• Starting today August 7th, 2024, in order to post in the Married Couples, Courting Couples, or Singles forums, you will not be allowed to post if you have your Marital status designated as private. Announcements will be made in the respective forums as well but please note that if yours is currently listed as Private, you will need to submit a ticket in the Support Area to have yours changed.

The Ragman

FineLinen

Senior Veteran
Site Supporter
Jan 15, 2003
12,119
6,397
83
The Kingdom of His dear Son
✟573,542.00
Faith
Non-Denom
FineLinen said:
Dear friends; This is the latest discovery of our Father's glorious world.

WASHINGTON, Sept 9 (Reuters) --

Big black holes sing bass. One particularly monstrous black hole has probably been humming B flat for billions of years, but at a pitch no human could hear, let alone sing, astronomers said this week.

"The intensity of the sound is comparable to human speech," said Andrew Fabian of the Institute of Astronomy at Cambridge, England. But the pitch of the sound is about 57 octaves below middle C, roughly the middle of a standard piano keyboard.

This is far, far deeper than humans can hear, the researchers said, and they believe it is the deepest note ever detected in the universe.

The sound waves are emanating from the Perseus Cluster, a giant clump of galaxies some 250 million light-years from Earth. A light-year is about 6 trillion miles (10 trillion km), the distance light travels in a year.

Fabian and his colleagues used NASA's orbiting Chandra X-Ray Observatory to investigate X-rays coming from the cluster's heart.

Researchers presumed that a supermassive black hole, with perhaps 2.5 billion times the mass of our sun, lay there, and the activity around the center bolstered this assumption.

Black holes are powerful matter-sucking drains in space, and astronomers believe most galaxies, including our own Milky Way, may contain black holes at their centers.

Black holes have not been directly observed, because their gravitational pull is so strong that nothing, not even light, can escape it.

Making waves

So researchers have concentrated on what happens around the edges of black holes, just before matter is pulled in.

When scientists trained the Chandra observatory on the center of Perseus last year, they saw concentric ripples in the cosmic gas that fills the space between the galaxies in the cluster.

"We're dealing with enormous scales here,"

Fabian said in a telephone interview. "The size of these ripples is 30,000 light-years."

Fabian said the ripples were caused by the rhythmic squeezing and heating of the cosmic gas by the intense gravitational pressure of the jumble of galaxies packed together in the cluster.

As the black hole pulls material in, he said, it also creates jets of material shooting out above and below it, and it is these powerful jets that create the pressure that creates the sound waves.

To scientists, he said, pressure ripples equate to sound waves. By calculating how far apart the ripples were, and how fast sound might travel there, the team of researchers determined the musical note of the sound.

Fabian said the notion of singing black holes might well be extrapolated to other galaxies, but not necessarily to the Milky Way.

Chandra has looked at X-ray emissions from the Milky Way's center, and astronomers believe there is a black hole there, but because it is a young, rambunctious galaxy with lots of activity at its heart, this may interfere with any note our black hole might sing, Fabian said.

http://edition.cnn.com/2003/TECH/space/09/10/blackhole.music.reut/index.html

Copyright 2003 Reuters. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
The Opening Of The Rose

http://www.promiseofgod.com/rosepetals/

Our Father hums in spontaneous vibrations of Glory/doxa. He brings us into His Realm and places us near His Fork where He hums us into Himself.

Our hearts, our souls, our spirits begin to hum just like Him, for we have been calibrated to the sounds of Heaven. If another fork is placed nearby and calibrated to the same note, the second fork will hum and vibrate in harmony with the First One.

Listen To The Hum

"And to my ears came the voice of everything in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, and of all things which are in them, saying, To Him who is seated on the high seat, and to the Lamb, may blessing and honour and glory and power be given for ever and ever."

Every created thing (pan ktisma)

Every creature in a still wider antiphonal circle beyond the circle of angels...from all the four great fields of life (heaven, upon earth, under the earth, in the sea). No created thing is left out. This is a universal chorus of praise to the Father of our spirits and to the Lamb of His Heart! Antiphonal chorus....the tuning forks in harmony, the roses opened to His doxa!

http://www.promiseofgod.com/rosepetals/
 
Upvote 0

FineLinen

Senior Veteran
Site Supporter
Jan 15, 2003
12,119
6,397
83
The Kingdom of His dear Son
✟573,542.00
Faith
Non-Denom
FineLinen said:
The Opening Of The Rose

http://www.promiseofgod.com/rosepetals/

Our Father hums in spontaneous vibrations of Glory/doxa. He brings us into His Realm and places us near His Fork where He hums us into Himself.

Our hearts, our souls, our spirits begin to hum just like Him, for we have been calibrated to the sounds of Heaven. If another fork is placed nearby and calibrated to the same note, the second fork will hum and vibrate in harmony with the First One.

Listen To The Hum

"And to my ears came the voice of everything in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, and of all things which are in them, saying, To Him who is seated on the high seat, and to the Lamb, may blessing and honour and glory and power be given for ever and ever."

Every created thing (pan ktisma)

Every creature in a still wider antiphonal circle beyond the circle of angels...from all the four great fields of life (heaven, upon earth, under the earth, in the sea). No created thing is left out. This is a universal chorus of praise to the Father of our spirits and to the Lamb of His Heart! Antiphonal chorus....the tuning forks in harmony, the roses opened to His doxa!

http://www.promiseofgod.com/rosepetals/
In Memory Of George Brewster

-Thank-you REB for the story-

George Brewster was the only man in history that I know of to leave West Virginia on a raft to go to Israel-and, he made it!

In 1979, I was involved with a Christian coffee house on the campus of West Virginia University. There were about ten of us that volunteered our time to that ministry. It was glorious!

We met every Saturday night from 9 PM until 1 AM. A gentleman let us use a pizza shop that he wasn't using at the time to put the ministry in there. The Lord did a wonderful work in those two rooms for about eight years. Every Saturday night was a wondrous adventure in Him.

There were nights of great praise and music. Some nights the place would be packed. Other nights, a half dozen. The numbers were insignificant. What a joy to set and share His love with so many. What a learning experience.

George was a street person in his early thirties. He had a hard experience in Viet Nam and was left very damaged in his thinking.

Two folks connected with the coffee house were down at the county jail one night and George was a prisoner at the time for something small like vagrancy or something. He kind of looked like the classical paintings of Jesus you have seen-long hair and a beard. These two brethren told him about the Lord that night in jail and he prayed with them. They gave him a Bible.

So, he would often bring a couple of other street people with him to the coffee house. He'd walk up to them on the street downtown and just say,"Come with me!"

It was kind of like where the Lord told the disciples He gathered, "Follow me!"

Ha! They all knew George so they would follow him up to the Sunnyside area where they were expecting to get some food or some handout. They got food as we always had some great food there that people would contribute. As they sat and ate we would tell them about Christ. Many great discussions with those George brought in.

George himself struggled in those early years. He saw a God of great wrath and, though he was quiet, you could tell he didn't quite know what to make of this God of love we were always talking about.

Many evenings as I sat in the coffee house talking to a few students at one of the tables telling them of the Lord's great love for us I would look up and see George glaring at me from another table. He didn't know what to do with all this joy and gladness!

One day, I picked him up thumbing and I could tell when he got in the car he was ready to grill me about these beliefs I had. As he sat there in the passenger's seat he was quiet but intense. He had a smile on his face as he gave me five or six of his best scriptures outlining the wrath of God.

I smiled back and assured him I felt no condemnation from the Lord-only love.

As he got out of the car, he leaned back in and gave me a parting wish that he hoped I wouldn't end up having His wrath released on me.

Go To Galilee

Some time later, George read the scripture in Mark that the Lord spoke following His resurrection. He told the disciples that He went before them into Galilee. George decided that the Lord had spoken to him to go to Galilee. He told us all that he was leaving for Israel.

So, he made a handmade raft out of some scrap wood and started up the Monongahela River towards Pittsburgh, Pa. which is some sixty miles away as the river runs.

He did make one stop at a young couple's house just a couple of miles up river. He knew where they lived and they had been to the coffee house on numerous occasions. He came banging on their door one night and asked them if he could borrow a role of toilet paper for his trip. They gladly obliged.

Imagine our surprise about six months later when we heard he had made it to Israel! Oh we of little faith
icon_biggrin.gif
He had made it to Pittsburgh on his raft within a few weeks of leaving Morgantown, WV.


He flew out of Pittsburgh and made connections to Israel. I guess he had made some arrangements to have his disability checks forwarded somehow. He lived in a Christian Kibbutz (SP?) for a while with some folks.

A couple of years later, a man showed up at the coffee house one night. No one knew who he was and he thought that quite funny and spent the evening there refusing to tell us who he was though he knew all of our names. This guy was clean shaven, short hair, well groomed.

That wasn't the important part, though. He had changed on the inside. He was easy to talk to.

Of course, at the end of the night he told us he was George! He told us the Lord had really done a work in him and this was obvious to all of us! What a change.

A Story In The Local Newpaper Yesterday (9/9/03)

The reason this all comes to mind almost fifteen years later is that there was a story in the local newspaper yesterday about a body being found in the Mon River here. Some men out fishing in a boat had heard someone singing Christian songs up the shore somewhere. It was about midnight.

Then, they heard water splashing and the man crying for help. And then....nothing. They found his body the next day. It was George. He had fallen in the river that took him to Israel and drowned.

I have fond memories of George. It's going to be an amazing thing when the Lord explains all of these events to us someday! The Lord's blessings on you, George! See you on the other side of the River!

REB

Folks,

Isn't it an absolutely wonderful day to know the Lord?!!
 
Upvote 0

FineLinen

Senior Veteran
Site Supporter
Jan 15, 2003
12,119
6,397
83
The Kingdom of His dear Son
✟573,542.00
Faith
Non-Denom
MaGaZiNa said:
Hey Finelinen! How have you been doing?
Schools been :p...TOO MUCH homework, I have barely no time to visit you guys anymore!
wave.gif
Hi there Xina....we have missed your smiling face! I do trust this will be a good and profitable 17th year for you.

The FineLinen's continue to be blessed. Tomorrow, 9/14/03 that lucky woman Beloved_1 will have spent 40 glorious years of wedded bliss with me. In our kitchen hangs a plaque.....


WE HAVE BEEN THRU SO MUCH TOGETHER AND MOST OF IT HAS BEEN YOUR FAULT

Now listen up! You will not stay away from us for so long.
sigh.gif
 
Upvote 0

FineLinen

Senior Veteran
Site Supporter
Jan 15, 2003
12,119
6,397
83
The Kingdom of His dear Son
✟573,542.00
Faith
Non-Denom
Not all 911 heroes are people.

James Crane worked on the 101st of Tower 1 of the World Trade Center. He is blind so he has a golden retriever named Daisy.

After the plane hit 20 stories below, James knew that he was doomed, so he let Daisy go, out of an
act of love. She darted away into the darkened hallway. Choking on the fumes of the jet fuel and the smoke James was just waiting to die.

About 30 minutes later, Daisy came back along with James' boss, who Daisy just happened to pick up on floor 112.

On her first run of the building, she lead James, James' boss, and about 300 more people out of the doomed building.

But she wasn't through yet, she knew there were others who were trapped. So, highly against James'
wishes she ran back in the building.

On her second run, she saved 392 lives.

Again she went back in. During this run, the building collapsed. James heard about this and fell on his
knees into tears.

Against all known odds, Daisy made it out alive, but this time she is carried by a firefighter.

"She led us right to the people, before she got injured" the fireman explained.

Her final run saved another 273 lives. She suffered acute smoke inhalation, severe burns on all four paws, and a broken leg, but she saved 967 lives.

The following week, Mayor Guiliani rewarded Daisy with the Canine medal of Honor of New York. Daisy is the first civilian Canine to win such an honor.
 
Upvote 0

FineLinen

Senior Veteran
Site Supporter
Jan 15, 2003
12,119
6,397
83
The Kingdom of His dear Son
✟573,542.00
Faith
Non-Denom
Penpals

John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way through Grand Central Station. He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn't, the girl with the rose. His interest in her had begun thirteen months before in a Florida library. Taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued, not with the words of the book, but with the notes penciled in the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and insightful mind.

In the front of the book, he discovered the previous owner's name, Miss Hollis Maynell. With time and effort he located her address. She lived in New York City. He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to correspond. The next day he was shipped overseas for service in World War II.

During the next year and one month the two grew to know each other through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart. A romance was budding. Blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn't matter what she looked like.

When the day finally came for him to return from Europe, they scheduled their first meeting - 7:00 PM at the Grand Central Station in New York. "You'll recognize me," she wrote, "by the red rose I'll be wearing on my lapel."

So at 7:00 he was in the station looking for a girl whose heart he loved, but whose face he'd never seen. I'll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened:

A young woman was coming toward me, her figure long and slim. Her blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes were blue as flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale green suit she was like springtime come alive. I started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not wearing a rose. As I moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips.


"Going my way, sailor?" she murmured. Almost uncontrollably I made one step closer to her, and then I saw Hollis Maynell.

She was standing almost directly behind the girl. A woman well past 40, she had graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump, her thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes. The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away. I felt as though I was split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her, and yet so deep was my longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned me and upheld my own. And there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible, her gray eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle. I did not hesitate. My fingers gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book that was to identify me to her. This would not be love, but it would be something precious, something perhaps even better than love, a friendship for which I had been and must ever be grateful. I squared my shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the woman, even though while I spoke I felt choked by the bitterness of my disappointment.
"I'm Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must be Miss Maynell. I am so glad you could meet me; may I take you to dinner?" The woman's face broadened into a tolerant smile. "I don't know what this is about, son," she answered, "but the young lady in the green suit who just went by, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said if you were to ask me out to dinner, I should go and tell you that she is waiting for you in the big restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of test!"

It's not difficult to understand and admire Miss Maynell's wisdom. The true nature of a heart is seen in its response to the unattractive. "Tell me whom you love," Houssaye wrote, "And I will tell you who you are."
 
Upvote 0

FineLinen

Senior Veteran
Site Supporter
Jan 15, 2003
12,119
6,397
83
The Kingdom of His dear Son
✟573,542.00
Faith
Non-Denom
Watermelons

Chuan and Jing joined a wholesale company together just after graduation. Both worked very hard.

After several years, the boss promoted Jing to sales executive but Chuan remained a sales rep.

One day Chuan could not take it anymore and tendered his resignation to the boss and complained the boss did not value hard working staff, but only promoted those who flattered him.

The boss knew that Chuan worked very hard for the years, but in order to help Chuan realise the difference between him and Jing, the boss asked Chuan to do the following. Go and find out anyone selling water melon in the market?

Chuan returned and said yes. The boss asked how much per kg? Chuan went back to the market to ask and returned to inform boss the price was $12 per kg.

Boss told Chuan

I will ask Jing the same question? Jing went, returned and said, boss, only one person selling water melon. $12 per kg, $100 for 10 kg, he has inventory of 340 melons. On the table 58 melons, every melon weighs about 15 kg, bought from the South two days ago, they are fresh and red, good quality.

Chuan was very impressed and realised the difference between himself and Jing. He decided not to resign but to learn from Jing.
 
Upvote 0

FineLinen

Senior Veteran
Site Supporter
Jan 15, 2003
12,119
6,397
83
The Kingdom of His dear Son
✟573,542.00
Faith
Non-Denom
The Waste In Worry

[size=-1]If we were to keep a record of all the things we worried about during a[/size] [size=-1]given period of time, we would discover, in reviewing them, that the[/size] [size=-1]great majority of our anticipated problems or troubles never come to[/size] [size=-1]pass. This means that most of the time we devote to worrying, even the[/size] [size=-1]constructive kind that prompts us to try to come up with a solution to what[/size] [size=-1]is troubling us, is wasted. Thus, we not only caused ourselves unnecessary[/size] [size=-1]mental anguish, but also took up valuable minutes and hours that could[/size] [size=-1]have been spent elsewhere. [/size]

[size=-1]To avoid this, it is often necessary to subject potential sources of worry[/size] [size=-1]to the coldly objective and analytical light of reason. Once, shortly before[/size] [size=-1]a major concert before a standing-room-only audience, a member of[/size] [size=-1]Arturo Toscanini's orchestra approached the great Italian conductor with[/size] [size=-1]an expression of sheer terror on his face. [/size]

[size=-1]"Maestro," the musician[/size] [size=-1]fretted, "my instrument is not working properly. I cannot reach the note of[/size] [size=-1]E-flat. Whatever will I do? We are to begin in a few moments." [/size]


[size=-1]Toscanini looked at the man with utter amazement. Then he smiled[/size] [size=-1]kindly and placed an arm around his shoulders. "My friend," the maestro[/size] [size=-1]replied, "Do not worry about it. The note E-flat does not appear[/size] [size=-1]anywhere in the music that you will be playing this evening." [/size] [size=-1]The next time we find ourselves in the middle of worrying about some[/size] [size=-1]matter, we might be wise to stop and ask ourselves what the odds are of[/size] [size=-1]the problem really coming to pass. We may be able to go on to[/size] [size=-1]something more constructive. [/size]
 
Upvote 0

FineLinen

Senior Veteran
Site Supporter
Jan 15, 2003
12,119
6,397
83
The Kingdom of His dear Son
✟573,542.00
Faith
Non-Denom
Tokichi Ishii

One of the great conversion stores of modern times is the story of how the Japanese murderer Tokichi Ishii was converted by reading the New Testament when he was in prison. He was a man of the most savage cruelty, bestial and sub-human in the terrible crimes that he had committed.

He was converted by reading a Bible which two Canadian women left with him, when they could not get even a flicker of human response to anything they said to him. He read it, and when he came to the prayer of Jesus:

"Father, forgive them, they know not what they do"

He says: "I stopped. I was stabbed to the heart, as if pierced with a five-inch nail." His sorrow for his sin was the sorrow of a broken heart.

The word penthein tells us that we have not even begun on the Christian way until we take sin with such seriousness that our sorrow for it is like the mourning of one who mourns for the dead. Christianity begins with the godly sorrow of the broken heart.

http://bible.crosswalk.com/Lexicons/Greek/grk.cgi?number=3996&version=kjv

Mourn= Pentheo/ Penthein

[move]We must die, and are like water spilled on the ground that cannot be gathered up again. But God does not take away life; instead He devises ways for the banished to be restored.[/move]
 
Upvote 0

FineLinen

Senior Veteran
Site Supporter
Jan 15, 2003
12,119
6,397
83
The Kingdom of His dear Son
✟573,542.00
Faith
Non-Denom
Learning To Get Back Up

Bringing a giraffe into the world is a tall order. A baby giraffe falls 10 feet from its mother's womb and usually lands on its back. Within seconds it rolls over and tucks its legs under its body. From this position it considers the world for the first time and shakes off the last vestiges of the birthing fluid from its eyes and ears. Then the mother giraffe rudely introduces its offspring to the reality of life.

In his book, A View from the Zoo, Gary Richmond describes how a newborn giraffe learns its first lesson.

The mother giraffe lowers her head long enough to take a quick look. Then she positions herself directly over her calf. She waits for about a minute, and then she does the most unreasonable thing. She swings her long, pendulous leg outward and kicks her baby, so that it is sent sprawling head over heels.

When it doesn't get up, the violent process is repeated over and over again. The struggle to rise is momentous. As the baby calf grows tired, the mother kicks it again to stimulate its efforts. Finally, the calf stands for the first time on its wobbly legs. Then the mother giraffe does the most remarkable thing.

She kicks it off its feet again. Why? She wants it to remember how it got up. In the wild, baby giraffes must be able to get up as quickly as possible to stay with the herd, where there is safety.

Lions, hyenas, leopards, and wild hunting dogs all enjoy young giraffes, and they'd get it too, if the mother didn't teach her calf to get up quickly and get with it.

The late Irving Stone understood this. He spent a lifetime studying greatness, writing novelized biographies of such men as Michelangelo, Vincent van Gogh, Sigmund Freud, and Charles Darwin. Stone was once asked if he had found a thread that runs through the lives of all these exceptional people.

He said, "I write about people who sometime in their life have a vision or dream of something that should be accomplished and they go to work.

"They are beaten over the head, knocked down, vilified, and for years they get nowhere. But every time they're knocked down they stand up. You cannot destroy these people. And at the end of their lives they've accomplished some modest part of what they set out to do."

-Craig B. Larson Adapted from "Illustrations for Preaching & Teaching from Leadership Journal Baker Books-
 
Upvote 0

FineLinen

Senior Veteran
Site Supporter
Jan 15, 2003
12,119
6,397
83
The Kingdom of His dear Son
✟573,542.00
Faith
Non-Denom
Carl's Garden

Carl was a quiet man. He didn't talk much. He would always greet you with a big smile and a firm handshake. Even after living in our neighborhood for over 50 years, no one could really say they knew him very well.

Before his retirement, he took the bus to work each morning. The lone sight of him walking down the street often worried us.

He had a slight limp from a bullet wound received in W.W.II. Watching him, we worried that although he had survived W.W.II, he may not make it through our changing uptown neighborhood with its ever-increasing random violence, gangs, and drug activity.

When he saw the flyer at our local church asking for volunteers for caring for the gardens behind the minister's residence, he responded in his characteristically un-assuming manner. Without fanfare, he just signed up.

He was well into his 87th year when the very thing we had always feared finally happened. He was just finishing his watering for the day when three gang members approached him. Ignoring their attempt to intimidate him, he simply asked, "Would you like a drink from the hose?"

The tallest and toughest-looking of the three said, "Yeah, sure", with a malevolent little smile. As Carl offered the hose to him, the other two grabbed Carl's arm, throwing him down. As the hose snaked crazily over the ground, dousing everything in its way, Carl's assailants stole his retirement watch and his wallet, and then fled.

Carl tried to get himself up, but he had been thrown down on his bad leg.

He lay there trying to gather himself as the minister came running to help him. Although the minister had witnessed the attack from his window, he couldn't get there fast enough to stop it. "Carl, are you okay? Are you hurt?" the minister kept asking as he helped Carl to his feet. Carl just passed a hand over his brow and sighed, shaking his head. "Just some punks, I hope they'll wise-up someday." His wet clothes clung to his slight frame as he bent to pick up the hose. He adjusted the nozzle again and started to water. Confused and a little concerned, the minister asked, "Carl, what are you doing?" "I've got to finish my watering. It's been very dry lately", came the calm reply. Satisfying himself that Carl really was all right, the minister could only marvel. Carl was a man from a different time and place.

A few weeks later the three returned.

Just as before their threat was unchallenged. Carl again offered them a drink from his hose. This time they didn't rob him. They wrenched the hose from his hand and drenched him head to foot in the icy water. When they had finished their humiliation of him, they sauntered off down the street, throwing catcalls and curses, falling over one another laughing at the hilarity of what they had just done.

Carl just watched them. Then he turned toward the warmth giving sun, picked up his hose, and went on with his watering.

The summer was quickly fading into fall.

Carl was doing some tilling when he was startled by the sudden approach of someone behind him. He stumbled and fell into some evergreen branches. As he struggled to regain his footing, he turned to see the tall leader of his summer tormentors reaching down for him. He braced himself for the expected attack.

"Don't worry old man, I'm not gonna hurt you this time." The young man spoke softly, still offering the tattooed and scarred hand to Carl.

As he helped Carl get up, the man pulled a crumpled bag from his pocket and handed it to Carl. "What's this?" Carl asked.

"It's your stuff," the man explained. "It's your stuff back. Even the money in your wallet."

"I don't understand," Carl said. "Why would you help me now?"

The man shifted his feet, seeming embarrassed and ill at ease. "I learned something from you", he said. "I ran with that gang and hurt people like you. We picked you because you were old and we knew we could do it. But every time we came and did something to you, instead of yelling and fighting back, you tried to give us a drink. You didn't hate us for hating you. You kept showing love against our hate." He stopped for a moment.

"I couldn't sleep after we stole your stuff, so here it is back."

He paused for another awkward moment, not knowing what more there was to say. "That bag's my way of saying thanks for straightening me out, I guess." And with that, he walked off down the street.

Carl looked down at the sack in his hands and gingerly opened it. He took out his retirement watch and put it back on his wrist. Opening his wallet, he checked for his wedding photo. He gazed for a moment at the young bride that still smiled back at him from all those years ago.

He died one cold day after Christmas that winter.

Many people attended his funeral in spite of the weather. In particular the minister noticed a tall young man that he didn't know sitting quietly in a distant corner of the church. The minister spoke of Carl's garden as a lesson in life.

In a voice made thick with unshed tears, he said, "Do your best and make your garden as beautiful as you can. We will never forget Carl and his garden."

The following spring another flyer went up. It read "Person needed to care for Carl's garden."

The flyer went unnoticed by the busy parishioners until one day when a knock was heard at the minister's office door.

Opening the door, the minister saw a pair of scarred and tattooed hands holding the flyer. "I believe this is my job, if you'll have me," the young man said.

The minister recognized him as the same young man who had returned the stolen watch and wallet to Carl. He knew that Carl's kindness had turned this man's life around. As the minister handed him the keys to the garden shed, he said, "Yes, go take care of Carl's garden and honor him."

The man went to work and, over the next several years, he tended the flowers and vegetables just as Carl had done. In that time, he went to college, got married, and became a prominent member of the community. But he never forgot his promise to Carl's memory and kept the garden as beautiful as he thought Carl would have kept it.

One day he approached the new minister and told him that he couldn't care for the garden any longer. He explained with a shy and happy smile, "My wife just had a baby boy last night, and she's bringing him home on Saturday." "Well, congratulations!" said the minister, as he was handed the garden shed keys.

"That's wonderful! What's the baby's name?"

"Carl," he replied.
 
Upvote 0

FineLinen

Senior Veteran
Site Supporter
Jan 15, 2003
12,119
6,397
83
The Kingdom of His dear Son
✟573,542.00
Faith
Non-Denom
Only God Knows

It was an unusually cold day for the month of May. Spring had arrived, and everything was alive with color. But a cold front from the North had brought winter's chill back to Indiana. I sat, with two friends, in the picture window of a quaint restaurant just off the corner of the town square. The food and the company were both especially good that day.

As we talked, my attention was drawn outside, across the street.

There, walking into town was a man who appeared to be carrying all of his worldly goods on his back. He was carrying, a well-worn sign that read, "I will work for food."

My heart sank.

I brought him to the attention of my friends and noticed that others around us had stopped eating to focus on him. Heads moved in a mixture of sadness and disbelief. We continued with our meal, but his image lingered in my mind. We finished our meal and went our separate ways.

I had errands to do and quickly set out to accomplish them. I glanced toward the town square, looking somewhat halfheartedly for the strange visitor.

I was fearful, knowing that seeing him again would call some response. I drove through town and saw nothing of him. I made some purchases at a store and got back in my car. Deep within me, the Spirit of God kept speaking to me: "Don't go back to the office until you've at least driven once more around the square." And so, with some hesitancy, I headed back into town. As I turned the square's third corner, I saw him.

He was standing on the steps of the storefront church, going through his sack.

I stopped and looked, feeling both compelled to speak to him, yet wanting to drive on.

The empty parking space on the corner seemed to be a sign from God: an invitation to park. I pulled in, got out and approached the town's newest visitor.

"Looking for the pastor?" I asked.

"Not really," he replied, "just resting."

"Have you eaten today?"

"Oh, I ate something early this morning."

"Would you like to have lunch with me?"

"Do you have some work I could do for you?"

"No work," I replied. "I commute here to work from the city, but I would like to take you to lunch."

"Sure," he replied with a smile.

As he began to gather his things. I asked some surface questions.

"Where you headed?"

"St. Louis."

"Where you from?"

"Oh, all over; mostly Florida."

"How long you been walking?"

"Fourteen years," came the reply.

I knew I had met someone unusual. We sat across from each other in the same restaurant I had left earlier. His face was weathered slightly beyond his 38 years. His eyes were dark yet clear, and he spoke with an eloquence and articulation that was startling.

He removed his jacket to reveal a bright red T-shirt that said, "Jesus is The Never Ending Story."


Then Daniel's story began to unfold. He had seen rough times early in life. He'd made some wrong choices and reaped the consequences.


Fourteen years earlier, while backpacking across the country, he had stopped on the beach in Daytona. He tried to hire on with some men who were putting up a large tent and some equipment. A concert, he thought.


He was hired, but the tent would not house a concert but revival services, and in those services he saw life more clearly. He gave his life over to God. "Nothing's been the same since," he said, "I felt the Lord telling me to keep walking, and so I did, some 14 years now."


"Ever think of stopping?" I asked.

"Oh, once in a while, when it seems to get the best of me. But God has given me this calling. I give out Bibles. That's what's in my sack. I work to buy food and Bibles, and I give them out when His Spirit leads."

I sat amazed. My homeless friend was not homeless. He was on a mission and lived this way by choice.

The question burned inside for a moment, and then I asked:
"What's it like?"

"What?"

"To walk into a town carrying all your things on your back and to show your sign?"

"Oh, it was humiliating at first. People would stare and make comments. One tossed a piece of half-eaten bread and made a gesture that certainly didn't make me feel welcome. But then it became humbling to realize that God was using me to touch lives and change people's concepts of other folks like me."

My concept was changing, too.

We finished our dessert and gathered his things. Just outside the door, he paused. He turned to me and said,

"Come Ye blessed of my Father and inherit the kingdom I've prepared for you. For when I was hungry you gave me food, when I was thirsty you gave me drink, a stranger and you took me in."

I felt as if we were on holy ground.

"Could you use another Bible?" I asked.

He said he preferred a certain translation. It traveled well and was not too heavy. It was also his personal favorite. "I've read through it 14 times," he said.

"I'm not sure we've got one of those, but let's stop by our church and see."

I was able to find my new friend a Bible that would do well, and he seemed very grateful.

"Where you headed from here?"

"Well, I found this little map on the back of this amusement park
coupon."

"Are you hoping to hire on there for awhile?"

"No, I just figure I should go there. I figure someone under that star right there needs a Bible, so that's where I'm going next."

He smiled, and the warmth of his spirit radiated the sincerity of his mission. I drove him back to the town-square where we'd met two hours earlier, and as we drove, it started raining. We parked and unloaded his things.

"Would you sign my autograph book?" he asked. "I like to keep messages from folks I meet."

I wrote in his little book that his commitment to his calling had
touched my life. I encouraged him to stay strong. And I left him with a verse of scripture from Jeremiah,

[move] "I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a future and a hope."[/move]

"Thanks, man," he said. "I know we just met, and we're really just strangers, but I love you."

"I know," I said, "I love you, too."

"The Lord is good."

"Yes, He is. How long has it been since someone hugged you?" I asked.

"A long time," he replied.

And so on the busy street corner in the drizzling rain, my new friend and I embraced, and I felt deep inside that I had been changed.

He put his things on his back, smiled his winning smile and said, "See you in the New Jerusalem."

"I'll be there!" was my reply.

He began his journey again. He headed away with his sign dangling from his bed roll and pack of Bibles. He stopped, turned and said, "When you see something that makes you think of me, will you pray for me?"

"You bet," I shouted back, "God bless." And that was the last I saw of him.

Late that evening as I left my office, the wind blew strong.

The cold front had settled hard upon the town. I bundled up and hurried to my car. As I sat back and reached for the emergency brake, I saw them... a pair of well-worn brown work gloves neatly laid over the length of the handle. I picked them up and thought of my friend and wondered if his hands would stay warm that night without them. I remembered his words:

"If you see something that makes you think of me, will you pray for me?"

Today his gloves lie on my desk in my office. They help me to see the world and its people in a new way, and they help me remember those two hours with my unique friend and to pray for his ministry.

"See you in the New Jerusalem," he said. Yes, Daniel, I know I will..."I shall pass this way but once. Therefore, any good that I can do or any kindness that I can show, let me do it now, for I shall not pass this way again."
 
Upvote 0
M

MaGaZiNa

Guest
Save My Baby!
By: Scott Browstrom, pg. 37 of Guideposts for TEENS​

It was a hot Sunday afternoon, and Cherie and I were having a great time at our friends' pool party. I stood up on the diving board, looking at the sky and thinking how peaceful everything seemed. Then I heard them--screams. "My baby!" a lady screamed. "He's at the bottom of the pool!"

I look around--no one was doing anything to help. Everybody just stood and stared at her. Confused, I searched the length of th epool. Finally I spotted a small, motionless form beneath the water. I dived in--and found the baby! I swept him off the bottom and kicked my way back to the surface.

The baby had turned blue, and he wasn't breathing. While someone ran off to call an ambulance, I started CPR. Dear God, I prayed. Please help me do it right. Suddenly the baby coughed, sputtered--and breathed! Within minutes the paramedics arrived.

"Cherie," I said as soon as I was able to talk. "Why didn't anyone help that lady? Her son was drowning!"

"How could we help when we didn't know what she was saying?"

"What do you mean? Even at the far end of the pool I could hear her yelling about the baby."

"She's Mexican. She doesn't speak English," a friend said. "None of us understood her in Spanish."

But I knew for sure I'd heard her yelling in English--because I didn't understand a word of Spanish.
 
Upvote 0

FineLinen

Senior Veteran
Site Supporter
Jan 15, 2003
12,119
6,397
83
The Kingdom of His dear Son
✟573,542.00
Faith
Non-Denom
MaGaZiNa said:
Hello FL, well great news! I got my license last week, FINALLY. I passed my test on my first try and I drive everywhere now. It's pretty cool!

Glad to see you're still posting wonderful stories :)!

I better get going now to do some homework :(, God bless ya and the rest of you all!
Hi there Xina....we have missed your dancing feet and smiling face. You are now entering upon one of the most dangerous aspects of life in this modern age....getting behind the wheel of a vehicle to drive. You may not know this at your tender life, but this world is filled with dorks who place your life at extreme risk. We are rejoicing with your new avenues of freedom, however, driving is a wonderful time of life.....not as much enjoyment as homework, :cry: but enjoyable none-the-less!

[move]May the Lord bless you and keep you, may He radiate His presence upon you as He leads you into bursting springs of joy.[/move]
 
Upvote 0

FineLinen

Senior Veteran
Site Supporter
Jan 15, 2003
12,119
6,397
83
The Kingdom of His dear Son
✟573,542.00
Faith
Non-Denom
MaGaZiNa said:
Save My Baby!
By: Scott Browstrom, pg. 37 of Guideposts for TEENS​

It was a hot Sunday afternoon, and Cherie and I were having a great time at our friends' pool party. I stood up on the diving board, looking at the sky and thinking how peaceful everything seemed. Then I heard them--screams. "My baby!" a lady screamed. "He's at the bottom of the pool!"

I look around--no one was doing anything to help. Everybody just stood and stared at her. Confused, I searched the length of th epool. Finally I spotted a small, motionless form beneath the water. I dived in--and found the baby! I swept him off the bottom and kicked my way back to the surface.

The baby had turned blue, and he wasn't breathing. While someone ran off to call an ambulance, I started CPR. Dear God, I prayed. Please help me do it right. Suddenly the baby coughed, sputtered--and breathed! Within minutes the paramedics arrived.

"Cherie," I said as soon as I was able to talk. "Why didn't anyone help that lady? Her son was drowning!"

"How could we help when we didn't know what she was saying?"

"What do you mean? Even at the far end of the pool I could hear her yelling about the baby."

"She's Mexican. She doesn't speak English," a friend said. "None of us understood her in Spanish."

But I knew for sure I'd heard her yelling in English--because I didn't understand a word of Spanish.
Zina: that was a wonderful story. Thank-you! The Guidepost magazine has many wonderful stories and words of hope and encouragement. Can we keep this thread going for another year?

The following is not a story, but the words of a friend, of a friend of ours, who has written regarding worship and praise.....

Praise ~ Worship

Praise enjoys God,

Worship esteems Him.

Praise acclaims Him,

Worship beholds Him.

Praise lifts,

Worship bows.

Praise lauds,

Worship loves.

Praise celebrates,

Worship humbly reveres.

Praise addresses God,

Worship waits on God.

Praise dances,

Worship removes shoes for holy ground.

Praise extols God for what He has done,

Worship extols Him for who He is.

Praise lifts us to heavenly places,

Worship lifts God to His rightful throne~the throne.

Praise says, "Praise the Lord",

Worship demonstrates that "He is Lord".

Praise is grateful for heirship to the throne,

Worship lays crowns at His feet.


-Marcyne Heinrichs- copyright

Steps To The Christ Life

1. I ONLY

2. I and christ

3. Christ and i

4. CHRIST ONLY.

Our God Reigns!

http://www.christiananswers.net/midimenu.html
 
Upvote 0