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Chris Green

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Hi everyone.

I would really like your help. I am doing a talk very soon, and I always like to start with a really short story, or part of a story based on rejection. Funny or serious.

The theme is 'rejection'.

If anyone has links or whatever, I would be most appreciative.

thanks
 

ChristianCenturion

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Chris Green said:
just something like an incident or a hard hiting story.

Maybe a son rejected by his father, or visa versa.

Or a film reference??

How about the Christian reference... like John 6 or to be more exact, the rejection of Christ's conditions found in:
John 6:66
66From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him.

Odd how the number thing stands out there...
 
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The Story Teller

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Sparky



A story is told about a boy named Sparky. For Sparky school was all but impossible. He failed every subject in the eighth grade. He flunked physics in high school. Receiving a flat zero in the course, he distinguished himself as the worst physics student in the school's history. Sparky also flunked Latin, algebra and English. He didn't do much better in sports. Although he did manage to make the school's golf team, he promptly lost the only important match of the season. There was a consolation match; he lost that, too.



Throughout his youth Sparky was awkward socially. He was not actually disliked by the other students; no one cared that much. He was astonished if a classmate ever said hello to him outside of school hours. There's no way to tell how he might have done at dating. Sparky never once asked a girl to go out in high school. He was too afraid of being turned down.



Sparky was a loser. He, his classmates... everyone knew it. So he rolled with it. Sparky had made up his mind early in life that if things were meant to work out, they would. Otherwise he would content himself with what appeared to be his inevitable mediocrity.



However, one thing was important to Sparky - drawing. He was proud of his artwork. Of course, no one else appreciated it. In his senior year of high school, he submitted some cartoons to the editors of the yearbook. They were turned down. Despite this particularly painful rejection, Sparky was so convinced of his ability that he decided to become a professional artist.



Upon graduating from high school, he wrote a letter to Walt Disney Studios. He was told to send some samples of his artwork, and the subject matter for a cartoon was suggested. Sparky drew the proposed cartoon. He spent a great deal of time on it and on all the other drawings he submitted. Finally the reply came from Disney Studios; he had been rejected once again. Another loss for the loser.



So Sparky decided to write his own autobiography in cartoons. He described his childhood self - a little-boy loser and chronic underachiever. The cartoon character would soon become famous worldwide. For Sparky, the boy who had failed every subject in the eight grade and whose work was rejected again and again, was Charles Schulz. He created the "Peanuts" comic strip and the little cartoon boy whose kite would never fly and who never succeeded in kicking the football - Charlie Brown.





By: Earl Nightingale

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The Story Teller

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The Day CHRIST Died--Were You There?



While praying in the Garden of Gethsemane He becomes engaged in a fierce battle. He wrestles a problem so great that His sweat glands ooze with great drops of blood as if He were being strangled. The stress is so great that the very cellular integrity of His body is compromised. The soldiers under Judas' direction seize Him and bring Him to Pilate's Judgment Hall. Pilot asks Him “Are you a king then?” He answers softly, “You say I’m a king. To this end I was born that I should bear witness of the truth.” Pilate inquisitively turns his head and sarcastically asks, “What is truth” and walks out of the hall.



There, under Pilate's command, He is whipped with a device having a stout handle with several leather strips, each studded with a stone or metal tip. Older people watching know the lashes from a whip of this type could amputate a leg. The chest wall would be easily perforated. By the end of the whipping, His back lay open as a shredded mass of crimson tissue with long strips of torn skin laying at peculiar angles and dangling like red icicles dripping with blood. Raw tendons and muscle are exposed to the air and hang in the same way. The onlookers’ sin-hardened hearts are not perceiving that the very Son of God is before them, but the younger are more sensitive to the situation.



In no time, a new torture is devised after He is untied from the post that supported His body during this awful whipping. A robe is placed about His bleeding shoulders to declaim Him King. A branch from firewood with two-inch thorns twisted into a wreath is placed on His head. One by one, the soldiers strike, spit on, or pull out hunks of Jesus beard and ask Him to prophesy which of them hit Him laughing and yelling in mockery, “Hail King!”. This crown is driven deeply into His head with the rod they had previously placed in His hand to mock His deity. They make fun of Him again and call Him "The King of the Jews.” The thorns opened those ever-flowing blood vessels in His head and in minutes His hair and beard are soaked with blood. The men mock and jeer at the Lamb of God, a bleeding, broken, beaten man near shock from blood loss.



It has now been over 24 hours since He has had any sleep. He is exhausted and His strength is failing. Though His mind is dulled by lack of sleep and His life is oozing from the many wounds, He still can hear the throng chant, "Crucify Him, Crucify Him." A few short weeks before, this same man stood outside Jerusalem and wept for these people. He had said "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem......how often would I have gathered thy children together even as a hen gathered her chickens under her wings, and ye would not!" Now the very nation He loves is clamoring for His death. The purple robe is ripped from His back, tearing loose the coagulated blood that had soaked into it. He bleeds profusely from the re-opened wounds from His whipping.



The cross is extremely heavy, weighing approximately 110 lbs. The soldiers place this cross on Jesus’ shoulders, and He starts on the short 650-yard march to Golgotha. But this former carpenter who was strong in His youth and manhood was so weakened by the blood loss, punishment and lack of rest that He could not make it. It seems a paradox that the creator of this universe should be prostrated on the cobble stones of His own creativity beneath a timber. Why did He endure this pain and torture for you and me? His physical energy is nearly gone. A man standing nearby is conscripted by the soldiers to carry His cross. Simon of Cyrene removes the timber from the shoulders of Jesus. His body battered by the fall, His back burning as with fire, His head pounding with each heart beat, He is dragged to His feet and guided between two guards as He staggers and stumbles the rest of the way.



At Golgotha, Christ is placed on the cross. The executioner has a great deal of knowledge about the placement of the nails. If they are placed too close to the base of the fingers, a man's weight could rip his hand free of the nail. So, carefully but swiftly, the nail is placed at the base of the palm where the wrist joins the hand and driven into the crossbeam with a large hammer. The ringing of the hammer sends chilling echoes through the air.



The cross member with our nailed Lord is lifted into place on the upright, and Christ's body sags as the full torture effect of the nails is felt. Next, His feet are fixed to the upright. With His knees slightly flexed, the left foot is placed on top of the right and a single nail is driven through both feet. The pain is a constant see-saw from hands to feet to hands. As He stiffens His legs to relieve the pain in His hands, the agony in His feet builds till He pulls with His arms to relieve His feet. A constant motion of up and down, He moves trying to obtain some less painful position. The motion is causing His back to be torn more and bleed profusely as if a faucet of blood had been opened.



As the muscles in His arms and legs fatigue, the shock deepens and the agony increases. A new pain begins. Deep within His chest, a crushing, vise-like feeling begins to mount as His heart starts to fail. His breathing becomes very short and labored. His body no longer looks like a human being, and each breath is a gasp. It is with great effort that He stiffens His legs and draws in enough breath to utter those last cries, “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.”



Disillusioned friends watch their hope die, a leader disgraced, A Savior killed, a Lord destroyed. A mother watches her son die. With writhing pain in His eyes, He looks at His mother and forces the words, “Woman, behold thy son!” and then looks toward His beloved friend standing with Mary and says, “Behold thy mother!”



The soldiers watch and wonder about this prisoner as His execution progresses. But as the whole world watches, the very God of Heaven, Christ's own Father, cannot watch, for He cannot look on sin. God the Father turns His back on His only begotten Son and I hear Him cry, “My God! My God! Why hast thou forsaken me?!”



The sun in the sky grows dim, clouds roll into place obscuring from God's eyes this horror on Golgotha's Hill. Christ looks quiet now, but wait, He moves. With the forces of sin heavy on His raw shoulders, the guilt of mankind on His back, the pain of disobedient children searching in His hands, the poker of hell burning in His feet and the broken heart of rejection by God and man struggling within His chest, He forces His legs to lift Him one last time. He raises His head and sucks in that last breath and looks up into the darkened sky and whispers, "Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.” Then in a silent pause He lifts all of His weight upon His nailed feet and cries triumphantly “It is finished!!" Then he died with the world’s sins in His mangled body.



~Portions taken from an essay by Dennis Humphreys, M.D.



Submitted by Richard
 
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The Phone Call that made a Difference





Tears filled Sarah’s eyes as she looked in the mirror at her sad face. She hated her reflex ion. She tried so hard to be who she wanted to be but she always failed. She went to her bedroom window and opened it and looked down 13 floors to the streets below. She saw the same old drug attics and drug dealers hanging on the corner. The same hookers walked up and down the streets. The same street people were drunkenly awakening squelching their eyes with the pain of their hangovers. She could hear her parents arguing again in the Kitchen and suddenly her brother burst into her room. "You stupid idiot, you told Teresa, I was dating her best friend." With these words he hurled a book across the room at her. It just missed her as she moved and it flew out the window. "Idiot, go get it. I need that book for class today. Its your fault, go get it our I'll knock your brains out," he said as he came across the room towards her. He grabbed her by the collar of her nightgown. She tried to free herself but she could not, then He flung her to the floor and spit in her face. Anger raged with in her. She wanted to kill him. As he left the room she slowly struggled to her feet. She imagined herself grabbing something and hitting him with it as heard as she could. She dressed herself to go down to the street and get her brothers book. As she was about to leave her room, she turned and looked at the window. Slowly, slowly again she walked to the window and looked down. "Jump, Jump," the voices in her head said strongly. She thought about her life. She had tried out for cheerleading that year and didn't succeed. Her grades were hopelessly falling in all her classes. She had stopped caring about rather she did good or not. She thought she could never be a success anyway. Her friends were always turning on her. She tried to help Teresa, her best friend who was dating her older brother and she only ratted on her. She remembered how she had made Teresa swear that she wouldn't tell her older brother that she had told her. Her own brother had spit in her face. Her parents were to busy arguing to even notice that the family had fallen apart. They were busy blaming one another for the failures of their children. Again she looked out the window and down at the streets below. It would be such a painless death. She'd be flying through the air, free from the pains of life. Free and then... crash, it would all be over. She could feel her heart beat quickening the more she thought about it.

On the other side of town was Tasha, a new Christian. She had been saved from a life of prostitution, drugs, depression and alcoholism and she was only 17. She had dropped out of school when she was 15 and ran away from home and hit the streets. She had hated herself and her life-style till one-day an older women came to her as she was getting out of one of her clients cars. The women stood with her on the corner and shared her testimony of how the Lord delivered her from an abusive marriage. The women explained in great detail how she had felt like nothing so she endured the abuse of her former husband as if she deserved it. She shared how she had hated her life, but when she found Jesus, she found out just how precious her life was. This woman told of the joys and the change that Jesus had brought into her life. She said how special she felt. Almost like a Queen or princess when before she had felt like worthless scum. Now she knew she was special and she was loved. This Jesus had helped her discover all the wonderful gifts she had with in. As Tasha listen she could identify with the feelings of self-worthlessness the women had felt. She hungered for the joy and the special love of God and self that this woman had found in Christ. She was angered because she thought she could never know this. So she asked the Lady to leave so she could get back to her business. The lady told her she wanted to sing a song to her and pray over her life before she left. The women sang an old children’s song that Tasha remembered from the days that her grandmother took her to church as a young child. She sang "Jesus loves you." As the women sang big tears ran down Tasha's cheeks. Then as the women prayed for her a deep passionate prayer Tasha found her self-weeping in the women’s arms. The women took her to a house that was a mission for young women trying to overcome addictive lifestyles. Everyday the women had come by to visit her and talk to her, sometimes for hours. This woman had become a mother to her. Now Tasha was released from the program and six months old in the Lord. She was living with the women who had shared the love of Christ with her. Everything was so new to her. She was not ready to go back on the streets yet; she thought the temptations and the old friends and connections might be to much for her. She knew the day was coming when she would hit the streets again only witnessing, but now wasn't the time. At the same time she felt a fire in her to share the good news with other people. As she was sitting by the telephone one day an idea suddenly struck her. "What about telephone evangelism." She had no idea what to say or how it would work. As she thought about it her heart began to race. No one would listen to her. They would all reject her. She hated rejections. She wondered if she was ready to face the rejection she knew she would endure.

Slowly, slowly she picked up the phone. "Lord, direct me to call the people you want to reach," she prayed with the faith of a babe in Christ. "Please Lord," help me. She dialed the first number. The operator came on saying that this number had been disconnected. She dialed the second number. A man answered. It sounded like an old man. Her heart raised and she didn't know what to say. "Jesus loves you," She quickly said then hung up the phone as fast as she could. "Oh Lord, I'm so sorry. Please help my nervousness she prayed." She took a break and read her Bible and prayed some more. Finally she made the phone call that would change her life. She prayed for guidance as she dialed the numbers. She asked the Lord to lead her to call someone young and close to her age.

Sarah had finally made a resolve in her heart to do it. She was going to jump out her bedroom window and enjoy the journey of flying through the air before she hit the ground. She wondered if her parents and brothers would miss her. She thought of the unpleasant mess her body would make on the ground below. She wondered how her parents would hold the funeral. It would definitely have to be a closed casket funeral. She thought of what picture they could sit on her casket at the funeral. She had to find a picture. Her best picture and she had to write a quick letter to say good-bye and give her family instructions for her funeral service. She went to her closet and pulled out her picture album. She sat on her bed and began searching for the right picture. Suddenly the phone rang. She wondered who it could be. Her curiosity got the best of her and she answered the phone. "Hello," came the shaky young voice on the other end. "I know this is going to sound super crazy, but please just hear me out. This phone call could change your life. My name is Tasha and I'm 17 years old." The girl went on to tell her about her life and how she had felt so worthless. She told how an older woman had shared Jesus with her and her whole life had been radically transformed. She began to ask Sarah questions. "Have you ever felt like your life is meaningless and worthless." For some odd reason, Sarah found herself answering this young stranger on the phone. Before long she found herself pouring out her feelings, problems and life situation with this young stranger. She was surprised to hear this young stranger crying for her as she prayed a compassionate prayer. Then the young stranger asked if she could sing a song over her. She allowed it and she heard a song she'd heard on the radio as a young child, that had really impacted her life when she heard it. It was an old children’s song. "Jesus loves you." Sarah listened as this young stranger spoke words of encouragement and inspiration to her and told how she knew that though man might fell her, Jesus never would. Sarah and Tasha became the best of friends. They came to find out they were the same age and their birthdays were only one week apart from each other. Needless to say Sarah gave her life to the Lord that day. This same Sarah is now leading the youth group at her church in Miami, Florida. It's amazing the change one bold person can bring when they share the love and compassion of Jesus Christ with someone else.

Though this story is fiction, there are many testimonies of people that are similar are more spectacular. You never know the difference your life and testimony can make in someones life. We must reach out to all and share the love and compassion of Jesus Christ.



May God's blessings be with you.



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The Story Teller

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March 25

Napoleon Hill

“If we abide by the principles taught by the Bible, our country will go on prospering.”
—Daniel Webster

Virtually every salesman has read (and probably reread) Napoleon Hill’s classic motivational book Think and Grow Rich. This book has become the basis for many other self-help and motivational books. Its message is simple, and people who follow it are sure to see results. Hill’s primary emphasis is on your personal belief in who you are and what you can accomplish. The messages are simple but profound: Don’t quit too soon. Follow your dreams. If other people think it is impossible, it must be worth doing. There is no such thing as bad luck. Belief makes a person both poor and rich—take your choice.

These simple messages provide a strong foundation on which individuals may anchor their lives. Many of the people profiled in the book you are now reading have adopted simple yet profound principles such as those found in Hill’s book or in the Bible, or espoused by such inspirational leaders such as Lincoln, Washington, and Emerson. Beliefs built on these principles can muster hope when depression overwhelms. Without a foundation of belief, most people succumb to the inevitable failures in life. Something must be there to hold a person up when things go wrong. Like the pig who built his house of bricks, those who have built their beliefs on something solid will survive the big bad wolves of defeat, failure, and rejection. A person who has a weak character foundation will find it difficult, if not impossible, to build one under himself while the rest of his world is falling down.

Consider This: What is your foundation? When things go wrong, where will you turn? What will you do? Where will you go? Make sure you are preparing now for tough times to come.

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