The Ragman

[FineLinen]

Victory Through Suffering

One hot July afternoon in 1967, I dove into a shallow lake and my life changed forever. I suffered a spinal cord fracture that left me paralyzed from the neck down, without use of my hands and legs. Lying in my hospital bed, I tried desperately to make sense of the horrible turn of events. I begged friends to assist me in suicide. Slit my wrists, dump pills down my throat, anything to end my misery!

And questions!

I had so many. I believed in God, but I was angry with Him. If God is supposed to be all-loving and all-powerful, then how could what happened be a demonstration of His love and power? Surely He could have stopped it from happening. How can permanent, lifelong paralysis be a part of His loving plan for me? Unless I found answers, I didn’t see how this God could be worthy of my trust.

Steve, a friend of mine, took on my questions. He pointed me to Christ.

‘Joni, whose will was the cross?’ he asked. All those good Sunday School lessons spun through my head and I answered,
‘God’s will, of course.’

Yet he showed me how the devil entered into Judas to betray Jesus, how the devil incited the mob and inspired Pilate to hand down mock justice. Heaven and hell had participated in the exact same event that day, each for its own reasons.

But because God aborts devilish schemes to accomplish His own ends, the world’s worst murder became the world’s only salvation. Through the cross, the floodgates of heaven opened wide for all. That’s why we wear this curious emblem of execution around our necks. Jesus changed its meaning. No longer a symbol of death, it has become a symbol of hope and victory.

Steve helped me see that heaven and hell participated in my accident, too. When I took the reckless dive that made me a quadriplegic, the devil probably thought, I have shipwrecked this girl’s faith and dashed all her dreams. But God’s purpose was probably to turn a stubborn kid into a woman who would reflect patience, endurance and a lively, optimistic hope of heavenly glories above.

In this intensely personal tug-of-war, who gets the glory and whose motive is brought to fulfillment is entirely my choice. For example, my wheelchair used to symbolize for me alienation and confinement. But God has exchanged its meaning because I’ve trusted in Him. Today this wheelchair symbolizes my independence. It’s a choice I made, and one that anyone can make.

I wouldn’t dare list 16 biblical reasons why this accident happened to me. But in the 34 years since it happened, I have discovered many good things that have come from my disability. I used to think happiness was a Friday night date, a size 12 dress, and a future with Ethan Allen furniture and 2.5 children. Today I know better. What matters is love: warm, deep, real, personal love with a neighbour, a husband, a sister, an aunt, a nurse or an attendant. It’s people who count.

And I live with the heightened awareness that even better things are coming. The good things in this life are only a foreshadowing of more glorious, grand things ready to burst on the scene when we walk into the other side of eternity.

The words of this song capture the thrilling perspective that I have come to know in the years since my accident:

I rejoice with him whose pain my Saviour heals.
And I weep with him who still his anguish feels.
But earthly joys and earthly tears are confined to earthly years,
And greater good, the Word of God reveals.
In this life we have a cross that we must bear.
It’s just a tiny part of Jesus’ death that we can share.
And one day we’ll lay it down, ’cause He’s promised us a crown
To which our suffering can never be compared.

That’s why Heaven is nearer to me, and at times it is all I can see.
Sweet music I hear, coming down to my ear,
And I know that it’s playing for me.
For I am Christ the Saviour’s own bride,
And redeemed I shall stand by His side.
He will say, “Shall we dance?” and our endless romance
Will be worth all the tears I have cried.


http://www.powertochange.com/changed/jeareckson.html

 

[FineLinen]

The Day We Saw The Angels

Patriarch Tychon was seized with a kind of ecstacy and overheard the singing of angels, the beauty of which he was afterwards unable to describe; neither could he at the moment grasp the words of that song, but was aware of it only as the harmony of many voices. -A Treasury Of Russian Spirituality-

Dr. S. Ralph Harlow

It was not Christmas; it was not even wintertime, when the event occurred that for me threw sudden new light on the ancient angel tale. It was a glorious spring morning and we were walking, my wife and I, through the newly budded birches and maples near Ballardville, Masachusetts.

What Can I say About Myself

Now I realize that this, like any account of personal experience , is only as valid as the good sense and honesty of the person relating it. What can I say about myself? That I am a scholar who shuns guesswork and admires scientific investigation? That I have an A.B. from Harvard, an M.A. from Columbia, a PhD from Hartford Theological Seminary? That I have never been subject to hallucinations? That attorneys have solicited my testimony and I have testified in the courts as a faithful reliable witness? All this is true, and yet I doubt any amount of credentials can influence the belief or disbelief of another.

In the long run, each of us must sift what comes to us from others through his own life experience, his vierw of the universe. And so I will tell my story.

Behind & Above

The little path on which Marion and I walked that May morning was spongy to our steps, and we held hands with the sheer delight of life as we strolled near a lovely brook. It was May, and because it was the examination reading period at Smith College where I was a professor, we were able to get away for a few days to visit Marion's parents.

We frequently took walks in the country, and we especially loved the spring after a hard New England winter, for it is then that the fields and the woods are radiant and calm yet show new life bursting from the earth. This day we were especially happy and peaceful; we chatted sporadically, with great gaps of satisfying silence between our sentences.

Then from behind us we head the murmer of muted voices in the distance, and I said to Marion, "We have company in the woods this morning."

Marion nodded, and turned to look. We saw nothing, but the voices were coming nearer--at a faster pace than we were walking--and we knew that the strangers would soon overtake us. The we perceived that the sounds were not only behind us but above us, and we looked up.

How Can I Describe What We Felt?

Is it possible to tell of the surge of exhilaration that ran through us? Is it possible to record this phenomenon in objective accuracy and yet be credible?

For about ten feet above us and slightly to our left was a floating group of glorious beautiful creatures that glowed with spiritual beauty. We stopped and stared as they passed above us.

There were six of them, young beautiful women dressed in flowing white garments and engaged in earnest conversation. If they were aware of our existence they gave no indication of it. Their faces were perfectly clear to us, and one woman, slightly older than the rest, was especially beautiful. Her dark hair was pulled back in what today we would call a ponytail and although I cannot say it was bound at the back of her head, it appeared to be. She was talking intently to a younger spirit whose back was toward us and who looked up into the face of the woman who was talking.

Neither Marion nor I could understand their words although their voices were clearly heard. The sound was somewhat like hearing but being unable to understand a group of people talking outside a house with all the windows and doors shut.

Astounded

They seemed to float past us and their graceful motion seemed natural--as gentle and peaceful as the morning itself. As they passed, their conversations grew fainter and fainter until it faded out entirely, and we stood transfixed on the spot, still holding hands and still with the vision before our eyes. It would be an understatement to say we were astounded. Then we looked at each other, each wondering if the other also had seen.

There was a fallen birch tree just there beside the path. We sat down on it and I said, "Marion, what did you see? Tell me exactly, in precise detail. And tell me what you heard."

She knew my intent--to test my own eyes and ears to see if I had been the victim of hallucination or imagination. And her reply was identical in every way to what my own senses had reported to me.

I have related this story with the same faithfulness and respect for truth and accuracy as I would tell it on the witness stand. But even as I record it, I know how incredible it sounds.

Perhaps I can claim no more for it than that it has had a deep effect on our own lives...Since Marion and I began to be aware of the host of heaven all about us, our lives have been filled with a wonderful hope. Phillips Brooks, the great Episcopal bishop, expressed the cause of this hope more beautifully than I can do:

"This is what you are to hold fast to yourself--the sympathy and companionship of the unseen worlds. No doubt it is best for us now that they should be unseen. It cultivates that higher perception that we call 'faith.' But who can say that the time will not come when, even to those who live here upon earth, the unseen worlds shall no longer be unseen?"

The experience at Ballardvale, added to the convictions of my Christian faith, gives me not only a feeling of assurance about the future, but a sense of adventure toward it too.

 

[MaGaZiNa]

LoL Finelinen..life on Mars ..I hope everyone had a great Valentine's Day (although that was like a week ago lol.

Something to think about..:

The Father and the Son

Two sons were arguing about how wise their father was. The older brother advised his younger brother to always listen to the father because his experience and wisdom were so great. The younger brother disagreed, however, stating, “Dad isn’t that wise. I’m just as smart as he is, and I’ll prove it.”

The younger brother then approached a tree and captured a small bird. He brought the bird home, went into the living room and held the bird tightly in his cupped hands. The younger brother then posed the question to his father, “Dad, I have a small bird in my hands – tell me, is he alive or dead?”

The younger brother had decided that if the father replied “dead”, he would just open his hands and let the bird fly away, proving his father was wrong. If the father replied “alive”, then the boy would crush the bird in his hands, revealing a dead bird when opening them.

The boys’ father thought about the question for a moment, looked the younger son right in the eyes and replied very sincerely, “Son, the answer is in your hands.”

That is wisdom in action, the ability to envision the bigger picture, see the choice before you and realize that your decision makes all the difference.

To bring life or to bring death on a daily basis…that ability, that answer is in MY hands and YOUR hands, each day. In the smallest of ways, many passing and seemingly unnoticeable, your life makes a difference every minute of every day – for better or for worse. The world is an ongoing play in which you play an integral part, even if you don’t see it. What affect is your part having this day?
--BibleGeek

 

[FineLinen]

"For there is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout again, and that the tender branch thereof will not cease. Though the root thereof wax old in the earth, and the stock thereof die in the ground; yet through the scent of water it will bud, and bring forth boughs like a plant...."


The Smell Of Rain

"A cold March wind danced around the dead of night in Dallas as the
doctor walked into the small hospital room of Diana Blessing. Still groggy from
surgery, her husband David held her hand as they braced themselves for
the latest news.

"That afternoon of March 10, 1991, complications had forced Diana, only
24-weeks pregnant, to undergo an emergency cesarean section to deliver
the couple's new daughter, Danae Lu Blessing. At 12 inches long and weighing
only one pound and nine ounces, they already knew she was perilously premature.
Still, the doctor's soft words dropped like bombs. 'I don't think she's
going to make it'" he said, as kindly as he could. '"There's only a 10-percent
chance she will live through the night, and even then, if by some slim
chance she does make it, her future could be a very cruel one.'

"Numb with disbelief, David and Diana listened as the doctor described
the devastating problems Danae would likely face if she survived. She would
never walk; she would never talk; she would probably be blind; she would
certainly be prone to other catastrophic conditions from cerebral palsy to complete
mental retardation; and on and on.

"'No! No!' was all Diana could say. She and David, with their 5-year-old
son Dustin, had long dreamed of the day they would have a daughter to become
a family of four. Now, within a matter of hours, that dream was slipping away.
​

Through the dark hours of morning as Danae held onto life by the thinnest
thread, Diana slipped in and out of drugged sleep, growing more and more
determined that their tiny daughter would live - and live to be a
healthy, happy young girl. But David, fully awake and listening to additional
dire details of their daughter's chances of ever leaving the hospital alive,
much less healthy, knew he must confront his wife with the inevitable.

"David walked in and said that we needed to talk about making funeral
arrangements, Diana remembers 'I felt so bad for him because he was doing
everything, trying to include me in what was going on, but I just wouldn't
listen, I couldn't listen. I said, 'No, that is not going to happen, no way!
I don't care what the doctors say Danae is not going to die! One day she
will be just fine, and she will be coming home with us!'

"As if willed to live by Diana's determination, Danae clung to life hour
after hour, with the help of every medical machine and marvel her miniature
body could endure But as those first days passed, a new agony set in for
​

David and Diana.

"Because Danae's underdeveloped nervous system was essentially 'raw,' the
lightest kiss or caress only intensified her discomfort - so they
couldn't even cradle their tiny baby girl against their chests to offer the
strength of their love. All they could do, as Danae struggled alone beneath the
ultra-violet light in the tangle of tubes and wires, was to pray that God would
stay close to their precious little girl.

There was never a moment when Danae suddenly grew stronger. But as the
weeks went by, she did slowly gain an ounce of weight here and an ounce of
strength there. "At last, when Danae turned two months old, her parents were able
to hold her in their arms for the very first time. And two months later -
though doctors continued to gently but grimly warn that her chances of
surviving, much less living any kind of normal life, were next to zero

"Danae went home from the hospital, just as her mother had predicted.
Today, five years later, Danae is a petite but feisty young girl with glittering
gray eyes and an unquenchable zest for life. She shows no signs, whatsoever,
of any mental or physical impairments. Simply, she is everything a little girl
can be and more - but that happy ending is far from the end of her story.

"One blistering afternoon in the summer of 1996 near her home in Irving,
Texas, Danae was sitting in her mother's lap in the bleachers of a local
ball park where her brother Dustin's baseball team was practicing. As always,
Danae was chattering non-stop with her mother and several other adults sitting
nearby when she suddenly fell silent. Hugging her arms across her chest,
Danae asked, 'Do you smell that?'

Smelling the air and detecting the approach of a thunderstorm, Diana
replied, 'Yes, it smells like rain.' Danae closed her eyes and again asked, 'Do
you smell that?' Once again, her mother replied, 'Yes, I think we're about
to get wet, it smells like rain.' Still caught in the moment, Danae shook
her head, patted her thin shoulders with her small hands and loudly
announced, 'No, it smells like Him. It smells like God when you lay your head on
His chest.'

Tears blurred Diana's eyes as Danae then happily hopped down to play with
the other children. Before the rains came, her daughter's words confirmed
what Diana and all the members of the extended Blessing family had known, at least
in their hearts, all along. During those long days and nights of her first two
months of her life, when her nerves were too sensitive for them to touch her, God
was holding Danae on His chest - and it is His loving scent that she
remembers so well."

Oh how we all long to know that scent of our father. Hold Me Father........
​

 

[FineLinen]

Puppies For Sale

A farmer had some puppies he needed to sell. He painted a sign advertising the pups and set about Nailing it to a post on the edge of his yard. As he was driving the last nail into the post, he Felt a tug on his overalls. He looked down into the Eyes of a little boy.

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

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

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

"Sure," said the farmer.

And with that he let out a whistle,"Here,Dolly!" he called.

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

As the dogs made their way to the fence, the little boy noticed something else stirring inside the doghouse. Slowly another little ball appeared; this One noticeably smaller. Down the ramp it slid. Then in a somewhat awkward manner the little pup began hobbling toward the others, doing its best to catch up....

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

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

With that the little boy stepped back from the fence, reached down, and began rolling up one leg of his trousers. In doing so he revealed a steel brace running down both sides of his leg attaching itself To a specially made shoe. Looking back up at the farmer, he said, "You see sir, I don't run too well myself, and he will need Someone who understands."

The world is full of people who need someone who understands.

 

[FineLinen]

Unexpected Angels

[font=Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]It had been years since finding out that I wouldn't be able to bear children. Mom and I were spending the day together having lunch and looking through little shops and enjoying our time together. Mom could tell I was feeling sad beneath my sunny exterior and proceeded to get me to open up in her own special way. I was longing for a daughter that I would be able to share days like this with. A little blonde girl to hug and be hugged by. We shed some tears of sadness and also of acceptance and thankfulness of our current blessings and continued on to another shop. As we walked in the front door of a quaint little gift shop full of wind chimes, crystals and trinkets, a little blonde-headed, blue-eyed girl who barely reached above my knees came running up to me and threw her arms around my legs, laid her head against me and hugged me with all her might. All I could do was stand there in complete awe. After she released me from her tiny grip she disappeared into the next room as quickly as she appeared. My mom looked at me smiling and said, "angels appear in the most unexpected places, don't they?" We hugged each other as we choked back tears and laughter. Mom and I finished our girl's day out together walking closely enough to feel the other's arm. The experience with the unexpected angel filled my heart with relief, belief and so much faith.[/font]

-Author Unknown-

 

[Evee]

Puppies For Sale

A farmer had some puppies he needed to sell. He painted a sign advertising the pups and set about Nailing it to a post on the edge of his yard. As he was driving the last nail into the post, he Felt a tug on his overalls. He looked down into the Eyes of a little boy.

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

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

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

"Sure," said the farmer.

And with that he let out a whistle,"Here,Dolly!" he called.

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

As the dogs made their way to the fence, the little boy noticed something else stirring inside the doghouse. Slowly another little ball appeared; this One noticeably smaller. Down the ramp it slid. Then in a somewhat awkward manner the little pup began hobbling toward the others, doing its best to catch up....

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

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

With that the little boy stepped back from the fence, reached down, and began rolling up one leg of his trousers. In doing so he revealed a steel brace running down both sides of his leg attaching itself To a specially made shoe. Looking back up at the farmer, he said, "You see sir, I don't run too well myself, and he will need Someone who understands."

The world is full of people who need someone who understands.

Very nice and sweet.
I like this story.
This kid knew what it felt like being less than or the underdog.

 

[FineLinen]

Hi there Evee

A Good Bye Kiss -Thomas C. Clary-

The Board Meeting had come to an end. Bob started to stand
up and jostled the table, spilling his coffee over his notes.

"How embarrassing. I am getting so clumsy in my old age."

Everyone had a good laugh, and soon we were all telling stories of our most embarrassing moments. It came around to Frank who sat quietly listening to the others. Someone said,

"Come on, Frank. Tell us your most embarrassing moment."

Frank began,

"I grew up in San Pedro. My Dad was a fisherman, and he loved the sea. He had his own boat, but it was hard making a living on the sea. He worked hard and would stay out until he caught enough to feed the family. Not just enough for our family, but also for his mom and dad and the other kids that were still at home."

He looked at us and said,

"I wish you could have met my Dad. He was a big man, and he was strong from pulling the nets and fighting the seas for his catch. When you got close to him, he smelled like the ocean. He would wear his old canvas, foul-weather coat and his bib overalls. His rain hat would be pulled down over his brow. No matter how much my mother washed them, they would still smell of the sea and of fish."

Frank's voice dropped a bit.

"When the weather was bad he would drive me to school. He had this old truck that he used in his fishing business. That truck was older than he was. It would wheeze and rattle down the road. You could hear it coming for blocks. As he would drive toward the school, I would shrink down into the seat hoping to disappear. Half the time, he would slam to a stop and the old truck would belch a cloud of smoke. He would pull right up in front, and it seemed like everybody would be standing around and watching. Then he would lean over and give me a big kiss on the cheek and tell me to be a good boy. It was so embarrassing for me. Here I was twelve years old, and my Dad would lean over and kiss me good-bye!"

He paused and then went on,

"I remember the day I decided I was too old for a good-bye kiss. When we got to the school and came to a stop, he had his usual big smile. He started to lean toward me, but I put my hand up and said, 'No, Dad.'

It was the first time I had ever talked to him that way, and he had this surprised look on his face.

I said "Dad, I'm too old for a good-bye kiss. I'm too old for any kind of kiss."

My Dad looked at me for the longest time, and his eyes started to tear up. I had never seen him cry. He turned and looked out the windshield. 'You're right,' he said. 'You are a big boy....a man. I won't kiss you anymore."

Frank got a funny look on his face, and the tears began to well
up in his eyes.

"It wasn't long after that when my Dad went to sea and never came back. It was a day when most of the fleet stayed in, but not Dad. He had a big family to feed. They found his boat adrift with its nets half in and half out. He must have gotten into a gale and was trying to save the nets and the floats."

I looked at Frank and saw that tears were running down his cheeks. Frank spoke again.

"Guys, you don't know what I would give to have my Dad give me just one more kiss on the cheek....to feel his rough old face....to smell the ocean on him....to feel his arm around my neck. I wish I had been a man then. If I had been a man, I would never have told my Dad I was too old for a good-bye kiss."

May we never get too old to show our love or to receive love without embarrassment.

[move]"Greet ye one another with a kiss of love. Peace be with you all that are in Christ Jesus."[/move]

 

[FineLinen]

Pennies

You always hear the usual stories of pennies on the sidewalk being good luck, gifts from angels, etc. This is the first time I've ever heard this twist on the story. Gives you something to think about.

Several years ago, a friend of mine and her husband were invited to spend the weekend at the husband's employer's home. My friend, Arlene, was nervous about the weekend. The boss was very wealthy, with a fine home on the waterway, and cars costing more than her house.

The first day and evening went well, and Arlene was delighted to have this rare glimpse into how the very wealthy live The husband's employer was quite generous as a host, and took them to the finest restaurants. Arlene knew she would never have the opportunity to indulge in this kind of extravagance again, so was enjoying herself immensely.

As the three of them were about to enter an exclusive restaurant that evening, the boss was walking slightly ahead of Arlene and her husband. He stopped suddenly, looking down on the pavement for a long, silent moment.

Arlene wondered if she was supposed to pass him. There was nothing on the ground except a single darkened penny that someone had dropped, and a few cigarette butts. Still silent, the man reached down and picked up the penny.

He held it up and smiled, then put it in his pocket as if he had found a great treasure. How absurd! What need did this man have for a single penny? Why would he even take the time to stop and pick it up?

Throughout dinner, the entire scene nagged at her Finally, she could stand it no longer. She causally mentioned that her daughter once had a coin collection, and asked if the penny he had found had been of some value.

A smile crept across the man's face as he reached into his pocket for the penny and held it out for her to see. She had seen many pennies before!

What was the point of this?

"Look at it." He said. "Read what it says."

She read the words "United States of America."

"No, not that; read further."

"One cent?" "No, keep reading"

"In God we Trust?" "Yes!" "And?"

"And if I trust in God, the name of God is holy, even on a coin. Whenever I find a coin I see that inscription. It is written on every single United States coin, but we never seem to notice it! God drops a message right in front of me! telling me to trust Him? Who am I to pass it by? When I see a coin, I pray, I stop to see if my trust IS in God at that moment. I pick the coin up as a response to God; that I do trust in Him. For a short time, at least, I cherish it as if it were gold. I think it is God's way of starting
a conversation with me. Lucky for me, God is patient and pennies are plentiful!

When I was out shopping today, I found a penny on the sidewalk. I stopped and picked it up, and realized that I had been worrying and fretting in my mind about things I cannot change. I read the words, "In God We Trust," and had to laugh. Yes, Lord, I get the message.

It seems that I have been finding an inordinate number of pennies in the last few months, but then, pennies are plentiful!

And, God is patient...

-Author Unknown-

Trust: The Ultimate Tranquilizer

http://bible.crosswalk.com/Lexicons/Greek/grk.cgi?number=3982&version=kjv

 

[FineLinen]

Forgiven

http://www.dayspring.com/movies/webmovies/forgiven.html

[move]"God was in Christ returning to favour the whole alienated and hostile mass of humanity unto Himself..."[/move]

 

[FineLinen]

Do Not Be Troubled!

When, after leaving Kailash, I reached the inhabited part and inquired from the people there the way to the nearest village, they, out of enmity, seeing I was a Christian, directed me to a dangerous forest path; as I was quite ignorant, I followed their direction and went that way. As I traveled, night came on, but no village appeared and the sun was setting when I arrived at the bank of a river. From every side the noise of wild animals came to my ears. I tried to cross the river but could not do so, and at length sat down in despair, feeling that things boded ill for me that day and that the end of my life was at hand. My eyes filled with tears.

Just then, when I raised my eyes and glanced across the river, I saw a man sitting and warming himself by a fire. He said,

"Do not be troubled, I am coming to help you."

I was very glad to see him as he rose and came to me, and I was amazed to see how unhesitantly and fearlessly he entered the swiftly flowing river and came out. He said to me,

"Sit on my shoulder and do not fear."

So lifting me, he very gently carried me across. The surprising thing to me was that while I could not get even myself across, yet he, bearing such a burden, came through without anxiety, I concluded: "As he is a resident of this place he is practiced in crossing, and now sitting with him I will preach the gospel to him and will also render my thanks to him." But when I turned and looked back, immediatly both the fire and the man disappeared and there were no bounds to my awe, wondering what this was....Certainly our Lord is yesterday, today and for ever the same. There is no change in him, but the change is in our faith. -Life & Writings Of Sadhu Sundar Singh-

[move]"A man can receive nothing except it be given him out of heaven"[/move]

 

[Glorianna]

Wow, FineLinen, these stories are INCREDIBLE. Thank you so much for sharing them with us.

 

[FineLinen]

Hi there Glorianna. Welcome to the Ragman stories. So glad you have enjoyed them; isn't our God wonderful?

The Beggar's Rags

http://www.promiseofgod.com/rags/

[move]"Buy of Me gold tried in the fire...and white robes that you may be clothed...and anoint your eyes with eyesalve..."[/move]

 

[FineLinen]

Laus Deo

On the aluminum cap atop the Washington Monument in Washington, DC are two words: Laus Deo. No one can see these words. In fact ... most visitors to the monument have no idea they are even there and, for that matter, probably could care less!

But there they are ... 555 feet, 5.125 inches high ... perched atop the monument to the father of our nation. Overlooking the 69 square miles which comprise the District of Columbia, capital of the United States of America.

Laus Deo! Two seemingly insignificant, unnoticed words ... out of sight and, one might think, out of mind ... but very meaningfully placed at the highest point over what is the most powerful city in the world.

And what might those two words ... comprised of just four syllables and only seven letters ... mean? Very simply ... "Praise be to God!" Though construction of this giant obelisk began in 1848 when James Polk was President of the United States, it was not until 1888 that the monument was inaugurated and opened to the public. It took twenty-five years to finally cap the memorial with the tribute Laus Deo!

[move]"Praise Be To God!" [/move]

From atop this magnificent granite and marble structure ... a visitor can take in the beautiful panoramic view of the city with its division into four major segments. And from that vantage point one can also easily see ( whether plan of the designer, Pierre Charles l'Enfant , or Divine Intervention ) a perfect cross imposed upon the landscape ... with the White House to the North, the Jefferson Memorial to the South ... the Capitol to the East ... and the Lincoln Memorial to the West.

A cross ... you say?

How interesting! And ... no doubt ... intended to carry a meaning for those who bother to notice.

[move] "Praise be to God!"[/move]

Within the monument itself are 898 steps and 50 landings.

As one climbs the steps and pauses at the landings the memorial stones share a message.

On the 12th Landing is a prayer offered by the City of Baltimore;

on the 20th is a memorial presented by some Chinese Christians;

on the 24th a presentation made by Sunday School children from New York and Philadelphia quoting Proverbs 10:7, Luke 18:16 and Proverbs 22:6.

[move]"Praise Be To God!" [/move]

When the cornerstone of the Washington Monument was laid on July 4th, 1848 deposited within it were many items including the Holy Bible presented by the Bible Society.

[move]"Praise Be To God!" [/move]

Such was the discipline, the moral direction, the spiritual mood given by the founder and first President of our unique democracy ... "one nation, under God."

I am awed by Washington's prayer for America. Have you never read it? Well, now is your opportunity ... read on!

"Almighty God; We make our earnest prayer that Thou wilt keep the United States in Thy holy protection; that Thou wilt incline the hearts of the citizens to cultivate a spirit of subordination and obedience to government; and entertain a brotherly affection and love for one another and for their fellow citizens of the United states at large."

"And finally that Thou wilt most graciously be pleased to dispose us all to do justice, to love mercy, and to demean ourselves with that charity, humility, and pacific temper of mind which were the characteristics of the Divine Author of our blessed religion, and without a humble imitation of whose example in these things we can never hope to be a happy nation. Grant our supplication, we beseech Thee, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

Laus Deo!

As you might have guessed ... I kind of like the idea that our Pledge of Allegiance includes the phrase "under God." It is clear when one studies the history of our great nation that Washington's America was one of the few countries in all the world established under the guidance, direction and banner of Almighty God, to whom was given all praise, honor and worship by the great men who formed and fashioned her pivotal foundations. And when one stops to observe the inscriptions found in public places all over our nation's capitol ... one will easily find the signature of God.

We are a nation under God!!! Laus Deo!

http://www.fathershands.com/lausdeo/

 

[FineLinen]

I Dare You!

http://www.fathershands.com/dareyou/

[move]"And this is the confidence we have in Him, that if we ask anything according to His will he hears us..."[/move]

 

[MaGaZiNa]

ah yes, the best of all the stories!

 

[MaGaZiNa]

Red Roses. *Makes u think!*

LIFE TEEN Presents

Spread the WORD


“Listen, my faithful children like roses planted near running waters…send up the sweet odor of your hymn of praise; bless the LORD for all he has done! Proclaim the greatness of his name…” – Sirach 39:13-15



SITUATION EXPLAINED
How did having a dozen fresh, long stem, red roses delivered to someone, become the most common practice to symbolize love?


SOLUTION OFFERED
Many women say that it lacks creativity. It might.
Many men complain that they are too expensive. They are.
Many people claim they’d rather have a card. Probably true.
I have yet to meet a woman, however, who hates getting a dozen red roses delivered.

Now, I’m not saying that if a man buys a woman a dozen red roses, for instance, that it is insincere or that it doesn’t hold any meaning. It does. It should. I’m also not saying that other floral arrangements aren’t more creative or that a card doesn’t mean more. I’m merely saying that it’s always nice to have someone “think of you”, especially when it isn’t “a holiday”. Ask anyone, it “means a lot more” when flowers arrive “just because someone loves you” and not because the person “has to do it”.

It got me to thinking, though…I mean, why are 12 fresh, long stem, red roses the norm to demonstrate our love for another?

Why fresh flowers, why not a basket of fruit? Of course, then I remember how the fruit idea turned out for our love birds in Eden. But why a dozen, why not a half dozen or two dozen? Why red roses and not white? Why a roses at all, why not daffodils or daisies?

When it comes to the Bible, roses are almost never mentioned because as any Scripture scholar will tell you, roses are not very common in Israel. Still, I like to try to remember that all creation points us back to its Creator, and it got me to thinking…how could this “commonly accepted symbol of love", point us back to Love in the flesh (Jesus Christ)?


Why flowers?
Perhaps to remind us that although it was in a garden (Eden) that sin entered the world it would be in a garden of flowers outside a tomb where we are assured that death was destroyed forever.

Why do they have to be fresh?
Perhaps to remind us of the smell of the burial spices and perfumes that lingered in an empty tomb, or to cause us to want to live better lives in what the saints call “the fragrance of God’s holiness”.

Why are there a dozen?
Perhaps for the twelve apostles, one rose for every one who followed, fled and repented.
Perhaps for the Blessed Virgin Mary, one for every star She is now crowned with (Rev. 12:1), exalted for Her faithfulness and sinlessness.

Why are they red?
Perhaps to remind us of the beautiful blood poured out on that cross.

Why the long stem?
Perhaps to remind us that it takes time to get to the prize, or maybe to help us still feel connected to the life giving water when we go through spiritual “dryness”.

Why are they delivered?
Perhaps because we are delivered from our sins; hand picked and shared.

Finally, WHY ROSES of all the kinds of flowers – why not a “SONflower”?
Well, that one is easy – we’re always asking, “What would Jesus do?” Well on Easter Sunday morning, the Lord did what? He ROSE.

And this “sign” of Jesus’ love on Good Friday, like unexpected flowers, was done because He was thinking of you…not a “one time” remembrance of you or a “token gift” because it was a holiday.

He didn’t think of you because it was a holiday, it is a holiday, because He thought of YOU (and me).

Some think that the crucifix is grotesque, and not a good symbol of love or a holiday. Others think it is more “thoughtful” to take the body off of the cross, altogether. But that is short-sighted. We cannot separate His body from the cross in the same way we cannot separate our bodies from our daily crosses…to do so blinds us to the link between our sufferings and our life in Christ, between our temporary “life” in this place and our everlasting life in His place. It blinds us to the truth of His love, rendering the cross more a “symbol” of love (like a vase of flowers) than the altar of love and of sacrifice that it is.

Of course, the hard part is that everyone wants the roses but no one wants the thorns…everyone wants Heaven but nobody wants to die.

God, the rose’s Creator, didn’t design it that way, though. You don’t get a rose without thorns. On Easter Sunday Jesus ROSE, but not before He endured Friday’s THORNS.

Maybe a dozen red roses aren’t such a “thoughtless” gift after all. Like the crucifixion, it’s all in how you look at it…and HIM. The cross of Christ comes with a card, it has YOUR name on it and it says, “Because I love you.”



SALVATION GIVEN
“Listen, my faithful children like roses planted near running waters…send up the sweet odor of your hymn of praise; bless the LORD for all he has done! Proclaim the greatness of his name…” – Sirach 39:13-15

 

[MaGaZiNa]

kinda kewl eh?

 

[FineLinen]

Hi there Zina. Ragman continues to bless! Thank-you for your contribution.


GOING TO GIGI'S HOUSE -4/17/2004- by Chip Brogden

Mary Alice Weaver departed this earthly life today at the age of ninety-three years. She lived through two world wars, one Great Depression, and seventeen United States presidents. More importantly, she spent thirty-three years being my grandmother.

When I was too young to remember, I began calling her "Gigi". I have no idea why, but the name stuck, and that's how her grandchildren and great-grandchildren came to know her.

Going to Gigi's house on Sunday was a ritual we observed without fail during my childhood. Going to Gigi's house meant finding all the food I wanted to eat and a bed with clean sheets that smelled wonderful for some grandmotherly reason.

Going to Gigi's house meant trees to climb, and either a candy bar or a pack of bubble gum hidden in her pocketbook with my name on it.

There can be no greater feeling in this world than the feeling you get waking up at Gigi's house on a cool summer morning with the fresh breeze blowing through the open window, stirring up the godly aroma of fresh coffee; hearing the birds singing outside, while inside you hear the gurgle of the old metal coffee pot boiling on the stove and the snap crackle and pop of bacon being fried in the ancient black iron skillet. That was my cue to get to the table, and when I did, Gigi would begin breakfast by serving me coffee in a little tin cup mixed with about one-half milk.

When I was a big boy she taught me how to cook for myself, and she was obliged to eat my "breakfast in bed" experiments on more than one occasion.

I would not call her a religious person. She was refreshingly non-religious. As a good Methodist, a personal relationship with Jesus was just that- personal, and not something to be discussed. But she always knew how to give credit to Whom credit was due.

"Son," she would tell me, "I count my blessings every single day, and I don't have room left to count them all because I have so many!"

Before I knew how to read I would climb up on her lap and insist that she read the entire Bible to me. She never argued, but with a knowing look, would obediently turn to Genesis 1:1 and begin reading.

Fifteen minutes and three chapters later I had already moved on to something else, but she knew it wasn't a wasted effort, and she was right, because you see, I still remember those three chapters.

You cannot live for ninety-three years without touching a lot of people, but perhaps her greatest single contribution was doing something as simple as taking me to Sunday School on a regular basis. That set in motion a desire for knowing God, understanding His Word, and making Him known to others. As a result, tens of thousands of people around the world who benefit from my writings and spoken messages owe her a debt of thanks and don't even realize it.

Eventually, time and distance made going to Gigi's house less frequent, but nothing could keep us away for very long.

"Come when you can" was her standing invitation to us, and we were only too happy to oblige.

Now that she has moved into her new home, "going to Gigi's house" takes on a spiritual significance that we cannot begin to imagine. She is with the Lord - the rest of us will just have to come when we can.
~~~~~~~~
[move]"When I call to remembrance the unfeigned faith that is in thee, which dwelt first in thy grandmother..." [/move] (II Timothy 1:5a).

In loving memory of Mary Alice Weaver, 1911-2004
~~~~~~~~

-------------
(c)2004 Watchman.Net. Permission is granted for non-commercial (free)
distribution provided this notice appears.
To join the list, leave the list, or change your email address, please
visit:

http://www.watchman.net/join.html

 

[FineLinen]

A Most Important Lesson -Author Unknown-

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

"What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?"

Surely, this was some kind of joke.

I had seen the cleaning woman several times. She was tall, dark-haired and in her 50s, but how would I know her name? I handed in my paper, leaving the last question blank.

Just before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward our quiz grade.

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

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

[move]"For the Father himself loves you..."[/move]