly copied a cassette,To keep me from one more debt, But now the bells of shame must peal...Today I taught my child to steal.
Today I cursed another race, Oh God, protect what I debase, for now, I fear it is too late...Today I taught my child to hate.
By my example, children learnThat I must lead in life's sojourn. In such a way they are led By what is done and not what is said.
Today I gave my child his due By praise for him instead of rue. And now I have begun to guide; Today I gave my child pride.
I now have reconciled and paid to IRS all that I have made. And now I know that this dear youth, Today has learned from me the truth.
The alms I give are not for show, And yet, this child must surely know That charity is worth the price: Today he saw my sacrifice.
I clasp within a warm embrace My neighbor of another race. The great commandment from up above. Today I taught my child to love.
Someday my child must face aloneThis fearsome undertone, But I have blazed a sure pathway:
Today I taught my child to pray.
When interrupted by the phone, I said, "tell them I'm not home." And then I thought, and had to sigh...Today I taught my child to lie.
I told the tax man what I made, forgetting cash that was paid, And than I blushed at this sad feat...Today I taught my child to cheat.
I smugly copied a cassette,To keep me from one more debt, But now the bells of shame must peal...Today I taught my child to steal.
Today I cursed another race, Oh God, protect what I debase, for now, I fear it is too late...Today I taught my child to hate.
By my example, children learnThat I must lead in life's sojourn. In such a way they are led By what is done and not what is said.
Today I gave my child his due By praise for him instead of rue. And now I have begun to guide; Today I gave my child pride.
I now have reconciled and paid to IRS all that I have made. And now I know that this dear youth, Today has learned from me the truth.
The alms I give are not for show, And yet, this child must surely know That charity is worth the price: Today he saw my sacrifice.
I clasp within a warm embrace My neighbor of another race. The great commandment from up above. Today I taught my child to love.
Someday my child must face aloneThis fearsome undertone, But I have blazed a sure pathway:
Today I taught my child to pray.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
WOULD YOU CONSIDER ABORTION IN THE FOLLOWING SITUATIONS?
1. There's a preacher and wife who are very, very, poor. They already have 14 kids. Now she finds out she's pregnant with her 15th. They're living in tremendous poverty. Considering their poverty, and the excessive world population, would you consider recommending she get an abortion?
2. The father is sick with sniffles, the mother has TB. They have 4 children. 1st is blind, 2nd is dead, 3rd is deaf, 4th has TB. She finds she's pregnant again. Given the extreme situation, would you consider recommending abortion?
3. A white man raped a 13 year old black girl and she got pregnant. If you were her parents, would you consider recommending abortion?
4. A teenage girl is pregnant. She's not married. Her fiance is not the father of the baby, and he's very upset. Would you consider recommending abortion?
In the first case, you have just killed John Wesley. One of the great evangelists in the 19th century.
In the second case, you have killed Beethoven.
In the third case, you have killed Ethel Waters, the great black gospel singer.
If you said yes to the fourth case, you have just declared the murder of Jesus Christ!
-Unknown
2. The father is sick with sniffles, the mother has TB. They have 4 children. 1st is blind, 2nd is dead, 3rd is deaf, 4th has TB. She finds she's pregnant again. Given the extreme situation, would you consider recommending abortion?
3. A white man raped a 13 year old black girl and she got pregnant. If you were her parents, would you consider recommending abortion?
4. A teenage girl is pregnant. She's not married. Her fiance is not the father of the baby, and he's very upset. Would you consider recommending abortion?
In the first case, you have just killed John Wesley. One of the great evangelists in the 19th century.
In the second case, you have killed Beethoven.
In the third case, you have killed Ethel Waters, the great black gospel singer.
If you said yes to the fourth case, you have just declared the murder of Jesus Christ!
-Unknown
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Taxes
A tax assessor came one day to a poor Christian to determine the amount of taxes he would have to pay. The following conversation took place:
"What property do you possess?" asked the assessor."I am a very wealthy man," replied the Christian."List your possessions, please," the assessor instructed.
The Christian said:
"First, I have everlasting life, John 3:16
Second, I have a mansion in heaven, John 14:2
Third, I have peace that passes all understanding, Philippians 4:7
Fourth, I have joy unspeakable, 1 Peter 1:8
Fifth, I have divine love which never fails, 1 Corinthians 13:8
Sixth, I have a faithful wife, Proverbs 31:10
Seventh, I have healthy, happy obedient children, Exodus 20:12
Eighth, I have true, loyal friends, Proverbs 18:24
Ninth, I have songs in the night, Psalms 42:8
Tenth, I have a crown of life, James 1:12"
The tax assessor closed his book, and said, "Truly you are a very rich man, but your property is not subject to taxation."
"What property do you possess?" asked the assessor."I am a very wealthy man," replied the Christian."List your possessions, please," the assessor instructed.
The Christian said:
"First, I have everlasting life, John 3:16
Second, I have a mansion in heaven, John 14:2
Third, I have peace that passes all understanding, Philippians 4:7
Fourth, I have joy unspeakable, 1 Peter 1:8
Fifth, I have divine love which never fails, 1 Corinthians 13:8
Sixth, I have a faithful wife, Proverbs 31:10
Seventh, I have healthy, happy obedient children, Exodus 20:12
Eighth, I have true, loyal friends, Proverbs 18:24
Ninth, I have songs in the night, Psalms 42:8
Tenth, I have a crown of life, James 1:12"
The tax assessor closed his book, and said, "Truly you are a very rich man, but your property is not subject to taxation."
Monday, March 24, 2008
"The Files"
In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in a room filled with small files, which seemed to go on forever. The first file to catch my attention read "Boys I Have Liked." I quickly shut the file, shocked to realize that I knew these boys. And then, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room was a card catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of every single moment.
I began randomly opening files and exploring their contents. Some brought joy and sweet memories: others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. The files ranged from "Friends", to "Friends I Have Betrayed." "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I Have Given," "Things I Have Mutter Under My Breath." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. It didn't seem possible that I could have written all of these cards, but each card was in my own handwriting, and each signed with my signature.
When I came to one marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, and shuddered at it's detailed content. Rage exploded within me. NO ONE MUST EVER SEE THESE CARDS! I HAVE TO DESTROY THEM! In an insane frenzy, I yanked the file out and began pounding it on the floor, but I couldn't dislodge a single card. I tried to tear a single card, only to find that it was as hard as steel. Defeated and helpless, I let out a long sigh, and then I saw it. The title read "People with Whom I Have Shared The Gospel." The handle was brighter than those around it. Newer, Almost unused. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.
I fell to my knees and cried out of shame--the overwhelming shame of it all. But as I pushed away the tears I saw Him. No! NOT HERE. ANYONE BUT JESUS. Why did he have to go through every one? He seemed intuitively to go to the worst boxes. I dropped my head and covered my face with my hands. He walked over and put His arms around me. He could have said so many things, but he didn't say a word. He just cried with me. He got up and went back to the first file and began signing his name over mine. "No!" I shouted. I grabbed the card from him and there it was-- written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine, it was written with His blood.
He gently took the card back and continued signing. I don't know how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side, He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on the door. There were still cards to be written
I began randomly opening files and exploring their contents. Some brought joy and sweet memories: others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. The files ranged from "Friends", to "Friends I Have Betrayed." "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I Have Given," "Things I Have Mutter Under My Breath." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. It didn't seem possible that I could have written all of these cards, but each card was in my own handwriting, and each signed with my signature.
When I came to one marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, and shuddered at it's detailed content. Rage exploded within me. NO ONE MUST EVER SEE THESE CARDS! I HAVE TO DESTROY THEM! In an insane frenzy, I yanked the file out and began pounding it on the floor, but I couldn't dislodge a single card. I tried to tear a single card, only to find that it was as hard as steel. Defeated and helpless, I let out a long sigh, and then I saw it. The title read "People with Whom I Have Shared The Gospel." The handle was brighter than those around it. Newer, Almost unused. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.
I fell to my knees and cried out of shame--the overwhelming shame of it all. But as I pushed away the tears I saw Him. No! NOT HERE. ANYONE BUT JESUS. Why did he have to go through every one? He seemed intuitively to go to the worst boxes. I dropped my head and covered my face with my hands. He walked over and put His arms around me. He could have said so many things, but he didn't say a word. He just cried with me. He got up and went back to the first file and began signing his name over mine. "No!" I shouted. I grabbed the card from him and there it was-- written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine, it was written with His blood.
He gently took the card back and continued signing. I don't know how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side, He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on the door. There were still cards to be written
Sunday, March 23, 2008
"He's My Only Son" -- (author unknown)
The day is over, you are driving home. You tune in your radio.You hear a little blurb about a little village in India where some villagers have died suddenly, strangely, of a flu that has never been seen before. Its not influenza, but three of four people are dead, and its kind of interesting, and they are sending some doctors over there to investigate it.
You don't think much about it, but on Sunday, coming home from church, you hear another radio spot. Only they say its not three villagers, its 30,000 villagers in the back hills of this particular area of India, and it's on TV that night. CNN runs a little blurb; people are heading there from the disease center in Atlanta because this disease strain has never been seen before.
By Monday morning when you get up, its the lead story. For its not just India; its Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran and before you know it, you're hearing this story everywhere and they have coined it now as "the mystery flu." The President has made some comment that he and everyone are praying and hoping that all will go well over there. But everyone is wondering, "How are we going to contain it?"
That's when the President of France makes an announcement that shocks Europe. He is closing their borders. No flights from India, Pakistan, or any of the countries where this thing has been seen. And that's why that night you are watching a little bit of CNN before going to bed. Your jaw hits your chest when a weeping woman is translated from a French news program into English; There's a man lying in a hospital in Paris dying of the mystery flu. It has come to Europe. Panic strikes. As best they can tell, once you get it you have it for a week before you know it. Then you have four days of unbelievable symptoms. And then you die. Britain closes its borders, but its too late. South Hampton, Liverpool, North Hampton and it's Tuesday morning when the President of the United States makes the following announcement: "Due to a national security risk, all flights to and from Europe and Asia have been canceled. If your loved ones are overseas, I'm sorry. They cannot come back until we find a cure for this thing." Within four days our nation has been plunged into an unbelievable fear. People are talking about "What if it comes to this country"? And preachers on Tuesday are saying "It's the scourge of God."
It's Wednesday night and you are at a church prayer meeting when somebody runs in from the parking lot and yells, "Turn on a radio, turn on a radio!" And while the church listens to a little transistor radio with a microphone stuck up to it, the announcement is made. Two women are lying in a Long Island hospital dying from the mystery flu. Within hours it seems, this thing just sweeps across the country. People are working around the clock trying to find an antidote. Nothing is working. California, Oregon, Arizona, Florida, Massachusetts. It's as though it's just sweeping in from the borders. And then all of a sudden the news comes out. The code has been broken. A cure can be found. A vaccine can be made. It's going to take the blood of somebody who hasn't been infected and so, sure enough, all through the Midwest, through all those channels of emergency broadcasting, everyone is asked to do one simple thing: Go to your downtown hospital and have your blood type taken. That's all we ask of you. When you hear the sirens go off in your neighborhood, please make your way quickly, quietly and safely, to the hospitals.
Sure enough, when you and your family get down there late on that Friday night, there is a long line and they've got nurses and doctors coming out and pricking fingers and taking blood and putting labels on it. Your spouse and your kids are out there, and they take your blood type and they say, "wait here in the parking lot and if we call your name you can be dismissed and go home." You stand around, scared, with your neighbors, wondering what in the world is going on and if this is the end of the World. Suddenly a young man comes running out of the hospital screaming. He's yelling a name and waving a clipboard. What? He yells it again! And your son tugs on your jacket and says," Daddy, that's me." Before you know it, they have grabbed your boy. "Wait a minute. Hold on!" And they say, Its okay, his blood is clean. His blood is pure. We want to make sure he doesn't have the disease. We think he has got the right type.
Five tense minutes later, out come the doctors and nurses crying and hugging one another-some are even laughing. It's the first time you have seen anybody laugh in a week, and an old doctor walks up to you and says, "Thank you sir. Your son's blood type is perfect. It's clean, it is pure, and we can make the vaccine." As the word begins to spread all across that parking lot full of folks, people are screaming and praying and laughing and crying.
But then the gray-haired doctor pulls you and your wife aside and says, "May we see you for a moment? We didn't realize that the donor would be a minor and we need.....we need you to sign a consent form." You begin to sign and then you see that the number of pints of blood to be taken is empty. "H-h-h-ow many pints?" And that is when the old doctor's smile fades and he says, "We had no idea it would be a little child. We weren't prepared. We need it all!" "But-but. . . .I don't understand. He's my only son!" "We are talking about the world here. Please sign. We-We need it all!" "But can't you give him a transfusion?"
"If we had clean blood we would. Please, will you please sign?" In numb silence you do. Then they say, "would you like to have a moment with him before we begin?" Could you walk back?
Could you walk back to that room where he sits on a table saying, "Daddy? Mommy? What's going on?" Could you take his hands and say, "Son, your mommy and I love you and we would never ever let anything happen to you that didn't just have to be. Do you understand that?" And when that old doctor comes back in and says, "I'm sorry, we've got to get started. People all over the world are dying." Could you leave? Could you walk out while he is saying, "Dad? Mom? Dad? Why. . . .why have you forsaken me?"
And then next week, when they have the ceremony to honor your son, and some folks sleep through it, and some folks don't even bother to come because they have better things to do, and some folks come with just a pretentious smile and just pretend to care. Would you want to jump up and say, "EXCUSE ME! MY SON DIED FOR YOU! MY ONLY SON! DON'T YOU EVEN CARE? DOES IT MEAN NOTHING TO YOU?"
You don't think much about it, but on Sunday, coming home from church, you hear another radio spot. Only they say its not three villagers, its 30,000 villagers in the back hills of this particular area of India, and it's on TV that night. CNN runs a little blurb; people are heading there from the disease center in Atlanta because this disease strain has never been seen before.
By Monday morning when you get up, its the lead story. For its not just India; its Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran and before you know it, you're hearing this story everywhere and they have coined it now as "the mystery flu." The President has made some comment that he and everyone are praying and hoping that all will go well over there. But everyone is wondering, "How are we going to contain it?"
That's when the President of France makes an announcement that shocks Europe. He is closing their borders. No flights from India, Pakistan, or any of the countries where this thing has been seen. And that's why that night you are watching a little bit of CNN before going to bed. Your jaw hits your chest when a weeping woman is translated from a French news program into English; There's a man lying in a hospital in Paris dying of the mystery flu. It has come to Europe. Panic strikes. As best they can tell, once you get it you have it for a week before you know it. Then you have four days of unbelievable symptoms. And then you die. Britain closes its borders, but its too late. South Hampton, Liverpool, North Hampton and it's Tuesday morning when the President of the United States makes the following announcement: "Due to a national security risk, all flights to and from Europe and Asia have been canceled. If your loved ones are overseas, I'm sorry. They cannot come back until we find a cure for this thing." Within four days our nation has been plunged into an unbelievable fear. People are talking about "What if it comes to this country"? And preachers on Tuesday are saying "It's the scourge of God."
It's Wednesday night and you are at a church prayer meeting when somebody runs in from the parking lot and yells, "Turn on a radio, turn on a radio!" And while the church listens to a little transistor radio with a microphone stuck up to it, the announcement is made. Two women are lying in a Long Island hospital dying from the mystery flu. Within hours it seems, this thing just sweeps across the country. People are working around the clock trying to find an antidote. Nothing is working. California, Oregon, Arizona, Florida, Massachusetts. It's as though it's just sweeping in from the borders. And then all of a sudden the news comes out. The code has been broken. A cure can be found. A vaccine can be made. It's going to take the blood of somebody who hasn't been infected and so, sure enough, all through the Midwest, through all those channels of emergency broadcasting, everyone is asked to do one simple thing: Go to your downtown hospital and have your blood type taken. That's all we ask of you. When you hear the sirens go off in your neighborhood, please make your way quickly, quietly and safely, to the hospitals.
Sure enough, when you and your family get down there late on that Friday night, there is a long line and they've got nurses and doctors coming out and pricking fingers and taking blood and putting labels on it. Your spouse and your kids are out there, and they take your blood type and they say, "wait here in the parking lot and if we call your name you can be dismissed and go home." You stand around, scared, with your neighbors, wondering what in the world is going on and if this is the end of the World. Suddenly a young man comes running out of the hospital screaming. He's yelling a name and waving a clipboard. What? He yells it again! And your son tugs on your jacket and says," Daddy, that's me." Before you know it, they have grabbed your boy. "Wait a minute. Hold on!" And they say, Its okay, his blood is clean. His blood is pure. We want to make sure he doesn't have the disease. We think he has got the right type.
Five tense minutes later, out come the doctors and nurses crying and hugging one another-some are even laughing. It's the first time you have seen anybody laugh in a week, and an old doctor walks up to you and says, "Thank you sir. Your son's blood type is perfect. It's clean, it is pure, and we can make the vaccine." As the word begins to spread all across that parking lot full of folks, people are screaming and praying and laughing and crying.
But then the gray-haired doctor pulls you and your wife aside and says, "May we see you for a moment? We didn't realize that the donor would be a minor and we need.....we need you to sign a consent form." You begin to sign and then you see that the number of pints of blood to be taken is empty. "H-h-h-ow many pints?" And that is when the old doctor's smile fades and he says, "We had no idea it would be a little child. We weren't prepared. We need it all!" "But-but. . . .I don't understand. He's my only son!" "We are talking about the world here. Please sign. We-We need it all!" "But can't you give him a transfusion?"
"If we had clean blood we would. Please, will you please sign?" In numb silence you do. Then they say, "would you like to have a moment with him before we begin?" Could you walk back?
Could you walk back to that room where he sits on a table saying, "Daddy? Mommy? What's going on?" Could you take his hands and say, "Son, your mommy and I love you and we would never ever let anything happen to you that didn't just have to be. Do you understand that?" And when that old doctor comes back in and says, "I'm sorry, we've got to get started. People all over the world are dying." Could you leave? Could you walk out while he is saying, "Dad? Mom? Dad? Why. . . .why have you forsaken me?"
And then next week, when they have the ceremony to honor your son, and some folks sleep through it, and some folks don't even bother to come because they have better things to do, and some folks come with just a pretentious smile and just pretend to care. Would you want to jump up and say, "EXCUSE ME! MY SON DIED FOR YOU! MY ONLY SON! DON'T YOU EVEN CARE? DOES IT MEAN NOTHING TO YOU?"
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