Why Go To Church?
Nov 04, 2004

A church-goer wrote a letter to the editor of a newspaper and complained that it made no sense to go to church every Sunday. "I've gone for 30 years now," he wrote, "and in that time I have heard something like 3,000 sermons.

But for the life of me, I can't remember a single one of them. So, I think I'm wasting my time and the pastors are wasting theirs by giving sermons at all."

This started a real controversy in the "Letters to the Editor" column, much to the delight of the editor. It went on for weeks until someone wrote this clincher:

=================================

I've been married for 30 years now. In that time my wife has cooked some 32,000 meals. But, for the life of me, I cannot recall the entire menu for a single one of those meals. But I do know this... They all nourished me and gave me the strength I needed to do my work. If my wife had not given me these meals, I would be physically dead today.

Likewise, if I had not gone to church for nourishment, I would be spiritually dead today!"

When you are down to nothing.... God is up to something! Faith sees the invisible, believes the incredible and receives the impossible! Thank God for our physical and our spiritual nourishment!

Keep Striking The Stone
Cary Branscum
Nov 05, 2004

Keep Striking the Stone
by Cary Branscum

Ever feel like throwing in the towel?

Most folks feel that way at times. Maybe you've worked, fretted, and given yourself to a relationship, a job, or a cause that doesn't go your way. You are caught between conflicting desires; you feel like giving up on the good things, the right things, even as you hold onto the wrong things. Feeling like giving up is a universal human experience, even for Christians! In Romans 7:21, the apostle Paul shares his own experience as he struggles to do good even as evil lurks close at hand. Where there is belief, there is doubt. Where there is trust, there is distrust. Where there is obedience, there is disobedience.

You can always give up. John 6 finds Jesus telling his disciples the truth about God. In verse 66, some "walked no more with him." They gave up. They threw in the towel. They quit on Jesus. I can't help but imagine all kinds of things as Jesus turns to the Twelve, his core group, and asks, "Will you also go away?" And then Simon Peter gives an answer that rings true for all followers of Jesus. He replies, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life." There is no one else, there is no place else, if you want eternal life; it's Jesus or no one. (Acts 4:12)

Still, it's just so tempting to give up, isn't it? We really feel like giving up on God... on other people, and even on ourselves -- giving up the song in our soul, our hopes and dreams, both big and small.

Let me tell you a story. I have a lifelong fascination and deep abiding interest in ancient Native American culture. One of my dreams was to learn flint-knapping, the art of making tools and weapons from flint or obsidian. I especially wanted to make arrowheads. To make an arrowhead you need a hammer stone, the right piece of flint, and a lot of patience. As I kid, I tried to make arrowheads. After trying, it seemed impossible, so I gave up.

Years later, one hot afternoon near a summer camp, I stumbled onto a pile of river rocks near Lake Whitney, Texas. Something caught my eye. There, in the middle of the pile was a huge chunk of flint. My old arrowhead dreams came back in an instant. (Dreams can do that sometimes.)

Picking an oval rock to use as a hammer stone, I tried to knock off a flake just the right size for an arrowhead. No such luck. I tried again. Nothing. The longer it took, the madder I got, the harder I hit.

Twenty minutes later, my arm ached, my eyes were blinded by sweat, and my thumb was bloody from a misplaced blow. If my tribe expected me to make an arrowhead and bring home dinner, they were just out of luck. I was about to give up for good when something indescribable happened. The flint gave a short, sharp sound. A thin wafer, the size of a dinner plate, flew off the chunk and landed softly in the grass about twenty feel away. I stumbled over, picked it up and with deep primitive joy began making the first of many arrowheads, spearheads, and stone axes. Now it's easy, now it's fun. Now there's nothin' to it.

Don't give up.

Don't give up on the God who seems so distant. He has not given up on you.

Don't give up on people even though you've had some bad experiences.

Don't give up on the song in your soul just because the chaos of your life or the hurt in your heart temporarily drowns out its melody.

Jesus has, and IS, the Word of Life.

Your arrowhead awaits... just keep striking the stone... and don't give up.

Memorable Memorial
Elizabeth Price
Nov 09, 2004

Memorable Memorial
by Elizabeth Price

Have you ever felt you were invisible? Perhaps you have sometimes felt you were so insignificant nobody knew you even existed?

I have a garden shrub like that. It is weak and spindly and it leans on the trees growing around it for support. It weaves its way up through their branches and is so hidden you don't really see it. Its leaves are insignificant and its flowers are just five, simple, white petals forming a miniature saucer.

However, this plant has one attribute that makes it stand out from every other plant in the garden and that is its perfume. It is sweet and heady and you can smell it from the other end of the house and all down through the garden. For a few brief weeks every year, visitors close their eyes, sniff, and ask, "What is that heavenly perfume?"

Invisible and insignificant the shrub may be, but its perfume is its memorial. It reminds me of an uninvited, insignificant woman who broke open a jar of perfume at the feet of Jesus. He said, "Wherever the gospel is proclaimed throughout the world, what she has done will be told as her memorial." (Mark 14:9)

Her jar of perfume, like my shrub's perfume, was her memorial. Perhaps you, also, have a hidden memorial jar. Will you break it open at the feet of Jesus?

Don't Tread On Me
Dick Innes
Nov 10, 2004

Don't Tread On Me

"Therefore be careful how you walk, not as unwise men but as wise, making the most of your time, because the days are evil" (Ephesians 5:15-16, NASB).

"In December, 1775, an American colonist (believed by many scholars to be Benjamin Franklin), noticed the increasing use of a symbol throughout the colonies, stamped onto barrels and other items, depicting a coiled rattlesnake with the words 'Don't Tread On Me' written below the snake. He wondered about how the symbol of a rattlesnake could be a symbol of the American desire for freedom?

He wrote the following words: 'The Rattle-Snake is found in no other quarter of the world besides America. She never begins an attack, nor, when once engaged, never surrenders: She is therefore an emblem of magnanimity and true courage. She never wounds 'till she has generously given notice, even to her enemy, and cautioned him against the danger of treading on her.'"

I've been hiking in the mountains and heard the warning sign of a rattler and was extremely thankful for that. In the Bible, Satan is depicted as a serpent--a serpent who not only doesn't warn about his lethal bite, but appears in alluring disguises promising great rewards of pleasure ready and waiting to devour his every victim.

How different from God (although I don't want to compare him to a rattler) but over and over he warns us in his Word, the Bible, to avoid sin at all costs for it will destroy us. He, too, has generously given notice even to his enemies to "flee from the wrath to come" and to turn to Christ the Savior of the world.

Suggested prayer: "Dear God, help me to be careful where I walk (how I live) and avoid the ways of Satan at all costs. Thank you that there is salvation from the evil one when I turn to you. Help me so to do. Thank you for hearing and answering my prayer. Gratefully, in Jesus' name, amen."

Dick Innes

I Am A Soldier
Nov 11, 2004

"I Am A Soldier"

I am a soldier in the army of my God.
The Lord Jesus Christ is my Commanding Officer.
The Holy Bible is my code of conduct.
Faith, Prayer, and the Word are my weapons of Warfare.

I have been taught by the Holy Spirit,
...trained by experience,
...tried by adversity,
...and tested by fire.

I am a volunteer in this army, and I am enlisted for eternity.
I will either retire in this Army or die in this Army;
But, I will not get out,
...sell out
...be talked out
...or pushed out.
I am faithful, reliable, capable, and dependable.
If my God needs, me, I am there.

I am a soldier.
I am not a baby.
I do not need to be pampered,
...petted,
...primed up,
...pumped up,
...picked up,
...or pepped up.

I am a soldier. No one has to call me,
...remind me,
...write me,
...visit me,
...entice me,
...or lure me.

I am a soldier. I am not a wimp. I am in place,
...saluting my King,
...obeying His orders,
...praising His name,
...and building His Kingdom!

No one has to send me flowers, gifts, food, cards, candy, or give me handouts.

I do not need to be cuddled, cradled, cared for, or catered to.

I am committed.
I cannot have my feelings hurt bad enough to turn me around.
I cannot be discouraged enough to turn me aside.
I cannot lose enough to cause me to quit.

When Jesus called me into this Army, I had nothing.
If I end up with nothing, I will still come out even.
I will win.

My God will supply all my needs.
I am more than a conqueror.
I will always triumph.
I can do all things through Christ.

Devils cannot defeat me.
People cannot disillusion me.
Weather cannot weary me.
Sickness cannot stop me.
Battles cannot beat me.
Money cannot buy me.
Governments cannot silence me, and
Hell cannot handle me!

I am a soldier.
Even death cannot destroy me.
For when my Commander calls me from this battlefield,
He will promote me to a captain.

I am a soldier, in the Army,
I'm marching, claiming victory.
I will not give up.
I will not turn around.
I am a soldier, marching, Heaven bound.
Here I stand! Will you stand with me?

God Always Answers Prayer
Robert Schuller
Nov 12, 2004

God Always Answers Prayer
by Rev. Robert H. Schuller


When the idea is not right, God says,"No."
No - when the idea is not the best.
No - when the idea is absolutely wrong.
No - when though it may help you, it could create problems for someone else.


When the time is not right, God says, "Slow."
What a catastrophe it would be if God answered every prayer at the snap of your fingers. Do you know what would happen? God would become your servant,not your master. Suddenly God would be working for you instead of you working for God. Remember: God's delays are not God's denials. God's timing is perfect. Patience is what we need in prayer.


When you are not right, God says, "Grow."
The selfish person has to grow in unselfishness.
The cautious person must grow in courage.
The timid person must grow in confidence.
The dominating person must grow in sensitivity.
The critical person must grow in tolerance.
The negative person must grow in positive attitudes.
The pleasure-seeking person must grow in compassion for suffering people.


When everything is all right, God says, "Go."
Then miracles happen:
...A hopeless alcoholic is set free!
....A drug addict finds release!
....A doubter becomes as a child in his belief.
....Diseased tissue responds to treatment, and healing begins.
....The door to your dream suddenly swings open and there stands God saying, "Go!"



Excerpted from the Book: "Positive Prayers for Power Filled Living"
by Rev. Robert H. Schuller

"I will therefore that men pray every where, lifting up holy hands, without wrath and doubting." -1 Timothy 2:8

WOW!!! Now that is really a day starter!! Thank you, I think I needed reminding, cuz sometimes I forget that I cannot do this by myself, not only do I need all of you, but my Higher Power as well to set me where I need to be and wait for the word...GO....Thanks for sharing...

I'm glad you enjoyed reading it!!! May God Bless you and your loved ones. If you can please join us for bible study one day.

Shona`

"A Simple Prayer"
David Langerfeld
Nov 15, 2004



"A Simple Prayer"

Today,
For what I am that I ought not to be,
Forgive me.
For what I am not that I ought to be,
Forgive me.

Be with my mouth in what it speaks
Be with my hands in what they do
Be with my mind in what it thinks
Be with my heart in what it feels

Work in me
...through me
....for me
....in spite of me


In the precious name of Jesus
Amen

The Prodigal
David Langerfeld
Nov 18, 2004

"But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him." Luke 15:20


While he was still a long way off...
The father knew the son's heart!
He didn't say, "Here comes that scoundrel. What does he expect from me? A loan? Does he think he's coming back to this house after he's spent all my money?"

Perhaps, we are a long way off... from being what God expects of us. We are so far down the road that anyone else might suspect our motives for calling on The Father.

Perhaps, we've been Christian for what we can get out of it. But God can see - even though the distance is great - the direction of our steps and the purpose of our heart

And if that purpose...
is a longing for a renewed relationship,
a closer tie,
to be home with The Father

God's heart will go out to us...
Even though we are "still a long way off"!

Rely Not On Yourselves
David Langerfeld
Nov 16, 2004

"Rely not on yourselves, but on God...
He delivered us...
He will deliver us...
He will continue to deliver us..." (2 Corinthians 1:9-11 NIV)


I quit!
I've tried my best to live
...as God expects me to
....as my family expects me to
I want to do the best, but I always fail.
I give up!
There's no use trying!
I just fail...

I?

"Rely not on yourselves, but on God...
He delivered us
He will deliver us
He will continue to deliver us"
Again and again and again
like food,
like sleep,
God will give us strength every day.

"Rely not on yourselves, but on God"

"The Waiting"
Phil Ware
Nov 17, 2004

The Waiting
by Phil Ware

Those who wait upon the Lord, will renew their strength,
they will soar on wings like the eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint. Isaiah 40:31

...for twelve years she had suffered a great deal under the
care of many doctors and had spent all she had, yet instead
of getting better she grew worse. Mark 5:25

"While Jesus was still speaking, some men came from the
house of Jairus, the synagogue ruler. "Your daughter is dead,"
they said, "Why bother the teacher any more?" Mark 5:35


Parents waiting for children out past curfew know it. Couples having trouble conceiving a child know it. A family separated by overseas military service knows it. A person needing an organ transplant knows it. A candidate for law or medical school knows it. A pregnant mom 10 days past due knows it. A person struggling to be hired for a job knows it. In fact, at one time or another, most of us come to know this brooding beast. It's the long wait -- that drawn out time of fretful anticipation and extended longing.

"Those who wait upon the Lord will renew their strength..."

Often, this is easier said than done. Before we get to "mount up on wings like eagles," we often have to obediently grind away through the brutal passage of agonizing time. Before we can "run and not grow weary," we have to trudge on as anticipation dims and hope's flickering flame fights against the winds of despair. Many times, we just have to keep walking and trust that some hidden grace will help us "not faint."

That's what makes this story of Jairus' daughter so compelling to me. Like you, I don't like to wait. In my mind, if there is any privilege for those with power and position, one should not have to wait! "They" surely don't have to wait like I do. "They" get to move to the head of line. "They" get to throw around their weight and get what they want when they want it.

In this case, however, "they" (or more accurately, "he") didn't. (see Mark 5:21-43) Instead, Jairus' humbling approach to Jesus, an approach that could cost him everything in sacred society, was interrupted by a desperate woman who had faced "the long wait" herself as she had hopelessly gone to every healer available to her, and no doubt prayed incessantly for her own cure. This woman, who could not go into the synagogue because of her uncleanness, derailed the hope parade of Jairus, the ruler of the synagogue.

I find two things amazing about both of them. First, neither complains about his or her wait. Not the woman, who has spent her fortune on false medical hopes, nor Jairus, who has spent his respect capital to associate himself with a suspicious teacher. Both wait for their Lord to act.

Impatiently waiting? Probably! But, they waited and received their grace. Second, they both received the personal attention of the Lord -- the man of power who could expect that attention and the woman on the fringes who, in her day, could not expect it.

Jesus refused to let the woman have an anonymous miracle!
He personally and specifically blessed her. Jairus' daughter would not be healed for the crowd, but only in the closed intimacy of Jesus' chosen few and Jairus' family. Both waited faithfully. Both received the personal attention of the Master! Each received his or her heart's greatest desire.

This is not a story about long ago and far away. It is a reminder that Jesus is there for those who wait. It is a renewal of the ancient hope that God will act for those who don't give up during the long wait. You see, the issue isn't the wait. Instead, it is all about refusing to give up hope when the journey seems so long (12 years for the woman) and the problems so insurmountable (a dead 12-year old daughter for Jairus).

Maybe you face the long wait right now. Maybe your heartbreak or shame or disappointment or loss seems insurmountable. If so, I want to encourage you to come back to this story of the powerless woman and the powerful man and remember the place their broken hearts met, the place their broken dreams were mended, and the place their long wait ended. Know that place is really a person, and his name is Jesus.

Thankful For The Thorns
David Langerfeld
Nov 22, 2004

Thankful For The Thorns

Sandra felt as low as the heels of her Birkenstocks when she pulled open the florist shop door, against a November gust of wind. Her life had been as sweet as a spring breeze and then, in the fourth month of her second pregnancy, a "minor" automobile accident stole her joy. This was Thanksgiving week and the time she should have delivered their infant son. She grieved over their loss. Troubles had multiplied. Her husband's company "threatened" to transfer his job to a new location.

Her sister had called to say that she could not come for her long awaited holiday visit. What's worse, Sandra's friend suggested that Sandra's grief was a God-given path to maturity that would allow her to empathize with others who suffer. "She has no idea what I'm feeling," thought Sandra with a shudder. "Thanksgiving? Thankful for what?" she wondered. "For a careless driver whose truck was hardly scratched when he rear-ended her? For an airbag that saved her life, but took her child's?"

"Good afternoon, can I help you?" Sandra was startled by the approach of the shop clerk.

"I.... I need an arrangement," stammered Sandra.

"For Thanksgiving? Do you want the beautiful but ordinary, or would you like to challenge the day with a customer favorite I call the 'Thanksgiving Special'? I'm convinced that flowers tell stories," she continued. "Are you looking for something that conveys 'gratitude' this Thanksgiving?"

"Not exactly!" Sandra blurted out. "In the last five months, everything that could go wrong has gone wrong." Sandra regretted her outburst, and was surprised when the clerk said, "I have the perfect arrangement for you."

Then the bell on the door rang, and the clerk greeted the new customer, "Hi, Barbara...let me get your order." She excused herself and walked back to a small workroom, then quickly reappeared, carrying an arrangement of greenery, bows, and what appeared to be long-stemmed thorny roses. Except the ends of the rose stems were neatly snipped: there were no flowers.

"Do you want these in a box?" asked the clerk. Sandra watched for the customer's response. Was this a joke? Who would want rose stems with no flowers! She waited for laughter, but neither woman laughed. "Yes, please," Barbara replied with an appreciative smile. "You'd think after three years of getting the special, I wouldn't be so moved by its significance, but I can feel it right here, all over again." She said, as she gently tapped her chest.

Sandra stammered, "Ah, that lady just left with, uh.... she left with no flowers!"

"That's right, said the clerk. "I cut off the flowers. That's the 'Special'. I call it the Thanksgiving Thorns Bouquet."

"Oh, come on! You can't tell me someone is willing to pay for that!" exclaimed Sandra.

"Barbara came into the shop three years ago, feeling much as you do, today," explained the clerk. "She thought she had very little to be thankful for. She had just lost her father to cancer; the family business was failing; her son had gotten into drugs; and she was facing major surgery."

"That same year I had lost my husband," continued the clerk. "For the first time in my life, I had to spend the holidays alone. I had no children, no husband, no family nearby, and too much debt to allow any travel."

"So what did you do?" asked Sandra.

"I learned to be thankful for thorns," answered the clerk quietly. "I've always thanked God for the good things in my life and I NEVER questioned Him why those GOOD things happened to me, but when the bad stuff hit, I cried out, "WHY? WHY Me?!" It took time for me to learn that the dark times are important to our faith! I have always enjoyed the 'flowers' of my life, but it took the thorns to show me the beauty of God's comfort! You know, the Bible says that God comforts us when we're afflicted, and from His consolation we learn to comfort others."

Sandra sucked in her breath, as she thought about the thought that her friend had tried to tell her. "I guess the truth is, I don't want comfort. I've lost a baby and I'm angry with God."

Just then someone else walked in the shop. "Hey, Phil!" the clerk greeted the balding, rotund man. "My wife sent me in to get our usual Thanksgiving arrangement... twelve thorny, long-stemmed stems!" laughed Phil as the clerk handed him a tissue wrapped arrangement from the refrigerator.

"Those are for your wife?" asked Sandra incredulously. "Do you mind telling me why she wants a bouquet that looks like that?"

"No... I'm glad you asked," Phil replied. "Four years ago, my wife and I nearly divorced. After forty years, we were in a real mess, but with the Lord's grace and guidance, we trudged through problem after problem. The Lord rescued our marriage. Jenny, here (the clerk) told me she kept a vase of rose stems to remind her of what she had learned from "thorny" times. That was good enough for me. I took home some of those stems. My wife and I decided to label each one for a specific "problem" and give thanks for what that problem taught us." As Phil paid the clerk, he said to Sandra, "I highly recommend the Special!"

"I don't know if I can be thankful for the thorns in my life." Sandra said to the clerk. "It's all too... fresh."

"Well," the clerk replied carefully, "my experience has shown me that the thorns make the roses more precious. We treasure God's providential care more during trouble than at any other time. Remember that it was a crown of thorns that Jesus wore so we might know His love. Don't resent the thorns."

Tears rolled down Sandra's cheeks. For the first time since the accident, she loosened her grip on her resentment. "I'll take those twelve long-stemmed thorns, please," she managed to choke out.

"I hoped you would," said the clerk gently. "I'll have them ready in a minute."

"Thank you. What do I owe you?"

"Nothing. Nothing but a promise to allow God to heal your heart. The first year's arrangement is always on me." The clerk smiled and handed a card to Sandra. "I'll attach this card to your arrangement, but maybe you would like to read it first."

It read:
My God, I have never thanked You for my thorns. I have thanked You a thousand times for my roses, but never once for my thorns. Teach me the glory of the cross I bear; teach me the value of my thorns. Show me that I have climbed closer to You along the path of pain. Show me that, through my tears, the colors of Your rainbow look much more brilliant."

Praise Him for the roses; thank Him for the thorns.

Thanksgiving Classic: A Gallon of Milk
David Langerfeld
Nov 23, 2004

A Gallon of Milk

A young man had been to Wednesday night Bible Study. The Pastor had shared about listening to God. The young man couldn't help but wonder, "Does God still speak to people?"

After service he went out with some friends for coffee and pie and they discussed the idea. Several different people talked about how God had led them to do things in different ways.

It was about ten o'clock when the young man started driving home. Sitting in his car, he just began to pray, "God... If you still speak to people, speak to me. I will listen. I will do my best to serve your wishes."

As he drove down the main street of his town, he had the strangest thought, to stop and buy a gallon of milk. He shook his head and said out loud, "God is that you?" He didn't get a reply and started on toward home.

But again, the thought was there, "Buy a gallon of milk." The young man thought about how he'd heard that not all those spoken to recognized God's quiet voice inside of one's mind. Then he said, "Okay, God, in case that is you, I will buy the milk."

It didn't seem like too hard a request to fulfil. He could always use the milk himself if nothing else. So he stopped and purchased the gallon of milk and started off toward home.

As he passed Seventh Street, he again felt the urge, "Turn down that street."

"This is crazy," he thought and drove on pass and passed the intersection.

Again, he felt that he should turn down Seventh Street. At the next intersection, he turned back and headed down Seventh. Half jokingly, he said out loud, "Okay, God, I will."

He drove several blocks, when suddenly, he felt like he should stop. He pulled over to the curb and looked around. He was in a semi-commercial area of town. It wasn't the best but it wasn't the worst of neighborhoods either.

The businesses were closed and most of the houses looked dark like the people were already in bed. Again, he sensed something: "Go and give the milk to the people in the house across the street." The young man looked at the house. It was dark and it looked like the people were either gone or they were already asleep.

He started to open the door and then sat back in the car seat. "God, this is insane. Those people are asleep and if I wake them up, they are going to be mad and I will look stupid."

Again, he felt like he should go and give the milk. Finally, he opened the car door. "Okay God, if this is you, I will go to the door and I will give them the milk. If you want me to look like a crazy person, okay. I want to do as you wish. I guess that will count for something, but if they don't answer right away, I am out of here."

He walked across the street and rang the bell. He could hear some noise inside. A man's voice yelled out, "Who is it? What do you want?"

Then the door opened before the young man could get away. The man was standing there in his jeans and T-shirt. He looked like he'd just got out of bed. He had a strange look on his face and he didn't seem too happy to have some stranger standing on his doorstep.

"What is it?"

The young man thrust out the gallon of milk. "Here, I brought this to you," he said nervously.

The man took the milk and rushed down a hallway speaking loudly in Spanish. Then from down the hall came a woman carrying the milk toward the kitchen. The man was following her holding a baby. The baby was crying. The man had tears streaming down his face.

The man began speaking and half-crying, "We were just praying. We had some big bills this month and we ran out of money. We didn't have any milk for our baby. I was just praying and asking God to show me how to get some milk."

His wife in the kitchen yelled out, "I ask Him to send an angel with some milk. Are you an angel?"

In response to hearing this, the young man reached into his wallet and pulled out all the money he had on him and put in the man's hand. He turned and walked back toward his car as the tears were streaming down his face. He knew that God still answers prayers and that God still speaks to people.


"The Christian does not think God will love us because we are good, but that God will make us good because he loves us." (C. S. Lewis)

A Thanksgiving Story
Andrea Nannette Mejia
Nov 24, 2004

A THANKSGIVING STORY

It was the day before Thanksgiving - the first one my three children and I would be spending without their father, who had left several months before. Now the two older children were very sick with the flu, and the eldest had just been prescribed bed rest for a week.

It was a cool, gray day outside, and a light rain was falling. I grew wearier as I scurried around, trying to care for each child: thermometers, juice, diapers. And I was fast running out of liquids for the children. But when I checked my purse, all I found was about $2.50 - and this was supposed to last me until the end of the month. That's when I heard the phone ring.

It was the secretary from our former church, and she told me that they had been thinking about us and had something to give us from the congregation. I told her that I was going out to pick up some more juice and soup for the children, and I would drop by the church on my way to the market.

I arrived at the church just before lunch. The church secretary met me at the door and handed me a special gift envelope. "We think of you and the kids often," she said, "and you are in our hearts and prayers. We love you." When I opened the envelope, I found two grocery certificates inside. Each was worth $20. I was so touched and moved, I broke down and cried.

"Thank you very much," I said, as we hugged each other. "Please give our love and thanks to the church." Then I drove to a store near our home and purchased some much-needed items for the children.

At the check-out counter I had a little over $14.00 worth of groceries, and I handed the cashier one of the gift certificates. She took it, then turned her back for what seemed like a very long time. I thought something might be wrong.

Finally I said, "This gift certificate is a real blessing. Our former church gave it to our family, knowing I'm a single patent trying to make ends meet."

The cashier then turned around, with tears in her loving eyes, and replied, "Honey, that's wonderful! Do you have a turkey?"

"No. It's okay because my children are sick anyway."

She then asked, "Do you have anything else for Thanksgiving dinner?"

Again I replied, "No."

After handing me the change from the certificate, she looked at my face and said, "Honey, I can't tell you exactly why right now, but I want you to go back into the store and buy a turkey, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie or anything else you need for a Thanksgiving dinner."

I was shocked, and humbled to tears. "Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yes! Get whatever you want. And get some Gatorade for the kids."

I felt awkward as I went back to do more shopping, but I selected a fresh turkey, a few yams and potatoes, and some juices for the children. Then I wheeled the shopping cart up to the same cashier as before. As I placed my groceries on the counter, she looked at me once more with giant tears in her kind eyes and began to speak.

"Now I can tell you. This morning I prayed that I could help someone today, and you walked through my line." She reached under the counter for her purse and took out a $20 bill. She paid for my groceries and then handed me the change. Once more I was moved to tears.

The sweet cashier then said, "I am a Christian. Here is my phone number if you ever need anything." She then took my head in her hands, kissed my cheek and said, "God bless you, honey."

As I walked to my car, I was overwhelmed by this stranger's love and by the realization that God loves my family too, and shows us his love through this stranger's and my church's kind deeds.

The children were supposed to have spent Thanksgiving with their father that year, but because of the flu they were home with me, for a very special Thanksgiving Day.

They were feeling better, and we all ate the goodness of the Lord's bounty - and our community's love. Our hearts were truly filled with thanks.

The Hand
David Langerfeld
Nov 25, 2004

The Hand

Thanksgiving Day was near. The first grade teacher gave her class a fun assignment -- to draw a picture of something for which they were thankful.

Most of the class might be considered economically disadvantaged, but still many would celebrate the holiday with turkey and other traditional goodies of the season. These, the teacher thought, would be the subjects of most of her student's art. And they were.

But Douglas made a different kind of picture. Douglas was a different kind of boy. He was the teacher's true child of misery, frail and unhappy. As other children played at recess, Douglas was likely to stand close by her side. One could only guess at the pain Douglas felt behind those sad eyes.

Yes, his picture was different. When asked to draw a picture of something for which he was thankful, he drew a hand. Nothing else. Just an empty hand.

His abstract image captured the imagination of his peers. Whose hand could it be? One child guessed it was the hand of a farmer, because farmers raise turkeys. Another suggested a police officer, because the police protect and care for people. Still others guessed it was the hand of God, for God feeds us. And so the discussion went -- until the teacher almost forgot the young artist himself.

When the children had gone on to other assignments, she paused at Douglas' desk, bent down, and asked him whose hand it was.

The little boy looked away and murmured, "It's yours, teacher."

She recalled the times she had taken his hand and walked with him here or there, as she had the other students. How often had she said, "Take my hand, Douglas, we'll go outside." Or, "Let me show you how to hold your pencil." Or, "Let's do this together." Douglas was most thankful for his teacher's hand.

Brushing aside a tear, she went on with her work.

The story speaks of more than thankfulness. It says something about teachers teaching and parents parenting and friends showing friendship, and how much it means to the Douglases of the world. They might not always say thanks. But they'll remember the hand that reaches out.


"Though he stumble, he will not fall, for the Lord upholds him with his hand. Psalm 37:24

"My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me. Psalm 63:8


This Thanksgiving, thank God for all of the "hands" that have "touched" your life. Then, allow the Hand of God to reach out through your hands and touch the lives of others.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Night Shift
David Langerfeld
Nov 29, 2004

Night Shift
Psalm 134:1-3


Behold, bless ye the Lord, all ye servants of the Lord, which by night stand in the house of the Lord. Lift up your hands in the sanctuary, and bless the Lord. The Lord that made heaven and earth bless thee out of Zion. (Psalm 134)


Years ago when I was attending seminary, I worked the night shift on occasion. It paid a little more money than the day shift, but I was a bit lonely. If you've ever had to work the night shift, you will appreciate Psalm 134.

God never slumbers or sleeps. Therefore, we can serve and praise Him any time of day. The psalmist says there were priests who prayed and praised God in His temple at night. There was a constant repetition of praise and prayer from the temple.

We can bless the Lord in the night seasons. It's not easy when we are going through the nighttime experiences of life to lift our hands and bless the Lord. But He does give us songs in the night. Paul and Silas were able to lift their hearts in praise to God while in the Philippian jail (Acts 16).

They were on the night shift. They knew that God was awake, so they blessed Him, and He sent deliverance. We can get some strange blessings in the night seasons, for God speaks to us in different ways. Others may not see your praise at night, but God sees and hears.

Whether you are in the sunshine or in the darkness, whether you are serving on the day shift or the night shift, remember that you are serving the Lord. Because He never slumbers or sleeps, He hears your prayer and praise at all times, and He will bless you.

Mountains and Molehills
Patricia Erwin Nordman
Nov 30, 2004

You have circled this mountain long enough. Now turn north." Deuteronomy 2:3

When our oldest son died I bought a new Bible for the purpose of marking every positive and uplifting verse I could find. During my journey through this Bible I came across some surprising and insightful verses that helped me to get beyond this searing experience, verses I had never noticed before. Grief will do that! This particular verse told me to turn north. North means a rough and tough way, but it also means victory, if we persevere. God highlighted that verse for me, for it became crucial in the agonizing days ahead.

I had to define "mountain," too. The molehills that seemed so large before Chuck's death now became nothing. It is truly amazing how something that shatters our lives can also put everything in perspective. I'm thinking about the fires in California several years ago and the incredible losses. One of our sons is a doctor in southern California, and many of their staff lost homes. One of the lessons I learned from Chuck's death, and I imagine the dear people in California did, too, is the sad fact that we do not appreciate what we have until we lose it.

Before Chuck's death I took so much for granted. I took a normal life for granted. When our sons left to go anywhere I assumed they would be back. Now when they leave I stand there and wave until I can't see the car anymore. The last time I saw Chuck was when he was going back to college and I was waving goodbye to him. I find myself looking at our family differently, knowing that the unexpected can indeed happen, and thanking God constantly for these magnificent people in my life.

Will there be an empty chair this year at your Christmas celebrations? If not, then thank God with every fiber of your being, dear Friend! Have you a home, enough to eat, and a precious family who loves you? Oh, how blessed you are! And how blessed I am! God help us to quit circling our mountains and molehills and forge ahead in our lives and help us to appreciate and care for what we have.

Who Started This Christmas Stuff?
David Langerfeld
Dec 1, 2004

Who Started This Christmas Stuff?

A woman was out Christmas shopping with her two children. After many hours of looking at row after row of toys and everything else imaginable; and after hours of hearing both her children asking for everything they saw on those many shelves, she finally made it to the elevator with her two kids.

She was feeling what so many of us feel during the holiday season time of the year. Overwhelming pressure to go to every party, every housewarming, taste all the holiday food and treats, getting that perfect gift for every single person on our shopping list, making sure we don't forget anyone on our card list, and the pressure of making sure we respond to everyone who sent us a card.

Finally the elevator doors opened and there was already a crowd in the car. She pushed her way into the car and dragged her two kids in with her and all the bags of stuff. When the doors closed she couldn't take it anymore and stated, "Whoever started this whole Christmas thing should be found, strung up and shot."

From the back of the car, everyone heard a quiet calm voice respond, "Don't worry, we already crucified Him." For the rest of the trip down the elevator it was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop.

Don't forget this year to keep the One who started this whole Christmas thing in your every thought, deed, purchase, and word. If we all did it, just think of how different this whole world would be.

My First Christmas in Heaven
David Langerfeld
Dec 2, 2004

My First Christmas In Heaven

I see countless Christmas trees
Around the world below
With tiny lights, like Heaven's stars
Reflecting in the snow.

The sight is so spectacular,
Please wipe away the tear.
For I am spending Christmas
With Jesus Christ this year.

I hear the many Christmas songs
That people hold so dear,
But the sounds of music can't compare
With the Christmas choir up here.

I have no words to tell you,
The joy their voices bring.
For it is beyond description
To hear the angels sing.

I know how much you miss me,
I see the pain inside your heart;
But I am not so far away,
We really aren't apart.

So be happy for me, dear ones,
You know I hold you dear
And be glad I'm spending Christmas
With Jesus Christ this year.

I sent you each a special gift,
From my heavenly home above,
I sent you each a memory
Of my undying love.

After all, love is a precious gift
More precious than pure gold;
It was always most important
In the stories Jesus told.

Please love and keep each other,
As my Father said to do.
For I can't count the blessings
Or love he has for each of you.

So have a Merry Christmas
And wipe away the tear
Remember I'm spending Christmas
With Jesus Christ this year.

_______________________________________
Written by Ben, age 13, who on Dec 14, 1997 died after a 4 yr. battle with a brain tumor. He wrote this and gave it to his mom before he died.

The Dime
David Langerfeld
Dec 3, 2004

The Dime

Bobby was getting cold sitting out in his back yard in the snow. Bobby didn't wear boots; he didn't like them and anyway he didn't own any. The thin sneakers he wore had a few holes in them and they did a poor job of keeping out the cold. Bobby had been in his backyard for about an hour already. And, try as he might, he could not come up with an idea for his mother's Christmas gift.

He shook his head as he thought, "This is useless, even if I do come up with an idea, I don't have any money to spend."

Ever since his father had passed away three years ago, the family of five had struggled. It wasn't because his mother didn't care, or try, there just never seemed to be enough. She worked nights at the hospital, but the small wage that she was earning could only be stretched so far. What the family lacked in money and material things, they more than made up for in love and family unity.

Bobby had two older and one younger sister, who ran the house hold in their mother's absence. All three of his sisters had already made beautiful gifts for their mother. Somehow it just wasn't fair. Here it was Christmas Eve already, and he had nothing.

Wiping a tear from his eye, Bobby kicked the snow and started to walk down to the street where the shops and stores were. It wasn't easy being six without a father, especially when he needed a man to talk to. Bobby walked from shop to shop, looking into each decorated window. Everything seemed so beautiful and so out of reach.

It was starting to get dark and Bobby reluctantly turned to walk home when suddenly his eyes caught the glimmer of the setting sun's rays reflecting off of something along the curb. He reached down and discovered a shiny dime. Never before has anyone felt so wealthy as Bobby felt at that moment.

As he held his new-found treasure, a warmth spread throughout his entire body and he walked into the first store he saw. His excitement quickly turned cold when the salesperson told him that he couldn't buy anything with only a dime. He saw a flower shop and went inside to wait in line.

When the shop owner asked if he could help him, Bobby presented the dime and asked if he could buy one flower for his mother's Christmas gift. The shop owner looked at Bobby and his ten-cent offering. Then he put his hand on Bobby's shoulder and said to him, "You just wait here and I'll see what I can do for you."

As Bobby waited he looked at the beautiful flowers and even though he was a boy, he could see why mothers and girls liked flowers. The sound of the door closing as the last customer left, jolted Bobby back to reality.

All alone in the shop, Bobby began to feel alone and afraid. Suddenly the shop owner came out and moved to the counter. There, before Bobby's eyes, lay twelve long stem, red roses, with leaves of green and tiny white flowers all tied together with a big silver bow.

Bobby's heart sank as the owner picked them up and placed them gently into a long white box. "That will be ten cents young man." the shop owner said reaching out his hand for the dime. Slowly, Bobby moved his hand to give the man his dime. Could this be true? No one else would give him a thing for his dime!

Sensing the boy's reluctance, the shop owner added, "I just happened to have some roses on sale for ten cents a dozen. Would you like them?" This time Bobby did not hesitate, and when the man placed the long box into his hands, he knew it was true. Walking out the door that the owner was holding for Bobby, he heard the shop keeper say, "Merry Christmas, son."

As he returned inside, the shop keeper's wife walked out. "Who were you talking to back there and where are the roses you were fixing?"

Staring out the window, and blinking the tears from his own eyes, he replied, "A strange thing happened to me this morning. While I was setting up things to open the shop, I thought I heard a voice telling me to set side a dozen of my best roses for a special gift. I wasn't sure at the time whether I had lost my mind or what, but I set them aside anyway. Then just a few minutes ago, a little boy came into the shop and wanted to buy a flower for his mother with one small dime.

"When I looked at him, I saw myself, many years ago. I too, was a poor boy with nothing to buy my mother a Christmas gift. A bearded man, whom I never knew, stopped me on the street and told me that he wanted to give me ten dollars.

"When I saw that little boy tonight, I knew who that voice was, and I put together a dozen of my very best roses." The shop owner and his wife hugged each other tightly, and as they stepped out into the bitter cold air, they somehow didn't feel cold at all.

May this story instill the spirit of CHRISTmas in you enough to pass this act along.



Have a Joyous and Christ-filled season.

I Almost Missed A Christmas Miracle
David Langerfeld
Dec 6, 2004

"I Almost Missed A Christmas Miracle"

Bethlehem, 2000 - The excitement was building. We were standing in the Shepherd's Fields just outside of Bethlehem. We were ready to go into the Shepherd's Caves and sing Christmas Carols. Some members of the tour group had done it with me on previous trips. For others, it was their first time - but everyone was excited. Bethlehem... Christmas Carols... Shepherd's Caves... Who wouldn't be excited?

We had always done it. We had always sung carols in the caves. Why? Because once you did, you were never the same. After my first time, I was never the same. So, I had planned it so that everyone else could experience it, too. My plans were about to be fulfilled. We would sing Christmas carols inside the Shepherd's Caves in the hills of Bethlehem.

There was a problem. It was crowded. The year 2000 had bought more groups than ever to Israel. The Shepherd's Caves were full! We waited... and waited... No groups were leaving the caves. Our time was growing short. We were about to miss out on the chance to sing Christmas carols in those caves.

I was disappointed. I knew what a blessing our group was about to miss. I expressed my disappointment to God. "God, we've always sung in the caves. No one is ever the same after they do! We have to do it, Lord. We've always done it that way. If we don't, our group will miss out on the blessing of Bethlehem. Can't you work it out to open one of the caves for us?"

None of the other groups left the caves. We didn't get to sing carols in the Shepherd's Caves. Disappointed, I led the group to the top of the hill - to a small chapel called "The Chapel of the Angels". We would sing there - but I knew it wouldn't been the same. It couldn't be, because we had always done it only one way.

Once inside the "Chapel of the Angels", we started singing carols. Most of the group had tears in their eyes as we sang "Silent Night". For them, Christmas already had a new meaning.

A MIRACLE - Then, it happened. A group from Germany entered the chapel. While we were singing "Silent Night" in English, they started singing it in German. Two other groups entered as well. There were now four groups singing Christmas Carols. Every time I started our group in a song, we were joined by an "International Choir" singing in German, French and Spanish!!! There was not a dry eye in the chapel. Everyone called it a "Christmas" miracle.

I almost missed out on that "Christmas Miracle" - me, the "spiritual leader" of the group. Why? Because I was so intent on doing it the way we'd always done it. If we didn't follow the same traditions of Bethlehem that we'd always followed, I just knew that we wouldn't be blessed.

What about you? Does God have a special blessing or a miracle for you this Christmas? If you're so intent on making sure that you follow the same traditions, that you do exactly the same things that you always do each Christmas, you may miss out on a special blessing or a Christmas miracle.

Two thousand years ago, the people of Bethlehem were doing things the way they'd always done them. People were working, shopping, visiting and worshipping. Due to the census, extended families from far-away places had returned home and were visiting with their friends and families - swapping gifts and memories. In the midst of their traditional way of doing things, God performed the greatest miracle of all - the birth of his Son, Jesus Christ.

With the exception of some shepherds, the introduction of God's Son went unnoticed. Don't miss out on a miracle this Christmas just because "We've never done it that way before".

A Christmas Prayer
David Langerfeld
Dec 7, 2004

A Christmas Prayer

Herman and I locked our general store and dragged ourselves home. It was 11:00 p.m., Christmas Eve of 1949. We were dog tired. We had sold almost all of our toys; and all of the layaways, except one package, had been picked up. Usually we kept the store open until everything had been claimed. We wouldn't have been happy on Christmas knowing that some child's gift was still on the layaway shelf. But the person who had put a dollar down on the package never returned.

Early Christmas morning we and our twelve-year-old son, Tom, opened gifts. But I'll tell you, there was something humdrum about this Christmas. Tom was growing up; I missed his childish exuberance of past years. As soon as breakfast was over Tom left to visit his friend next door. Herman mumbled, "I'm going back to sleep. There's nothing left to stay up for." So there I was alone, feeling let down.

And then it began. A strange, persistent urge. It seemed to be telling me to go to the store. I looked at the sleet and icy sidewalk outside. That's crazy, I said to myself. I tried dismissing the urge, but it wouldn't leave me alone. In fact, it was getting stronger. Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer, and I got dressed. Outside, the wind cut right through me and the sleet stung my cheeks. I groped my way to the store, slipping and sliding.

In front stood two boys, one about nine, and the other six. What in the world? "See, I told you she would come!" the older boy said jubilantly. The younger one's face was wet with tears, but when he saw me, his sobbing stopped. "What are you two doing out here?" I scolded, hurrying them into the store. "You should be at home on a day like this!" They were poorly dressed. They had no hats or gloves, and their shoes barely held together. I rubbed their icy hands, and got them up close to the heater.

"We've been waiting for you," replied the older boy. "My little brother Jimmy didn't get any Christmas." He touched Jimmy's shoulder. "We want to buy some skates. That's what he wants. We have these three dollars," he said, pulling the bills from his pocket. I looked at the money. I looked at their expectant faces. And then I looked around the store. "I'm sorry," I said, "but we have no --" Then my eye caught sight of the lay-away shelf with its lone package.

"Wait a minute," I told the boys. I walked over, picked up the package, unwrapped it and, miracle of miracles, there was a pair of skates! Jimmy reached for them. Lord, let them be his size. And miracle added upon miracle, they were his size. The older boy presented the dollars to me. "No," I told him, "I want you to have these skates, and I want you to use your money to get some gloves." The boys just blinked at first. Then their eyes became like saucers, and their grins stretched wide when they understood I was giving them the skates. What I saw in Jimmy's eyes was a blessing. It was pure joy, and it was beautiful. My spirits rose.

We walked out together, and as I locked the door, I turned to the older brother and said, "How did you know I would come?" I wasn't prepared for his reply. His gaze was steady, and he answered me softly.

"I asked Jesus to send you."

The tingles in my spine weren't from the cold. God had planned this. As we waved good-bye, I turned home for a brighter Christmas.

Mary's Dream
David Langerfeld
Dec 8, 2004

Mary's Dream

I had a dream, Joseph. I don't understand it. Not really, but I think it was about a birthday celebration for our Son. I think that was what it was all about. The people had been preparing for it for about six weeks. They had decorated the house and bought new clothes. They'd gone shopping many times and bought elaborate gifts. It was peculiar, though, because the presents weren't for our Son. They wrapped them in beautiful paper and tied them with lovely bows and stacked them under a tree.

Yes, a tree, Joseph, right in their house. They'd decorated the tree also. The branches were full of glowing balls and sparkling ornaments. There was a figure on top of the tree. It looked like an angel might look.

Oh, it was beautiful. Everyone was laughing and happy. They were all excited about the gifts. They gave the gifts to each other, Joseph, not to our Son.

I don't think they even knew Him. They never mentioned His name. Doesn't it seem odd for people to go to all that trouble to celebrate someone's birthday if they don't know Him? I had the strangest feeling that if our Son had gone to this celebration, He would have been intruding. Everything was so beautiful, Joseph, and everyone so full of cheer, but it made me want to cry. How sad for Jesus not to be wanted at His own birthday celebration.

I'm glad it was only a dream. How terrible, Joseph, if it had been real.

Why Bethlehem?
David Langerfeld
Dec 9, 2004

Why Bethlehem Of All Places?

I've been to Bethlehem. It's fairly indistinguishable from many other Judean towns, except for the Church of the Nativity built over the traditional site of Jesus' birth. Bethlehem is located on a ridge about 2500 feet above sea level, and five or six miles southwest of Jerusalem. Why, with all the grand locations in the world to choose from, did God choose for His Son to be born in Bethlehem? I can think of three good reasons.

1) TO FULFILL PROPHECY
Seven hundred years earlier the prophet Micah quoted God: "As for you, Bethlehem Ephrathah...from you One will go forth from Me to be ruler in Israel, His goings forth are from long ago, from days of eternity."

Now, some Messianic prophecies are cryptic - they are identified and understood only after the event has occurred. Psalm 22 and Isaiah 53 must have perplexed readers for hundreds of years as to their meaning. Only after the Savior went to the cross did the followers of Jesus realize how the first seems to be the thoughts of the Lord on the cross, and the second an eyewitness description of that event. God placed such prophecies in the Bible so that when they happened, His people would be comforted to know He had planned it from the beginning. However, Micah 5:2 stands out there in the open. God wanted everyone to know the Savior would be arriving in Bethlehem. And everyone did know, at least those familiar with the Scriptures. When the magi arrived in Jerusalem asking at every street corner where the newborn King could be found, word filtered up to King Herod in the palace and he called in his advisors. "In Bethlehem," they all agreed, quoting Micah 5:2.



God keeps His word; Jesus was born in Bethlehem.


2) TO IDENTIFY WITH DAVID
The Messiah would be a Son of David and sit on the throne of David. Old Testament prophecies emphasized both points again and again. Since both Mary and Joseph were of the lineage of David, Jesus was doubly covered. When the census of Luke 2:1 called everyone to his ancestral home, they made the journey of a hundred miles south to Bethlehem.

Bethlehem was where Ruth lived and where she gleaned the fields behind Boaz' harvesters. Boaz spotted the lovely young widow and the rest, as they say, is history. Their son Obed became the father of Jesse, who raised a large family of sons and daughters, the youngest son being David. Thereafter, Bethlehem would forever be known as the city of David. Even the angels called it that. "Unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior," they said to the shepherds. Doubtless many of the psalms of David which God's people have loved and sung for thirty centuries were inspired by time spent in the same fields and meadows where the shepherds met the angels that wondrous night.

One day as the Lord and His entourage were approaching Jericho, a blind beggar sitting beside the gate began to call out to Him. "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!" Again and again, he repeated that refrain. When our Lord came within earshot, He had the man brought to Him and restored his sight.



The son of God is the Son of David! Jesus was born in Bethlehem.


3) TO MAKE A CONNECTION
Bethlehem in the Hebrew means "House of Bread." What more fitting place for One to be born who would be known as the Bread of Life.

One day, the Lord Jesus fed thousands of people with the lunch of a child. Soon afterward, He taught the people the meaning of the miracle. "There is a bread that endures to eternal life," He said. He Himself was the living and true Bread from Heaven, "which a man may eat and live forever." (John 6)

Isaiah asked the people of God in his day: "Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread? (Isa. 55:2) That is to say, why are you working and worrying and spending your life for things that do not nourish you, do not strengthen you, and do not satisfy you? A good question for our day, also.

Jesus is the fulfillment of prophecies given hundreds of years earlier. Jesus Christ is the Son of David, born in the City of David. Jesus is the Bread of Life, born in the House of Bread.



How much plainer can God make it? Jesus is Lord!

The Doll and The White Rose
David Langerfeld
Dec 10, 2004

The Doll and the White Rose

I hurried into the local department store to grab some last minute Christmas gifts. I looked at all the people and grumbled to myself. I would be in here forever and I just had so much to do. Christmas was beginning to become such a drag. I kind a wished that I could just sleep through Christmas. But I hurried the best I could through all the people to the toy department. Once again I kind of mumbled to myself at the prices of all these toys. And wondered if the grandchildren would even play with them.

I found myself in the doll aisle. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a little boy, about 5, holding a lovely doll. He kept touching her hair and he held her so gently. I could not seem to help myself. I just kept looking over at the little boy and wondered whom the doll was for. I watched him turn to a woman, and he called his aunt by name and said, "Are you sure I don't have enough money?" She replied a bit impatiently, "You know that you don't have enough money for it." The aunt told the little boy not to go anywhere, that she had to go get some other things and would be back in a few minutes. And then she left the aisle.

The boy continued to hold the doll. After a bit I asked the boy whom the doll was for. He said, "It is the doll my sister wanted so badly for Christmas. She just knew that Santa would bring it to her." I told him that maybe Santa was going to bring it. He said, "No, Santa can't go where my sister is . . . I have to give the doll to my Mamma to take to her." I asked him where his sister was. He looked at me with the saddest eyes and said, "She has gone to be with Jesus." "My Daddy says that Mama is going to have to go be with her."

My heart nearly stopped beating. Then the boy looked at me again and said, "I told my Daddy to tell Mama not to go yet. I told him to tell her to wait till I got back from the store". Then he asked me if I wanted to see his picture. I told him I would love to. He pulled out some pictures he had taken at the front of the store. He said "I want my Mamma to take this with her so she don't ever forget me." "I love my Mama so very much and I wish she did not have to leave me." "But Daddy says she will need to be with my sister."

I saw that the little boy had lowered his head and had grown so very quiet. While he was not looking, I reached into my purse and pulled out a handful of bills. I asked the little boy, "Shall we count that money one more time? " He grew excited and said, "Yes, I just know it has to be enough." So I slipped my money in with his, and we began to count it. Of course it was plenty for the doll. He softly said, "Thank you, Jesus, for giving me enough money." Then the boy said "I just asked Jesus to give me enough money to buy this doll, so Mama can take it with her, to give to my sister." "And He heard my prayer." "I wanted to ask Him for enough to buy my Mama a white rose, but I didn't ask Him, but He gave me enough to buy the doll and a rose for my Mama." "She loves white roses so very, very much."

In a few minutes the aunt came back, and I wheeled my cart away. I could not keep from thinking about the little boy as I finished my shopping in a totally different spirit than when I had started.

A Christmas Angel
Charlotte Richard
Dec 11, 2004

A Christmas Angel
By Charlotte Richard


It was the usual Christmas rush of people coming and going, with large parcels tucked under their arms. I stood at the living room window and watched them scurry home to their loved ones, as the snow fell softly to the ground.

I turned to my husband who was in the kitchen unpacking the grocery bags. "This is going to be the best Christmas ever," I said, smiling down at our infant son. "It's going to be his very first Christmas!"

Jerry smiled at me, "I can't wait either."

Matthew cooed happily, playing on the living room rug with his teething toys. "Just wait until tomorrow," Jerry poked his head out from around the fridge. "Your auntie Carol is flying out for an entire week. I just know she's going to spoil you rotten."

Matthew perked up at the sound of her name, flailing his toys excitedly on the carpet. I watched our healthy, happy son, surrounded by so much. He was such a fortunate child. I went to the window once again and stared blankly at the snow banks. Christmas was in two more days, yet something didn't feel right.

I suddenly felt an ache in my chest, one I couldn't explain. It was a premonition. I turned and looked over at Jerry, who was now standing in the middle of the kitchen with the same odd expression on his face. He joined me at the living room window, his face pale and worried. The we both turned to one another and muttered at the same time, "We need to pack a Christmas hamper for Kathy and Robert."

Jerry looked into my eyes in surprise. We both started to laugh and praise God. It must be a sign! Our closest and dearest friends must be in dire need. Then I hesitated in wonder.

"Jerry," I said aloud. "Why would they need our help? After all, Robert has a good paying job and is employed full time. This feeling we have must be a mistake."

"Don't you think it's a coincidence that we both felt this at the same time?" Jerry questioned. "Maybe its God's will. I still think we should pack a hamper just in case. And if we're wrong, at least it was a good gesture."

I couldn't help but think of Robert's wife and three young kids. What if they were in need of help and we didn't do anything? I nodded in agreement. "You're right. We'll do it."

Jerry went right to work packing boxes of groceries from our kitchen cupboards, while I quickly rushed out and bought a turkey and all the fixings for their dinner. After buying gifts for the kids and purchasing a one-hundred dollar gift certificate, I hurried home to wrap the hamper in ribbons and bows.

Jerry and I were excited. We couldn't wait to deliver the packages. We bundled Matthew in a snowsuit and headed out the door. The air was crisp and cold as we stepped out into the night. We drove three blocks and turned the corner leading to their driveway. All the lights were on in the house. I unfastened Matthew from the car seat, while Jerry lugged boxes to their front door.

As I passed the dining room window, I couldn't help but notice Kathy and Robert leaning over the table with their heads down in prayer. I hesitated momentarily, before knocking. I could hear the patter of little feet running across the room. Kathy opened the door breathless, with her 7-year old daughter hanging on her skirt. Kathy took one look at us and things we had brought with us and started to cry. She motioned for her husband to come to the door. Robert's mouth dropped open, as tears came to his eyes.

"You're our guardian angels," he whispered. "We were just praying for some miracle to help us this Christmas, and here you are."

All the children gathered around and welcomed us into their home. Tessa the oldest girl grabbed my hand tightly. "Thank you," she smiled. "You see, my dad lost his job two weeks ago and we didn't think we were going to have a Christmas, until now. I guess God really does answer our prayers."

I hugged her tight, my heart overjoyed. I realized at that moment that God does still speak to us in today's day and age. We just need to listen.

Charlotte Richard
jerichar69@hotmail.com

Charlotte Richard lives in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada, with her husband Jerry and two sons. She enjoys writing inspirational stories and children's books. Her recent published works appeared in: The Writer's Hood, Creative Poetry, Soon Magazine, Take The. Net, Dream Passage and Sweet Sixteen.

Charlotte is presently working on a series of picture books for publication through Bab Books in 2005, and is completing a teen novel.

Dec 13, 2004

Christmas Love
By Candy Chand


Each December, I vowed to make Christmas a calm and peaceful experience.

I had cut back on nonessential obligations - extensive card writing, endless baking, decorating, and even overspending. Yet still, I found myself exhausted, unable to appreciate the precious family moments, and of course, the true meaning of Christmas.

My son, Nicholas, was in kindergarten that year. It was an exciting season for a six year old. For weeks, he'd been memorizing songs for his school's "Winter Pageant." I didn't have the heart to tell him I'd be working the night of the production.

Unwilling to miss his shining moment, I spoke with his teacher. She assured me there would be a dress rehearsal the morning of the presentation. All parents unable to attend that evening were welcome to come then. Fortunately, Nicholas seemed happy with the compromise.

So, the morning of the dress rehearsal, I filed in 10 minutes early, found a spot on the cafeteria floor and sat down. Around the room, I saw several other parents quietly scampering to their seats. As I waited, the students were led into the room. Each class, accompanied by their teacher, sat cross-legged on the floor. Then, each group, one by one, rose to perform their song. Because the public school system had long stopped referring to the holiday as "Christmas", I didn't expect anything other than fun, commercial entertainment - songs of reindeer, Santa Claus, snowflakes and good cheer. So, when my son's class rose to sing, "Christmas Love", I was slightly taken aback by its bold title.

Nicholas was aglow, as were all of his classmates, adorned in fuzzy mittens, red sweaters, and bright snowcaps upon their heads.

Those in the front row - center stage - held up large letters, one by one, to spell out the title of the song.

As the class would sing "C is for Christmas", a child would hold up the letter C. Then, "H is for Happy", and on and on, until each child holding up his portion had presented the complete message, "Christmas Love".

The performance was going smoothly, until suddenly, we noticed her - a small, quiet, girl in the front row holding the letter "M" upside down - totally unaware her letter "M" appeared as a "W".

The audience of 1st through 6th graders snickered at this little one's mistake. But she had no idea they were laughing at her, so she stood tall, proudly holding her "W".

Although many teachers tried to shush the children, the laughter continued until the last letter was raised, and we all saw it together. A hush came over the audience and eyes began to widen. In that instant, we understood - the reason we were there, why we celebrated the holiday in the first place, why even in the chaos, there was a purpose for our festivities.

For when the last letter was held high, the message read loud and clear: CHRIST WAS LOVE.

And, I believe, He still is

The Meanings of Christmas

CHRISTMAS IS HERE, and we remember that the Babe of Bethlehem...
...humbled himself that all of us might be exalted,
...emptied himself that we might be filled, and
...embraced poverty that we might experience heaven's riches.

CHRISTMAS HAS COME AGAIN, and we are reminded that Emmanuel...
...entered our darkness in order to bring us into his true light,
...was born to our flesh in order to endow us with his Spirit, and
...endured human rejection in order to bequeath divine acceptance.

CHRISTMAS IS UPON US NOW, and we are called in our time and place...
...to sing praise with the angels as a means of pointing others to Jesus,
...to bow low with shepherds as prelude to exaltation with his saints, and
...to bring gifts with the Magi as gratitude for what the Child brought us.

CHRISTMAS IS HERE, and we are distracted by the terror of 9/11...
...mourning the assault but cheering heroic servants and comforters,
...distraught about war but determined both to punish and deter evil, and
...honoring the dead but committed to the resumption of life without fear.

CHRISTMAS HAS COME AGAIN, and there is renewed meaning this year...
...seeing the possibilities for friendship in every stranger's face,
...offering forgiveness to those from whom we have been estranged, and
...affirming the power of love to conquer treachery, hatred, and terror.

CHRISTMAS IS UPON US NOW, and we are called in our time and place...
...to affirm patriotism without sinking to fanatical nationalism,
...to experience unity without confusing it with mindless conformity and
...to look to the future without forgetting all that is now our past.

CHRISTMAS IS HERE, and we celebrate the truth that God-in-the-flesh...
...has descended to our estate that we might ascend to his,
...learned obedience that he might teach us of redemption, and
...died that we might live.

Is Anyone Missing Baby Jesus?
Dec 17, 2004

About a week before Christmas, the family bought a new nativity set. When they unpacked it, they found two figures of the Baby Jesus.

"Someone must have packed this wrong," the mother said, counting out the figures.

"We have one Joseph, one Mary, three wise men, three shepherds, two lambs, a donkey, a cow, an angel and two babies. Oh, dear! I suppose some set down at the store is missing a Baby Jesus because we have two."

"You two run back down to the store and tell the manager that we have an extra Jesus. Tell him to put a sign on the remaining boxes, saying that if a set is missing a Baby Jesus, call 7126."

"Put on your warm coats. It is freezing out there."

The manager of the store copied down mother's message and the next time they were in the store they saw the cardboard sign that read, "If you are missing Baby Jesus, call 7126."

All week long they waited for someone to call. Surely, they thought someone was missing that important figurine. Each time the phone rang, mother would say, "I'll bet that's about Jesus.", but it never was.

Father tried to explain there are thousands of these scattered over the country, and the figurine could be missing from a set in Florida or Texas or California. Those packing mistakes happen all the time. He suggested to just put the extra Jesus back in the box and forget about it.

"Put Baby Jesus back in the box! What a terrible thing to do!" said the children.

"Surely someone will call," mother said. "We'll just keep the two of them together in the manger until someone calls."

When no call had come by 5:00 PM on Christmas Eve, mother insisted that father just run down to the store to see if there were any sets left.

"You can see them right through the window, over on the counter," she said. "If they are all gone, I'll know someone is bound to call tonight."

"Run down to the store?" father thundered. "It's 15 below zero out there!"

"Oh, Daddy, we'll go with you," Tommy and Mary began to put on their coats. Father gave a long sigh and headed for the front closet.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," he muttered.

Tommy and Mary ran ahead as father reluctantly walked out in the cold. Mary got to the store first and pressed her nose up to the store window.

"They're all gone, Daddy," she shouted. "Every set must be sold."

"Hooray" Tommy said. "The mystery will now be solved tonight!"

Father heard the news still a half block away and immediately turned on his heel and headed back home.

When they got back into the house, they noticed that mother was gone and so was the extra Baby Jesus figurine.

"Someone must have called and she went out to deliver the figurine," my father reasoned, pulling off his boots.

"You kids get ready for bed while I wrap mother's present."

Then the phone rang. Father yelled "answer the phone and tell 'em we found a home for Jesus." But it was mother calling with instructions for us to come to 205 Chestnut Street immediately, and bring three blankets, a box of cookies and some milk..

"Now what has she gotten us into?" my father groaned as we bundled up again. "205 Chestnut. Why that's across town. Wrap that milk up good in the blankets or it will turn to ice before we get there. Why can't we all just get on with Christmas? It's probably 20 below out there now. And the wind is picking up. Of all the crazy things to do on a night like this!"

When they got to the house at 205 Chestnut Street, it was the darkest one on the block. Only one tiny light burned in the living room and, the moment we set foot on the porch steps, my mother opened the door and shouted, "They're here, Oh thank God, you got here, Ray! You kids take those blankets into the living room and wrap up the little ones on the couch. I'll take the milk and cookies."

"Would you mind telling me what is going on, Ethel?" my father asked.

"We have just walked through below zero weather with the wind in our faces all the way."

"Never mind all that now," my mother interrupted. "There is no heat in this house and this young mother is so upset she doesn't know what to do. Her husband walked out on her and those poor little children will have a very bleak Christmas, so don't you complain. I told her you could fix that oil furnace in a jiffy."

My mother strode off to the kitchen to warm the milk while my brother and I wrapped up the five little children who were huddled together on the couch. The children's mother explained to my father that her husband had run off, taking bedding, clothing, and almost every piece of furniture, but she had been doing all right until the furnace broke down.

"I been din washin' and ironin' for people and cleanin' the five and dime," she said. "I saw your number every day there, on those boxes on the counter. When the furnace went out, that number kept going' through my mind... 7162... 7162."

"Said on the box that if a person was missin' Jesus, they should call you. That's how I knew you were good Christian people, willin' to help folks. I figured that maybe you would help me, too. So I stopped at the grocery store tonight and I called your missus. I'm not missin' Jesus, mister, because I sure love the Lord. But I am missin' heat. I have no money to fix that furnace."

"Okay, Okay" said father. "You've come to the right place. Now lets see. You've got a little oil burner over there in the dining room. Shouldn't be too hard to fix. Probably just a clogged flue. I'll look it over, see what it needs."

Mother came into the living room carrying a plate of cookies and warm milk. As she set the cups down on the coffee table, I noticed the figure of Baby Jesus lying in the center of the table. It was the only sign of Christmas in the house. The children stared with wide eyed with wonder at the plate of cookies my mother sat before them.

Father finally got the oil burner working but said "you need more oil."

"I'll make a few calls tonight and get some oil."

"Yes sir, you came to the right place," said the woman...

On the way home, father did not complain about the cold weather and had barely set foot inside the door when he was on the phone.

"Ed, hey, how are ya, Ed? Yes, Merry Christmas to you, too. Say, Ed, we have kind of an unusual situation here. I know you've got that pick-up truck. Do you still have some oil in that barrel on your truck?"

"You do?"

By this time the rest of the family were pulling clothes out of their closets and toys off of their shelves. It was long after their bedtime when they were wrapping gifts. The pickup came. On it were chairs, three lamps, blankets and gifts. Even though it was 30 below, Father let them ride along in the back of the truck.

No one ever did call about the missing figure in the nativity set, but as I grow older I realize that it wasn't a packing mistake at all. Jesus saves, that's what He does.

Will The Christ-Child Come?
Gaye Willis
Dec 20, 2004

Will The Christ Child Come?
By Gaye Willis


Halfway through December we were doing the regular evening things when there was a knock at the door. We opened it to find a small package with a beautiful ceramic lamb inside. We looked at the calendar and realized that the 12 days of Christmas were beginning!! We waiting excitedly for the next night's surprise and only then, with the gift of a matching shepherd, did we realized that the lamb was part of a nativity set.

Each night we grew more excited to see what piece we would receive. Each was exquisitely beautiful. The kids kept trying to catch the givers as we slowing built the scene at the manager and began to focus on Christ's birth.

On Christmas Eve, all the pieces were in place, but the baby Jesus. My 12 year-old son really wanted to catch our benefactors and began to devise all kinds of ways to trap them. He ate his dinner in the mini-van watching and waiting, but no one came.

Finally we called him in to go through our family's Christmas Eve traditions. But before the kids went to bed we checked the front step-No Baby Jesus! We began to worry that my son had scared them off. My husband suggested that maybe they dropped the Jesus and there wouldn't be anything coming. Somehow something was missing that Christmas Eve.

There was a feeling that things weren't complete. The kids went to bed and I put out Christmas, but before I went to bed I again checked to see if the Jesus had come-no, the doorstep was empty. In our family the kids can open their stockings when they want to, but they have to wait to open any presents until Dad wakes up. So one by one they woke up very early and I also woke up to watch them.

Even before they opened their stockings, each child checked to see if perhaps during the night the baby Jesus had come. Missing that piece of the set seemed to have an odd effect. At least it changed my focus. I knew there were presents under the tree for me and I was excited to watch the children open their gifts, but first on my mind was the feeling of waiting for the ceramic Christ Child.

We had opened just about all of the presents when one of the children found one more for me buried deep beneath the limbs of the tree. He handed me a small package from my former visiting teaching companion. This sister was somewhat less active in the church. I had learned over time they didn't have much for Christmas, so that their focus was the children. It sounded like she didn't get many gifts to open, so I had always given her a small package - new dish towels, the next year's lesson manual - not much, but something for her to open. I was touched when at Church on the day before Christmas, she had given me this small package, saying it was just a token of her love and appreciation.

As I took off the bow, I remembered my friendship with her and was filled with gratitude for knowing her and for her kindness and sacrifice in this year giving me a gift. But as the paper fell away, I began to tremble and cry. There in the small brown box was the baby Jesus. He had come!

I realized on that Christmas Day that Christ will come into our lives in ways that we don't expect. The spirit of Christ comes into our hearts as we serve one another. We had waited and watched for him to come, expecting the dramatic "knock at the door and scurrying of feet" but he came in a small, simple package that represented service, friendship, gratitude, and love.

This experience taught me that the beginning of the true spirit of Christmas comes as we open our hearts and actively focus on the Savior. But we will most likely find him in the small and simple acts of love, friendship and service that we give to each other. This Christmas I want to feel again the joy of knowing that Christ is in our home. I want to focus on loving and serving. More than that, I want to open my heart to him all year that I may see him again.

Don't forget the reason for the Season

Nobody Remembered
David Langerfeld
Dec 21, 2004

Nobody Remembered

"There was once a small city with only a few people in it. And a powerful king came against it, surrounded it and built huge siegeworks against it. Now there lived in that city a man poor but wise, and he saved the city by his wisdom. But nobody remembered that poor man." Ecclesiastes 9:14-15

Disaster was averted and lives were spared.
..."But nobody remembered that poor man."

Wise words of counsel were given and heeded and so, lives were blessed innumerably.
..."But nobody remembered that poor man."

Could sadder words be spoken? I think not.
..."But nobody remembered that poor man."

This time of year, we naturally think of giving more so than we do in any other season. But the best thing you can give this season - or any season - isn't for sale. It comes freely, but it only comes deliberately. And because you can't touch it, it can never wear out. It's called "appreciation."

This season, as you give, give your heart. As you share presents of possessions, also shall presents of your heart to encourage the spirit of others - tell them of your appreciation for them.

Remember that poor man - and all the people like him. All the people God has sent your way and steered you away from destruction, time and again, all your life. Bless them today by remembering them. Those you know well and those whose names you know not. Give those you know what they need - your appreciation. Give those who have blessed you and you never knew it, what they need - your kindness, and so, your appreciation. Your appreciation of the lives of others may very well be the very best gift you can ever give. So give it often. For it costs you little and those who receive it will be wealthy indeed.

Father, thank you for blessing our lives with others. We need them so. And you have provided. Blessed be your name and your people. Bless all who share your word and enable them to live it. Smile on all who hear your word that they might accept it and do it. Give us all another year here we pray to share with others. And at the same time we pray, "Come, Lord Jesus!" Work what You will through us Father, that others might see You and hear You -- and appreciate You. Because of Jesus. Amen.

A Christmas To Remember
Dec 22, 2004

First Impressions - A Christmas To Remember

This is a first-person account from a mother about her family as they ate dinner on Christmas Day in a small restaurant many miles from their home. Nancy, the mother, relates:

We were the only family with children in the restaurant. I sat Erik in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly eating and talking. Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee and said, "Hi there." He pounded his fat baby hands on the high-chair tray. His eyes were wide with excitement and his mouth was bared in a toothless grin. He wriggled and giggled with merriment.

I looked around and saw the source of his merriment. It was a man with a tattered rag of a coat; dirty, greasy and worn. His pants were baggy with a zipper at half-mast and his toes poked out of would-be shoes. His shirt was dirty and his hair was uncombed and unwashed. His whiskers were too short to be called a beard and nose was so varicose it looked like a road map.

We were too far from him to smell, but I was sure he smelled. His hands waved and flapped on loose wrists. "Hi there, baby; hi there, big boy. I see ya, buster," the man said to Erik.

My husband and I exchanged looks, "What do we do?" Erik continued to laugh and answer, ""Hi, hi there." Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked at us and then at the man. The old geezer was creating a nuisance with my beautiful baby.

Our meal came and the man began shouting from across the room, "Do ya know patty cake? Do you know peek-a-boo? Hey, look, he knows peek-a-boo."

Nobody thought he old man was cute. He was obviously drunk. My husband and I were embarrassed. We ate in silence; all except for Erik, who was running through his repertoire for the admiring skid-row bum, who in turn, reciprocated with his cute comments.

We finally go through the meal and headed for the door. My husband went to pay the check and told me to meet him in the parking lot. The old man sat poised between me and the door. "Lord, just let me out of here before he speaks to me or Erik," I prayed. As I drew closer to the man, I turned my back trying to side-step him and avoid any air he might be breathing. As I did, Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby's pick-me-up, position. Before I could stop him, Erik had propelled himself from my arms to the man's.

Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very young baby consummated their love relationship. Erik in an act of total trust, love and submission laid his tiny head upon the man's ragged shoulder. The man's eyes closed, and I saw tears hover beneath his lashes. His aged hands full of grime, pain and hard labor - gently, so gently cradled my baby's bottom and stroked his back.

No two beings have ever loved so deeply for so short a time. I stood awestruck. The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms for a moment, and then his eyes opened and set squarely on mine. He said in a firm commanding voice, "You take care of this baby." Somehow I managed, "I will," from a throat that contained a stone. He pried Erik from his chest unwillingly, longingly, as though he were in pain. I received my baby, and the man said, "God bless you ma'am, you've given me my Christmas gift."

I said nothing more than a muttered thanks. With Erik in my arms, I ran for the car. My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Erik so tightly, and why I was saying, "My God, my God, forgive me." I had just witnessed Christ's love shown through the innocence of a tiny child who saw no sin, who made no judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a mother who saw a suit of clothes.

I was a Christian who was blind, holding a child who was not, I felt it was God asking --"Are you willing to share your son for a moment?", when He shared His for all eternity.

The ragged old man, unwittingly, had reminded me, "To enter the Kingdom of God, we must become as little children."

Christmas Classic: The Big Wheel Truck Stop
David Langerfeld
Dec 23, 2004

The Big Wheel Truck Stop

In September 1960, I woke up one morning with six hungry babies and just 75 cents in my pocket. Their father was gone. The boys ranged from three months to seven years; their sister was two. Their Dad had never been much more than a presence they feared. Whenever they heard his tires crunch on the gravel driveway they would scramble to hide under their beds. He did manage to leave $15 a week to buy groceries. Now that he had decided to leave, there would be no more beatings, but no food either.

If there was a welfare system in effect in southern Indiana at that time, I certainly knew nothing about it. I scrubbed the kids until they looked brand new and then put on my best homemade dress. I loaded them into the rusty old 51 Chevy and drove off to find a job. The seven of us went to every factory, store and restaurant in our small town. No luck. The kids stayed crammed into the car and tried to be quiet while I tried to convince whomever would listen that I was willing to learn or do anything. I had to have a job. Still no luck.

The last place we went to, just a few miles out of town, was an old Root Beer Barrel drive-in that had been converted to a truck stop. It was called the Big Wheel. An old lady named Granny owned the place and she peeked out of the window from time to time at all those kids. She needed someone on the graveyard shift, 11 at night until seven in the morning.

She paid 65 cents an hour and I could start that night. I raced home and called the teenager down the street that baby-sat for people. I bargained with her to come and sleep on my sofa for a dollar a night. She could arrive with her pajamas on and the kids would already be asleep. This seemed like a good arrangement to her, so we made a deal. That night when the little ones and I knelt to say our prayers we all thanked God for finding Mommy a job.

And so I started at the Big Wheel. When I got home in the mornings I woke the baby-sitter up and sent her home with one dollar of my tip money - fully half of what I averaged every night. As the weeks went by, heating bills added a strain to my meager wage. The tires on the old Chevy had the consistency of penny balloons and began to leak. I had to fill them with air on the way to work and again every morning before I could go home.

One bleak fall morning, I dragged myself to the car to go home and found four tires in the back seat. New tires! There was no note, no nothing, just those beautiful brand new tires. Had angels taken up residence in Indiana? I wondered. I made a deal with the owner of the local service station. In exchange for his mounting the new tires, I would clean up his office. I remember it took me a lot longer to scrub his floor than it did for him to do the tires.

I was now working six nights instead of five and it still wasn't enough. Christmas was coming and I knew there would be no money for toys for the kids. I found a can of red paint and started repairing and painting some old toys. Then I hid them in the basement so there would be something for Santa to deliver on Christmas morning.

Clothes were a worry too. I was sewing patches on top of patches on the boys pants and soon they would be too far gone to repair. On Christmas Eve the usual customers were drinking coffee in the Big Wheel. These were the truckers, Les, Frank, and Jim, and a state trooper named Joe. A few musicians were hanging around after a gig at the Legion and were dropping nickels in the pinball machine. The regulars all just sat around and talked through the wee hours of the morning and then left to get home before the sun came up.

When it was time for me to go home at seven o'clock on Christmas morning I hurried to the car. I was hoping the kids wouldn't wake up before I managed to get home and get the presents from the basement and place them under the tree. (We had cut down a small cedar tree by the side of the road down by the dump.) It was still dark and I couldn't see much, but there appeared to be some dark shadows in the car - or was that just a trick of the night? Something certainly looked different, but it was hard to tell what.

When I reached the car I peered warily into one of the side windows. Then my jaw dropped in amazement. My old battered Chevy was filled full to the top with boxes of all shapes and sizes. I quickly opened the driver's side door, scrambled inside and kneeled in the front facing the back seat. Reaching back, I pulled off the lid of the top box. Inside was whole case of little blue jeans, sizes 2-10! I looked inside another box: it was full of shirts to go with the jeans. Then I peeked inside some of the other boxes: There was candy and nuts and bananas and bags of groceries. There was an enormous ham for baking, and canned vegetables and potatoes. There was pudding and Jell-O and cookies, pie filling and flour. There was a whole bag of laundry supplies and cleaning items. And there were five toy trucks and one beautiful little doll.

As I drove back through empty streets as the sun slowly rose on the most amazing Christmas Day of my life, I was sobbing with gratitude. And I will never forget the joy on the faces of my little ones that precious morning. Yes, there were angels in Indiana that long-ago December. And they all hung out at the Big Wheel truck stop.

Christmas Classic: The Geese
David Langerfeld
Dec 24, 2004

The Geese

There was once a man who didn't believe in the incarnation of Christ or the spiritual meaning of Christmas, and was skeptical about God.

He and his family lived in a farm community. His wife was a devout believer and diligently raised her children in her faith. He sometimes gave her a hard time about her faith and mocked her observance of Christmas. "It's all nonsense - why would God lower himself and become a human like us?! It's such a ridiculous story!" he said.

One snowy day, she and the children left for church while he stayed home. After they had left, the winds grew stronger and the snow turned into a blinding snowstorm. He sat down to relax before the fire for the evening.

Then he heard a loud thump, something hitting against the window. And another thump. He looked outside but couldn't see. So he ventured outside to see. In the field near his house he saw, of all the strangest things, a flock of geese! They were apparently flying to look for a warmer area down south, but had been caught in the snow storm.

The storm had become too blinding and violent for the geese to fly or see their way. They were stranded on his farm, with no food or shelter, unable to do more than flutter their wings and fly in aimless circles.

He had compassion for them and wanted to help them. He thought to himself, "The barn would be a great place for them to stay! It's warm and safe; surely they could spend the night and wait out the storm."

So he opened the barn doors for them. He waited, watching them, hoping they would notice the open barn and go inside. But they didn't notice the barn or realize what it could mean for them. He moved closer toward them to get their attention, but they just moved away from him out of fear. He went into the house and came back out with some bread, broke it up, and made a bread trail to the barn. They still didn't catch on.

Starting to get frustrated, he went over and tried to shoo them toward the barn. They panicked and scattered into every direction except toward the barn. Nothing he did could get them to go into the barn where there was warmth, safety and shelter.

Feeling totally frustrated, he exclaimed, "Why don't they follow me? Can't they see this is the only place where they can survive the storm? How can I possibly get them into the one place to save them?" He thought for a moment and realized that they just wouldn't follow a human. He said to himself, "How can I possibly save them? The only way would be for me to become like those geese. If only I could become like one of them! I could walk and talk like them and they would understand me. Then I could save them! They would follow me and I would lead them to safety."

At that moment, he stopped and considered what he had said. The words reverberated in his mind: "If only I could become like one of them - then I could save them." And then, at last, he understood God's heart towards mankind, and he fell on his knees in the snow and worshipped Him.

Keys To Victory in 2005
David Langerfeld
Jan 3, 2005

Keys to Victory in 2005
Philippians 3:13-14


THE KEY
The key to victory in 2005 is Philippians 3:13-14 and it has two parts.

Key #1 - Forgetting the Past
Key #2 - Forging Ahead


The Great Race
Paul was using the illustration of a race to describe his life. He was in the home stretch, but he was still running the race; the race wasn't over. The first thing we need to notice is that Paul was not satisfied with his performance. No runner worth his salt is ever satisfied with his performance. He always wants to go a little faster, a little longer or a little harder. Each runner wants to continually improve himself. and Paul was the same. He said, "I have not apprehended it yet." - NOT YET!

Right behind this conjunction is one of Paul's secrets to living: THIS ONE THING I DO! It's the only time this phrase is used in the New Testament. Single-minded concentration on the things of God is essential to running the race of Christianity. You cannot be dwelling on other things as an athlete and give your best performance. Therefore, Paul says "this one thing I do."

What is "This One Thing I Do"?
"Forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." Forgetting the Past and Forging Ahead - That's the key for victory in the Christian life. That's the key for victory in 2005. Let's break it down...


Key #1 - Forgetting the past: LOCKING THE DOOR ON YESTERDAY

What do we need to forget?
Paul had learned that we have to lock the door on yesterday and throw away the key. Paul discovered that looking back almost always ends up in going back. Let me repeat that... Looking back almost always ends up in going back. In the Old Testament we find the wandering Israelites ready to return to their old ways rather than pressing on. In the New Testament Jesus clearly taught us in Luke 9:62 that "no man, having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for God's Kingdom."



4 Things to Forget:
Four Doors we need to lock and throw away the key.


1. YESTERDAY'S MISTAKES In his book ENCOURAGE ME, Chuck Swindoll has a chapter entitled, "The Fine Art of Blowing It" - It begins like this, "It happens to every one of us. Teachers as well as students. cops as well as criminals. Bosses as well as secretaries. Parents as well as kids. The diligent as well as the lazy. Not even presidents are immune. Or corporation heads who earn six-figure salaries. The same is true of well-meaning architects and hard-working builders and clear-thinking engineers... not to mention pro ball players, politicians, and preachers.

What? making mistakes, that's what. Doing the wrong thing, usually with the best of motives. And it happens with remarkable regularity."

Dale Carnegie has a folder entitled "FTD" It stands for "Fool Things I Have Done." Whenever he did something foolish or stupid, he would dictate a record of it to his secretary. He confesses, however, that he was so embarrassed by his stupidity that he was ashamed to have her know it. So he would write it out in longhand and slip it into the file himself.

Everyone makes mistakes. Everybody does stupid, foolish things. God's Word says: "forget it" - leave them behind you. There are 3 things we should do about yesterday's mistakes: 1. Learn from them 2. Determine with God's help not to do them again 3. Forget them. Satan will want to remind you and make you feel guilty for your past mistakes – but God says: "Forget Them. I HAVE"!



2. YESTERDAY'S HURTS
Life is a battlefield. You're a soldier in God's Army. On any battleground, injuries will occur and soldiers are going to get hurt. Sooner or later, someone is going to ... hurt you. ... lie about you ... verbally or physically harm you ... misrepresent you ... chop you up in little pieces ... slander you

It's going to happen--what do you do? You have two choices: 1. Allow the resentment and hate to build until it turns into revenge
-- or -- 2. Forgive and Forget
A. Forgive as Christ forgave you - just as He forgave the Roman soldiers who didn't know what they were doing.
B. Forget those things that are behind you Phil. 3:13

You might say, but David - You Don't Understand, No One Understands You might be tempted to say, but David, you don't understand what's happened to me. ... You don't know how bad I've been hurt. ... I was innocent. ... I didn't do anything wrong, but they hurt me. ... They lied about me. ... They hurt my feelings and they didn't care. ... They criticize me when I didn't do anything wrong. ... They talked about me behind my back. ... They cheated me, they rejected me, they hurt me really bad.

God understands. Jesus was innocent, but they beat him, they tortured him, they mocked him, they crucified him. He didn't deserve it, but they did it anyway. On the cross, He forgave them. On the cross, He provided salvation for even those who beat him, who mocked him, who crucified him. In order to press on in the Christian life, we have to lock the door on yesterday's hurts.


3. YESTERDAY'S POSSIBILITIES How often do I see people unable to operate in today because they are still living a "what if" life. They keep talking about "what could have been"--"if I had only..."

Quite often they blame someone else ... if my wife hadn't ... if my parents hadn't ... if my business partner had ... if the war hadn't
Even God - "if God would have… or if God wouldn't have…"

We can't live on yesterday's promises or yesterday's dreams. Too many people are dissatisfied with life because they've had an expectation that just hasn't worked out. Paul is saying--forget your past hurts, forget your past mistakes and forget living with what might have been and finally...



4. YESTERDAY'S SINS
Billy Graham once said that 80% of all the patients in mental hospitals could go home if they would accept the fact that they are not guilty or that they have been forgiven.

Many people are carrying a burden of guilt:
A past mistake
A moral failure
A painful cut to a friend
A physical hurt to someone
A stupid, hateful remark
A poor decision
A sin so horrible that they believe either God will not forgive them or they will not forgive themselves

***There is no sin, no matter how great or small, once it has been confessed and forgiven, that the memory of it should torment us no more. Let me repeat that: When sin, no matter how great or how grievous, has been confessed and forgiven, the memory of it should torment us no more!

Notice, Paul didn't say, "I've forgotten those things which are behind. Paul said, forgetting those things. Paul had learned the secret. There are some things in our memory that we will never forget.

We have to keep practicing forgetting... Guilt will eat us alive. Every time the memory comes back, every time a song or a word or a smell or a picture or a person reminds us, we continue to practice forgetting.

How long do we practice forgetting?
until the memory doesn't hurt any more.
until we allow God to forgive us
until we allow God to forgive through us
until the pain is no longer there
until we can use our past to help us grow in the present
until we can use our past to help others in the present

God says in Jeremiah 31:34 "I will forgive their iniquity and remember their sin no more."

Psalm 103:12 "I will remove their sin as far as the east is from the west."

I John 1:9 "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

It's time to: Lock the Door on the Past!
Throw Away the Key!
Forget Where You Have Thrown It!


Part #1 - Forgetting those things which are behind, we must... Part #2 - Forge Ahead

Paul is telling us, now that we're continually forgetting those things which are behind us, we can't stay where we are. We have to press on. We have to keep going. The race isn't over. We haven't reached the finish line. We can't stop where we are. It's now time to press on, to forge ahead. So, what do we need to do to forge ahead - to press on toward the goal?

First, we need to repair our altars Read 1 Kings 18:30. You know the story. Elijah had challenged the prophets of Baal to a contest. Each one would sacrifice a bull on the altar and they would call upon their God to burn the sacrifice. The prophets of Baal screamed and prayed and even cut themselves, but nothing happened. Elijah poured water on the altar three times and yet when called out, fire from heaven consumed the altar, even with the water and burned the sacrifice.

But notice what Elijah had to do before he could move ahead with the contest - before he could forge ahead with the battle of the prophets of Baal - before he could press on to office the sacrifice. Look at verse 30. "…he repaired the altar of the Lord which was in ruins." Did you catch that? He had to repair the altar. It had been allowed to fall into ruins. (See also 1 Kings 19:14)

What about you? What about your altar? Is it clean? What about your words? Are they wholesome and uplifting? What about your thought-life? What about your quiet time? Your devotional life? Is your altar ready for sacrifice?

In Romans 12:1-2, the Bible says. "I beseech you therefore brethren by the mercies of God to present yourselves as a living sacrifice. Wholly and acceptable unto God." Is your altar ready? Is there some repair work that needs to be done? Are you like the Israelites in the time of Elijah? Have you let your devotional life fall into disuse? Is your altar clean and holy?

Before we press on to victory in 2005 First, we need to repair our altars Second, we need to remove the sin

Sin in the Camp - Ai and Aachan Joshua has defeated enemy after enemy when he was the underdog. Under God's leadership, Joshua has won victory after victory against overwhelming odds. Now, he was about to battle the people of Ai. This time Joshua had the overwhelming forces. It seemed like an easy victory. It should have been a short battle. But Joshua and the Israelites lost the battle. Joshua's men were defeated and humiliated. Joshua sought understanding from the Lord and the Lord told him why...

There was sin in the camp. A man named Achan had kept some of the things that he wasn't supposed to keep. He had lied about it. Listen to what God says, "Israel has sinned; they have violated my covenant, which I commanded them to keep. They have taken some of the devoted things; they have stolen, they have lied, they have put them with their own possessions. That is why the Israelites cannot stand against their enemies; they turn their backs and run because they have been made liable to destruction. I will not be with you anymore unless you destroy whatever among you is devoted to destruction."

"Go, consecrate the people. Tell them, 'Consecrate yourselves in preparation for tomorrow; for this is what the LORD, the God of Israel, says: That which is devoted is among you, O Israel. You cannot stand against your enemies until you remove it. "

So Joshua had Aachan, the man who had keep those things he was not supposed to keep and who had lied about having them bring those objects out in the open confess what he had done. He had soldiers bring the objects to the middle of the camp and then they killed Aachan, because his sin was keeping the rest of the Israelites from doing what God had called them to do.

So, after we've repaired our altars and removed the sin, we're ready to press on. Do you know what the word means in the Greek. It refers to the distant finish line where a runner looks at the beginning of the race. It's that point in the distance where the two lines parallel of the runner's lane seem to converge.

Do you want to have victory in your life in 2005? Here's the key - Forgetting your past mistakes, your past hurts, your past sins, repairing your altar and removing your sin, Press On. Where? - toward the goal. The race is still on. You're not at the finish line, yet. But Christ is running the race with you and will be with you to the end.

How To Break Out Of A Rut
David Langerfeld
Jan 4, 2005

"HOW TO BREAK OUT OF A RUT!"

Do you want to get out of the rut you're in? Is your life predictable? Do you do the same thing, day after day? Has the excitement gone? Do you feel as though 2005 will be just as dull and monotonous as 2004? Are you just going through the motions?

There's a wonderful Biblical passage that demonstrates the steps one man took to change his life. This passage gives us the basic steps we need to change our lives - 7 basic steps to get out of a rut. Jesus had been preaching and teaching in the area around the Sea of Galilee. On his way to Jerusalem, he passes through Jericho, where he encounters a blind man named Bartimaeus.

Read Mark 10:45-52


Seven Steps to Change Your Life

#1 Assume Responsibility For Your Own Life! (v. 47)
"When He Heard it Was Jesus...He Began To Cry Out."

Own up to your own responsibility. When you listen to people talk about their problems, do you notice that it's always someone else's fault? Teenagers blame their parents, Parents blame their children, Workers blame their co-workers or their boss.

Things happen you can't control - but you can con