For the last 20 years I have presented the Gospel to each new youth at the highly secure prison for the kids ages 13 to 19 at Gainesville, Texas.  It is the first time that most any of them have stopped “running on the streets” and had the time to think about their life.  Most every one made a decision to make God part of their life.  After our hour+ together I would write each one a letter.  As a result I corresponded more with many of them.  And in each letter I would enclose a group of short stories or poems.  They really liked them, especially those with an emotional message.  You probably would not believe how many locked-up prison boys have loved theses little stories, and read them over and over.

In my soon to be published book I enclosed a long list of those short stories in the Appendix.  Since the prison boys liked them so much, I thought you may like to see some of them.  So, here is a 14th group of them for you.  And you are welcome to share them with others.

Ron

God Still Answers

A young man had been to Wednesday night Bible study.  The pastor had shared about listening to God and obeying the Lord’s voice.

The young man couldn’t help but wonder, “Does God still speak to people?”

After service, he went out with some friends for coffee and pie and they discussed the message. Several different ones talked about how God had led them in different ways.

It was about ten o’clock when the young man started driving home.  Sitting in his car, he just began to pray, “God, if you still speak to people, speak to me. I will listen.  I will do my best to obey.”

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

The young man thought about Samuel and how he didn’t recognize the voice of God, and how little Samuel ran to Eli.  “Okay, God, in case that is you, I will buy the milk.”

It didn’t seem like too hard a test of obedience. He could always use the milk.

He stopped and purchased the gallon of milk and started off toward home. As he passed Seventh Street, he again felt the urge, “Turn down that street.”

“This is crazy,” he thought and drove on past the intersection. Again, he felt that he should turn down Seventh Street. At the next intersection, he turned back and headed down Seventh.  Half jokingly, he said out loud, “Okay, God I will.”

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

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

He started to open the door and then sat back in the car seat. “Lord, this is insane. Those people are asleep and if I wake them up, they are going to be mad and I will look stupid.” Again, he felt like he should go and give them the milk.

Finally, he opened the door. “Okay God, if this is you, I will go to the door and I will give them the milk. If you want me to look like a crazy person, okay. I want to be obedient. I guess that will count for something, but if they don’t answer right away, I am out of here.”

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

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

“What is it?”  The young man thrust out the gallon of milk.  “Here I brought this to you.”

The man took the milk and rushed down the hallway, speaking loudly in Spanish. Then from down the hall came a woman carrying the milk toward the kitchen. The man was following her holding a baby.

The baby was crying.  The man had tears streaming down his face.  The man began speaking and half-crying, “We were just praying.  We had some big bills this month and we ran out of money. We didn’t have any milk for our baby.  I was just praying and asking God to show me how to get some milk.”

His wife in the kitchen yelled out, “I asked him to send an Angel with some milk.  Are you an Angel?”

The young man reached into his wallet and pulled out all the money he had on him and put it in the man’s hand. He turned and walked back toward his car and the tears were streaming down his face.

He knew now that God still answers prayers!

“Stop telling God how big your storm is.  Instead, tell the storm how big your God is!”

God answers but usually it is through an obedient servant.

We must realize that often the servant is sent to us to answer our prayers, but more often, ……we are the servant that is sent.

INFORMATION PLEASE

When I was very 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.

“Information.”

“I hurt my finger,” I wailed into the phone.  The tears came readily enough now that I had an audience.  “Isn’t your mother home?” came the question.  “Nobody’s home but me,” I blubbered.  “Are you bleeding?” the voice asked.  “No,” I replied.  “I hit my finger with a hammer and it hurts.”

“Can you open your icebox?” she asked.  I said I could.  “Then chip off a piece of ice and hold it to your finger,” said the voice.

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 thing 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?”   She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, “You must remember that there are other worlds to sing in.”  Somehow, I felt better.

Another day I was on the telephone.  “Information Please. “Information,” said the now familiar voice.  “How do you spell fix?” I asked.

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 some-how 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.

A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle.  I had about half-an-hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister who lived there now.  Then, without thinking about what I was doing, I dialed my hometown operator and said, “Information Please.”

Miraculously, I heard the small clear voice I knew so well.  “Information.”  I hadn’t planned this, but I heard myself saying, “Could you please tell me how to spell fix?”

There was a long pause.

Then came the soft-spoken answer, “I guess your finger must be healed by now.”  I laughed, “So it’s really still you,” I said. “I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time?”

“I wonder,” she said, “if you know how much your calls meant to me.  I never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls.”  I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.

“Please do,” she said.  “Just ask for Sally.”

Three months later, I was back in Seattle.  A different voice answered,  “Information.”  I asked for Sally.

“Are you a friend?” she said.

“Yes, a very old friend,” I answered.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” she said.  “Sally had been working part time in the last few years because she was sick.  She died five weeks ago.”

Before I could hang up she said, “Wait a minute.  Are you Paul?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Sally left a message for you.  She wrote it down in case you called when she was too sick to work.  Let me read it to you.” The note said,  “Tell him I still say there are other worlds to sing in.  He’ll know what I mean.”

I thanked her and hung up.  I knew what Sally meant.  Never underestimate the impression you make on others and the influence you may have with them.

Just Float……A True Story

It was spring in South Africa and I was working in my garden.

I noticed that a little dove had fallen from its nest and into our swimming pool.  The bird was still alive, but only just.

It had been in the pool a long time.  Its feet were stiff from the cold and its little neck just hung limp.  I took it out of the pool not really knowing what to do.

Instinct jumped in.  I wrapped the bird in a towel and blew softly into the towel to warm it up.  A couple of hours later, the little bird made a full recovery.

As I was sitting and looking at this bird, I realized that when I found it in the pool, it was just floating.  Had the little bird spluttered and flapped, it would have tired itself out.  Its feathers would have become completely water-logged and it would have drowned.  Instead, it just floated.

The lesson I learned is this: When I am in a situation that I can not handle,  I too should “float” instead of flapping and splashing around, making my situation even worse for myself and all around me…..leading to anger.  I should “float” in the arms of the Everlasting Father who always will carry me and rescue me.  Through His Son, He promised me this……and He can not lie.

A Little Ice Cream     (This Really Happened)

Last week I took my children to a restaurant.

My six-year-old son asked if he could say grace.

As we bowed our heads he said, “God is good. God is great. Thank you for the food, and I would even thank you more if Mom gets us ice cream for dessert. And Liberty and justice for all!  Amen!”

Along with the laughter from the other customers nearby, I heard a woman remark, “That’s what’s wrong with this country.  Kids today don’t even know how to pray.  Asking God for ice cream! Why, I never!”

Hearing this, my son burst into tears and asked me, “Did I do it wrong? Is God mad at me?” As I held him and assured him that he had done a terrific job and God was certainly not mad at him, an elderly gentleman approached the table. He winked at my son and said, “I happen to know that God thought that was a great prayer.”

“Really?” my son asked.

“Cross my heart,” the man replied.  Then in a theatrical whisper he added (indicating the woman whose remark had started this whole thing), “too bad she never asks God for ice cream. A little ice cream is good for the soul sometimes.”

Naturally, I bought my kids ice cream at the end of the meal.

My son stared at his for a moment and then did something I will remember the rest of my life.

He picked up his sundae and without a word, walked over and placed it in front of the woman.

With a big smile he told her, “Here, this is for you.  Ice cream is good for the soul sometimes, and my soul is good already.”

If you would like to watch a wonderful, life changing movie, get yourself all prepared with the time to watch a full length movie, and then go to this site and be ready for a life changing experience.…..https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/english.html

如果您想观看一部精彩的、改变生活的电影，请准备好观看一部完整电影的时间，然后访问这个网站，为改变生活的体验做好准备………..…………https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/chinese-mandarin.html

For the last 20 years I have presented the Gospel to each new youth at the highly secure prison for the kids ages 13 to 19 at Gainesville, Texas.  It is the first time that most any of them have stopped “running on the streets” and had the time to think about their life.  Most every one made a decision to make God part of their life.  After our hour+ together I would write each one a letter.  As a result I corresponded more with many of them.  And in each letter I would enclose a group of short stories or poems.  They really liked them, especially those with an emotional message.  You probably would not believe how many locked-up prison boys have loved theses little stories, and read them over and over.

In my soon to be published book I enclosed a long list of those short stories in the Appendix.  Since the prison boys liked them so much, I thought you may like to see some of them.  So, here is a 13th group of them for you.  And you are welcome to share them with others.

Ron

An Eye Witness Account from New York City, on a cold day in December some years ago:

A little boy about 10 years old was standing before a shoe store on the sidewalk, barefooted, peering through the window, and shivering with cold.

A lady approached the boy and said, “My, but you are in such deep thought staring in that window!”

“I was asking God to give me a pair of shoes,” was the boy’s reply.

The lady took him by the hand and went into the store and asked the clerk to get half a dozen pairs of socks for the boy.  She then asked if he could give her a basin of water and a towel.

He quickly brought them to her.

She took the little fellow to the back part of the store and, removing her gloves, knelt down, washed his little feet, and dried them with a towel.

By this time the clerk had returned with the socks. Placing a pair upon the boy’s feet, she purchased him a nice pair of shoes. She tied up the remaining pairs of socks and gave them to him. She patted him on the head and said, “No doubt, you will be more comfortable now”.

As she turned to go, the astonished kid caught her by the hand, and looking up into her face……..with tears in his eyes, asked her .…..

“Are you God’s Wife?”

Heaven vs Hell

A holy man was having a conversation with the Lord one day and said, ‘Lord, I would like to know what Heaven and Hell are like.’

The Lord led the holy man to two doors.

He opened one of the doors and the holy man looked in.  In the middle of the room was a large round table.  In the middle of the table was a large pot of stew, which smelled delicious and made the holy man’s mouth water.

The people sitting around the table were thin and sickly.  They appeared to be famished.  They were holding spoons with very long handles that were strapped to their arms and each found it possible to reach into the pot of stew and take a spoonful.  But because the handle was longer than their arms, they could not get the spoons back into their mouths.

The holy man shuddered at the sight of their misery and suffering.

The Lord said, ‘You have seen Hell.’

They went to the next room and opened the door.  It was exactly the same as the first one.  There was the large round table with the large pot of stew which made the holy man’s mouth water.  

The people were equipped with the same long-handled spoons, but here the people were well nourished and plump, laughing and talking.  The holy man said, ‘I don’t understand.’

‘It is simple’, said the Lord.  ‘It requires but one skill.  You see they have learned to feed each other, while the greedy think only of themselves.’

When Jesus died on the cross, he was thinking of you.

A True Story of a High School Student:

One day, when I was a freshman in high school, I saw a kid from my class was walking home from school.

His name was Kyle.

It looked like he was carrying all of his books. I thought to myself, “Why would anyone bring home all his books on a Friday? He must really be a nerd.”

I had quite a weekend planned (parties and a football game with my friends tomorrow afternoon), so I shrugged my shoulders and went on.

As I was walking, I saw a bunch of kids running toward him. They ran at him, knocking all his books out of his arms and tripping him so he landed in the dirt.

His glasses went flying, and I saw them land in the grass about ten feet from him. He looked up and I saw this terrible sadness in his eyes.

My heart went out to him. So, I jogged over to him as he crawled around looking for his glasses, and I saw a tear in his eye.

As I handed him his glasses, I said, “Those guys are jerks. They really should get lives.:

He looked at me and said, “Hey thanks!” There was a big smile on his face. It was one of those smiles that showed real gratitude.

I helped him pick up his books, and asked him where he lived. As it turned out, he lived near me, so I asked him why I had never seen him before.

He said he had gone to private school before now. I would have never hung out with a private school kid before. We talked all the way home, and I carried some of his books.

He turned out to be a pretty cool kid. I asked him if he wanted to play a little football with my friends. He said yes.

We hung out all weekend and the more I got to know Kyle, the more I liked him, and my friends thought the same of him.

Monday morning came, and there was Kyle with the huge stack of books again. I stopped him and said, “Boy, you are gonna really build some serious muscles with this pile of books everyday!” He just laughed and handed me half the books.

Over the next four years, Kyle and I became best friends.. When we were seniors we began to think about college. Kyle decided on Georgetown and I was going to Duke. I knew that we would always be friends, that the miles would never be a problem.

He was going to be a doctor and I was going for business on a football scholarship.

Kyle was valedictorian of our class. I teased him all the time about being a nerd.

He had to prepare a speech for graduation. I was so glad it wasn’t me having to get up there and speak.

Graduation day, I saw Kyle. He looked great. He was one of those guys that really found himself during high school. He filled out and actually looked good in glasses.

He had more dates than I had and all the girls loved him. Boy, sometimes I was jealous! Today was one of those days.

I could see that he was nervous about his speech. So, I smacked him on the back and said, “Hey, big guy, you’ll be great!”

He looked at me with one of those looks (the really grateful one) and smiled. ” Thanks,” he said.

As he started his speech, he cleared his throat, and began: “Graduation is a time to thank those who helped you make it through those tough years. Your parents, your teachers, your siblings, maybe a coach…but mostly your friends…I am here to tell all of you that being a friend to someone is the best gift you can give them. I am going to tell you a story.”

I just looked at my friend with disbelief as he told the story of the first day we met. He had planned to kill himself over the weekend. He talked of how he had cleaned out his locker so his Mom wouldn’t have to do it later and was carrying his stuff home.

He looked hard at me and gave me a little smile. “Thankfully, I was saved. My friend saved me from doing the unspeakable.”

I heard the gasp go through the crowd as this handsome, popular boy told us all about his weakest moment.

I saw his mom and dad looking at me and smiling that same grateful smile. Not until that moment did I realize it’s depth.

Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one small gesture you can change a person’s life. For better or for worse.

God puts us all in each other’s lives to impact one another in some way.

If you would like to watch a wonderful, life changing movie, get yourself all prepared with the time to watch a full length movie, and then go to this site and be ready for a life changing experience. .…………….. https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/english.html

如果您想观看一部精彩的、改变生活的电影，请准备好观看一部完整电影的时间，然后访问这个网站，为改变生活的体验做好准备………..…………https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/chinese-mandarin.html

For the last 20 years I have presented the Gospel to each new youth at the highly secure prison for the kids ages 13 to 19 at Gainesville, Texas.  It is the first time that most any of them have stopped “running on the streets” and had the time to think about their life.  Most every one made a decision to make God part of their life.  After our hour+ together I would write each one a letter.  As a result I corresponded more with many of them.  And in each letter I would enclose a group of short stories or poems.  They really liked them, especially those with an emotional message.  You probably would not believe how many locked-up prison boys have loved theses little stories, and read them over and over.

In my soon to be published book I enclosed a long list of those short stories in the Appendix.  Since the prison boys liked them so much, I thought you may like to see some of them.  So, here is a 12th group of them for you.  And you are welcome to share them with others.

Ron

A Glass of Milk – a true story about Dr. Howard Kelly

One day, a poor boy who was selling goods from door to door to pay his way through school, found he had only one thin dime left, and he was hungry. He decided he would ask for a meal at the next house. However, he lost his nerve when a lovely young woman opened the door. Instead of a meal he asked for a drink of water. She thought he looked hungry so brought him a large glass of milk.

He drank it slowly, and then asked, How much do I owe you?” You don’t owe me anything,” she replied. “Mother has taught us never to accept pay for a kindness.”  He said….. “Then I thank you from my heart.”

As Howard Kelly left that house, he not only felt stronger physically, but his faith in God and man was stronger also. He had been ready to give up and quit.

Many year’s later that same young woman became critically ill. The local doctors were baffled. They finally sent her to the big city, where they called in specialists to study her rare disease. Dr. Howard Kelly was called in for the consultation. When he heard the name of the town she came from, a strange light filled his eyes.

Dressed in his doctor’s gown he went in to see her. He recognized her at once. He went back to the consultation room determined to do his best to save her life. From that day he gave special attention to her case. After a long struggle, the battle was won.

Dr. Kelly requested the business office to pass the final bill to him for approval. He looked at it, then wrote something on the edge and the bill was sent to her room. She feared to open it, for she had no insurance and was sure it would take the rest of her life to pay for it all. Finally she looked, and something caught her attention on the side of the bill. She read these words….

“Paid in full with one glass of milk”

(Signed) Dr. Howard Kelly.

Tears of joy flooded her eyes as her happy heart prayed: “Thank You, God, that Your love has spread abroad through human hearts and hands.”

There’s a saying which goes something like this:
“Cast your bread upon the waters and in due time, it shall come back to you.”  The good deed you do today may benefit you or someone you love at the least expected time. If you never see the deed again at least you will have made the world a better place. And, after all, isn’t that what life in God’s way is all about?

{Dr. Howard Kelly is one of the four founding doctors of Johns Hopkins, the first medical research university in the U.S.}

Four (4) lessons to make you think about the way we treat people:

1 – First Important Lesson – Cleaning Lady.

During my second month of college, our professor gave us a pop quiz. I was a conscientious student and         had breezed through the questions until I read the last one:

“What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?”

Surely this was some kind of joke. I had seen the cleaning woman several times. She was tall, dark-haired and in her 50s, but how would I know her name?

I handed in my paper, leaving the last question blank. Just before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward our quiz grade.

“Absolutely,” said the professor. “In your careers, you will meet many people. All are significant. They deserve your attention and care, even if all you do is smile and say “hello.”

I’ve never forgotten that lesson. I also learned her name was Dorothy.

2. – Second Important Lesson – Pickup in the Rain

One night, at 11:30 p.m., an older African American woman was standing on the side of an Alabama highway trying to endure a lashing rainstorm. Her car had broken down and she desperately needed a ride.  Soaking wet, she decided to flag down the next car.  A young white man stopped to help her, generally
unheard of in those conflict-filled 60s. The man took her to safety, helped her get assistance and put her into a taxicab.

She seemed to be in a big hurry, but wrote down his address and thanked him. Seven days went by and a knock came on the man’s door. To his surprise, a giant console color TV was delivered to his home. A special note was attached..

It read:  “Thank you so much for assisting me on the highway the other night. The rain drenched not only my clothes, but also my spirits. Then you came along.  Because of you, I was able to make it to my dying husband’s bedside just before he passed away… God bless you for helping me and unselfishly serving others.”

Sincerely, Mrs. Nat King Cole.

3 – Third Important Lesson – Always remember those who serve.

In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10-year-old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him.

“How much is an ice cream sundae?” he asked.

“Fifty cents,” replied the waitress.

The little boy pulled is hand out of his pocket and studied the coins in it.  “Well, how much is a plain dish of ice cream?” he inquired.

By now more people were waiting for a table and the waitress was growing impatient.

“Thirty-five cents,” she brusquely replied.

The little boy again counted his coins.  “I’ll have the plain ice cream,” he said.

The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and left. When the waitress came back, she began to cry as she wiped down the table.

There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies..

You see, he couldn’t have the sundae, because he had to have enough left to leave her a tip.


4 – Fourth Important Lesson – Giving When it Counts…

Many years ago, when I worked as a volunteer at a hospital, I got to know a little girl named Liz who was suffering from a rare & serious disease. Her onlychance of recovery appeared to be a blood transfusion from her 5-year old brother, who had miraculously survived the same disease and had developed theantibodies needed to combat the illness. The doctor explained the situation to her little brother, and asked the little boy if he would be willing to give his blood to his sister.

I saw him hesitate for only a moment before taking a deep breath and saying, “Yes I’ll do it if it will save her.” As the transfusion progressed, he lay inbed next to his sister and smiled, as we all did, seeing the color returning to her cheek. Then his face grew pale and his smile faded.

He looked up at the doctor and asked with a trembling voice, “Will I start to die right away”.

Being young, the little boy had misunderstood the doctor; he thought he was going to have to give his sister all of his blood in order to save her.

Finding God

Father John Powell, a professor at Loyola University in Chicago, writes about a student in his Theology of Faith class named Tommy: Some twelve years ago, I stood watching my university students file into the classroom for our first session in the Theology of Faith.

That was the day I first saw Tommy. My eyes and my mind both blinked. He was combing his long flaxen hair, which hung six inches below his shoulders. It was the first time I had ever seen a boy with hair that long. I guess it was just coming into fashion then. I know in my mind that it isn’t what’s on your head but what’s in it that counts; but on that day I was unprepared and my emotions flipped. I immediately filed Tommy under “S” for strange… Very strange.  

Tommy turned out to be the “atheist in residence” in my Theology of Faith course. He constantly objected to, smirked at, or whined about the possibility of an unconditionally loving Father/God. We lived with each other in relative peace for one semester, although I admit he was for me at times a serious pain in the back pew.

When he came up at the end of the course to turn in his final exam, he asked in a cynical tone, “Do you think I’ll ever find God?” I decided instantly on a little shock therapy. “No!” I said very emphatically. “Why not,” he responded, “I thought that was the product you were pushing.”

I let him get five steps from the classroom door and then called out, “Tommy! I don’t think you’ll ever find Him, but I am absolutely certain that He will find you!” He shrugged a little and left my class and my life.

I felt slightly disappointed at the thought that he had missed my clever line — He will find you!  At least I thought it was clever.  Later, I heard that Tommy had graduated, and I was duly grateful.

Then a sad report came. I heard that Tommy had terminal cancer. Before I could search him out, he came to see me. When he walked into my office, his body was very badly wasted and the long hair had all fallen out as a result of chemotherapy. But his eyes were bright and his voice was firm.

 “Tommy, I’ve thought about you so often; I hear you are sick,” I blurted out.

“Oh, yes, very sick. I have cancer in both lungs. It’s a matter of weeks.”   

“Can you talk about it, Tom?” I asked. “Sure, what would you like to know?” he replied. “What’s it like to be only twenty-four and dying?” “Well, it could be worse.” “Like what?” “Well, like being fifty and having no values or ideals, like being fifty and thinking that booze, seducing women, and making money are the real biggies in life..”

I began to look through my mental file cabinet under “S” where I had filed Tommy as strange. (It seems as though everybody I try to reject by classification, God sends back into my life to educate me.)

“But what I really came to see you about,” Tom said, “is something you said to me on the last day of class.” (He remembered!)

 He continued, “I asked you if you thought I would ever find God and you said, ‘No!’ which surprised me. Then you said, ‘But He will find you.’ I thought about that a lot, even though my search for God was hardly intense at that time. (My clever line. He thought about that a lot!)

“But when the doctors removed a lump from my groin and told me that it was malignant, that’s when I got serious about locating God. And when the malignancy spread into my vital organs, I really began banging bloody fists against the bronze doors of heaven. But God did not come out.

In fact, nothing happened. Did you ever try anything for a long time with great effort and with no success? You get psychologically glutted, fed up with trying. And then you quit.

“Well, one day I woke up, and instead of throwing a few more futile appeals over that high brick wall to a God who I thought may be or may not be there, I just quit. I decided that I didn’t really care about God, about an after life, or anything like that. I decided to spend what time I had left doing something more profitable.

I thought about you and your class and I remembered something else you had said: ‘The essential sadness is to go through life without loving. But it would be almost equally sad to go through life and leave this world without ever telling those you loved that you had loved them.'”

“So, I began with the hardest one, my Dad. He was reading the newspaper when I approached him. “Dad.” “Yes, what?” he asked without lowering the newspaper. “Dad, I would like to talk with you.” “Well, talk.” “I mean. It’s really important.”

The newspaper came down three slow inches. “What is it?” “Dad, I love you, I just wanted you to know that.”

Tom smiled at me and said it with obvious satisfaction, as though he felt a warm and secret joy flowing inside of him. “The newspaper fluttered to the floor. Then my father did two things I could never remember him ever doing before. He cried and he hugged me. We talked all night, even though he had to go to work the next morning. It felt so good to be close to my father, to see his tears, to feel his hug, to hear him say that he loved me.”

“It was easier with my mother and little brother. They cried with me, too, and we hugged each other, and started saying real nice things to each other. We shared the things we had been keeping secret for so many years.

“I was only sorry about one thing — that I had waited so long. Here I was, just beginning to open up to all the people I had actually been close to.

“Then, one day I turned around and God was there. He didn’t come to me when I pleaded with Him. I guess I was like an animal trainer holding out a hoop, ‘C’mon, jump through. C’mon, I’ll give you three days, three weeks.'”

“Apparently God does things in His own way and at His own hour. But the important thing is that He was there. He found me! You were right. He found me even after I stopped looking for Him.”

“Tommy,” I practically gasped, “I think you are saying something very important and much more universal than you realize. To me, at least, you are saying that the surest way to find God is not to make Him a private possession, a problem solver, or an instant consolation in time of need, but rather by opening to love. You know, the Apostle John said that. He said: ‘God is love, and anyone who lives in love is living with God and God is living in him.’

Tom, could I ask you a favor? You know, when I had you in class you were a real pain. But (laughingly) you can make it all up to me now. Would you come into my present Theology of Faith course and tell them what you have just told me? If I told them the same thing it wouldn’t be half as effective as if you were to tell it.”

“Oooh.. I was ready for you, but I don’t know if I’m ready for your class.” “Tom, think about it. If and when you are ready, give me a call.”

In a few days Tom called, said he was ready for the class, that he wanted to do that for God and for me. So we scheduled a date. However, he never made it. He had another appointment, far more important than the one with me and my class.

Of course, his life was not really ended by his death, only changed. He made the great step from faith into vision. He found a life far more beautiful than the eye of man has ever seen or the ear of man has ever heard or the mind of man has ever imagined.

Before he died, we talked one last time.

“I’m not going to make it to your class,” he said.

“I know, Tom.” “Will you tell them for me? Will you … tell the whole world for me?”

I will, Tom. I’ll tell them. I’ll do my best.”

So, to all of you who have been kind enough to read this simple story about God’s love, thank you for listening. And to you, Tommy, somewhere in the sunlit, verdant hills of heaven — I told them, Tommy, as best I could.

If this story means anything to you, please pass it on to a friend or two. It is a true story and is not enhanced for publicity purposes. With thanks, Rev. John Powell, Professor, Loyola University, Chicago.

If you would like to watch a wonderful, life changing movie, get yourself all prepared with the time to watch a full length movie, and then go to this site and be ready for a life changing experience. .…………….. https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/english.html

如果您想观看一部精彩的、改变生活的电影，请准备好观看一部完整电影的时间，然后访问这个网站，为改变生活的体验做好准备………..…………https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/chinese-mandarin.html

For the last 20 years I have presented the Gospel to each new youth at the highly secure prison for the kids ages 13 to 19 at Gainesville, Texas.  It is the first time that most any of them have stopped “running on the streets” and had the time to think about their life.  Most every one made a decision to make God part of their life.  After our hour+ together I would write each one a letter.  As a result I corresponded more with many of them.  And in each letter I would enclose a group of short stories or poems.  They really liked them, especially those with an emotional message.  You probably would not believe how many locked-up prison boys have loved theses little stories, and read them over and over.

In my soon to be published book I enclosed a long list of those short stories in the Appendix.  Since the prison boys liked them so much, I thought you may like to see some of them.  So, here is an 11th group of them for you.  And you are welcome to share them with others.

Ron

The True Story of Dr. Stoddard – Alumnus of the University of Texas at Austin

As she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children an untruth. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. However, that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard 

Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he did not play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. In addition, Teddy could be unpleasant. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X’s and then putting a big ‘F’ at the top of his papers. 

At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child’s past records and she put Teddy’s off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise.  

Teddy’s first grade teacher wrote, ‘Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners …. He is a joy to be around.

His second grade teacher wrote, ‘Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle.’ 

His third grade teacher wrote, ‘His mother’s death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best, but his father doesn’t show much interest, and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren’t taken.’ 

Teddy’s fourth grade teacher wrote, ‘Teddy is withdrawn and doesn’t show much interest in school. He doesn’t have many friends and he sometimes sleeps in class.’  

By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy’s. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of perfume. But she stifled the children’s laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, ‘Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to.’ 

After the children left, she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children. Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her ‘teacher’s pets.’ 

A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that she was the best teacher he ever had in his whole life. 

Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in life. 

Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he’d stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he had ever had in his whole life. 

Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor’s degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer…. The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, M.D. 

The story does not end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he had met this girl and was going to be married.  He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit at the wedding in the place that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. Moreover, she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together. 

They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson’s ear, ‘Thank you Mrs. Thompson for believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference.’

Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, ‘Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn’t know how to teach until I met you.’ 

(For you that don’t know, Teddy Stoddard is the Doctor at Iowa Methodist in Des Moines that bears the name, The Stoddard Cancer Center.)

An Elf’s Tale

By Tyree Dillingham

It was six o’clock at the mall, and I was as exhausted as an elf on Christmas Eve.  In fact, I was an elf and it was Christmas Eve.  That December of my sixteenth year, 1995, I’d been working two jobs to help my parents with my school tuition and to make a little extra holiday money.  My second job was as an elf for Santa to help with kids’ photos.  Between my two jobs, I’d worked twelve hours straight the day before; on Christmas Eve, things were so busy at Santaland that I hadn’t even had a coffee break all day.  But this was it – only minutes more, and I’d have survived!

I looked over at Shelly, our manager, and she gave me an encouraging smile.  She was the reason I’d made it through.  She’d been thrown in as manager halfway through the season, and she’d made all the difference in the world.  My job had changed from stress-filled to challenging.  Instead of yelling at her workers to keep us in line, she encouraged us and stood behind us.  She made us pull together as a team.  Especially when things were their craziest, she always had a smile and an encouraging word. Under her leadership, we’d achieved the highest number of mall photo sales in California.

I knew it was a difficult holiday season for her – she’d recently suffered a miscarriage.  I hoped she knew how great she was and what a difference she’d made to all her workers, and to all the little children who’d come to have their pictures taken.

Our booth was open until seven; at six things started to slow down and I finally took a break.  Although I didn’t have much money, I really wanted to buy a little gift for Shelly so that she’d know we appreciated her.  I got to a store that sold soap and lotion just as they put the grate down.  “Sorry, we’re closed!” barked the clerk, who looked as tired as I was and didn’t sound sorry at all.

I looked around and, to my dismay, found that all the stores had closed.  I’d been so tired I hadn’t noticed.

I was really bummed.  I had been working all day and had missed buying her a present by one minute.

On my way back to the Santa booth, I saw that Nordstrom was still open.  Fearful that they, too, would close at any moment, I hurried inside and followed the signs toward the Gift Gallery.  As I rushed through the store, I began to feel very conspicuous.  It seemed the other shoppers were all very well-dressed and wealthy – and here I was a broke teenager in an elf costume.  ‘How could I even think I’d find something in such a posh store for fewer than fifteen dollars?’

I self-consciously jingled my way into the Gift Gallery.  A woman sales associate, who also looked as if she’d just stepped off a fashion runway, came over and asked if she could help me.  As she did, everyone in the department turned and stared.

As quietly as possible, I said, “No, that’s okay.  Just help somebody else.”

She looked right at me and smiled.  “No,” she said.  “I want to help you.”

I told the woman who I was buying for and why, then I sheepishly admitted I only had fifteen dollars to spend.  She looked as pleased and thoughtful as if I’d just asked to spend $1,500.  By now, the department had emptied, but she carefully went around, selecting a few things that would make a nice basket.  The total came to $14.09.

The store was closing; as she rang up the purchase, the lights were turned off.

I was thinking that if I could take them home and wrap them, I could make them really pretty but I didn’t have time.

As if reading my mind, the saleslady asked, “Do you need this wrapped?”

=”Yes,” I said.

By now the store was closed.  Over the intercom, a voice asked if there were still customers in the store.  I knew this woman was probably as eager to get home on Christmas Eve as everybody else, and here she was stuck waiting on some kid with a measly purchase.

But she was gone in the back room a long time.  When she returned, she brought out the most beautiful basket I’d ever seen.  It was all wrapped up in silver and gold, and looked as if I’d spent fifty dollars on it – at least.  I couldn’t believe it.  I was so happy!

When I thanked her, she said, “You elves are out in the mall spreading joy to so many people, I just wanted to bring a little joy to you.”

“Merry Christmas, Shelly,” I said back at the booth. 

My manager gasped when she saw the present; she was so touched and happy that she started crying.  I hoped it gave a happy start to her Christmas.

All through the holidays I couldn’t stop thinking about the kindness and effort of the saleswoman, and how much joy she had brought to me, and in turn to my manager.  I thought the least I could do was to write a letter to the store and let them know about it.  About a week later, I got a reply from the store, thanking me for writing.

I thought that was the end of it, until mid-January.

That’s when I got a call from Stephanie, the sales associate.  She wanted to take me to lunch.  Me, a fifteen-dollar, sixteen-year-old customer.

When we met, Stephanie gave me a hug, and a present, and told me this story.

She had walked into a recent employee meeting to find herself on the list of nominees to be named the Nordstrom All-Star.  She was confused but excited, as she had never before been nominated.  At the point in the meeting when the winner was announced, they called Stephanie – she’d won!  When she went up front to accept the award, her manager read my letter out loud.  Everyone gave her a huge round of applause.

Winning meant that her picture was put up in the store lobby, she got new business cards with Nordstrom All-Star written on them, a 14-karat gold pin, a 100-dollar award, and was invited to represent her department at the regional meeting.

At the regional meeting, they read my letter and everyone gave Stephanie a standing ovation.  “This is what we want all of our employees to be like!” said the manager who read the letter.  She got to meet three of the Nordstrom brothers, who were each very complimentary.

I was already a little overwhelmed when Stephanie took my hand.  “But that’s not the best part, Tyree,” she said.  “The day of that first store meeting, I took a list of the nominees, and put your letter behind it, with the 100- dollar bill behind that.  I took it home and gave it to my father.  He read everything and looked at me and said, “When do you find out who won?”

“I said, ‘I won, Dad.’

“He looked me right in the eye and said, ‘Stephanie, I’m really proud of you.'”

Quietly, she said, “My dad has never said he was proud of me.”

I think I’ll remember that moment all my life.  That was when I realized what a powerful gift appreciation can be.  Shelly’s appreciation of her workers had set into motion a chain of events – Stephanie’s beautiful basket, my letter, Nordstrom’s award – that had changed at least three lives.

Though I’d heard it all my life, it was the Christmas when I was an elf – and a broke teenager – that I truly came to understand that the littlest things can make the biggest difference.

Enough

At an airport I overheard a father and daughter in their last momentstogether. They had announced her plane’s departure and standing near the door, he said to his daughter, “I love you, I wish you enough”. She said, “Daddy, our life together has been more than enough. Your love is all I ever needed. I wish you enough, too, Daddy.” They kissed good-bye and she left.

He walked over toward the window where I was seated. Standing there I could see he wanted and needed to cry. I tried not to intrude on his privacy, but he welcomed me in by asking, “Did you ever say good-bye to someone knowing it would be forever?”  “Yes, I have,” I replied.  Saying that brought back memories I had of expressing my love and appreciation for all my Dad had done for me. Recognizing that his days were limited, I took the time to tell him face to face how much he meant to me.  So I knew what this man was experiencing.

“Forgive me for asking, but why is this forever good-bye?” I asked.  “I am old and she lives much too far away. I have challenges ahead and the reality is, her next trip back will be for my funeral, he said.

“When you were saying good-bye I heard you say, ‘I wish you enough.’  May I ask what that means?”  He began to smile. “That’s a wish that has been handed down from other generations. My parents, Godly folks, used to say it to everyone.”

He paused for a moment and looking up as if trying to remember it in detail, he smiled even more.  “When we said ‘I wish you enough,’ we were wanting the other person to have a life filled by God with enough good things to sustain them,” he continued and then, turning toward me, he shared the following, reciting it from memory:

“From God’s Spirit I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright. I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more. I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive. I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear much bigger. I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting. I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess. I wish enough “Hello’s” to get you through the final “Good-bye.”

He then began to cry and walked away.

My friend reading this, I wish you ENOUGH!!!

A Story about Edith

Edith Burns was a wonderful Christian who lived in San Antonio, Texas.  She was the patient of a doctor by the name of Will Phillips.  Dr. Phillips was a gentle doctor who saw patients as people.  His favorite patient was Edith Burns.

One morning he went to his office with a heavy heart and it was because of Edith Burns.  When he walked into that waiting room, there sat Edith with her big black Bible in her lap earnestly talking to a young mother sitting beside her.

Edith Burns had a habit of introducing herself in this way: “Hello, my name is Edith Burns.  Do you believe in Easter?”  Then she would explain the meaning of Easter, and many times people would be saved into Heaven.

Dr. Phillips walked into that office and there he saw the head nurse, Beverly.  Beverly had first met Edith when she was taking her blood pressure.  Edith began by saying, “My name is Edith Burns.  Do you believe in Easter?”

Beverly said, “Why yes I do.” Edith said, “Well, what do you believe about Easter?”  Beverly said, “Well, it’s all about egg hunts, going to church, and dressing up.”

Edith kept pressing her about the real meaning of Easter, and finally led her to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ.

Dr. Phillips said, “Beverly, don’t call Edith into the office quite yet.  I believe there is another delivery taking place in the waiting room.

After being called back in the doctor’s office, Edith sat down and when she took a look at the doctor she said, “Dr. Will, why are you so sad?  Are you reading your Bible?  Are you praying?”

Dr. Phillips said gently, “Edith, I’m the doctor and you’re the patient.”  With a heavy heart he said, “Your lab report came back and it says you have cancer, and Edith, you’re not going to live very long.”

Edith said, “Why, Will Phillips, shame on you.  Why are you so sad?  Do you think God makes mistakes?  You have just told me I’m going to see my precious Lord Jesus, my husband, and my friends.  You have just told me that I am going to celebrate Easter forever, and here you are having difficulty giving me my ticket!”

Dr. Phillips thought to himself, “What a magnificent woman this Edith Burns is!”  Edith continued coming to Dr. Phillips.  Christmas came and the office was closed through January 3^rd.

On the day the office opened, Edith did not show up.  Later that afternoon, Edith called Dr. Phillips and said she would have to be moving her story to the hospital and said, “Dr. Will, I’m very near home, so would you make sure that they put women in here next to me in my room who need to know about Easter.”

Well, they did just that and women began to come in and share that room with Edith.  Many women were saved.  Everybody on that floor from staff to patients were so excited about Edith, that they started calling her Edith Easter; that is everyone except Phyllis Cross, the head nurse.

Phyllis made it plain that she wanted nothing to do with Edith because she was a “religious nut”.  She had been a nurse in an army hospital.  She had seen it all and heard it all.  She was the original G.I. Jane.  She had been married three times, she was hard, cold, and did everything by the book.

One morning the two nurses who were to attend to Edith were sick.  Edith had the flu and Phyllis Cross had to go in and give her a shot.  When she walked in, Edith had a big smile on her face and said, “Phyllis, God loves you and I love you, and I have been praying for you.”

Phyllis Cross said, “Well, you can quit praying for me, it won’t work, I’m not interested.”  Edith said, “Well, I will pray and I have asked God not to let me go home until you come into the family.”

Phyllis Cross said, “Then you will never die because that will never happen,” and curtly walked out of the room.

Every day Phyllis Cross would walk into the room and Edith would say, “God loves you Phyllis and I love you, and I’m praying for you.”

One day Phyllis Cross said she was literally drawn to Edith’s room like a magnet would draw iron.  She sat down on the bed and Edith said, “I’m so glad you have come, because God told me that today is your special day.”

Phyllis Cross said, “Edith, you have asked everybody here the question, ‘Do you believe in Easter?’ but you have never asked me.”

Edith said, “Phyllis, I wanted too many times, but God told me to wait until you asked, and now that you have asked…” Edith Burns took her Bible and shared with Phyllis Cross the Easter Story of the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Edith said, “Phyllis, do you believe in Easter?  Do you believe that Jesus Christ is alive and that He wants to live in your heart?”

Phyllis Cross said, “Oh I want to believe that with all of my heart, and I do want Jesus in my life.”  Right there, Phyllis Cross prayed and invited Jesus Christ into her heart.  For the first time Phyllis Cross did not walk out of a hospital room, she was carried out on the wings of angels.

Two days later, Phyllis Cross came in and Edith said, “Do you know what day it is?” Phyllis Cross said, “Why Edith, its Good Friday.”

Edith said, “Oh, no, for you every day is Easter.  Happy Easter Phyllis!”

Two days later, on Easter Sunday, Phyllis Cross came into work, did some of her duties and then went down to the flower shop and got some Easter lilies because she wanted to go up to see Edith and give her some Easter lilies and wish her a Happy Easter.

When she walked into Edith’s room, Edith was in bed.  That big black Bible was on her lap.  Her hands were in that Bible.  There was a sweet smile on her face.  When Phyllis Cross went to pick up Edith’s hand, she realized Edith was dead.

Her right hand was on John 14, “In my Father’s house are many mansions.  I go to prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself, that where I am, there you may be also.”

Phyllis Cross took one look at that dead body, and then lifted her face toward heaven, and with tears streaming down here cheeks, said, “Happy Easter, Edith – Happy Easter!”

Phyllis Cross left Edith’s body, walked out of the room, and over to a table where two student nurses were sitting.  She said, “My name is Phyllis Cross.  Do you believe in Easter?”

If you would like to watch a wonderful, life changing movie, get yourself all prepared with the time to watch a full length movie, and then go to this site and be ready for a life changing experience. .…………….. https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/english.html

如果您想观看一部精彩的、改变生活的电影，请准备好观看一部完整电影的时间，然后访问这个网站，为改变生活的体验做好准备………..…………https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/chinese-mandarin.html

For the last 20 years I have presented the Gospel to each new youth at the highly secure prison for the kids ages 13 to 19 at Gainesville, Texas.  It is the first time that most any of them have stopped “running on the streets” and had the time to think about their life.  Most every one made a decision to make God part of their life.  After our hour+ together I would write each one a letter.  As a result I corresponded more with many of them.  And in each letter I would enclose a group of short stories or poems.  They really liked them, especially those with an emotional message.  You probably would not believe how many locked-up prison boys have loved theses little stories, and read them over and over.

In my soon to be published book I enclosed a long list of those short stories in the Appendix.  Since the prison boys liked them so much, I thought you may like to see some of them.  So, here is a 10th group of them for you.  And you are welcome to share them with others.

Ron

Doctor and Young Lady

This was written by a Metro Denver Hospice Physician:

I was driving home from a meeting this evening about 5, stuck in traffic on Colorado Blvd., and the car started to choke and splutter and die.  I barely managed to coast, cursing, into a gas station, glad only that I would not be blocking traffic and would have a somewhat warm spot to wait for the tow truck. It wouldn’t even turn over. Before I could make the call, I saw a woman walking out of the quickie mart building, and it looked like she slipped on some ice and fell on to a gas pump, so I got out to see if she was okay.

When I got there, it looked more like she had been overcome by sobs than that she had fallen; she was a young woman who looked really haggard with dark circles under her eyes. She dropped something as I helped her up, and I picked it up to give it to her. It was a nickel.

At that moment, everything came into focus for me: the crying woman, the ancient Suburban crammed full of stuff with 3 kids in the back (1 in a car seat), and the gas pump reading $4.95.

I asked her if she was okay and if she needed help, and she just kept saying “I don’t want my kids to see me crying”, so we stood on the other side of the pump from her car. She said she was driving to California and that things were very hard for her right now.  So I asked, ‘And you were praying?’ That made her back away from me a little, but I assured her I was not a crazy person and said, “He heard you, and He sent me.”

I took out my card and swiped it through the card reader on the pump so she could fill up her car completely, and while it was fueling, walked to the next door McDonald’s and bought 2 big bags of food, some gift certificates for more, and a big cup of coffee. She gave the food to the kids in the car, who attacked it like wolves, and we stood by the pump eating fries and talking a little.

She told me her name, and that she lived in Kansas City.  Her boyfriend left 2 months ago and she had not been able to make ends meet. She knew she wouldn’t have money to pay rent Jan. 1, and finally, in desperation, had called her parents, with whom she had not spoken in about 5 years. They lived in California and said she could come live with them and try to get on her feet there.

So she packed up everything she owned in the car. She told the kids they were going to California for Christmas, but not that they were going to live there.  I gave her my gloves, a little hug and said a quick prayer with her for safety on the road.  As I was walking over to my car, she said, “So, are you like an angel or something?”

This definitely made me cry.  I said, “Sweetie, at this time of year angels are really busy, so sometimes God uses regular people.”

It was so incredible to be a part of someone else’s miracle. And of course, you guessed it, when I got in my car it started right away and got me home with no problem. I’ll put it in the shop tomorrow to check, but I suspect the mechanic won’t find anything wrong.

Sometimes the angels fly close enough to you that you can hear the flutter of their wings…

Psalms 55:22:  “Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and He shall sustain thee.”

Forgive Me When I Whine

Today, upon a bus, I saw a girl with golden hair. and wished I was as fair.

When suddenly she rose to leave, I saw her hobble down the aisle. She had one leg and used a crutch. But as she passed, she passed a smile.

Oh, God, forgive me when I whine. I have 2 legs, the world is mine.

I stopped to buy some candy. The lad who sold it had such charm. I talked with him; he seemed so glad. If I were late, it’d do no harm.

And as I left, he said to me, “I thank you; you’ve been so kind. It’s nice to talk with folks like you. “You see,” he said, “I’m blind.”

Oh, God, forgive me when I whine. I have 2 eyes, the world is mine.

Later while walking down the street, I saw a child with eyes of blue. He stood and watched the others play. He did not know what to do.

I stopped a moment and then I said, “Why don’t you join the others, dear?” He looked ahead without a word. And then I knew, he couldn’t hear.

Oh, God, forgive me when I whine. I have 2 ears, the world is mine.

With feet to take me where I’d go. With eyes to see the sunset’s glow. With ears to hear what I’d know. Oh, God, forgive me when I whine. I’ve been blessed indeed; the world is mine.

Don’t Leave It On The Desk –

There was a certain Professor of Religion named Dr. Christianson, a studious man who taught at a small college in the western United States.   Dr. Christianson taught the required survey course in Christianity at this particular institution.   Every student was required to take this course their freshman year, regardless of his or her major.

Although Dr. Christianson tried hard to communicate the essence of the gospel in his class, he found that most of his students looked upon the course as nothing but required drudgery. Despite his best efforts, most students refused to take Christianity seriously.

This year, Dr. Christianson had a special student named Steve.   Steve was only a freshman, but was studying with the intent of going onto seminary for the ministry.   Steve was popular, he was well liked, and he was an imposing physical specimen.   He was now the starting center on the school football team and was the best student in the professor’s class.  One day, Dr. Christianson asked Steve to stay after class so he could talk with him.   “How many push-ups can you do?”

 Steve said, “I do about 200 every night.”

“200?   That’s pretty good, Steve,” Dr. Christianson said.   “Do you think you could do 300?”

 Steve replied, “I don’t know… I’ve never done 300 at a time.  “Do you think you could?” again asked Dr. Christianson.  “Well, I can try,” said Steve.

“Can you do 300 in sets of 10?   I have a class project in mind and I need you to do about 300 push-ups in sets of ten for this to work.   Can you do it?   I need you to tell me you can do it,” said the professor.

Steve said, “Well… I think I can… yeah, I can do it.”

Dr. Christianson said, “Good!   I need you to do this on Friday.   Let me explain what I have in mind.”

Friday came and Steve got to class early and sat in the front of the room.   When class started, the professor pulled out a big box of donuts.   These weren’t the normal kinds of donuts.   They were the extra fancy BIG kind, with cream centers and frosting swirls.   Everyone was pretty excited it was Friday, the last class of the day and they were going to get an early start on the weekend with a party in Dr. Christianson’s class.

Dr. Christianson went to the first girl in the first row and asked, “Cynthia, do you want to have one of these donuts?”

Cynthia said, “Yes.”

Dr. Christianson then turned to Steve and asked, “Steve, would you do ten push-ups so that Cynthia can have a donut?”

“Sure!”   Steve jumped down from his desk to do a quick ten.   Then Steve again sat in his desk.  Dr. Christianson put a donut on Cynthia’s desk.

Dr. Christianson then went to Joe, the next person, and asked, “Joe, do you want a donut?”

Joe said, “Yes.”  

Dr. Christianson asked, “Steve would you do ten push-ups so Joe can have a donut?”

Steve did ten push-ups, Joe got a donut.   And so it went, down the first aisle, Steve did ten push-ups for every person before they got their donut.

Walking down the second aisle, Dr. Christianson came to Scott.   Scott was on the basketball team and in as good condition as Steve.   He was very popular and never lacking for female companionship.   The professor asked, “Scott do you want a donut?”  Scott’s reply was, “Well, can I do my own push-ups?”  Dr. Christianson said, “No, Steve has to do them.”  Then Scott said, “Well, I don’t want one then.”

Dr. Christianson shrugged and then turned to Steve and asked, “Steve, would you do ten push-ups so Scott can have a donut he doesn’t want?”  With perfect obedience Steve started to do ten push-ups.

Scott said, “HEY!  I said I didn’t want one!”

Dr. Christianson said, “Look, this is my classroom, my class, my desks and these are my donuts.   Just leave it on the desk if you don’t want it.”   And he put a donut on Scott’s desk.

By this time, Steve had begun to slow down a little.   He just stayed on the floor between sets because it took too much effort to be getting up and down.   You could start to see a little perspiration coming out around his brow.  Dr. Christianson started down the third row.   Now the students were beginning to get a little angry.   Dr. Christianson asked Jenny, “Jenny, do you want a donut?”

Sternly, Jenny said, “No.”

Then Dr. Christianson asked Steve, “Steve, would you do ten more push-ups so Jenny can have a donut that she doesn’t want?”

Steve did ten.   Jenny got a donut.  By now, a growing sense of uneasiness filled the room.   The students were beginning to say, “No!” and there were all these uneaten donuts on the desks.

Steve had to really put forth a lot of extra effort to get these push-ups done for each donut.   There began to be a small pool of sweat on the floor beneath his face, his arms and brow were beginning to get red because of the physical effort involved.

Dr. Christianson asked Robert, who was the most vocal unbeliever in the class, to watch Steve do each push up to make sure he did the full ten push-ups in a set because he couldn’t bear to watch all of Steve’s work for all of those uneaten donuts.   He sent Robert over to where Steve was so Robert could count the set and watch Steve closely.

 Dr. Christianson started down the fourth row.   During his class, however, some students from other classes had wandered in and sat down on the steps along the radiators that ran down the sides of the room.   When the professor realized this, he did a quick count and saw that now there were 34 students in the room.  He started to worry if Steve would be able to make it.

Dr. Christianson went on to the next person and the next and the next.   Near the end of that row, Steve was really having a rough time.   He was taking a lot more time to complete each set.

Steve asked Dr. Christianson, “Do I have to make my nose touch on each one?”

Dr. Christianson thought for a moment, “Well, they’re your push-ups.   You can do them any way that you want.”   And Dr. Christianson went on.  A few moments later, Jason, a recent transfer student, came to the room and was about to come in when all the students yelled in one voice, “NO!   Don’t come in!   Stay out!”

Jason didn’t know what was going on.   Steve picked up his head and said, “No, let him come.”

Dr. Christianson said, “You realize that if Jason comes in you will have to do ten push-ups for him?”

Steve said, “Yes, let him come in.   Give him a donut.”  Dr. Christianson said, “Okay, Steve, I’ll let you get Jason’s out of the way right now.   Jason, do you want a donut?”

Jason, new to the room, hardly knew what was going on.   “Yes,” he said, “give me a donut.”

“Steve, will you do ten push-ups so that Jason can have a donut?”

Steve did ten push-ups very slowly and with great effort.   Jason, bewildered, was handed a donut and sat down.   Dr Christianson finished the fourth row, and then started on those visitors seated by the heaters.  Steve’s arms were now shaking with each push-up in a struggle to lift himself against the force of gravity.   By this time sweat was profusely dropping off of his face, there was no sound except his heavy breathing.   There was not a dry eye in the room.

The very last two students in the room were two young women, both cheerleaders and very popular.   Dr. Christianson went to Linda, the second to last, and asked, “Linda, do you want a doughnut?”

Linda said, very sadly, “No, thank you.”

Professor Christianson quietly asked, “Steve, would you do ten push-ups so that Linda can have a donut she doesn’t want?”

Grunting from the effort, Steve did ten very slow push-ups for Linda.

Then Dr. Christianson turned to the last girl, Susan and said, “’Susan, do you want a donut?”

Susan, with tears flowing down her face, began to cry.   “Dr. Christianson, can I help him?”

Dr Christianson, with tears of his own, said, “No, Steve has to do it alone.   I have given him this task and he is in charge of seeing that everyone has an opportunity for a donut whether they want it or not.   When I decided to have a party this last day of class, I looked at my grade book.   Steve here is the only student with a perfect grade.   Everyone else has failed a test, skipped class or offered me inferior work.   Steve told me that in football practice, when a player messes-up he must do push-ups.   I told  Steve that none of you could come to my party unless he paid the price by doing your push-ups.   He and I made a deal for your sakes.”

“Steve, would you do ten push-ups so Susan can have a donut?”

As Steve very slowly finished his last push-up, with the understanding that he had accomplished all that was required of him, having done 350 push-ups, his arms buckled beneath him and he fell to the floor.  Dr. Christianson turned to the room and said, “And so it was, that our Savior, Jesus Christ, on the cross, said to the Father, “Into thy hands I commend my spirit.”   With the understanding that Jesus had done everything that was required of him, he yielded up his life.   And like some of those in this room, many of us leave the gift on the desk, uneaten.”

Two students helped Steve up off the floor and to a seat, physically exhausted, but wearing a thin smile.   “Well done, good and faithful servant,” said the professor, adding, “Not all sermons are preached in words.”  Turning to his class, the professor said, “My wish is that you might understand and fully comprehend all the riches of grace and mercy that have been given to you through the sacrifice of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. God spared not his only begotten son, but gave him up for us all, for the whole Church, now and forever.   Whether or not we choose to accept God’s gift to us, the price has been paid.”

“Wouldn’t you be foolish and ungrateful to leave it lying on the desk?”

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.   For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. John 3:16-17

If you would like to watch a wonderful, life changing movie, get yourself all prepared with the time to watch a full length movie, and then go to this site and be ready for a life changing experience. .…………….. https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/english.html

如果您想观看一部精彩的、改变生活的电影，请准备好观看一部完整电影的时间，然后访问这个网站，为改变生活的体验做好准备………..…………https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/chinese-mandarin.html

For the last 20 years I have presented the Gospel to each new youth at the highly secure prison for the kids ages 13 to 19 at Gainesville, Texas.  It is the first time that most any of them have stopped “running on the streets” and had the time to think about their life.  Most every one made a decision to make God part of their life.  After our hour+ together I would write each one a letter.  As a result I corresponded more with many of them.  And in each letter I would enclose a group of short stories or poems.  They really liked them, especially those with an emotional message.  You probably would not believe how many locked-up prison boys have loved theses little stories, and read them over and over.

In my soon to be published book I enclosed a long list of those short stories in the Appendix.  Since the prison boys liked them so much, I thought you may like to see some of them.  So, here is a 9th group of them for you.  And you are welcome to share them with others.

Ron

Cost of a Miracle

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

Carefully placing the coins back in the jar and twisting on the cap, she slipped out the back door and made her way 6 blocks to Rexall’s Drug Store with the big red Indian Chief sign above the door. She waited patiently for the pharmacist to give her some attention but he was too busy at this moment. Tess twisted her feet to make a scuffing noise.

Nothing.

She cleared her throat with the most disgusting sound she could muster.

No good.

Finally she took a quarter from her jar and banged it on the glass counter.

That did it!

“And what do you want?” the pharmacist asked in an annoyed tone of voice. “I’m talking to my brother here from Chicago whom I haven’t seen in ages,” he said without waiting for a reply to his question.

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

“I beg your pardon?” said the pharmacist.

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

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

“Listen, I have the money to pay for it, and if it isn’t enough, I will get the rest. Just tell me how much it costs.” 

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

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

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

“One dollar and eleven cents,” Tess answered barely audibly.  “And it’s all the Money I have, but I can get some more if I need to.

“Well, what a coincidence,” smiled the man. “A dollar and eleven cents – the exact price of a miracle for little brothers.”

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

That well dressed man was Dr. Carlton Armstrong, one of the country’s top surgeons, specializing in neuro-surgery.

The operation was completed without charge and it wasn’t long until Andrew was home again and doing well.

Mom and Dad were happily talking about the chain of events that had led them to this place. “That surgery,” her Mom whispered. “was a real miracle. I wonder how much it would have cost?”

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

A miracle is not the suspension of natural law, but the operation of higher law…… Of course, only God can supply a miracle.  But for some strange reason, He has decided to do his work through people….and the persistence and faith like that of a little child can bring about a real miracle.

 Dad’s Empty Chair                                                                               

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

The minister assumed that the old fellow had been informed of his visit. “I guess you were expecting me,” he said. “No, who are you?” said the father.

The minister told him his name and then remarked, “I saw the empty chair and I figured you knew I was going to show up.” “Oh yeah, the chair,” said the bedridden man. “Would you mind closing the door?”

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

“Sit down in a chair; place an empty chair in front of you, and in faith see Jesus on the chair. It’s not spooky because he promised, ‘I will be with you always’. “Then just speak to him in the same way you’re doing with me right now.”

“So, I tried it and I’ve liked it so much that I do it a couple of hours every day. I’m careful though. If my daughter saw me talking to an empty chair, she’d either have a nervous breakdown or send me off to the funny farm.”

The minister was deeply moved by the story and encouraged the old man to continue on the journey.  Then he prayed with him, asked for God’s peace to be upon him, and returned to the church.

Two nights later the daughter called to tell the minister that her daddy had died that afternoon.

“Did he die in peace?” he asked.

“Yes, when I left the house about two o’clock, he called me over to his bedside, told me he loved me and kissed me on the cheek. When I got back from the store an hour later, I found him dead. But there was something strange about his death. Apparently, just before Daddy died, he leaned over and rested his head on the chair beside the bed. What do you make of that?”

The minister wiped a tear from his eye and said, “I wish we could all go like that.”

Dear Mom………

She jumped up as soon as she saw the surgeon come out of the operating room. She said: ‘How is my little boy? Is he going to be all right? When can I see him?’ The surgeon said, ‘I’m sorry. We did all we could, but your boy didn’t make it.’  Sally said, ‘Why do little children get cancer?  Doesn’t God care any more? Where were you, God, when my son needed you?’ 

The surgeon asked, ‘Would you like some time alone with your son? One of the nurses will be out in a few minutes, before he’s transported to the university.’  Sally asked the nurse to stay with her while she said good bye to her son. She ran her fingers lovingly through his thick red curly hair. ‘Would you like a lock of his hair?’ the nurse asked. Sally nodded yes. The nurse cut a lock of the boy’s hair, put it in a plastic bag and handed it to Sally. 

 The mother said, ‘It was Jimmy’s idea to donate his body to the University for Study. He said it might help somebody else. ‘I said no at first, but Jimmy said, ‘Mom, I won’t be using it after I die. Maybe it will help some other little boy spend one more day with his Mom.’ She went on, ‘My Jimmy had a heart of gold. Always thinking of someone else. Always wanting to help others if he could..’  Sally walked out of Children’s Mercy Hospital for the last time, after spending most of the last six months there. She put the bag with Jimmy’s belongings on the seat beside her in the car.  The drive home was difficult. It was even harder to enter the empty house. She carried Jimmy’s belongings, and the plastic bag with the lock of his hair to her son’s room.

 She started placing the model cars and other personal things back in his room exactly where he had always kept them. She lay down across his bed and, hugging his pillow, cried herself to sleep.  It was around midnight when Sally awoke. Lying beside her on the bed was a folded letter. The letter said:

Dear Mom,

I know you’re going to miss me; but don’t think that I will ever forget you, or stop loving you, just ’cause I’m not around to say ‘I Love You’. I will always love you, Mom, even more with each day. Someday we will see each other again. Until then, if you want to adopt a little boy so you won’t be so lonely, that’s okay with me. He can have my room and old stuff to play with. But, if you decide to get a girl instead, she probably wouldn’t like the same things us boys do. You’ll have to buy her dolls and stuff girls like, you know. Don’t be sad thinking about me. This really is a neat place. Grandma and Grandpa met me as soon as I got here and showed me around some, but it will take a long time to see everything. The angels are so cool. I love to watch them fly. And, you know what? Jesus doesn’t look like any of his pictures. Yet, when I saw Him, I knew it was Him.. Jesus himself took me to see GOD! And guess what, Mom? I got to sit on God’s knee and talk to Him, like I was somebody important. That’s when I told Him that I wanted to write you a letter, to tell you good bye and everything. But I already knew that wasn’t allowed. Well, you know what Mom? God handed me some paper and His own personal pen to write you this letter I think Gabriel is the name of the angel who is going to drop this letter off to you. God said for me to give you the answer to one of the questions you asked Him……….  where was He when I needed him?’ ‘God said He was in the same place with me, as when His son Jesus was on the cross. He was right there, as He always is with all His children.  Oh, by the way, Mom, no one else can see what I’ve written except you. To everyone else this is just a blank piece of paper. Isn’t that cool? I have to give God His pen back now He needs it to write some more names in the Book of Life. Tonight I get to sit at the table with Jesus for supper. I’m sure the food will be great.  Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. I don’t hurt anymore the cancer is all gone. I’m glad because I couldn’t stand that pain anymore and God couldn’t stand to see me hurt so much, either. That’s when He sent The Angel of Mercy to come get me. The Angel said I was a Special Delivery! How about that? 

Signed, with Love from God, Jesus & Me. 

如果您想观看一部精彩的、改变生活的电影，请准备好观看一部完整电影的时间，然后访问这个网站，为改变生活的体验做好准备………..…………https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/chinese-mandarin.html

If you would like to watch a wonderful, life changing movie, get yourself all prepared with the time to watch a full length movie, and then go to this site and be ready for a life changing experience. .…………….. https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/english.html

For the last 20 years I have presented the Gospel to each new youth at the highly secure prison for the kids ages 13 to 19 at Gainesville, Texas.  It is the first time that most any of them have stopped “running on the streets” and had the time to think about their life.  Most every one made a decision to make God part of their life.  After our hour+ together I would write each one a letter.  As a result I corresponded more with many of them.  And in each letter I would enclose a group of short stories or poems.  They really liked them, especially those with an emotional message.  You probably would not believe how many locked-up prison boys have loved theses little stories, and read them over and over.

In my soon to be published book I enclosed a long list of those short stories in the Appendix.  Since the prison boys liked them so much, I thought you may like to see some of them.  So, here is a 8th group of them for you.  And you are welcome to share them with others.

Ron

Caller ID

God works in mysterious ways, doesn’t He?

Isn’t it amazing how God works in our lives!  On a Saturday night several weeks ago, this pastor was working late, and decided to call his wife before he left for home.  It was about 10:00 PM, but his wife didn’t answer the phone.

The pastor let the phone ring many times.  He thought it was odd that she didn’t answer, but decided to wrap up a few things and try again in a few minutes.  When he tried again she answered right away.  He asked her why she hadn’t answered before, and she said that it hadn’t rung at their house. They brushed it off as a fluke and went on their merry ways.

The following Monday, the pastor received a call at the church office, which was the phone that he’d used that Saturday night.   The man that he spoke with wanted to know why he’d called on Saturday night.

The pastor couldn’t figure out what the man was talking about.  Then the man said, “It rang and rang, but I didn’t answer.” The pastor remembered the mishap and apologized for disturbing him, explaining that he’d intended to call his wife.

The man said, “That’s, OK.  Let me tell you my story:

You see, I was planning to commit suicide on Saturday night, but before I did, I prayed, ‘God if you’re there, and you don’t want me to do this, give me a sign, now.’  At that point my phone started to ring.  I looked at the caller ID, and it said, ‘Almighty God’.  I was afraid to answer!”

The reason why it showed on the man’s caller ID that the call came from “Almighty God” is because the church that the pastor attends is called Almighty God Tabernacle!!

Don’t ever doubt that God answers prayers!

The Center of the Bible

This is pretty strange or odd how it worked out this way. Even if you are not religious you should read this.

What is the shortest chapter in the Bible? Answer – Psalms 117

What is the longest chapter in the Bible? Answer – Psalms 119

Which chapter is in the center of the Bible? Answer – Psalms 118

Fact: There are 594 chapters before Psalms 118

Fact: There are 594 chapters after Psalms 118

Add these numbers up and you get 1188

What is the center verse in the Bible? Answer – Psalms 118:8

Does this verse say something significant about God’s perfect will for our lives? The next time someone says they would like to find God’s perfect will for their lives and that they want to be in the center of His will,
just send them to the center of His Word!

Psalms 118:8 (NKJV) “It is better to trust in the LORD than to put
confidence in man.”

Now isn’t that odd how this worked out (or was God in the center of it)?

Life Is Like a Box of Chocolates

It was the day after Christmas; my brother and I were visiting my aunt.  It was a happy day, especially as they have five children, four under the age of six, and I, like many people, love small children.

There was a box of sweets on the side, and kids being kids, naturally couldn’t take their eyes off it.  When my aunt came into the room, they all clamored for a sweet, so she opened the box of Quality Street (a selection of chocolates) and divided them into so many for each child.

My youngest cousin, age three, is famous for his funny sayings.  Now was no different; he opened each sweet with undisguised glee, throwing the wrappers on the floor and yelling with more delight at each one – “Yea! Chocolate again!! Look, chocolate!!”

Straight away, I recognized something strategic here.

Yes, all of the sweets were chocolate, but the lesson here was that so many things in life we take for granted or expect them to be what they are, so that when we experience them we take almost no delight in them at all.

Learning to be grateful for the “chocolate” of life, even if it is all “chocolate” is a valuable skill, and something that not many people know how to do.

It is often in small children that it is found the most, and I felt that such was reflected in this story.

And Jesus said that for those who have given their lives to him, they are the very “Sons of God” now.  He asked us not to focus on what we can accumulate on this earth………but to “store up treasures in Heaven”.

CHURCH IN THE WEEDS

Just two little boys walking down this dusty lane…
They came upon this old white house…
With broken window panes

The paint was faded, the shine was gone…
The grass had grown so high…
Still they made their little feet,
Go see what was inside.

They opened up the squeaky door and then it came to light…
This must have been an old church house… Once upon a time.

Dirty, dusty wooden pews… A pulpit that still stood….
A Bible lay upon it… Though the pages weren’t too good…

An offering plate and song books too… Were lying on the floor.
They must have left this old church fast… The day they closed these
doors.

And over in the corner… A piano was still there,
It must have played a pretty tune… But I guess nobody cared.

So little Bill looked up at Tommy… And Tommy looked at Bill…
Why don’t we clean this old church up, and get these old pews filled?’

They took a rag and wiped the dust… To try and make things shine…
And then they took the offering plate… And put in it their last dime.

They took a broom and swept the floor… And picked up broken glass….
They got it all so nice and neat… And then they mowed the grass.

They lifted up the old church sign… And stood it by a tree….
Right down by that old dirt road where every one could see.

They ran back home, to find Daddy gone but their Momma was inside..
Just to find her hurt again… Where Daddy had made her cry.

‘Don’t cry Momma, wipe those tears,’ Little Bill and Tommy smiled…
‘Cause we have a big surprise for you… Just down the road a mile.’

Hand in hand they tugged at her, until they made her run….
‘What is it Bill, Oh Tommy, just what have you two kids done?’

And then they came upon the house… Once hidden by the weeds….
And there it stood a country church… Just like it used to be.

‘But what is it, Mother? What’s with your tears?
We thought this would bring you joy.’
‘Yes, but hush kids now and listen close…
My two sweet precious boys.’

They both got quiet and stood real still… For the words they heard so true…
Was their now sorrowful Daddy praying in the church… With his head bowed on the pew.

‘Forgive me Lord! Forgive me Lord! Though I’m not worthy of Your love…
Shine down on this sinner man, sweet Salvation from above.’

‘For I’ve been out in the world, you know… Living my life all wrong…
Until I came upon this church; the place where I belong.’

‘I never noticed it before… All those times I passed it up…
I guess I wasn’t looking, Lord…. Or maybe I was drunk..’

‘Bless oh Lord, yes, bless oh Lord….. The one who made me see..
This little church that used to hide…. Behind all those tall weeds.’

And then he raised his head and stood… With his hands high in the air…
To find two dirty, tear-faced boys….. With Momma standing there.

They ran up to him, hugged him tight… As their tears fell on the floor.
‘Don’t worry kids; I’m not the Dad, the one you’ve known before.’

Things are different for us now… So keep on those pretty smiles..
And let’s go gather people in…. To walk down these church aisles.’

Then Bill looked up at Tommy… And Tommy looked at Bill…
‘Come on brother, let’s get to work…. To get these old pews filled.’

‘For we need no special blessing.. For cleaning up this church….
’cause, God gave us back our Daddy… And that’s more than gold is worth.’

Sunday morning, pews all filled and smiles on every face…
Especially two little country boys… The ones who found this place.

Though it was hid back in the weeds… And so far out of sight…

Nothing’s ever hard to find if you’re walking toward God’s light.

1-John 1:7 ‘we walk in the light as He is in the light, we have
fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus Christ
His Son cleanses us from all sin.’

IN GOD WE STILL TRUST

如果您想观看一部精彩的、改变生活的电影，请准备好观看一部完整电影的时间，然后访问这个网站，为改变生活的体验做好准备………..…………https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/chinese-mandarin.html

If you would like to watch a wonderful, life changing movie, get yourself all prepared with the time to watch a full length movie, and then go to this site and be ready for a life changing experience. .…………….. https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/english.html

For the last 20 years I have presented the Gospel to each new youth at the highly secure prison for the kids ages 13 to 19 at Gainesville, Texas.  It is the first time that most any of them have stopped “running on the streets” and had the time to think about their life.  Most every one made a decision to make God part of their life.  After our hour+ together I would write each one a letter.  As a result I corresponded more with many of them.  And in each letter I would enclose a group of short stories or poems.  They really liked them, especially those with an emotional message.  You probably would not believe how many locked-up prison boys have loved theses little stories, and read them over and over.

In my soon to be published book I enclosed a long list of those short stories in the Appendix.  Since the prison boys liked them so much, I thought you may like to see some of them.  So, here is a 7th group of them for you.  And you are welcome to share them with others.

Ron

Bryan Anderson

One day a man saw a old lady, stranded on the side of the road, but even in the dim light of day, he could see she needed help. So he pulled up in front of her Mercedes and got out. His Pontiac was still sputtering when he approached her.

Even with the smile on his face, she was worried. No one had stopped to help for the last hour or so. Was he going to hurt her? He didn’t look safe; he looked poor and hungry.

He could see that she was frightened, standing out there in the cold. He knew how she felt. It was that chill which only fear can put in you.

He said, ‘I’m here to help you, ma’am. Why don’t you wait in the car where it’s warm? By the way, my name is Bryan Anderson.’

Well, all she had was a flat tire, but for an old lady, that was bad enough. Bryan crawled under the car looking for a place to put the jack, skinning his knuckles a time or two. Soon he was able to change the tire. But he had to get dirty and his hands hurt.

As he was tightening up the lug nuts, she rolled down the window and began to talk to him.      She told him that she was from St. Louis and was only just passing through. She couldn’t thank him enough for coming to her aid.

Bryan just smiled as he closed her trunk. The lady asked how much she owed him. Any amount would have been all right with her. She already imagined all the awful things that could have happened had he not stopped. Bryan never thought twice about being paid. This was not a job to him. This was helping someone in need, and God knows there were plenty, who had given him a hand in the past. He had lived his whole life that way, and it never occurred to him to act any other way.

He told her that if she really wanted to pay him back, the next time she saw someone who needed help, she could give that person the assistance they needed, and Bryan added, ‘And think of me.’

He waited until she started her car and drove off. It had been a cold and depressing day, but he felt good as he headed for home, disappearing into the twilight.

A few miles down the road the lady saw a small cafe. She went in to grab a bite to eat, and take the chill off before she made the last leg of her trip home. It was a dingy looking restaurant. Outside were two old gas pumps. The whole scene was unfamiliar to her. The waitress came over and brought a clean towel to wipe her wet hair. She had a sweet smile, one that even being on her feet for the whole day couldn’t erase. The lady noticed the waitress was nearly eight months pregnant, but she never let the strain and aches change her attitude. The old lady wondered how someone who had so little could be so giving to a stranger. Then she remembered Bryan.

After the lady finished her meal, she paid with a hundred dollar bill. The waitress quickly went to get change for her hundred dollar bill, but the old lady had slipped right out the door. She was gone by the time the waitress came back. The waitress wondered where the lady could be. Then she noticed something written on the napkin.

There were tears in her eyes when she read what the lady wrote: ‘You don’t owe me anything. I have been there too. Somebody once helped me out, the way I’m helping you. If you really want to pay me back, here is what you do: Do not let this chain of love end with you.’

Under the napkin were four more $100 bills.

Well, there were tables to clear, sugar bowls to fill, and people to serve, but the waitress made it through another day. That night when she got home from work and climbed into bed, she was thinking about the money and what the lady had written. How could the lady have known how much she and her husband needed it? With the baby due next month, it was going to be hard….

She knew how worried her husband was, and as he lay sleeping next to her, she gave him a soft kiss and whispered soft and low, “Everything’s going to be all right. I love you, Bryan Anderson.”

Bruised Apples:

A few years ago a group of salesmen went to a regional sales convention in Chicago. They had assured their wives that they would be home in plenty of time for Friday night’s dinner. Well, as such things go, one thing led to another. The sales meeting lasted longer than anticipated.

Their flights were scheduled to leave out of Chicago’s O’Hare Airport, and they had to race pell-mell to the airport. With tickets in hand, they barged through the terminal to catch their flight back home. In their rush, with tickets and briefcases, one of these salesmen inadvertently kicked over a table which held a display of baskets of apples. Apples flew everywhere.

Without stopping or looking back, they all managed to reach the plane in time for their nearly missed boarding. All but one. He paused, took a deep breath and experienced a twinge of compassion for the girl whose apple stand had been overturned. He told his buddies to go on without him and told one of them to call his wife when they arrived at their home destination and explain his taking a later flight.

Then he returned to the terminal where the apples were all over the floor. He was glad he did. The 16 year old girl at the apple stand was totally blind!  She was softly crying, tears running down her cheeks in frustration, and at the same time helplessly groping for her spilled produce as the crowd swirled about her, no one stopping or to care for her plight.

The salesman knelt on the floor with her, gathered up the apples, put them into the baskets, and helped set the display up once more. As he did this, he noticed that many of them had become battered and bruised; these he set aside in another basket. When he had finished, he pulled out his wallet and said to the girl, “Here, please take this $20 for the damage we did. Are you okay?”

She nodded through her tears.

He continued on with, “I hope we didn’t spoil your day too badly.”

As the salesman started to walk away, the bewildered blind girl called out to him, “Mister….” He paused and turned to look back into those blind eyes. She continued, “Are you Jesus?”

He stopped in mid-stride, and he wondered. Then slowly he made his way to catch a later flight with that question burning and bouncing about in his soul: “Are you Jesus?”

Do people mistake you for Jesus? That’s our destiny, is it not? To be so much like Jesus that people cannot tell the difference as we live and interact with a world that is blind to His love, life and grace. If we claim to know Him, we should live, walk and act as He would. Knowing Him is more than simply quoting Scripture and going to church. It’s actually living the Word as life unfolds day to day.

You are the apple of His eye even though we, too, have been bruised by a fall.  He stopped what He was doing and picked you and me up on a hill called Calvary and paid in full for our

damaged fruit.

Burying Your Ass

One day a farmer’s donkey fell into an abandoned well. The animal cried piteously for hours as the farmer tried to figure out what to do. Finally, he decided the animal was old and the well needed to be covered up anyway; so it just wasn’t worth it to him to try to retrieve the donkey.

He invited all his neighbors to come over and help him. They each grabbed a shovel and began to shovel dirt into the well. Realizing what was happening, the donkey at first cried and wailed horribly. Then, a few shovels full later, he quieted down completely. The farmer peered down into the well, and was astounded by what he saw.

With every shovel full of dirt that hit his back, the donkey was doing something amazing. He would shake it off and take a step up on the new layer of dirt. As the farmer’s neighbors continued to shovel dirt on top of the animal, he would shake it off and take a step up. Pretty soon, the donkey stepped up over the edge of the well and trotted off, to the shock and astonishment of all the neighbors!

Life is going to shovel dirt on you, all kinds of dirt. The trick to getting out of the well is to not let it bury you, but to shake it off and take a step up. Each of our troubles is a stepping-stone. We can get out of the deepest wells just by not stopping, never giving up, and not wasting our time and trouble fighting with any of our peers.

 
Shake it off and take a step up!

Remember the five simple rules to be happy:

Free your heart from hatred.
Free your mind from worries.
Live simply.
Give more.
Expect less.

By the way, as he passed by, the donkey kicked the living heck out of the guy that tried to bury him, which demonstrates the sixth rule of happiness:

If you don’t want to get your ass kicked, don’t try to cover your ass!

The Cab Ride

So I walked to the door and knocked. ‘Just a minute’, answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.  After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90’s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie.

By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.  There were no clocks on the walls, no knick-knacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

‘Would you carry my bag out to the car?’ she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.

She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.   She kept thanking me for my kindness. ‘It’s nothing’, I told her. ‘I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated’.  ‘Oh, you’re such a good boy’, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, and then asked, ‘Could you drive through downtown?’

‘It’s not the shortest way,’ I answered quickly.  ‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice’.

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. ‘I don’t have any family left,’ she continued. ‘The doctor says I don’t have very long.’ I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.

‘What route would you like me to take?’ I asked.

For the next hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.  We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.  Sometimes she’d ask me to go slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, ‘I’m tired. Let’s go now.’

We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.  Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

‘How much do I owe you?’ she asked, reaching into her purse.

‘Nothing,’ I said.

‘You have to make a living,’ she answered.

‘There are other passengers,’ I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.  ‘You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,’ she said.  ‘Thank you.’ 

I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life. I didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift?

What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don’t think that I have done anything more important in my life.

We’re conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.  But great moments often catch us unaware——beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID, ~BUT~ THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.

Thank you, my friend.

如果您想观看一部精彩的、改变生活的电影，请准备好观看一部完整电影的时间，然后访问这个网站，为改变生活的体验做好准备………..…………https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/chinese-mandarin.html

If you would like to watch a wonderful, life changing movie, get yourself all prepared with the time to watch a full length movie, and then go to this site and be ready for a life changing experience. .…………….. https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/english.html

For the last 20 years I have presented the Gospel to each new youth at the highly secure prison for the kids ages 13 to 19 at Gainesville, Texas.  It is the first time that most any of them have stopped “running on the streets” and had the time to think about their life.  Most every one made a decision to make God part of their life.  After our hour+ together I would write each one a letter.  As a result I corresponded more with many of them.  And in each letter I would enclose a group of short stories or poems.  They really liked them, especially those with an emotional message.  You probably would not believe how many locked-up prison boys have loved theses little stories, and read them over and over.

In my soon to be published book I enclosed a long list of those short stories in the Appendix.  Since the prison boys liked them so much, I thought you may like to see some of them.  So, here is a 6th group of them for you.  And you are welcome to share them with others.

Ron

“A Piece of Cake”

Sometimes we wonder, “What did I do to deserve this,” or, “Why did God have to do this to me.” Here is a wonderful explanation!

A daughter is telling her mother how everything is going wrong, she’s failing algebra, her boyfriend broke up with her and her best friend is moving away. Meanwhile, her mother is baking a cake and asks herdaughter if she would like a snack, and the daughter says:

“Absolutely Mom, I love your cake.”

“Here, have some cooking oil,” her Mother offers.

“Yuck” says her daughter.

“How about a couple raw eggs?”

“Gross, Mom!”

“Would you like some flour then?  Or maybe baking soda?”

“Mom, those are all yucky!”

To which the mother replies: “Yes, all those things seem bad all by themselves. But when they are put together in the right way, they makea wonderfully delicious cake!

 God works the same way. Many times we wonder why He would let us gothrough such bad and difficult times. But God knows that when He puts these things all in His order, they always work for good! We just have to trust Him and, eventually, they will all make something wonderful!

God is crazy about you. He sends you flowers every spring and a sunrise every morning. Whenever you want to talk, He’ll listen. He can live anywhere in the universe, and He chose your heart.

I hope your life is a “piece of cake”!

A Trucker’s Story:

I try not to be biased, but I had my doubts about hiring Stevie. His placement counselor assured me that he would be a good, reliable busboy.  But I had never had a mentally handicapped employee and wasn’t sure I wanted one. I wasn’t sure how my customers would react to Stevie. He was short, a little dumpy with the smooth facial features and thick-tongued speech of Downs Syndrome.

I wasn’t worried about most of my trucker customers because truckers don’t generally care who buses tables as long as the meatloaf platter is good and the pies are homemade. The four-wheeler drivers were not the ones who concerned me; the mouthy college kids traveling to school; the yuppie snobs who secretly polish their silverware with their napkins for fear of catching some dreaded “truck stop germ”; the pairs of white shirted business men on expense accounts who think every truck stop waitress wants to be flirted with. I knew those people would be uncomfortable around Stevie so I closely watched him for the first few weeks.

I shouldn’t have worried. After the first week, Stevie had my staff wrapped around his stubby little finger, and within a month my truck regulars had adopted him as their official truck stop mascot. After that, I really didn’t care what the rest of the customers thought of him. He was like a 21-year-old in blue jeans and Nikes, eager to laugh and eager to please, but fierce in his attention to his duties. Every salt and pepper shaker was exactly in its place, not a bread crumb or coffee spill was visible when Stevie got done with the table. Our only problem was persuading him to wait to clean a table until after the customers were finished. He would hover in the background, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, scanning the dining room until a table was empty. Then he would scurry to the empty table and carefully bus dishes and glasses onto the cart and meticulously wipe the table up with a practiced flourish of his rag. If he thought a customer was watching, his brow would pucker with added concentration. He took pride in doing his job exactly right, and you had to love how hard he tried to please each and every person he met.

Over time, we learned that he lived with his mother, a widow who was disabled after repeated surgeries for cancer. They lived on their Social Security benefits in public housing two miles from the truck stop. Their Social worker, who stopped to check on him every so often, admitted they had fallen between the cracks. Money was tight, and what I paid him was probably the difference between them being able to live together and Stevie being sent to a group home. That’s why the restaurant was a gloomy place that morning last August, the first morning in three years that Stevie missed work.

He was at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester getting a new valve or something put in his heart. His social worker

said that people with Downs syndrome often had heart problems at an early age so this wasn’t unexpected, and there was a good chance he would come through the surgery in good shape and be back at work in a few months. A ripple of excitement ran through the staff later that morning when word came that he was out of surgery, in recovery, and doing fine. Frannie, head waitress, let out a war hoop and did a little dance in the aisle when she heard the good news. Belle Ringer, one of our regular trucker customers, stared at the sight of the 50-year-old grandmother of four doing a victory shimmy beside his table. Frannie blushed, smoothed her apron and shot Belle Ringer a withering look.

He grinned. “OK, Frannie, what was that all about?” he asked. “We just got word that Stevie is out of surgery and going to be okay.”  “I was wondering where he was. I had a new joke to tell him. What was the surgery about?” Frannie quickly told Belle Ringer and the other two drivers sitting at his booth about Stevie’s surgery, then sighed: “Yeah, I’m glad he is going to be OK” she said. “But I don’t know how he and his Mom are going to handle all the bills. From what I hear, they’re barely getting by as it is.”

Belle Ringer nodded thoughtfully, and Frannie hurried off to wait on the rest of her tables. Since I hadn’t had time to round up a busboy to replace Stevie and really didn’t want to replace him, the girls were busing their own tables that day until we decided what to do.  After the morning rush, Frannie walked into my office. She had a couple of paper napkins in her hand and a funny look on her face. “What’s up?” I asked.  “I didn’t get that table where Belle Ringer and his friends were sitting cleared off after they left, and Pony Pete and Tony Tipper were sitting there when I got back to clean it off,” she said. “This was folded and tucked under a coffee cup.”  She handed the napkin to me, and three $20 bills fell onto my desk when I opened it. On the outside, in big, bold letters, was printed “Something for Stevie.”

“Pony Pete asked me what that was all about,” she said, “so I told about Stevie and his Mom and everything, and Pete looked at Tony and Tony looked at Pete, and they ended up giving me this.”  She handed me another paper napkin that had “Something For Stevie” scrawled on its outside. Two $50 bills were tucked within its folds.  Frannie looked at me with wet, shiny eyes, shook her head and said simply: “truckers.”

That was three months ago. Today is Thanksgiving, the first day Stevie is supposed to be back to work. His placement worker said he’s been counting the days until the doctor said he could work, and it didn’t matter at all that it was a holiday. He called 10 times in the past week, making sure we knew he was coming, fearful that we had forgotten him or that his job was in jeopardy. I arranged to have his mother bring him to work, met them in the parking lot and invited them both to celebrate his day back. Stevie was thinner and paler, but couldn’t stop grinning as he pushed through the doors and headed for the back room where his apron and busing cart were waiting.

“Hold up there, Stevie, not so fast,” I said.  I took him and his mother by their arms. “Work can wait for a minute. To celebrate you coming back, breakfast for you and your mother is on me!” I led them toward a large corner booth at the rear of the room. I could feel and hear the rest of the staff following behind as we marched through the dining room. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw booth after booth of grinning truckers empty and join the procession. We stopped in front of the big table. Its surface was covered with coffee cups, saucers and dinner plates, all sitting slightly crooked on dozens of folded paper napkins.

“First thing you have to do, Stevie, is clean up this mess,” I said. I tried to sound stern. Stevie looked at me, and then at his mother, then pulled out one of the napkins. It had “Something for Stevie” printed on the outside. As

he picked it up, two $10 bills fell onto the table. Stevie stared at the money, then at all the napkins peeking from beneath the tableware, each with his name printed or scrawled on it. I turned to his mother. “There’s more than $10,000 in cash and checks on that table, all from truckers and trucking companies that heard about your problems.

“Happy Thanksgiving!”

Well, it got real noisy about that time, with everybody hollering and shouting, and there were a few tears, as well. But you know what’s funny?  While everybody else was busy shaking hands and hugging each other, Stevie, with a big, big smile on his face, was busy clearing all the cups and dishes from the table. Best worker I ever hired.   Plant a seed and watch it grow. 

Be Happy With You

I have absolutely the best marriage of anyone that I know.

How do I know that?  I don’t, it’s just what I feel.

I am happy with my wife, my house, my car, my body, my kids, my job, my church, and my country.

Sure, all of them have snags, all of them have faults, but overall I wouldn’t trade them; I am happy.

“Happiness is not having what you want, but wanting what you have.”  That’s a quote that I remember from a little boy.  It’s true, very true.

Society doesn’t gear us to want what we have.  Otherwise, we wouldn’t buy the new and improved version.  We are made to feel as though we need something different to be happy, something better.

Are there better wives out there than mine?  Maybe.  Even if there were and I had her, would there then be a better one than that one?  Probably.

There is always something better, fancier, faster, more powerful, and more expensive.  Always.  If not now, it’s coming.

Computer programs keep us waiting for an upgrade.  An upgrade supposedly fixes all of the current bugs.  Often, the upgrade introduces new bugs.

We are in a constant state of trying to get something better and different.  We are often trying to be someone different, even when the current us is pretty decent.  If you are not happy being you, then who else can you be?

I neither want to nor have the ability to trade places with anyone.  I am happy with myself.  With all life’s faults, with all of my faults and my continuing struggle to improve.  Yes, I must improve and keep the “rules”, but I am happy on my trip.

There are a lot of others who have more stuff.  But there aren’t many who are happier with the stuff they do have.  That’s the key.  Are you happy with the stuff that you do have?

Are you happy with yourself?

You are you and that isn’t going to change.

An old proverb says:

“Be what you is, not what you ain’t, ’cause when you is what you ain’t then you ain’t what you is.”

 Roommate

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room’s only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back because of his injuries. The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation. Every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.   The man in the other bed began to just live for those one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside.  

The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.  

As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene. One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man couldn’t hear the band – he could see it.  In his mind’s eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.

Days and weeks passed. One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep. She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.   As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window.

The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone. Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside.   He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed.  To his utter surprise it faced a blank wall. The man asked the nurse what could have led his deceased roommate to have described such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even have seen the wall.

Epilogue: There is tremendous fulfillment in making others happy, despite our own situations.  Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled.  If you want to feel rich, just count all the blessings that God has bestowed upon you that money can‘t buy.  And really, isn’t that the way Jesus would have us to live.

For the last 20 years I have presented the Gospel to each new youth at the highly secure prison for the kids ages 13 to 19 at Gainesville, Texas.  It is the first time that most any of them have stopped “running on the streets” and had the time to think about their life.  Most every one made a decision to make God part of their life.  After our hour+ together I would write each one a letter.  As a result I corresponded more with many of them.  And in each letter I would enclose a group of short stories or poems.  They really liked them, especially those with an emotional message. You probably would not believe how many locked-up prison boys have loved theses little stories, and read them over and over.

In my soon to be published book I enclosed a long list of those short stories in the Appendix.  Since the prison boys liked them so much, I thought you may like to see some of them.  So, here is a fourth group of them for you.  And you are welcome to share them with others.

Ron

Cherokee Indian Youth’s Rite of Passage

His father takes him into the forest, blindfolds him an leaves him alone.  He is required to sit on a log the whole night and not remove the blindfold until the rays of the morning sun shine through it.  He cannot cry out for help to anyone.

Once he survives the night, he is a MAN.

He cannot tell the other boys of this experience, because each lad must come into manhood on his own.

The boy is naturally terrified. He can hear all kinds of noises. Wild beasts must surely be all around him . Maybe even some human might do him harm.

The wind blew the grass and earth, and shook his log, but he sat stoically, never removing the blindfold. It would be the only way he could become a man!

Finally, after a horrific night the sun appeared and he removed his blindfold.

It was then that he discovered his father sitting on the log next to him.  He had been at watch the entire night, protecting his son from harm.

We, too, are never alone. Even when we don’t know it, God is watching over us, Sitting on the log beside us.

When trouble comes, all we have to do is reach out to Him.

Moral of the story:

Just because you can’t see God,

Doesn’t mean He is not there.

“For we walk by faith, not by sight.”

CHILLING TRUE STORY of 9/11

A man from Norfolk, VA called a local radio station to share this on Sept 11th, 2003. His Name was Robert Matthews. These are his words:   “A few weeks before Sept 11th, my wife and I found out we were going to have our first child. She planned a trip out to California to visit her sister. On our way to the airport, we prayed that God would grant my wife a safe trip and be with her. Shortly after I said ‘amen’ we both heard a loud pop and the car shook violently. We had blown out a tire. I replaced the tire as quickly as I could, but we still missed her flight. Both very upset, we drove home. I received a call from my father who was FDNY. He asked what my wife’s flight number was, but I explained that we missed the flight. My father informed me that her flight was the one that crashed into the southern tower. I was too shocked to speak.

My father also had more news for me; he was going to help. ‘This is not something I can just sit by for, I have to do something.  I am not on duty for another hour, but I have to go help my fire battalion buddies.’  I was concerned for his safety, of course, but more because he had never given his life to Christ.  After a brief debate, I knew his mind was made up. Before he got off of the phone, he said, ‘Take good care of my grandchild.’ Those were the last words I ever heard my father say; he died while helping in the rescue effort when the other tower went down. My joy that my prayer of safety for my wife had been answered quickly became anger. Anger at God, at my father, and at myself. I had gone for nearly 2 years blaming God for taking my father away. My son would never know his grandfather, my father had never accepted Christ, and I never got to say goodbye.

Then something strange happened. About 2 months ago, I was sitting at home with my wife and my son, when there was a knock on the door. I looked at my wife, but I could tell she wasn’t expecting anyone. I opened the door to a couple with a small child. The man looked at me and asked if my father’s name was Jake Matthews. I told him it was. He quickly grabbed my hand and said, ‘I never got the chance to meet your father, but it is an honor to meet his son.’

He explained to me that his wife had worked in the World Trade Center and had been caught inside after the attack. She was pregnant and had been caught under debris from the plane, before the building went down. He then explained that my father had been the one to find his wife and free her in time for her to get out. My eyes welled up with tears as I thought of my father giving his life for people like this.

He then said, ‘there is something else you need to know.’ His wife then told me that as my father worked to free her, she talked to him and lead him to Christ.  He prayed with her to ask Jesus into his heart, right there.  He then went on up in the building to try to help others.

I began sobbing at the news. Now I know that when I get to heaven, my father will be standing beside Jesus to welcome me, and that this family would be able to thank him themselves. “

When their baby boy was born, they named him Jacob Matthew in honor of the man who gave his life so mother and baby could live.

This story should help us to realize two things: First, that though it has been awhile since the attacks, we should never let it become a mere tragic memory.  And second, but most important, God is always in control. We may not see the reason behind things, and we may never know this side of heaven, but God is ALWAYS in control, especially for those who love Him and stay close to Him.

20,000

Years ago I watched the famous basketball star Wilt Chamberlain on a television talk show. Wilt was one of the original old-time big basketball stars.

In the days before Michael Jordan, Shaq, Rodman and the other household basketball names, there was Wilt Chamberlain. Wilt broke all kinds of basketball records. He had a 100-point game among the other records he established.

I was counseling a man who stated that he wished that he had a harem of several women to end his romantic problems. I thought of Wilt and that television interview.

Although Wilt held numerous basketball records, the record that Wilt is most famous (or infamous) for is the statement he made concerning his personal life. Wilt claimed that by age 55, he had slept with 20,000 women. That statement shocked the sports world.

Wilt started at 15; that’s 500 new women per year. That’s 10 per week. How did one man have an average of ten new women in his life each week for 40 years? I couldn’t fathom that yet I knew many men secretly wished they had such a life.

The world focused on the 20,000.  I am sure many men imagined those were 20,000 rather attractive women as Wilt was a sports icon the world over.  Wilt said, “The average Joe would have proposed to any of those 20,000 on the first date.”

Yes, Wilt appeared to be living the “life.” What the world missed was Wilt’s other statement.  It’s the “other” statement that always stayed with me.

Wilt Chamberlain in essence said, “I would rather have had just one woman that I truly loved, than 20,000 that I didn’t.”

Solomon had 700 wives and 300 concubines and he reached a similar conclusion:    “…all is vanity.”

While scoring over 30,000 points on the court, Wilt Chamberlain never fouled out.  Off the court, he never truly “scored“.

Wilt died in 1999.

The score:   20,000 to 0

And learn the lesson of Wilt’s “other” statement.”

The 23^rd Psalm is very interesting.  Most people do not really understand the symbolisms………

When he talks about “preparing a table before me in the presence of my enemies“…….he is describing how the shepherd would go over the meadow before letting the sheep graze and pull out all of the poisonous weeds that grow in that area.

When he talks about leading me beside “the still waters”…..he is referring to the fact that a sheep will not drink from a running stream.  The shepherd would make a little dam in the stream out of rocks so that there would be a quiet spot for them to drink.

When he talks about anointing their heads with oil….he is referring to how the shepherd would examine each sheep for insects and cuts, and put oil on the cuts and on their heads to keep insects away from their eyes and noses.

When the Psalm talks about the “Valley of the shadow of death”, here is what it means: Sheep aren’t that smart. They’re cute and all, but like other animals, they have no concept of death. They can, however, understand the difference between light and dark. They behave differently on sunny days than they do on days when the skies are full of thick, dark storm clouds. And, they seem happier in a sunny, open field but fearful in dark, closed-in, seemingly dangerous valleys. We, like sheep, intuitively understand this too.  We can go through dark, tough times and even endure death, but we don’t need to fear those dark times. God has already given us the victory over every circumstance because of Jesus’ work on the cross.  

And there are many other references as to how the shepherd of that day took such careful care of his sheep………all to show how the Lord will take such care of each of us if we will stay close to Him and allow Him to do so and stay in the flock as His sheep and not wander away.

39 Cents of Understanding

A farmer had some puppies he needed to sell.

He painted a sign advertising the pups and set about nailing it to a post on the edge of his yard. As he was driving the last nail into the post, he felt a tug on his overalls.

He looked down into the eyes of a little boy.

“Mister,” he said, “I want to buy one of your puppies.”

“Well,” said the farmer, as he rubbed the sweat off the back of his neck, “these puppies come from fine parents and cost a good deal of money.”

The boy dropped his head for a moment. Then reaching deep into his pocket, he pulled out a handful of change and held it up to the farmer. “I’ve got thirty-nine cents. Is that enough to take a look?”

“Sure,” said the farmer. And with that he let out a whistle, “Here, Dolly!” he called.

Out from the doghouse and down the ramp ran Dolly followed by four little balls of fur. The little boy pressed his face against the chain link fence.  His eyes danced with delight.

As the dogs made their way to the fence, the little boy noticed something else stirring inside the doghouse. Slowly another little ball appeared; this one noticeably smaller.

Down the ramp it slid. Then in a somewhat awkward manner the little pup began hobbling toward the others, doing its best to catch up.

“I want that one,” the little boy said, pointing to the runt.

The farmer knelt down at the boy’s side and said, “Son, you don’t want that puppy.
He will never be able to run and play with you like these other dogs would.”

With that the little boy stepped back from the fence, reached down, and began rolling up one leg of his trousers.

In doing so he revealed a steel brace running down both sides of his leg attaching itself to a specially made shoe.

Looking back up at the farmer, he said, “You see sir, I don’t run too well myself, and he will need someone who understands.”   And with that the farmer said, “well son 39 cents just happens to be the price of that little dog.”

In the same way Jesus identifies with each of us and all of our infirmities because of what he endured on the cross for each one of us.