The File Room

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features save for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endlessly in either direction, had very different headings.

As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "People I Have Liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one.

And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I Have Betrayed."

The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told", "Comfort I Have Given", "Jokes I Have Laughed At". Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've Yelled at My Brothers." Other I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents". I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my 20 years to write each of these thousands or even millions of cards?

But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature. When I pulled out the file marked "Songs I Have Listened To", I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of music, but more by the vast amount of time I knew that file represented. When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts", I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only and inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded.

An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: "No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In an insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards.

But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot.

Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self- pitying sigh. And then I saw it. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With". The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.

And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that the hurt started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key.

But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one?

Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me. Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written in His blood.

He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.

By Joshua Harris

The Burning Bush

Genesis 3: 10 reads: “And he said, I heard thy voice in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked.” George W. Bush in an airport lobby, noticed a man in a long, flowing, white robe with a long, flowing, white beard and long, flowing, white hair. The man had a staff in one hand and some stone tablets under the other arm. George W., struck by the man’s appearance, approached the man and asked” Aren’t you Moses?” The man ignored George W. and stared at the ceiling. George W., unaccustomed to being ignored, positioned himself more directly in the man’s view and asked again, “Aren’t you Moses?” The man continued staring at the ceiling. George W. then tugged at the man’s sleeve and asked once again, “Aren’t you Moses?” The man finally responded in an irritated voice, “Yes I am.” George W. asked him why he ignored him and the man replied, “The last time I spoke to a Bush I had to spend forty years in the desert!”

Wendy's Gift - A Sharing

She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live. I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world begins to close in on me. She was building a sandcastle or something and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea. "Hello," she said.

I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child.

"I'm building," she said.

"I see that. What is it?" I asked, not caring.

"Oh, I don't know, I just like the feel of sand."

That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes.

A sandpiper glided by. "That's a joy," the child said.

"It's a what?"

"It's a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy."

The bird went gliding down the beach. "Good-bye joy," I muttered to myself, "hello pain," and turned to walk on. I was depressed; my life seemed completely out of balance.

"What's your name?"

She wouldn't give up. "Robert," I answered. "I'm Robert Peterson."

"Mine's Wendy ... I'm six."

"Hi, Wendy."

She giggled. "You're funny," she said.

In spite of my gloom I laughed too and walked on. Her musical giggle followed me.

"Come again, Mr. P," she called. "We'll have another happy day."

The days and weeks that followed belong to others: a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings, an ailing mother. The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater. "I need a sandpiper," I said to myself, gathering up my coat. The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was chilly, but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity I needed. I had forgotten the child and was startled when she appeared.

"Hello, Mr. P," she said. "Do you want to play?"

"What did you have in mind?" I asked, with a twinge of annoyance.

"I don't know... you say."

"How about charades?" I asked sarcastically. The tinkling laughter burst forth again.

"I don't know what that is."

"Then let's just walk." Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness of her face.

"Where do you live?" I asked.

"Over there." She pointed toward a row of summer cottages. Strange, I thought, in winter. "Where do you go to school?"

"I don't go to school. Mommy says we're on vacation."

She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was on other things. When I left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day. Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed.

Three weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic. I was in no mood to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at home. "Look, if you don't mind," I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me, "I'd rather be alone today."

She seemed unusually pale and out of breath. "Why?" she asked.

I turned to her and shouted, "Because my mother died!" and thought, my God, why was I saying this to a little child?

"Oh," she said quietly, "then this is a bad day."

"Yes," I said, "and yesterday and the day before and -- oh, go away!"

"Did it hurt? 'she inquired.

"Did what hurt?" I was exasperated with her, with myself.

"When she died?"

"Of course it hurt!!!!" I snapped, misunderstanding, wrapped up in myself. I strode off.

A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn't there. Feeling guilty, ashamed and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. A drawn looking young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door.

"Hello," I said. "I'm Robert Peterson. I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was."

"Oh yes, Mr. Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke of you so much. I'm afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance, please, accept my apologies."

"Not at all-she's a delightful child," I said, suddenly realizing that I meant it. "Where is she?"

"Wendy died last week, Mr. Peterson. She had leukemia. Maybe she didn't tell you."

Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. My breath caught.

"She loved this beach; so when she asked to come, we couldn't say no. She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days. But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly..." her voice faltered. "She left something for you. If only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while I look?"

I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something, anything, to say to this lovely young woman. She handed me a smeared envelope, with MR. P printed in bold, childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues-a yellow beach, a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed: A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and a heart that had almost forgotten to love opened wide. I took Wendy's mother in my arms. "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," I muttered over and over, and we wept together.

The precious little picture is framed now and hangs in my study. Six words -- one for each year of her life -- that speak to me of harmony, courage, undemanding love. A gift from a child with sea-blue eyes and hair the color of sand-who taught me the gift of love.

NOTE: I hope you have a few Kleenex tissues left in that box. The above is a true story sent out by Robert Peterson. It serves as a reminder to all of us that we need to take time to enjoy living and life and each other.

We normally takes people and things for granted especially when everything's going on smoothly. When we hit a bump along the road of life, there are times when it's too late to make amends... I should know... :(

The Blacksmith's Story

You perhaps recall the story of the blacksmith who gave his heart to God. Though conscientious in his living, still he was not prospering materially. In fact, it seems that from the time of his conversion more trouble, affliction and loss were sustained than ever before. Everything seemed to be going wrong.

One day a friend who was not a Christian stopped at the little gorge to talk to him. Sympathizing with him in some of his trials, the friend said "It seems strange to me that so much affliction should pass over you just at the time when you have become an earnest Christian. Of course, I don't want to weaken your faith in God or anything like that. But here you are, God's help and guidance, and yet things seem to be getting steadily worse. I can't help wondering why it is."

The blacksmith did not answer immediately, and it was evident that he had thought the same question before. But finally, he said "You see here the raw iron which I have to make into horse's shoes. You know what I do with it? I take a piece and heat it in the fire until it is red, almost white with the heat. Then I hammer it unmercifully to shape it as I know it should be shaped. Then I plunge it into a pail of cold water to temper it. Then I heat it again and hammer it some more. And this I do until it is finished."

"But sometimes I find a piece of iron that won't stand up under this treatment. The heat and the hammering and the cold water are too much for it. I don't know why it fails in the process, but I know it will never make a good horse's shoe."

He pointed to a heap of scrap iron that was near the door of his shop. "When I get a piece that cannot take the shape and temper, I throw it out on the scrap heap. It will never be good for anything."

He went on, "I know that God has been holding me in the fires of affliction and I have felt His hammer upon me. But I don't mind, if only He can bring me to what I should be. And so, in all these hard things my prayer is simply this: Try me in any way you wish, Lord, only don't throw me on the scrap heap."

Prayer For A Nation

When minister, Joe Wright, was asked to open the new session of the Kansas Senate, everyone was expecting the usual politically-correct generalities, but what they heard instead was a stirring prayer, passionately calling the country to repentance and righteousness. The response was immediate. A number of legislators walked out during the prayer in protest. In six short weeks, the Central Christian Church had logged more than 5,000 phone calls with only 47 of those calls responding negatively. The church is now receiving international requests for copies of the prayer from India, Africa and Korea.

Commentator, PAUL HARVEY, aired the prayer on "The Rest of the Story" on the radio & received a larger response to this program than any other he has ever aired!

THE PRAYER

Heavenly Father, we come before You today to ask Your forgiveness and to seek Your direction and guidance.

We know Your Word says, "Woe on those who call evil good," but that's exactly what we have done.

We have lost our spiritual equilibrium and reversed our values.

We confess that:

We have ridiculed the absolute truth of Your Word and called it pluralism.

We have worshiped other gods and called it multi-culturalism.

We have endorsed perversion and called it an alternative lifestyle.

We have exploited the poor and called it the lottery.

We have neglected the needy and called it self-preservation.

We have rewarded laziness and called it welfare.

We have killed our unborn children and called it a choice.

We have shot abortionists and called it justifiable.

We have neglected to discipline our children and called it building self-esteem.

We have abused power and called it political savvy.

We have coveted our neighbor's possessions and called it ambition.

We have polluted the air with profanity and pornography and called it freedom of expression.

We have ridiculed the time-honored values of our forefathers and called it enlightenment.

Search us, O God, and know our hearts today; cleanse us from every sin and set us free.

Guide and bless these men and women who have been sent to direct us to the center of Your will.

I ask it in the name of Your Son, the living Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

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Would this prayer ever be heard in the hall0wed halls of out parliament?

What Are You Building?

A great and wise man once called one of his workmen to him saying, "Go into the far country and build for me a house. The decisions of planning and of actual construction will be yours, but remember, I shall come to accept your work for a very special friend of mine."

And so the workman departed with a light heart for his field of labor. Material of all kinds was plentiful here, but the workman had a mind of his own. "Surely," he thought, "I know my business. I can use a bit of inferior materials here and cheat on my workmanship a little there, and still make the finished work look good. Only I will know that what I have built has weaknesses."

And so, at last the work was completed and the workman reported back to the great and wise man. "Very good," he said. "Now remember that I wanted you to use only the finest materials and craftsmanship in this house because I wanted to make present of it? My friend, you are the one I had you build it for. It is all yours."

How typical of man. He comes to earth a stranger. He has his free agency. He may build as he likes. But on the morning of his resurrection he will receive what he has built for an eternal home and habitation.

Parables For Modern Academia...

The kingdom of heaven is like a professor who went off on a long sabbatical. Before he left, he called together his graduate students and gave each of them projects to work on; to one he gave five projects, to another two, and to another one, each according to their ability. The one who received five projects immediately went to work, designing experiments, building equipment, and analyzing data. She worked long and hard, and eventually she achieved good results on each project. Likewise, the one who received two projects immediately went to work, and eventually got results as well. But the student who received one project was easily discouraged, got distracted by her coursework, and eventually gave up.

After a very long time, the professor returned to settle accounts with his students. The first student said, "Professor, you gave me these projects to work on, and see, here are the results." And the professor answered, "Well done, good and faithful graduate student. You have been faithful over five projects. You shall be co-author on five publications and receive a Ph.D! (And you can expect a good letter of recommendation, too!)" Likewise the second student showed his results, and the professor said, "Well done, good and faithful student. You have been faithful over two projects. You will be co- author on two publications, and receive a Master's degree."

But the third student came and said, "Professor, I know that you are a harsh man, publishing where you did not labor, and claiming credit where you did not contribute, and I was afraid. So I kept the lab locked up and I didn't let anyone borrow any equipment. See, everything is just the way you left it." Then the professor answered, "You wicked and slothful graduate student! I will judge you by your own words. So, you knew that I was a harsh man, publishing where I did not labor, and claiming credit where I did not contribute; well then, you should have at least gotten a teaching fellowship so that I wouldn't have had to pay your salary out of my research grants! Now depart from me and from this institution ... out into the REAL world, and try to find a job. There you will have weeping and gnashing of teeth."

For to everyone who has, more will be given. But to him who has not, even what little he has will be taken away. (Matthew 25:14-30)

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The kingdom of heaven is like an original manuscript in a used book store. When a historian found it, she sold all her other books to buy the manuscript. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a scientist looking for new projects. When he found one theory of great promise, he joyfully gave up all his other projects to focus on it. (Matt 13:44-46)

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Suppose one of you wants to start a research project. Will he not first sit down and estimate if his grant is large enough to cover the cost of equipment, salaries, and overhead? For if his grant runs out halfway through, everyone who sees it will ridicule him, saying, "This fellow began a project and was not able to finish." In the same way, any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be Jesus' disciple. (Luke 14:28-29, 33)

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The dean was speaking at a faculty meeting. One of the professors stood up and asked, "What must I do to get tenure?" The dean replied, "What does the faculty manual say?" The professor answered, "Do good research, teach well, and mentor students." "You have answered correctly," the dean replied. "Do this and you will get tenure."

But the professor wanted to justify himself, so he asked the dean, "What does it mean to mentor students?" In reply the dean said: "One term there was a student who was struggling in his courses. He went to talk about it to the professor of one of his classes, but the professor brushed him off with, "If you can't handle the work, you should drop the course." The student then went to his academic advisor, but she was on her way out the door to the airport and didn't have time to talk. A custodian overheard the conversation, and, seeing the discouragement of the student, invited him out for a cup of coffee. It turned out the student was dealing with the death of a family member, and the stress was affecting his personal life as much as his studies. The custodian walked him to the counseling center and arranged an appointment for him. He called the student several times in the next few weeks to see how things were going, and helped him think through whether to drop the courses or not. Now, which one of these was the true mentor to the student?" The professor replied, "The one who had mercy on him." The dean told him, "Go and do likewise." (Luke 10:25-37)

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When you are writing a paper about exciting new data, do not overstate the impact of your result. Someone else may come along later with better data and prove you wrong, and then you will be humiliated and your colleagues will not respect your work. But when you have an exciting new result, be modest about its implications. Then when the review paper comes out, it will say, "This is an important piece of work," and you will be honored in the presence of all your colleagues. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted. (Luke 14:7-11)

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Obedience:
There was a professor who had two grad students. She went to the first and said, "Take care of this project for me." "I will not," he answered, but later he changed his mind and did it. Then the advisor went to the other grad student and said the same thing. She answered, "I will do it," but she did not. Which of the two did what the advisor wanted? (Matt 21:28-31)

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Appropriate religious observance:
No one runs untested code on a network server, for the code may crash and take down the server. Likewise, no one puts old format data files into new databases. The new database will be corrupted, and the data will be lost. No, you put new-format data into new databases. (Matt 9:14-17)

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Responses to the gospel:
A researcher published an exciting new theory. Some readers didn't understand it, and quickly forgot it. Other readers were too busy with their own work to test the new theory. Others immediately went to work and got preliminary results, but the difficulties of performing the proper controls and testing for systematic errors discouraged them. Still others tested the theory and produced not only confirming data, but also new data and new theories to test. (Matt 13:3-8, 18-23)

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The kingdom of heaven is like a department chair checking on the progress of the graduate students. She came to a graduate student who was supposed to turn in his thesis that week, but had procrastinated and hadn't started to analyze data yet. The department chair reminded him that there was no more funding for him after this term. The grad student pleaded with her. "Be patient with me," he begged, "and I will finish the thesis by the deadline." The department chair took pity on him, and told him she would let him re-enroll and would find money somewhere for another term. But when the graduate student went out, he ran into one of the undergraduates in the course he was grading. He yelled at the student, "Where is your homework? It's a day late!" The undergraduate begged him, "Be patient with me, and I will turn it in tomorrow." But the grad student refused and said, "No. I'm giving you a zero and you're failing the course!" When the other students saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed and went and told the department chair everything that had happened. Then the chair called the graduate student in. "You wicked student," she said, "I forgave you for procrastinating on your thesis because you begged me. Shouldn't you have had mercy on the undergraduate just as I had on you?" In anger the chair expelled him from the department, to find a job until he could finish his thesis. This is how the heavenly Father will treat each of us unless we forgive our brothers from the heart. (Matt 18:23-35)

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In a certain department there was a chairman who neither feared God nor cared about students. There was a student in that department who kept coming to him with the plea, "Grant me justice in my petition." For some time he refused, but finally he said to himself, "Even though I don't fear God or care about students, yet because this student keeps bothering me, I will see that she gets justice, so that she won't eventually wear me out with her coming!" Listen to what the unjust department chair says. Will not God bring about justice for his chosen ones, who cry out to him day and night? Will he keep putting them off? I tell you he will see that they get justice, and quickly. (Luke 18:2-8)

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The kingdom of heaven is like a student who left one research group to work in another. His former advisor was demanding and manipulative; she coerced the student to continue to work on her projects without pay, threatening not to acknowledge his work in the publication. The student's new advisor called a group meeting, but the student was too ashamed to come. He had no new results to report, for he had spent all his time on the old advisor's projects. When the professor asked where he was, the other students explained. The professor was frustrated and said, "This has been going on for months! He'll never be able to pull away on his own. Tell him that if he has any trouble with the other professor, I will handle it. I'm paying his salary and I want him to spend his time working for me." (based on a true story)

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There was a biology professor whose graduate student was accused of wasting time. So she called him in and asked him, "What is this I hear about you? Give an account of what you have done because you cannot be my student any longer."

The student said to himself, "What shall I do now? My professor is taking away my funding. I don't have good enough work habits to get a real job, and I'm too proud to move back in with my parents. I know what I'll do so that, when I lose my job here, other research groups will hire me as a technician."

So he called each of his professor's competitors. He asked the first, "How much of that gene have you cloned so far?" "Only about 40 percent," she replied. The student answered, "I'll tell you the parts that you're missing." Then he asked the second, "Have you decided what experiments you're going to do next?" "We're still deciding that," the second replied. The student answered, "I'll tell you what ideas we've discussed in our lab."

The professor commended the dishonest student because he had acted shrewdly. For the people of light should be just as shrewd in doing good as the people of this world are in doing evil. (Luke 16:1-8, Matt 10:16)

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The grant proposals of a certain professor were all approved. She thought to herself, "What shall I do? My lab space isn't big enough for all these projects." Then she said, "This is what I'll do. I'll get brand new lab space and hire many new post-docs and graduate students. And I'll say to myself, 'You have tenure and many research projects which will produce papers for years to come. Take life easy; go to conferences and take sabbaticals.'"

But God said to her, "You fool! This very night your life will be demanded of you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself?" This is how it will be with anyone who stores up things for himself but is not rich towards God. (Luke 12:16-21)

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The kingdom of heaven is like an array of sensors left to monitor an experiment. When the experiment was over, the scientists downloaded the data. They saved the data from the good sensors for further analysis, and threw away the data from the bad sensors. This is how it will be at the end of the age. (Matt 13:47-50)

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Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a programmer who started many processes on her computer. While everyone was sleeping, a hacker broke in and started some counterfeit jobs, which began using some of the CPU time. The programmer's assistants said, "Didn't you start useful jobs on the computer? Where then did these counterfeits come from?" "A hacker did this, " she replied. The assistants asked her, "Do you want us to kill the jobs?" "No," she answered, "because while you are killing them, some good processes might be interrupted by accident. Let them all go to completion. Then we will purge every counterfeit process from the disk and memory, and save the results of every good process onto permanent tape." (Matt 13:24-30)

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The kingdom of heaven is like a professor who had many papers to grade. She asked her teaching assistants to start helping her early in the morning, and agreed to take them all out to dinner when the grading was finished. About mid-morning she realized she would need more help, so when she saw other graduate students standing in the hallway doing nothing, she asked them to help her, and agreed to reward them appropriately. Again at noon she found other graduate students eating lunch, and got them to help her, and again at mid- afternoon. About 5 p.m. she found still others and asked, "Why are you standing around doing nothing? Come and help me grade my papers."

When they were finished grading, the professor took them all to a restaurant. When she paid for the dinners of those who had started work at 5 o'clock, those who started early in the morning expected to receive more. But when she only paid for their dinner too, they began to grumble, "These others who only worked one hour got just as much as we did, who slaved all day over those papers." But the professor answered, "I am not being unfair to you. You got what we agreed upon. I want to give the students who only graded one hour as much as I gave you. Don't I have that right? Or are you envious because I am generous?"

So the last will be first and the first will be last. (Matt 20:1- 16)

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The kingdom of heaven is like a college president who was hosting a banquet for an important donor. He sent announcements to all the important administrators and faculty, but they all began to make excuses. The first said, "I just received some new lab equipment, and I want to try it out, so I cannot come." Another said, "My book just got published, and I must make sure the bookstores and libraries have copies, so I cannot come." Still another said, "I'm on sabbatical, so I cannot come."

When the RSVP's came back, the president was angry and told his assistant, "Go quickly into the classrooms, dorms, and offices and bring in the graduate students, undergraduates, and staff." "Sir," said the assistant, "what you ordered has been done, but the banquet hall still isn't full." Then the president said, "Go to other colleges down the road, and invite them to come! The banquet hall must be filled! I tell you, not one of those who were invited first will be let in the door." (Luke 14:16-24)

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How can a student, whom her professor put in charge of his research projects, be faithful and wise? It will be good if the professor finds the research assistant working hard when he returns; surely, he will give her an excellent recommendation. But suppose that research assistant is wicked and says to herself, "My professor is staying away a long time," and she begins to misuse the equipment and spend her time surfing the web. The professor will walk into the lab on a day she does not expect and at an hour when she is not aware. He will reprimand and humiliate the student and take away her funding; then there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. (Matt 24:45-51)

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At that time the kingdom of heaven will be like ten students waiting for a professor to return to his office. They needed his signature to add his course, and the forms were due early the next day. Five were wise and five were foolish. The wise ones brought something to eat while they waited, but the foolish ones did not. The professor was a long time in coming, and as they waited all afternoon, they got very hungry. The foolish ones said, "Give us some of your food." But the wise ones answered, "No, we only brought enough for ourselves, and there isn't enough to share. Go to the cafeteria and buy something." But while they were on their way to the cafeteria, the professor arrived. He signed the forms of those who were waiting, then locked his office and went home. Later that evening, the others telephoned him at home and said, "Sir! Sir! Come back and sign our forms." But he replied, "I tell you the truth, you are not my students." Therefore keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour. (Matt 25:1-13)

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Therefore, whoever hears these teachings and puts them into practice is like a wise scholar who built his theory upon data. The criticisms came down, the controversies rose, and the counter- arguments blew and beat against the theory, but it did not fall apart, because it had its foundation in data. But whoever hears these teachings and does not put them into practice is like a foolish scholar who built his theory upon conjecture. The criticisms came down, the controversies rose, and the counter- arguments blew and beat against the theory, and it failed spectacularly. (Matt 7:24-27)

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By Deborah and Loren Haarsma December, 1996

Have You Found Jesus?

A man who was lost stumbled across a Baptism service on a Sunday afternoon down by the river. He proceeded to stumble down into the water and stand next to the Minister. The Minister turned, noticed the man and said, “Mister, are you ready to find Jesus?” The man looked back and said, “Yes sir, I am.” The Minister then dunked the fellow under the water and pulled him right back up. “Have you found Jesus?” the Minister asked. “No, I didn’t!” said the man. The Minister then dunked him under for a quite a bit longer, brought him up and said, “Now brother, have you found Jesus?” “No, I did not!” said the man again. Disgusted, the Minister held the man under for at least 30 seconds this time, brought him up and demanded, “For the grace of God, have you found Jesus yet?” The man wiped his eyes and pleaded, “Are you sure this is where he fell in?”

The Homeless Man's Lesson

It was a cold winter's day that Sunday. The parking lot to the church was filling up quickly. I noticed as I got out of my car fellow church members were whispering among themselves as they walked in the church.

As I got closer I saw a man leaned up against the wall outside the church. He was almost laying down as if he was asleep. He had on a long trench coat that was almost in shreds and a hat topped his head, pulled down so you could not see his face. He wore shoes that looked 30 years old, too small for his feet, with holes all over them, his toes stuck out.

I assumed this man was homeless, and asleep, so I walked on by through the doors of the church.

We all fellowshipped for a few minutes, and someone brought up the man laying outside. People snickered and gossiped but no one bothered to ask him to come in, including me.

A few moments later church began. We all waited for the Preacher to take his place and to give us the Word, when the doors to the church opened.

In came the homeless man walking down the aisle with his head down.

People gasped and whispered and made faces.

He made his way down the aisle and up onto the pulpit where he took off his hat and coat. My heart sank.

There stood our preacher...he was the "homeless man."

No one said a word.

The preacher took his Bible and laid it on his stand.

"Folks, I don't think I have to tell you what I am preaching about today. If you judge people, you have no time to love them."

The Tea Cup

There was a couple who used to go England to shop in the beautiful store. This was their 25th wedding anniversary. They both liked antiques and pottery and especially tea-cups. They said,"May we see that? We've never seen one quite so beautiful."

As the lady handed it to them,suddenly the tea-cup spoke, "You don't understand." It said, "I have not always been a tea-cup.There was a time when I was red clay. My master took me and rolled me and patted me over and over and I yelled out, "Let me alone," but he only smiled, "Not yet!!"

"Then I was placed on a spinning wheel and suddenly I was spun around and around and around. 'Stop it !! I'm getting dizzy!' I screamed. But the master only nodded and said, 'Not yet.'

Then he put me in the oven. I never felt such heat. I yelled and knocked at the door. I could see him through the opening and I could read his lips as he shook hid head, 'Not yet'.

"Finally, the door opened, he put me on the shelf, and I began to cool. And he brushed and painted me all over. The fumes were horrible. I thought I would gag. 'Stop it, Stop it!!' I cried. He only nodded, 'Not yet!'.

Then suddenly he put me back in to the oven, not like the first one. This was twice as hot and I knew I would suffocate. I begged. I pleaded. I screamed. I cried. I would never make it. I was ready to give up. But the door opened and he took me out and placed me on the shelf.

An hour later he handed me a mirror and said 'Look at yourself.' And I did. I said, 'That's not me; that couldn't be me. It's beautiful. I'm beautiful.'

"I want you to remember, then,' he said, 'I know it hurts to be rolled and patted, but if I just had left you alone, you'd have dried up. I know it made you dizzy to spin around on the wheel, but if I had stopped, you would have crumbled. I know it hurts and it was hot and disagreeable in the oven, but if I hadn't put you there, you would have cracked. I know the fumes were bad when I brushed and painted you all over, but if I hadn't done that, you never would have hardened. You would not have had any colour in your life, and if I hadn't put you back in that second oven, you wouldn't survive for long because the hardness would not have held. Now you are a finished product. You are what I had in mind when I first began with you." God knows what He's doing [ for all of us ]. He is the potter, and we are His clay. He will mould us and make us, so that we may be made into a flawless piece of work to fulfill His good, pleasing and perfect will.

An Empty Chair

A man's daughter had asked the local pastor to come and pray with her father. When the pastor arrived, he found the man lying in bed with his head propped up on two pillows and an empty chair beside his bed. The priest assumed that the old fellow had been informed of his visit. "I guess you were expecting me," he said.

"No, who are you?"

"I'm the new associate at your local church," the pastor replied. "When I saw the empty chair, 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 pastor shut the door.

"I've 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 always went right over my head.."

"I abandoned any attempt at prayer," the old man continued, "until one day about four years ago my best friend said to me, 'Joe, prayer is just a simple matter of having a conversation with Jesus. Here's what I suggest. Sit down on 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'll be with you always.' Then just speak to him and listen 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 pastor was deeply moved by the story and encouraged the old guy to continue on the journey. Then he prayed with him, and returned to the church.

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

"Did he seem to die in peace?" he asked.

"Yes, when I left the house around two o'clock, he called me over to his bedside, told me one of his corny jokes, 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, In fact, beyond strange--kinda weird. Apparently, just before Daddy died, he leaned over and rested his head on a chair beside the bed."

Grace Before Meals

A man decided to skip Mass one Sunday and head to the hills to do some bear hunting. As he rounded the corner on a perilous twist in the trail, he and a bear collided, sending him and his rifle tumbling down the mountainside. Before he knew it, his rifle went one way and he went the other, landing on a rock and breaking both his legs. That was the good news. The bad news was the ferocious bear charging at him from a distance, and he couldn't move. "Oh, Lord," the man prayed, "I'm so sorry for skipping Mass today to come out here and hunt. Please forgive me and grant me just one wish . . . Please make a Christian out of that bear that's coming at me. Please, Lord!" That very instant, the bear skidded to a halt, fell to its knees, clasped its paws together and began to pray aloud right at the man's feet. "Dear God" the bear said, "Bless this food I am about to receive."

Things Are Not As It Always Seem

Two traveling angels stopped to spend the night in the home of a wealthy family. The family was rude and refused to let the angels stay in the mansion's guest room. Instead, the angels were given a space in the cold basement. As they made their bedroom the hard floor, the older angel saw a hole in the wall and repaired it. When the younger angel asked why, the older angel replied.... "Things aren't always what they seem."

The next night the pair came to rest at the house of a very poor, but very hospitable farmer and his wife. After sharing what little food they had, the couple let the angels sleep in their bed where they could have a good nights' rest. When the sun came up the next morning the angels found the farmer and his wife in tears. Their only cow, whose milk had been their sole income, lay dead in the field.

The younger angel was infuriated and asked the older angel "How could you have let this happen!? The first man had everything, yet you helped him," she accused. "The second family had so little, but was willing to share everything and you let their cow die."

"Things aren't always what they seem," the older angel replied."When we stayed in the basement of the mansion, I noticed there was gold stored in that hole in the wall. Since the owner was so obsessed with greed and unwilling to share his good fortune, I sealed the wall so he wouldn't find it. Then last night as we slept in the farmers bed, the angel of death came for his wife. I gave her the cow instead. "Things aren't always what they seem."

Sometimes this is exactly what happens when things don't turn out the way you think they should. If you have faith, you just need to trust that every outcome is always to your advantage. You might not know it until some time later."Things aren't always what they seem.

The Sandbox

A little boy was spending his Saturday morning playing in his sandbox. He had with him his box of cars and trucks, his plastic pail, and a shiny, red plastic shovel. In the process of creating roads and tunnels in the soft sand, he discovered a large rock in the middle of the sandbox.

The lad dug around the rock, managing to dislodge it from the dirt. With no little bit of struggle, he pushed and nudged the rock across the sandbox by using his feet. (He was a very small boy and the rock was very huge). When the boy got the rock to the edge of the sandbox, however, he found that he couldn't roll it up and over the wall.

Determined, the little boy shoved, pushed, and pried, but every time he thought he had made some progress, the rock tipped and then fell back into the sandbox.

The little boy grunted, struggled, pushed and shoved. But his only reward was to have the rock roll back, smashing his chubby fingers.

Finally he burst into tears of frustration. All this time the boy's father watched from his living room window as the drama unfolded. At the moment the tears fell, a large shadow fell across the boy and the sandbox. It was the boy's father.

Gently but firmly he said, "Son, why didn't you use all the strength that you had available?

Defeated, the boy sobbed back, "But I did, Daddy, I did! I used all the strength that I had!"

"No, son," corrected the father kindly. "You didn't use all the strength you had. You didn't ask me."

With that the father reached down, picked up the rock, and removed it from the sandbox.

Heavenly Rewards

A minister dies and is waiting in line at the Pearly Gates. Ahead of him is a guy who’s dressed in sunglasses, a loud shirt, leather jacket, and jeans. Saint Peter addresses this guy, “Who are you, so that I may know whether or not to admit you to the Kingdom of Heaven?” The guy replies, “I’m Joe Cohen, taxi-driver, of Noo Yawk City.” Saint Peter consults his list. He smiles and says to the taxi-driver, “Take this silken robe and golden staff and enter the Kingdom of Heaven.” The taxi-driver goes into Heaven with his robe and staff, and it’s the minister’s turn. He stands erect and booms out, “I am Joseph Snow, pastor of Saint Mary’s for the last forty-three years.” Saint Peter consults his list. He says to the minister, “Take this cotton robe and wooden staff and enter the Kingdom of Heaven.” “Just a minute,” says the minister. “That man was a taxi-driver and he gets a silken robe and golden staff. How can this be?” “Up here, we work by results,” says Saint Peter. “While you preached, people slept; while he drove, people prayed.”

Clay Jars

A water bearer in India had two large pots, each hung on each end of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the master's house, the cracked pot arrived only half full. For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water in his master's house. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect to the end for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. "I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you." "Why?" asked the bearer. "What are you ashamed of?" "I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master's house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don't get full value from your efforts," the pot said.

The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, "As we return to the master's house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path."

Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and this cheered it some. But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again it apologized to the bearer for its failure.

The bearer said to the pot, "Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of your path, but not on the other pot's side? That's because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you've watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master's table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house."

Each of us has our own unique flaws. We are all cracked pots. But if we will allow it, the Lord will use our flaws to grace His Father's table. In God's great economy, nothing goes to waste.

So as we seek ways to minister together, and as God calls you to the tasks He has appointed for you, don't be afraid of your flaws. Acknowledge them, and allow Him to take advantage of them, and you, too, can be the cause of beauty in His pathway.

Know that in our weakness we find His strength

Why Do We Grieve?

One of the hardest things to accept is that life as we know it does not go on.

Relationships are often difficult to establish and maintain. And on rare, wonderful occasions, some just fall into place so easily and run so smoothly from both ends.

Losing one we're close to, feels unfair and so sad. Those we just fell in love with from the start, that were there for us whatever our circumstances, whatever our pain, no matter how we lost our humor, those we could wrap our arms around and receive comfort from, we find it impossible to release them to death.

Once we relax in knowing they are there, will never reject us, will always return our love and affection, how can we plan a future without them?

How can the memories be enough when our hearts seem to slow, yet pound so loudly in our throats, when our joy is crushed, when our eyes cloud and will never view things the same again?

How should we behave? Why should we just walk back into life as though nothing ever happened? How can we ever be expected to smile again? How can we let go?

Amazingly enough, long before we were conceived, long before we participated in life, God had a plan........a perfect plan.

He foresaw the need for this life to have a beginning as well as an end. He created and thoroughly understood the complexities of relating to others. He gave us the ability to love and draw close. He knew the path our lives would take and how deeply we would feel pain. He left nothing out.

He built within us the abilities to grieve without dying, to let go without forgetting, to cope without quitting, to continue to love those who have gone on, yet grow to love others more strongly and even to add new love to our hearts.

He even gave us time......
time to grieve,
time to heal
and time to grow from our new understanding.

Beyond our awesome creation, He knows exactly when we suffer loss and how hard it is for us.

We are among those He just fell in love with from the start, He is there for us no matter what our circumstances, what our pain, no matter how we've lost our humor, He wants to wrap us in His arms and receive comfort from Him.

We can relax in knowing He has always been there, will never reject us, will always return our love and affection, and will help us plan our future.

He will rejoice with us in our memories and restore our joy and make our hearts pound loudly in our throats in anticipation of a glad future.

We should not walk the same roads over again. He devised that when our eyes have clouded with tears we should never view things the same way again. We could grow bitter from sadness, or we can grow and learn compassion. We should never behave as though nothing ever happened. We should fondly remember that knowing, then missing someone has changed us, that we were blessed with the company of angels while they were here.

This amazingly perfect plan that God has, of which He mapped out every possible outcome, leads us always back into His very capable, loving arms.

It's not that He wants us to suffer, not that He wants us to cry, not that He wants us to lose those we love dearly. God just wants us to remember that while we were happily on our journey with our loved one, He was happy too.

He leads us to know that after losing our loved one, when we return to life more lonely, He steps up closer to us and not only understands our loneliness, but helps us hold our head up.

When emptiness invades your sleep, He offers what no other friend can..... serenity as deep as the emptiness and hope as promising as the sunrise.

He is the one friend that cannot and will not die, and will never leave our side.

He is the almighty creator who gave you forever your friend or relative.

The Brother's Song

Like any good mother, when Karen found out that another baby was on the way, she did what she could to help her 3 year old son, Michael, prepare for a new sibling.

They found out that the new baby was going to be a girl, and day after day, night after night, Michael sang to his little sister in Mommy's tummy. He was building a bond of love with his little sister before he even met her.

The pregnancy progressed normally for Karen.

In time, the labor pains came. Soon it was every five minutes, very three, every minute. But serious complications arose during delivery and Karen found herself in hours of labor. Would a C-section be required? Finally after a long struggle, Michael's little sister was born. But she was in very serious condition. With a siren howling in the night, the ambulance rushed the infant to the neonatal intensive care unit at St. Mary's Hospital, Knoxville, Tennessee

The days inched by. The little girl got worse. The pediatric specialist regretfully had to tell the parents, "There is very little hope. Be prepared for the worst."

Karen and her husband contacted a local cemetery about a burial plot. They had fixed up a special room in their home for the new baby....but now they found themselves having to plan for a funeral.

Michael, however, kept begging his parents to let him see his sister. "I want to sing to her," he kept saying. Week two in the intensive care looked as if a funeral could come before the week was over.

Michael kept nagging about singing to his sister, but kids are never allowed in the Intensive Care. Karen made up her mind, though. She would take Michael whether they liked it or not! If he didn't see his sister right then, he may never see her alive.

She dressed him in an oversized scrub suit and marched him into ICU. He looked like a walking laundry basket, but the head nurse recognized him as a child and bellowed "Get that kid out of here now! NO children are allowed!" The mother rose up strong in Karen, and the usually mild-mannered lady glared steel-eyed right into the head nurses's face, her lips a firm line. "He's not leaving until he sings to his sister!"

Karen towed Michael to his sister's bedside. He gazed at the tiny infant losing the battle to live. After a moment, he began to sing. In the pure hearted voice of a 3-year-old Michael sang:

"You are my sunshine, my only sushine,
you make me happy when skies are gray,"

Instantly the baby girl seemed to respond. Her pulse rate began to calm down and become steady. "Keep on singing, Michael, encouraged Karen with tears in her eyes.

"You never know, dear,
how much I love you.
Please don't take
my sunshine away."

Michael's little sister began to relax as rest, healing rest, seemed to sweep over her. "Keep on singing, Michael." Tears had now conquered the face of the bossy head nurse. Karen glowed.

"My only sunshine.
Please don't take
my sunshine away...."

The next day, ...the very next day...the little girl was well enough to go home!

"Woman's Day Magazine" called it "The Miracle of a Brother's Song" The medical staff just called it a miracle. Karen called it a miracle of God's love!

Never give up on the people you love. Love is so Incredible powerful. To the world you may be one person, but to one person you may be the world!

The (Devil's) Beastitudes...

Blessed are those who are too tired, busy or disorganized to meet with fellow Christians on Sundays each week.
Their hearts are not in it.

Blessed are those who enjoy noticing the mannerisms of clergy and choir.
Their hearts are not in it.

Blessed are those Christians who wait to be asked and expect to be thanked.
I can use them.

Blessed are the touchy.
With a bit of luck they may even stop going to church.
They are my missionaries.

Blessed are those who claim to love God at the same time as hating other people.
They are mine forever.

Blessed are the trouble makers.
They shall be called my children.

Blessed are those who have no time to pray.
They are easy prey for me.

Blessed are you when you read this and think it is about other people and not about yourself.
I've got you.

What's A Friend?

A friend is a person whom you want to have near when you are dying.
And whom you like to be with while you are living;

To whom you spontaneously turn for help when you are in trouble.
And who is the first to hear the good news when you have good fortune;

Whose counsel you seek when you are perplexed.
And whose congratulations you welcome when the perplexity is solved;

In whom you can confide the secret you want no other living soul to know.
Yet will never pry into your heart to discover whether there are any more secrets to be revealed;

On whom you can lean when your heart aches.
But who will never take advantage of your leaning;

Who will get down on his knees beside you when you are down.
And forget that he did so when you are on your feet again;

And whose shoulder you can weep when you are sad.
And with whom you enjoy laughing when you are glad;

Who has a tear on his cheek when you suffer.
And a twinkle in his eye when the sun shines on you again;

Who has pain in his tone when you are in distress.
And melody in his voice when your heart is gay;

Who admires you for your strong points.
But loves you in spite of your weak ones;

Who can laugh at your foibles.
Without despising you for having them;

Who makes allowance for your limitations.
Without allowing them to obscure your talents;

Who is proud of you when fortune favors you.
But not ashamed of you when you fail;

Who contributes to your success without claiming any share in it.

Who can feel and show satisfaction when you please him.
But never resentment when you disappoint him;

Who will tell you the truth even when it hurts.
And to whom you can tell the truth without his taking offense;

Who is not ashamed to ask you a favor even at the risk of being imposed upon.
Who can extend a helping hand and lighten your load Without expecting any other reward than having had the privilege of so doing;

Who gives all he can whenever he can.
Without ever keeping a record of what he has given;

Who says the best about you when everybody else is saying the worst.

Any person needs at least four such friends;
Every person owes it to himself to be such a friend to at least four fellow humans.
God help me to be such a friend.

@>---

I said a prayer for you today and I know God must have heard,
I felt the answer in my heart although He spoke no word.
I didn't ask for wealth or fame, I knew you wouldn't mind,
I asked Him to send you treasures of a far more lasting kind.
I asked that He'd be near you at the start of each new day,
To grant you health and blessings and friends to share the way.
I asked for happiness for you in all things great and small,
But it was for His loving care I asked for most of all.

---<@

The Answer To Bible Brain Teaser

I once made a reMARK about the hidden books of the Bible. It was a luLU, KEpt people looKING So hard for fACTS, and for others it was a REVELATION. Some were in a JAM, ESpecially since the names of the books are not capitalized, but the tRUTH finally struck home to NUMBERS of readers. To others, it was a real JOB. We want it to be A MOSt fascinating few moments for you. YES. THERe will be some really easy ones to spot. Others may require JUDGES to help them. I will quickly admiT IT USually takes A MINISTER (reference to Ecclesiastes) to find one of the 17, and there will be loud LAMENTATIONS when it is found. A little lady says sHE BREWS a cup of tea so she can concentrate better. See how well you can comPETE. Relax now, for there really are the names of 17 books of the Bible in these sentences. (One preacher found 16 books in 20 minutes. It took him three weeks to find the seventeenth one.)

A Christian Prison

Near the city of Sao Jose dos Campos, Brazil, is a remarkable facility. Over twenty years ago the Brazilian government turned a prison over to two Christians. The institution was renamed Humaita, and the plan was to run it on Christian principles. With the exception of two full-time staff, all the work is done by inmates. Families outside the prison adopt an inmate to work with during and after his term. Chuck Colson, an author and activist visited the prison and made this report:

'When I visited Humaita I found the inmates smiling- particularly the murderer who held the keys, opened the gates and let me in. Wherever I walked I saw men at peace. I saw clean living areas, people working industriously. The walls were decorated with Biblical sayings from Psalms and Proverbs...My guide escorted me to the notorious prison cell once used for torture. Today, he told me, that block houses only a single inmate. As we reached the end of a long concrete corridor and he put the key in the lock, he paused and asked, "Are you sure you want to go in?"

"Of course," I replied impatiently, "I've been in isolation cells all over the world." Slowly he swung open the massive door, and I saw the prisoner in that punishment cell: a crucifix, beautifully carved by the Humaita inmates-the prisoner Jesus, hanging on a cross.

"He's doing time for the rest of us," my guide said softly.'"

A Variation of Footprints...

"Now imagine you and the Lord Jesus walking down the road together. For much of the way, the Lord's footprints go along steadily, consistently, rarely varying the pace. But your prints are a disorganized stream of zigzags, starts, stops, turnarounds, circles, departures and returns.

For much of the way it seems to go like this. But gradually, your footprints come more in line with the Lord's, soon paralleling His consistently. You and Jesus are walking as true friends.

This seems perfect, but then an interesting thing happens: your footprints that once etched the sand next to the Master's are now walking precisely in His steps. Inside His larger footprints is the small 'sandprint', safely enclosed. You and Jesus are becoming one.

This goes on for many miles. But gradually you notice another change. The footprint inside the larger footprint seems to grow larger. Eventually it disappears altogether. There is only one set of footprints. They have become one. Again, this goes on for a long time. But then something awful appens. The second set of footprints is back. And this time it seems worse. Zigzags all over the place. Stops. Starts. Deep gashes in the and. A veritable mess of prints.

You're amazed and shocked. But this is the end of your dream. Now you speak. 'Lord, I understand the first scene with the zigzags and fits and starts and so on. I was a new Christian, just learning. But You walked on through the storm and helped me learn to walk with you.'

'That is correct.'

'Yes, and when the smaller footprints were inside of Yours, I was actually learning to walk in Your steps. I followed You very closely.' 'Very good. You have understood everything so far.'

'Then the smaller footprints grew and eventually filled in with Yours. I suppose that I was actually growing so much that I was becoming like you in every way.'

'Precisely.'

'But this is my question. Lord.. Was there a regression or something? The footprints went back to two, and this time it was worse than the first.'

The Lord smiles, then laughs. 'You didn't know?' He says. 'That was when we danced'."

Tell Them...

Some 14 years ago, I stood watching my university students file into the classroom for our opening session in the theology of faith.

That was the day I first saw Tommy. He was combing his hair, which hung six inches below his shoulders. My quick judgment wrote him off as strange – very strange.

Tommy turned out to be my biggest challenge. He constantly objected to or smirked at the possibility of an unconditionally loving God. When he turned in his final exam at the end of the course, he asked in a slightly cynical tone, "Do you think I'll ever find God?" "No," I said emphatically. "Oh," he responded. "I thought that was the product you were pushing."

I let him get five steps from the door and then called out. "I don't think you'll ever find Him, but I am certain He will find you." Tommy shrugged and left. I felt slightly disappointed that he had missed my clever line.

Later I heard that Tommy had graduated, and I was grateful for that. Then came a sad report: Tommy had terminal cancer. Before I could search him out, he came to me. When he walked into my office, his body was badly wasted, and his long hair had fallen out because of chemotherapy. But his eyes were bright and his voice, for the first time, was firm.

"Tommy! I've thought about you so often. I heard you were very sick," I blurted out.

"Oh, yes, very sick. I have cancer. It's a matter of weeks."

"Can you talk about it?"

"Sure. What would you like to know?"

"What's it like to be only 24 and know that you're dying?"

"It could be worse," he told me, "like being 50 and thinking that drinking booze, seducing women and making money are the real 'biggies' in life."

Then he told me why he had come.

"It was something you said to me on the last day of class. I asked 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. But when the doctors removed a lump from my groin and told me that it was malignant, I got serious about locating God. And when the malignancy spread into my vital organs, I really began banging against the bronze doors of heaven. But nothing happened. Well, one day I woke up, and instead of my desperate attempts to get some kind of message, I just quit. I decided I didn't really care about God, an afterlife, or anything like that. I decided to spend what time I had left doing something more important. I thought about you and something else you had said: 'The essential sadness is to go through life without loving. But it would be almost equally sad to leave this world without ever telling those you loved that you loved them.' So I began with the hardest one: my dad."

Tommy's father had been reading the newspaper when his son approached him.

"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."

Tommy smiled at me as he recounted the moment. "The newspaper fluttered to the floor. Then my father did two things I couldn't remember him doing before. He cried and he hugged me. And we talked all night, even though he had to go to work the next morning.

"It was easier with my mother and little brother," Tommy continued. "They cried with me, and we hugged one another, and shared the things we had been keeping secret for so long. Here I was, in the shadow of death, and 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. Apparently He does things in His own way and at His own hour. The important thing is that you were right. He found me even after I stopped looking for Him."

"Tommy," I added, "could I ask you a favor? Would you come to my theology-of-faith course and tell my students what you told me?"

Though we scheduled a date, he never made it. 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 humanity has ever seen or the mind ever imagined.

Before he died, we talked one last time. "I'm not going to make it to your class," he said. "I know, Tommy."

"Will you tell them for me? Will you . . . tell the whole world for me?"

"I will, Tommy. I'll tell them."

Author Unknown

Friendship's ABCs

ABC's of Friendship

(A)ccepts you as you are
(B)elieves in "you"
(C)alls you just to say "HI"
(D)oesn't give up on you
(E)nvisions the whole of you (even the unfinished parts)
(F)orgives your mistakes
(G)ives unconditionally
(H)elps you
(I)nvites you over
(J)ust "be" with you
(K)eeps you close at heart
(L)oves you for who you are
(M)akes a difference in your life
(N)ever Judges
(O)ffers support
(P)icks you up
(Q)uiets your fears
(R)aises your spirits
(S)ays nice things about you
(T)ells you the truth when you need to hear it
(U)nderstands you
(V)alues you
(W)alks beside you
(X)-plains things you don't understand
(Y)ells when you won't listen and
(Z)aps you back to reality

A Christmas Story...

I know that Christmas is still 7 months away but I came across this particular story and I just can't help thinking about relevance it has to my own personal experiences.

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It was Christmas Eve and the lord looked down from above at all His children. It had been two thousand years since the birth of His son and turning to His youngest angel the Lord said: "Go down to the earth and bring back to me the one thing that best represents everything good that has been done in the name of this day."

The angel bowed to the Lord and spreading his wings, descended from heaven to the world of man, all the while contemplating his mission. So much had been done in the name of honoring the birth of the Christ Child. For this day, wars had temporarily ceased, cathedrals had been built and great novels had been written. With so little time, what could he possibly find to represent all this?

As he soared above the earth, he suddenly heard the sound of church bells below. Their tone was so beautiful that it reminded him of the voice of God. Looking down, he saw a small church whose bells were ringing out the carol, Silent Night. As the final note died away, it was replaced by one lone voice singing inside the church. It was shortly joined by a second voice that embraced the first in perfect harmony, and then another until a choir of voices rose through the night.

Enchanted by the magic of what he was hearing, the angel found himself listening until the song was finished. As he resumed his flight through the night, he was delighted to hear these sounds everywhere, from the largest cities to the smallest villages. He heard melodies from massive orchestras and in the voices of single soldiers alone at their post. And any place where he heard these songs, he found hope in the hearts of men.

Grasping a song out of the air, he held it in his hand (angels are able to do this) and thought that maybe, these songs could be the one thing that best represented Christmas. They seemed to give voice to man's greatest joys as well as hope to those deepest in despair. But, though at first glance it appeared to be the answer he sought, his heart told him that this music alone was not enough. There had to be something more...

So, he continued his flight through the night until he suddenly felt the touch of a father's prayer on its way to heaven. Once again looking downward, he saw a man who was praying for his child whom he had not heard from in a long time and who would not be home that Christmas. Seizing upon the prayer, the angel followed it until it reached the lost child.

She was standing on a corner, in a quiet snowfall, looking very small in a very large city. Across from her was an old city bar, the kind that only the lost seemed to know how to find. The patrons of this establishment rarely looked up from their drinks and so seemed not to notice the young woman.

Now, the bartender in this bar had been working in there longer than anyone could remember. He believed in nothing except his bar and his cash register. He had never married, never took a vacation and as matter of fact, had never been seen out from behind his counter by most of his patrons. He was there when they arrived and he was still there when they left. He gave no credit and for seventy-five cents, served shots of unwatered whiskey to people who used their drinks like a moat around their lives. For them, he provided a safe, unchanging world.

Suddenly, the door opened wide and into this world walked a small child. The bartender could not remember the last time that a child had been in this place, but before he could ask the child what he was doing there, the child asked him if he knew that there was a girl outside their door who could not get home.

Glancing out the window, he saw the girl standing across the street. Turning back to the child, the bartender asked him how he knew this. The child replied "That on this night of all nights, if one could be home, they'd be already there."

The bartender looked back toward the young woman as he reflected on what the child had said. After several seconds of thought, he slowly went over to the cash register and removing most of the money, came out from behind the bar and followed the child across the street.

Everyone in the bar watched as he spoke with the girl. After a few moments, he called over a cab, put the girl inside and told the driver: "J.F.K. Airport." As the cab pulled away, he looked around for the child, but the child was gone. And what was stranger still, even though his own tracks leading from the bar were still clearly marked in the snow, the child's were nowhere to be found.

Returning back inside, he asked if anyone had seen where the child had gone, but like himself, no one had, for they also had been watching the departing cab. And then, some would later say that the most miraculous thing of all happened, when for the rest of the night, no one paid for a drink.

Later that night, the angel returned back to heaven and placed in the Lord's hand the wish of a soul for the happiness of another. And as the heavenly host looked on, the Lord smiled.

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I have visited countless of churches here in Malaysia and abroad over the years. It was an experience that I was grateful with as I even had the opportunity to attend a Mass that was celebrated in Latin.

Not too long back, I was told by a friend of mine when she brought me to a church that I have never visited that I should make three wishes. Seeing the blank look I had, she said that someone once told her that you should make three wishes when you visit a new church.

Well, being one who has been anti superstition to the extent of sweeping the house on the first day of Chinese New Year, I was initially dismissive of the act. However, having reached the pews and as I knelt and said my prayers, I though perhaps I could just make the three wishes. My reasoning was that we do make petitions anyway when we pray and I guess it's just an extension to that.

As I contemplated my 3 wishes, I finally settled on what I wanted. I wanted happiness, success to go along with safety and health (cheating you might say but I beg to differ... A little creativity... ;). And I have continued to do so since then whenever I visit a new church. I thought that if it works, then all's good...

Oh, by the way, all the wishes were made for someone else and not for myself... :p She'd usually ask who were my wishes for whenever we visit a new church as I told her of the so called three wishes...