Did Jesus use a modem,
At the Sermon on the Mount?
Did He ever try a broadcast fax,
To send His message out?
Did the disciples carry beepers,
As they went about their route?
Did Jesus use a modem,
At the Sermon on the Mount?

Did Paul use a Laptop,
With lots of RAM and ROM?
Were his letters posted on a BBS,
At Paul.Rome.Com?
Did the man from Macedonia,
Send an E-Mail saying “Come?”
Did Paul use a Laptop,
With lots of RAM and ROM?

Did Moses use a joystick,
At the parting of the Sea?
And a Satellite Guidance Tracking System,
To show him where to be?
Did he write the law on tablets,
Or are they really on CD?
Did Moses use a joystick,
At the parting of the Sea?

Did Jesus really die for us,
One day upon a tree?
Or was it just a Hologram,
Or Technical Wizardry?
Can you download the Live Action Video Clip,
To play on your PC?
Did Jesus really die for us,
One day upon a tree?

Have the wonders of this modern age,
Made you question what is true?
How a single man, in a simple time,
Could offer life anew?
How a sinless life, a cruel death,
Then a glorious life again,
Could offer more to a desperate world,
Than all the inventions of man?

If in your life, the voice of God,
Is sometimes hard to hear.
With other voices calling,
His doesn’t touch your ear.
Then set aside your laptop and modem,
And all your fancy gear.
And open your Bible, open your heart,
And let your Father draw near.

Author: Ellis Bush
e-mail: ellisbush@compuserve.com

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A man and wife who are both fanciers of antiques, pottery and china enter a little china shop in Sussex, England. Their eyes single out a little teacup on the top shelf.
“May I see that?” he asked. “I’ve never seen a teacup like it. Its beautiful!”
But suddenly the teacup spoke! “You don’t understand…I haven’t always been a teacup. There was a time that I was red…and I was clay. My master took me and rolled me…and patted me over…and over…and over. I yelled out, ‘Let me alone!’ But he only smiled and said: ‘Not yet.'”
“Then I was placed on a spinning wheel,” the teacup said. “Suddenly I was spun around…and around…and around. ‘Stop it…I’m getting dizzy!’ I screamed.”
“The master only nodded and said: ‘Not yet.'”
“Then he put me in an oven…I’ve never felt such heat. I wondered why he wanted to burn me…and I yelled…and I knocked on the door. I could see him through the opening…and I could read his lips as he shook his head: ‘Not yet.'”
“Finally the door did open…whew! He put me up on the shelf…and I began to cool. ‘There…that’s better, I said.'”
“Then suddenly he brushed me…and painted me all over. The fumes were horrible…and I thought I would gag: ‘Stop it…stop it!’ I cried. He only nodded: ‘Not yet.'”
“Then suddenly he put me back into an oven…not the first one…but one twice as hot. I knew I would suffocate. I begged…I pleaded…I screamed…I cried. All the time I could see him through the opening…nodding his head and saying: ‘Not yet.'”
“Then I knew there was no hope…and I would never make it. I was ready to give up. But the door opened…and he took me out…and he placed me on a shelf. One hour later…he handed me a mirror and said: ‘Look at yourself.'”
“And I did…and I said: ‘That’s not me…it couldn’t be me! I’m beautiful!'”
“‘I want you to remember’, he then said, ‘I know it hurt to be rolled and patted…but if I had left you…you would have dried up. I know it made you dizzy to spin you around on the wheel…but if I had stopped…you would have crumbled. I know it hurt…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 you…and painted you all over, but you see…if I hadn’t done that…you would never have hardened. There would have been no color to your life. And if I hadn’t put you back in the second oven…you would not have survived for very long…and the hardness would not have held. Now you’re a finished product…. You’re what I had in mind when I first began with you!'”

Source: Ben Haden, Changed Lives (Chattanooga, Tennessee: Ben Haden Evangelical Association, Inc., 1973), pp. 15-16.

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A PARABLE

A poorly dressed woman approached the owner of the store in a most humble manner and asked if he would let her charge a few groceries.

She softly explained that her husband was very ill and unable to work, they had seven children and they needed food. John Longhouse, the grocer scoffed at her and requested that she leave his store.

Visualizing the family needs, she said: ‘Please, sir! I will bring you the money just as soon as I can.”

John told her he could not give her credit, as she did not have a charge account at his store.

Standing beside the counter was a customer who overheard the conversation between the two. The customer walked forward and told the grocer that he would stand good for whatever she needed for her family.

The grocer said in a very reluctant voice, “Do you have a grocery list?

Louise replied, “Yes sir”

“O.K.” he said, “put your grocery list on the scales and whatever your grocery list weighs, I will give you that amount in groceries.”

Louise, hesitated a moment with a bowed head, then she reached into her purse and took out a piece of paper and scribbled something on it. She then laid the piece of paper on the scale carefully with her head still bowed.

The eyes of the grocer and the customer showed amazement when the scales went down and stayed down.

The grocer, staring at the scales, turned slowly to the customer and said begrudgingly, “I can’t believe it.”

The customer smiled and the grocer started putting the groceries on the other side of the scales. The scale did not balance so he continued to put more and more groceries on them until the scales would hold no more.

The grocer stood there in utter disgust. Finally, he grabbed the piece of paper from the scales and looked at it with greater amazement.

It was not a grocery list, it was a prayer, which said:
“Dear Lord, you know my Needs and I am leaving this in your hands”.

The grocer gave her the groceries that he had gathered and stood in stunned silence. Louise thanked him and left the store.

The customer handed a fifty-dollar bill to the grocer and said,
“It was worth every penny of it.”

Only God Knows how much a prayer weighs.

Source unknown

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When the good Lord was creating fathers, He started with a tall frame. And a female angel nearby said, “What kind of father is that? If you’re going to make children so close to the ground, why have you put fathers up so high? He won’t be able to shoot marbles without kneeling, tuck a child in bed without bending, or even kiss a child without a lot of stooping.”

And God smiled and said, “Yes, but if I make him child size, who would children have to look up to?”

And when God made a father’s hands, they were large and sinewy.

And the angel shook her head sadly and said, “Do You know what You’re doing? Large hands are clumsy. They can’t manage diaper pins, small buttons, rubber bands on pony tails or even remove splinters caused by baseball bats.”

God smiled and said, “I know, but they’re large enough to hold everything a small boy empties from his pockets at the end of a day…yet small enough to cup a child’s face.”

Then God molded long, slim legs and broad shoulders.

The angel nearly had a heart attack. “Boy, this is the end of the week, all right,” she clucked. “Do You realize You just made a father without a lap? How is he going to pull a child close to him without the kid falling between his legs?”

God smiled and said, “A mother needs a lap. A father needs strong shoulders to pull a sled, balance a boy on a bicycle or hold a sleepy head on the way home from the circus.”

God was in the middle of creating two of the largest feet anyone had ever seen when the angel could contain herself no longer. “That’s not fair. Do You honestly think those large boats are going to dig out of bed early in the morning when the baby cries? Or walk through a small birthday party without crushing at least three of the guests?”

And God smiled and said, “They’ll work. You’ll see. They’ll support a small child who wants to “ride a horse to Banbury Cross” or scare off mice at the summer cabin, or display shoes that will be a challenge to fill.”

God worked throughout the night, giving the father few words, but a firm authoritative voice; eyes that see everything, but remain calm and tolerant.

Finally, almost as an afterthought, He added tears. Then He turned to the angel and said, “Now are you satisfied that he can love as much as a mother?”

And the angel shutteth up!

Author: By Erma Bombeck

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“Can I be a Christian without joining the church?”
Answer: Yes, it is as possible as being:

A student who will not go to school.
A soldier who will not join an army.
A citizen who does not pay taxes or vote.
A salesman with no customers.
An explorer with no base camp.
A seaman on a ship without a crew.
A business man on a deserted island.
An author without readers.
A tuba player without an orchestra.
A parent without a family.
A football player without a team.
A politician who is a hermit.
A scientist who does not share his findings.
A bee without a hive.

– Robert G. Lee, SERMONIC LIBRARY, pp. 115-16.

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Fathers are wonderful people too little understood,
And we do not sing their praises as often as we should …
For, somehow, Father seems to be the man who pays the bills,
While Mother binds up little hurts and nurses all our ills …
And Father struggles daily to live up to ‘HIS IMAGE’
As protector and provider and ‘hero of the scrimmage’
And perhaps that is the reason we sometimes get the notion
That Fathers are not subject to the thing we call emotion,
But if you look inside Dad’s heart, where no one else can see,
You’ll find he’s sentimental and as ‘soft’ as he can be …
But he’s so busy every day in the gruelling race of life,
He leaves the sentimental stuff to his partner and his wife …
But Fathers are just WONDERFUL in a million different ways,
And they merit loving compliments and accolades of praise,
For the only reason Dad aspires to fortune and success
Is to make the family proud of him and to bring them happiness …
And like our Heavenly Father, he’s a guardian and a guide,
Someone that we can count on to be always on our side.

Source: Unknown

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There once was an oyster
Whose story I tell,
Who found that some sand
Had got into its shell.

It was only a grain,
But it gave him great pain;
For oysters have feelings
Although they’re so plain.

Now, did he berate
The harsh workings of fate
That had brought him
To such a deplorable state?

Did he curse at the government,
Cry for election,
And claim that the sea should
Have given him protection?

No! He said to himself
As he lay on a shell,
“Since I cannot remove it,
I’ll try to improve it.”

Now the years have rolled by,
As the years always do,
And he came to his ultimate
Destiny–stew.

And the small grain of sand
That had bothered him so
Was a beautiful pearl
All richly aglow.

Now the tale has a moral;
For isn’t it grand
What an oyster can do
With a small grain of sand?

What couldn’t we do
If we’d only begin
With some of the things
That get under our skin.

Author Unknown

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Thomas Edison invented the microphone, the phonograph, the incandescent light, the storage battery, talking movies, and more than 1000 other things. December 1914 he had worked for 10 years on a storage battery. This had greatly strained his finances. This particular evening spontaneous combustion had broken out in the film room. Within minutes all the packing compounds, celluloid for records and film, and other flammable goods were in flames. Fire companies from eight surrounding towns arrived, but the heat was so intense and the water pressure so low that the attempt to douse the flames was futile. Everything was destroyed. Edison was 67. With all his assets going up in a whoosh (although the damage exceeded two million dollars, the buildings were only insured for $238,000 because they were made of concrete and thought to be fireproof), would his spirit be broken? The inventor’s 24-year old son, Charles, searched frantically for his father. He finally found him, calmly watching the fire, his face glowing in the reflection, his white hair blowing in the wind. “My heart ached for him,” said Charles. “He was 67–no longer a young man–and everything was going up in flames. When he saw me, he shouted, ‘Charles, where’s your mother?’ When I told him I didn’t know, he said, Find her. Bring her here. She will never see anything like this as long as she lives.'” The next morning, Edison looked at the ruins and said, “There is great value in disaster. All our mistakes are burned up. Thank God we can start anew.” Three weeks after the fire, Edison managed to deliver the first phonograph.

Author: Charles Swindoll
Source: Hand Me Another Brick, Thomas Nelson, 1978, pp. 82-3

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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.

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. And 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 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 of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, 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 world outside. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it for himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed.

It faced a blank wall.

The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall. She said, “Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you.”

Epilogue
There is tremendous happiness 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 of the things you have that money can’t buy.

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There was once a lonely girl who longed desperately for love. One day while she was walking in the woods she found two starving song birds. She took them home and put them in a small glided cage. She nurtured them with love and the birds grew strong. Every morning they greeted her with a marvellous song. The girl felt great love for the birds. She wanted their singing to last forever.

One day the girl left the door to the cage open. The larger and stronger of the two birds flew from the cage. The girl watched anxiously as he circled high above her. She was so frightened that he would fly away and she would never see him again that as he flew close, she grasped at him wildly. She caught him in her fist. She clutched him tightly within her hand. Her heart gladened at her sucess in capturing him. Suddenly she felt the bird go limp. She opened her hand stared in horror at the dead bird. Her desperate clutching love had killed him.

She noticed the other bird teteering on the edge of the cage. She could feel his great need for freedom. His need to soar into the clear, blue sky. She lifted him from the cage and tossed him softly into the air. The bird circled once, twice, three times.

The girl watched delighted at the bird’s enjoyment. Her heart was no longer concerned with her loss. She wanted the bird to be happy. Suddenly the bird flew closer and landed softly on her shoulder. It sang the sweetest melody, she had ever heard.

The fastest way to lose love is to hold on too tight, the best way to keep love is to give it — WINGS!

Author: Dee Edgett
Source: Unknown

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