John (grandad) is 63 years old and owns his own business. He is a life-longRepublican and sees his dream of retiring next year is now all but gone. With the stock market crashing and all the new taxes coming his way, John knows he will be working for a good number more years.
John has a Granddaughter, Ashley, a recent college grad. She drives a late model car, wears all the latest fashions, and also likes going out and eating out a lot. Ashley campaigned hard for Obama, and after he won the election she made sure her Grandfather (and all other Republican family members) received more than an earful on how the world is going to be a much better place now that Obama won the election. Ashley recently found herself short of cash and cannot pay her bills, again. As she has done many other times in the past, she e-mailed her Grandfather asking for some financial help. Here is his reply:
" Sweetheart, I am replying to your request for more money. Ashley, you know I love you dearly and am sympathetic to your financial plight. Unfortunately, times have changed. With the election of President Obama, your Grandmother and I have had to set forth a bold new economic plan of our own....the 'Ashley Economic Plan'. Let me explain. Your grandmother and I are highly productive, wage-earning tax payers. As you know, we have lived a comfortable life and in return have forgone many things like fancy vacations, luxury cars, etc. We have worked hard and were looking forward to retiring soon.
But this plan has changed. Your president is significantly raising our personal and business taxes. He says it is so he can give our hard earned money to other people. Do you know what this means, Ashley? It means less income for us. Less income means we must cut back on many business and personal expenditures. One example is, we were forced to let go of our receptionist today. You know her. She always gave you candy when you visited my office. Did you know she worked for us for the past 18 years? I can't afford her anymore. That is a taste of the business side.
Some personal economic effects of Obama's new taxation policies include none other than you. You know very well that over the years your grandmother and I have given you thousands of dollars in cash, tuition assistance, food, housing, clothing, gifts, etc., etc. By your vote, you have chosen another family over ours for help. Judging from your Email requesting more money, I recommend you call 202-456-1111. That is the direct telephone number for the White House. You yourself repeatedly told me I was foolish to vote Republican. You said Mr. Obama is going to be the people's president and is going to help every American live a better life. Based upon everything you have told me and things we heard from him as he campaigned, I am sure Mr. Obama will be happy to send a check or transfer money into your checking account. Have him call me for the transaction and account numbers, which by now I know by heart.
Perhaps you now can understand what I have been saying for all my life: those who vote for the president should consider what the impact of an election will be on the nation as a whole, and not just be concerned with what they can get for themselves (welfare, etc.). What Obama voters don't seem to realize is all of the "government's" money he is 'redistributing' to illegal aliens and non-taxpaying Americans (deemed "less fortunate") comes from tax money collected from income tax-paying families. Remember how you told me, "Only the richest of the rich will be affected"?
Guess what, honey? Because of our business, your Grandmother and I are now considered to be the richest of the rich. On paper, it might look that way. But in the real world, we are far from it. But, as you said while campaigning for Obama, some people will have to carry more of the burden so all of America can prosper. You understand what that means, right? It means that raising taxes on productive people results in their having less money. Less money for everything, including granddaughters.
Congratulations on your choice for "change". For future reference, I encourage you to attempt to add up the total value of the gifts and money you've received from us over the years, and compare it to what you expect to get over the next four years from Mr. Obama. Remember, we love you dearly... but from now on you'll need to call the number referenced above when you need help.
Good luck, sweetheart.
Love, Grampa. "
Sunday, June 21, 2009
THE WHITE LIE CAKE
Have you ever told a white lie? You are going to love this, especially all of the ladies who bake for church events:
Alice Grayson was to bake a cake for the Baptist Church Ladies' Group in Tuscaloosa , but forgot to do it until the last minute. She remembered it the morning of the bake sale and after rummaging through cabinets, found an angel food cake mix & quickly made it while drying her hair, dressing, and helping her son pack up for Scout camp.
When she took the cake from the oven, the center had dropped flat and the cake was horribly disfigured and she exclaimed, "Oh dear, there is not time to bake another cake!" This cake was important to Alice because she did so want to fit in at her new church, and in her new community of friends..
So, being inventive, she looked around the house for something to build up the centre of the cake. She found it in the bathroom - a roll of toilet paper. She plunked it in and then covered it with icing. Not only did the finished product look beautiful, it looked perfect.
And, before she left the house to drop the cake by the church and head for work, Alice woke her daughter and gave her some money and specific instructions to be at the bake sale the moment it opened at 9:30 and to buy the cake and bring it home. When the daughter arrived at the sale, she found the attractive, perfect cake had already been sold.. Amanda grabbed her cell phone & called her mom.
Alice was horrified-she was beside herself! Everyone would know! What would they think? She would be ostracized, talked about, ridiculed! All night, Alice lay awake in bed thinking about people pointing fingers at her and talking about her behind her back.
The next day, Alice promised herself she would try not to think about the cake and would attend the fancy luncheon/bridal shower at the home of a fellow church member and try to have a good time. She did not really want to attend because the hostess was a snob who more than once had looked down her nose at the fact that Alice was a single parent and not from the founding families of Tuscaloosa, but having already RSVP'd , she couldn't think of a believable excuse to stay home. The meal was elegant, the company was definitely upper crust old south and to Alice 's horror, the cake in question was presented for dessert!
Alice felt the blood drain from her body when she saw the cake! She started out of her chair to tell the hostess all about it, but before she could get to her feet, the Mayor's wife said, "what a beautiful cake!" Alice , still stunned, sat back in her chair when she heard the hostess (who was a prominent church member) say, "Thank you, I baked it myself."
Alice smiled and thought to herself, "God is good."
Alice Grayson was to bake a cake for the Baptist Church Ladies' Group in Tuscaloosa , but forgot to do it until the last minute. She remembered it the morning of the bake sale and after rummaging through cabinets, found an angel food cake mix & quickly made it while drying her hair, dressing, and helping her son pack up for Scout camp.
When she took the cake from the oven, the center had dropped flat and the cake was horribly disfigured and she exclaimed, "Oh dear, there is not time to bake another cake!" This cake was important to Alice because she did so want to fit in at her new church, and in her new community of friends..
So, being inventive, she looked around the house for something to build up the centre of the cake. She found it in the bathroom - a roll of toilet paper. She plunked it in and then covered it with icing. Not only did the finished product look beautiful, it looked perfect.
And, before she left the house to drop the cake by the church and head for work, Alice woke her daughter and gave her some money and specific instructions to be at the bake sale the moment it opened at 9:30 and to buy the cake and bring it home. When the daughter arrived at the sale, she found the attractive, perfect cake had already been sold.. Amanda grabbed her cell phone & called her mom.
Alice was horrified-she was beside herself! Everyone would know! What would they think? She would be ostracized, talked about, ridiculed! All night, Alice lay awake in bed thinking about people pointing fingers at her and talking about her behind her back.
The next day, Alice promised herself she would try not to think about the cake and would attend the fancy luncheon/bridal shower at the home of a fellow church member and try to have a good time. She did not really want to attend because the hostess was a snob who more than once had looked down her nose at the fact that Alice was a single parent and not from the founding families of Tuscaloosa, but having already RSVP'd , she couldn't think of a believable excuse to stay home. The meal was elegant, the company was definitely upper crust old south and to Alice 's horror, the cake in question was presented for dessert!
Alice felt the blood drain from her body when she saw the cake! She started out of her chair to tell the hostess all about it, but before she could get to her feet, the Mayor's wife said, "what a beautiful cake!" Alice , still stunned, sat back in her chair when she heard the hostess (who was a prominent church member) say, "Thank you, I baked it myself."
Alice smiled and thought to herself, "God is good."
Friday, January 2, 2009
JUST A MOMENT By Max Lucado
It all happened in a moment, a most remarkable moment.
As moments go, that one appeared no different than any other. If you could somehow pick it up off the timeline and examine it, it would look exactly like the ones that have passed while you have read these words. It came and it went. It was preceded and succeeded by others just like it. It was one of the countless moments that have marked time since eternity became measurable.
But in reality, that particular moment was like none other. For through that segment of time a spectacular thing occurred. God became a man. While the creatures of earth walked unaware, Divinity arrived. Heaven opened herself and placed her most precious one in a human womb.
The omnipotent, in one instant, made himself breakable. He who had been spirit became pierceable. He who was larger than the universe became an embryo. And he who sustains the world with a word chose to be dependent upon the nourishment of a young girl.
God as a fetus. Holiness sleeping in a womb. The creator of life being created.
God was given eyebrows, elbows, two kidneys, and a spleen. He stretched against the walls and floated in the amniotic fluids of his mother.
God had come near.
He came, not as a flash of light or as an unapproachable conqueror, but as one whose first cries were heard by a peasant girl and a sleepy carpenter. The hands that first held him were unmanicured, calloused, and dirty.
For thirty-three years he would feel everything you and I have ever felt. He felt weak. He grew weary. He was afraid of failure. He was susceptible to wooing women. He got colds, burped, and had body odor. His feelings got hurt. His feet got tired. And his head ached.
To think of Jesus in such a light is--well, it seems almost irreverent, doesn't it? It's not something we like to do; it's uncomfortable. It is much easier to keep the humanity out of the incarnation. Clean the manure from around the manger. Wipe the sweat out of his eyes. Pretend he never snored or blew his nose or hit his thumb with a hammer.
He's easier to stomach that way. There is something about keeping him divine that keeps him distant, packaged, predictable.
But don't do it. For heaven's sake, don't. Let him be as human as he intended to be. Let him into the mire and muck of our world. For only if we let him in can he pull us out.
It all happened in a moment. In one moment ... a most remarkable moment. The Word became flesh.
There will be another. The world will see another instantaneous transformation. You see, in becoming man, God made it possible for man to see God. When Jesus went home he left the back door open. As a result, "we will all be changed--in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye." (1 Corinthians 15:51--52)
The first moment of transformation went unnoticed by the world. But you can bet your sweet September that the second one won't. The next time you use the phrase "just a moment, ... " remember that's all the time it will take to change this world.
From God Came Near© (Thomas Nelson Publishers, 2006) Max Lucado
As moments go, that one appeared no different than any other. If you could somehow pick it up off the timeline and examine it, it would look exactly like the ones that have passed while you have read these words. It came and it went. It was preceded and succeeded by others just like it. It was one of the countless moments that have marked time since eternity became measurable.
But in reality, that particular moment was like none other. For through that segment of time a spectacular thing occurred. God became a man. While the creatures of earth walked unaware, Divinity arrived. Heaven opened herself and placed her most precious one in a human womb.
The omnipotent, in one instant, made himself breakable. He who had been spirit became pierceable. He who was larger than the universe became an embryo. And he who sustains the world with a word chose to be dependent upon the nourishment of a young girl.
God as a fetus. Holiness sleeping in a womb. The creator of life being created.
God was given eyebrows, elbows, two kidneys, and a spleen. He stretched against the walls and floated in the amniotic fluids of his mother.
God had come near.
He came, not as a flash of light or as an unapproachable conqueror, but as one whose first cries were heard by a peasant girl and a sleepy carpenter. The hands that first held him were unmanicured, calloused, and dirty.
For thirty-three years he would feel everything you and I have ever felt. He felt weak. He grew weary. He was afraid of failure. He was susceptible to wooing women. He got colds, burped, and had body odor. His feelings got hurt. His feet got tired. And his head ached.
To think of Jesus in such a light is--well, it seems almost irreverent, doesn't it? It's not something we like to do; it's uncomfortable. It is much easier to keep the humanity out of the incarnation. Clean the manure from around the manger. Wipe the sweat out of his eyes. Pretend he never snored or blew his nose or hit his thumb with a hammer.
He's easier to stomach that way. There is something about keeping him divine that keeps him distant, packaged, predictable.
But don't do it. For heaven's sake, don't. Let him be as human as he intended to be. Let him into the mire and muck of our world. For only if we let him in can he pull us out.
It all happened in a moment. In one moment ... a most remarkable moment. The Word became flesh.
There will be another. The world will see another instantaneous transformation. You see, in becoming man, God made it possible for man to see God. When Jesus went home he left the back door open. As a result, "we will all be changed--in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye." (1 Corinthians 15:51--52)
The first moment of transformation went unnoticed by the world. But you can bet your sweet September that the second one won't. The next time you use the phrase "just a moment, ... " remember that's all the time it will take to change this world.
From God Came Near© (Thomas Nelson Publishers, 2006) Max Lucado
Friday, December 26, 2008
The Day After Christmas
The Arrival by Max Lucado
God had entered the world as a baby.
Yet, were someone to chance upon the sheep stable on the outskirts of Bethlehem that morning, what a peculiar scene they would behold.
The stable stinks like all stables do. The stench of urine, dung, and sheep reeks pungently in the air. The ground is hard, the hay scarce. Cobwebs cling to the ceiling and a mouse scurries across the dirt floor.
A more lowly place of birth could not exist.
Off to one side sit a group of shepherds. They sit silently on the floor; perhaps perplexed, perhaps in awe, no doubt in amazement. Their night watch had been interrupted by an explosion of light from heaven and a symphony of angels. God goes to those who have time to hear him--so on this cloudless night he went to simple shepherds.
Near the young mother sits the weary father. If anyone is dozing, he is. He can't remember the last time he sat down. And now that the excitement has subsided a bit, now that Mary and the baby are comfortable, he leans against the wall of the stable and feels his eyes grow heavy. He still hasn't figured it all out. The mystery of the event puzzles him. But he hasn't the energy to wrestle with the questions. What's important is that the baby is fine and that Mary is safe. As sleep comes he remembers the name the angel told him to use ... Jesus. "We will call him Jesus."
Wide awake is Mary. My, how young she looks! Her head rests on the soft leather of Joseph's saddle. The pain has been eclipsed by wonder. She looks into the face of the baby. Her son. Her Lord. His Majesty. At this point in history, the human being who best understands who God is and what he is doing is a teenage girl in a smelly stable. She can't take her eyes off him. Somehow Mary knows she is holding God. So this is he. She remembers the words of the angel. "His kingdom will never end." (Luke 1:33)
He looks like anything but a king. His face is prunish and red. His cry, though strong and healthy, is still the helpless and piercing cry of a baby. And he is absolutely dependent upon Mary for his well-being.
Majesty in the midst of the mundane. Holiness in the filth of sheep manure and sweat. Divinity entering the world on the floor of a stable, through the womb of a teenager and in the presence of a carpenter.
She touches the face of the infant-God. How long was your journey!
This baby had overlooked the universe. These rags keeping him warm were the robes of eternity. His golden throne room had been abandoned in favor of a dirty sheep pen. And worshiping angels had been replaced with kind but bewildered shepherds.
Meanwhile, the city hums. The merchants are unaware that God has visited their planet. The innkeeper would never believe that he had just sent God into the cold. And the people would scoff at anyone who told them the Messiah lay in the arms of a teenager on the outskirts of their village. They were all too busy to consider the possibility.
Those who missed His Majesty's arrival that night missed it not because of evil acts or malice; no, they missed it because they simply weren't looking.
Little has changed in the last two thousand years, has it?
From God Came Near© (Thomas Nelson Publishers, 2006) Max Lucado
God had entered the world as a baby.
Yet, were someone to chance upon the sheep stable on the outskirts of Bethlehem that morning, what a peculiar scene they would behold.
The stable stinks like all stables do. The stench of urine, dung, and sheep reeks pungently in the air. The ground is hard, the hay scarce. Cobwebs cling to the ceiling and a mouse scurries across the dirt floor.
A more lowly place of birth could not exist.
Off to one side sit a group of shepherds. They sit silently on the floor; perhaps perplexed, perhaps in awe, no doubt in amazement. Their night watch had been interrupted by an explosion of light from heaven and a symphony of angels. God goes to those who have time to hear him--so on this cloudless night he went to simple shepherds.
Near the young mother sits the weary father. If anyone is dozing, he is. He can't remember the last time he sat down. And now that the excitement has subsided a bit, now that Mary and the baby are comfortable, he leans against the wall of the stable and feels his eyes grow heavy. He still hasn't figured it all out. The mystery of the event puzzles him. But he hasn't the energy to wrestle with the questions. What's important is that the baby is fine and that Mary is safe. As sleep comes he remembers the name the angel told him to use ... Jesus. "We will call him Jesus."
Wide awake is Mary. My, how young she looks! Her head rests on the soft leather of Joseph's saddle. The pain has been eclipsed by wonder. She looks into the face of the baby. Her son. Her Lord. His Majesty. At this point in history, the human being who best understands who God is and what he is doing is a teenage girl in a smelly stable. She can't take her eyes off him. Somehow Mary knows she is holding God. So this is he. She remembers the words of the angel. "His kingdom will never end." (Luke 1:33)
He looks like anything but a king. His face is prunish and red. His cry, though strong and healthy, is still the helpless and piercing cry of a baby. And he is absolutely dependent upon Mary for his well-being.
Majesty in the midst of the mundane. Holiness in the filth of sheep manure and sweat. Divinity entering the world on the floor of a stable, through the womb of a teenager and in the presence of a carpenter.
She touches the face of the infant-God. How long was your journey!
This baby had overlooked the universe. These rags keeping him warm were the robes of eternity. His golden throne room had been abandoned in favor of a dirty sheep pen. And worshiping angels had been replaced with kind but bewildered shepherds.
Meanwhile, the city hums. The merchants are unaware that God has visited their planet. The innkeeper would never believe that he had just sent God into the cold. And the people would scoff at anyone who told them the Messiah lay in the arms of a teenager on the outskirts of their village. They were all too busy to consider the possibility.
Those who missed His Majesty's arrival that night missed it not because of evil acts or malice; no, they missed it because they simply weren't looking.
Little has changed in the last two thousand years, has it?
From God Came Near© (Thomas Nelson Publishers, 2006) Max Lucado
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Sunday, September 28, 2008
THE NECKLACE
The cheerful little girl with bouncy golden curls was almost five. Waiting with her mother at the checkout stand, she saw them, a circle of glistening white pearls in a pink foil box.
'Oh mommy please, Mommy. Can I have them? Please, Mommy, please?' Quickly the mother checked the back of the little foil box and then looked back into the pleading blue eyes of her little girl's upturned face. 'A dollar ninety-five. That's almost $2.00. If you really want them, I'll think of some extra chores for you and in no time you ca n save enough money to buy them for yourself. Your birthday's only a week away and you might get another crisp dollar bill from Grandma.'
As soon as Jenny got home, she emptied her penny bank and counted out 17 pennies. After dinner, she did more than her share of chores and she went to the neighbor and asked Mrs. McJames if she could pick dandelions for ten cents. On her birthday, Grandma did give her another new dollar bill and at last she had enough money to buy the necklace.
Jenny loved her pearls. They made her feel dressed up and grown up. She wore them everywhere, Sunday school, kindergarten, even to bed. The only time she took them off was when she went swimming or had a bubble bath Mother said if they got wet, they might turn her neck green.
Jenny had a very loving daddy and every night when she was ready for bed, he would stop whatever he was doing and come upstairs to read her a story. One night as he finished the story, he asked Jenny, 'Do you love me?' 'Oh yes, daddy. You know that I love you.' 'Then give me your pearls.' 'Oh, daddy, not my pearls. But you can have Princess, the white horse from my collection, the one with the pink tail. Remember, daddy? The one you gave me. She's my very favorite.' 'That's okay, Honey, daddy loves you. Good night.' And he brushed her cheek with a kiss.
About a week later, after the story time, Jenny's daddy asked again, 'Do you love me?' 'Daddy, you know I love you.' 'Then give me your pearls.' 'Oh Daddy, not my pearls. But you can have my baby doll . The brand new one I got for my birthday. She is beautiful and you can have the yellow blanket that matches her sleeper.' 'That's okay. Sleep well. God bless you, little one. Daddy loves you.'And as always, he brushed her cheek with a gentle kiss.
A few nights later when her daddy came in, Jenny was sitting on her bed with her legs crossed Indian style. As he came close, he noticed her chin was trembling and one silent tear rolled down her cheek. 'What is it, Jenny? What's the matter?' Jenny didn't say anything but lifted her little hand up to her daddy. And when she opened it, there was her little pearl necklace . With a little quiver, she finally said, 'Here, daddy; this is for you.'
With tears gathering in his own eyes, Jenny's daddy reached out with one hand to take the dime store necklace, and with the other hand he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue velvet case with a strand of genuine pearls and gave them to Jenny.
He had them all the time. He was just waiting for her to give up the dime-store stuff so he could give her the genuine treasure.
So it is, with our Heavenly Father. He is waiting for us to give up the cheap things in our lives so that he can give us beautiful treasures. God will never take away something without giving you something better in its place.
'Oh mommy please, Mommy. Can I have them? Please, Mommy, please?' Quickly the mother checked the back of the little foil box and then looked back into the pleading blue eyes of her little girl's upturned face. 'A dollar ninety-five. That's almost $2.00. If you really want them, I'll think of some extra chores for you and in no time you ca n save enough money to buy them for yourself. Your birthday's only a week away and you might get another crisp dollar bill from Grandma.'
As soon as Jenny got home, she emptied her penny bank and counted out 17 pennies. After dinner, she did more than her share of chores and she went to the neighbor and asked Mrs. McJames if she could pick dandelions for ten cents. On her birthday, Grandma did give her another new dollar bill and at last she had enough money to buy the necklace.
Jenny loved her pearls. They made her feel dressed up and grown up. She wore them everywhere, Sunday school, kindergarten, even to bed. The only time she took them off was when she went swimming or had a bubble bath Mother said if they got wet, they might turn her neck green.
Jenny had a very loving daddy and every night when she was ready for bed, he would stop whatever he was doing and come upstairs to read her a story. One night as he finished the story, he asked Jenny, 'Do you love me?' 'Oh yes, daddy. You know that I love you.' 'Then give me your pearls.' 'Oh, daddy, not my pearls. But you can have Princess, the white horse from my collection, the one with the pink tail. Remember, daddy? The one you gave me. She's my very favorite.' 'That's okay, Honey, daddy loves you. Good night.' And he brushed her cheek with a kiss.
About a week later, after the story time, Jenny's daddy asked again, 'Do you love me?' 'Daddy, you know I love you.' 'Then give me your pearls.' 'Oh Daddy, not my pearls. But you can have my baby doll . The brand new one I got for my birthday. She is beautiful and you can have the yellow blanket that matches her sleeper.' 'That's okay. Sleep well. God bless you, little one. Daddy loves you.'And as always, he brushed her cheek with a gentle kiss.
A few nights later when her daddy came in, Jenny was sitting on her bed with her legs crossed Indian style. As he came close, he noticed her chin was trembling and one silent tear rolled down her cheek. 'What is it, Jenny? What's the matter?' Jenny didn't say anything but lifted her little hand up to her daddy. And when she opened it, there was her little pearl necklace . With a little quiver, she finally said, 'Here, daddy; this is for you.'
With tears gathering in his own eyes, Jenny's daddy reached out with one hand to take the dime store necklace, and with the other hand he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue velvet case with a strand of genuine pearls and gave them to Jenny.
He had them all the time. He was just waiting for her to give up the dime-store stuff so he could give her the genuine treasure.
So it is, with our Heavenly Father. He is waiting for us to give up the cheap things in our lives so that he can give us beautiful treasures. God will never take away something without giving you something better in its place.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Yesterday -- but not today!
I was poor yesterday, but not today;
For Jesus came this morning
And took the poor away;
And he left the legacy
He promised long ago.
So peace and joy and love
Through all my being flow.
I was tired yesterday, but not today.
I could run and not be weary,
This blessed way;
For I have his strength to stay me,
With his might my feet are shod.
I can find the resting places
In the promises of God.
A servant yesterday, a child today,
A loved one of his household,
Bearing his name alway.
Do you know this blessed difference?
Do you long for this better way?
He will come to you as he came to me
With the joy of an endless day.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Hmm, very thought provoking !!!!
This is a good one. Turn up your sound and watch the end closely:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TG4fe9GlWS8
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TG4fe9GlWS8
Friday, September 5, 2008
Duct Tape or Nail ??
A man dies and goes to heaven.
St. Peter meets him at the Pearly Gates and says, 'Here's how it works. You need 100 points to make it into heaven. You tell me all the good things you've done, and I give you a certain number of points for each item, depending on how good it was. When you reach 100 points, you get in.'
'Okay,' the man says, 'I was married to the same woman for 50 years and never cheated on her, even in my heart.' 'That's wonderful,' says St.Peter, 'that's worth two points!' 'Two points?!'
He says. 'Well, I attended church all my life and supported its ministry with my tithe and service.' 'Terrific!' says St.Peter.. 'That's certainly worth a point.' 'One point!?!!'
'I started a soup kitchen in my city and worked in a shelter for homeless veterans.' 'Fantastic, that's good for two more points,' he says. ' Two points!?!!
'Exasperated, the man cries. 'At this rate the only way I'll get into heaven is by the grace of God.' '
Bingo ! 100 points ! Come on in!'
We often try to fix problems with WD-40 and duct tape. God did it with a nail.
AMEN...
St. Peter meets him at the Pearly Gates and says, 'Here's how it works. You need 100 points to make it into heaven. You tell me all the good things you've done, and I give you a certain number of points for each item, depending on how good it was. When you reach 100 points, you get in.'
'Okay,' the man says, 'I was married to the same woman for 50 years and never cheated on her, even in my heart.' 'That's wonderful,' says St.Peter, 'that's worth two points!' 'Two points?!'
He says. 'Well, I attended church all my life and supported its ministry with my tithe and service.' 'Terrific!' says St.Peter.. 'That's certainly worth a point.' 'One point!?!!'
'I started a soup kitchen in my city and worked in a shelter for homeless veterans.' 'Fantastic, that's good for two more points,' he says. ' Two points!?!!
'Exasperated, the man cries. 'At this rate the only way I'll get into heaven is by the grace of God.' '
Bingo ! 100 points ! Come on in!'
We often try to fix problems with WD-40 and duct tape. God did it with a nail.
AMEN...
Thursday, September 4, 2008
The Second Coming
You are in your car driving home. Thoughts wander to the game you want to see or meal you want to eat, when suddenly a sound unlike any you've ever heard fills the air. The sound is high above you. A trumpet? A choir? A choir of trumpets? You don't know, but you want to know….
So you pull over, get out of your car, and look up. As you do, you see you aren't the only curious one. The roadside has become a parking lot. Car doors are open, and people are staring at the sky. Shoppers are racing out of the grocery store. The Little League baseball game across the street has come to a halt. Players and parents are searching the clouds. And what they see, and what you see, has never before been seen.
It’s as if the sky were a curtain -- the drapes of the atmosphere part. A brilliant light spills onto the earth. There are no shadows. None. From every hue ever seen and a million more never seen, riding on the flow is an endless fleet of angels. They pass through the curtains one myriad at a time, until they occupy every square inch of the sky.
North. South. East. West.
Thousands of silvery wings rise and fall in unison, and over the sound of the trumpets, you can hear the cherubim and seraphim chanting, Holy, holy, holy…. The final flank of angels is followed by twenty-four silver-bearded elders and a multitude of souls who join the angels in worship.
Suddenly, the heavens are quiet. All is quiet. The angels turn, you turn, the entire world turns and there He is. Jesus
Through waves of light you see the silhouetted figure of Christ the King. He is atop a great stallion, and the stallion is atop a billowing cloud. He opens his mouth, and you are surrounded by his declaration:
I am the Alpha and the Omega. The angels bow their heads. The elders remove their crowns. And before you is a Figure so consuming that you know, instantly you know: Nothing else matters. Forget stock markets and school reports. Sales meetings and football games. Nothing is newsworthy. All that mattered, matters no more....
For Christ has come.
So you pull over, get out of your car, and look up. As you do, you see you aren't the only curious one. The roadside has become a parking lot. Car doors are open, and people are staring at the sky. Shoppers are racing out of the grocery store. The Little League baseball game across the street has come to a halt. Players and parents are searching the clouds. And what they see, and what you see, has never before been seen.
It’s as if the sky were a curtain -- the drapes of the atmosphere part. A brilliant light spills onto the earth. There are no shadows. None. From every hue ever seen and a million more never seen, riding on the flow is an endless fleet of angels. They pass through the curtains one myriad at a time, until they occupy every square inch of the sky.
North. South. East. West.
Thousands of silvery wings rise and fall in unison, and over the sound of the trumpets, you can hear the cherubim and seraphim chanting, Holy, holy, holy…. The final flank of angels is followed by twenty-four silver-bearded elders and a multitude of souls who join the angels in worship.
Suddenly, the heavens are quiet. All is quiet. The angels turn, you turn, the entire world turns and there He is. Jesus
Through waves of light you see the silhouetted figure of Christ the King. He is atop a great stallion, and the stallion is atop a billowing cloud. He opens his mouth, and you are surrounded by his declaration:
I am the Alpha and the Omega. The angels bow their heads. The elders remove their crowns. And before you is a Figure so consuming that you know, instantly you know: Nothing else matters. Forget stock markets and school reports. Sales meetings and football games. Nothing is newsworthy. All that mattered, matters no more....
For Christ has come.
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