Sermon Illustrations on Poem

Makes you stronger

Good Timber

The tree that never had to fight

For sun and sky and air and light,

Never became a forest king,

But lived and died a common thing.

The man who never had to toil,

Who never had to win his share

Of sun and sky and light and air,

Never became a manly man,

But lived and died as he began.

Good timber does not grow on ease.

The stronger the wind, the tougher trees,

The farther sky, the greater length

By sun and cold, by rain and snow,

In tree or man good timber grows.

- Douglas Malloch, quoted in Resource, Sept./Oct., 1992, Page 7

The Real "night Before Christmas"

Luke 2:8

Mark Perkins, the pastor of Denver Bible Church, and author of several

Grace Notes studies (Hosea, Life of Christ), has offered this Christmas

greeting. You can e-mail a reply to Mark at

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

The Real 'Night before Christmas'. Daniel 7:13-14; Luke 2.

---------------------------------

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the realm,

ev'ry creature was stirring, with God at the helm.

The messengers sent to the shepherds with care,

near Bethlehem Judea, town chosen most fair.

At the stable there gathered just a few who'd see,

the birth of Lord Jesus, the King of the free.

The centuries of prophets came down to a day,

the Day of the ages, of God's Holy say.

But the night before Christmas was a solemn affair,

'round the throne of the Father, who was sending Him there.

For long in the past before the dawn of mankind,

the Son was the sacrifice of God's own design.

Sacrifice most terrible but lovely indeed,

sacrifice most precious, destined to bleed.

And there at throne of the Ancient of Days,

was presented the Son, with the angels' hoorays!

The Son of Man then before union was made,

received power and glory, for a kingdom yet laid.

Its purpose was mighty - to rule all the earth,

in peace and justice and Almighty mirth.

But one thing was needed 'fore kingdom could be,

a people who'd worship on free-bended knee.

On the night before Christmas there waited a crown,

for the one who was going to that little town.

But thorns were its make-up, and sin was its cost,

and before kingdom there waited the Cross.

---------------------------------

Grace Notes

Warren Doud, Director

38435 5th Street West, Apt. J158

Palmdale, California 93551

E-Mail: wdoud@bga.com

Web: http://www.realtime.net/~wdoud/

#4445

*

Christ Has No Body But Yours

St. Teresa of Ávila (1515-1582), the mystical doctor of the church who saw all things with the eye of her soul, famously wrote:

Christ has no body but yours,

No hands, no feet on earth but yours,

Yours are the eyes with which he looks

Compassion on this world,

Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,

Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.

Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,

Yours are the eyes, you are his body.

Christ has no body now but yours,

No hands, no feet on earth but yours,

Yours are the eyes with which he looks

Compassion on this world.

Christ has no body now on earth but yours.

________

Born in Spain, Teresa entered a Carmelite convent when she was eighteen, and later earned a reputation as a mystic, reformer, and writer who experienced divine visions. She founded a convent, and wrote the book The Way of Perfection for her nuns. Other important books by her include her Autobiography and The Interior Castle.

Christmas Poem

John 1:1

In her 1985 Christmas letter, Madeleine L’Engle wrote:

“Observe and contemplate.

Make real. Bring to be.

Because we note the falling tree

The sound is truly heard.

Look! The sunrise! Wait--

It needs us to look, to see.

To hear, and speak the Word.

Observe and contemplate

The cosmos and our little earth.

Observing, we affirm the worth

Of sun and stars and light unfurled.

So let us, seeing, celebrate

The glory of God’s incarnate birth

And sing its joy to all the world.

Observe and contemplate.

Make real. Affirm. Say Yes,

And in this season sing and bless

Wind, ice, snow; rabbit and bird;

Comet and quark; things small and great.

Oh, observe and joyfully confess

The birth of Love’s most lovely Word.”

*

Cats & Dogs

Cats

What is it about a cat that

causes such love or hate?

No middle ground, thank you!

They walk around as though

they own the world . . .

at least their corner of it.

They don't beg for food, or anything . . .

just wait patiently

knowing it will be supplied,

Or . . . they go out and get their own

sustenance, mind you!

They carry lethal weapons

without permits,

and use them judiciously.

When mad, there is no question.

You always know

where you stand with a cat.

What is it that causes such antipathy?

Could it be because they know

who they are . . .demi-gods,

where they belong . . . anywhere they please,

and to Whom they belong . . . God?

Perhaps they were created

to keep us humble.

kt.

Dogs

Man's best friend,

besides himself.

Epitomy of selflessness.

Obeys any command

for less than minimum wage . . .

or at least a pat on the head.

Faithful until death.

Trades his instincts

for our love and acceptance.

Keeps mind free from trivia;

logs only important data . . .

come! sit! stay! fetch! down!

His coat is a sponge for tears . . .

his tongue patented

for giving wet kisses!

Lives only to play . . .

and obey.

Given to us by God

to soften the reality of cats?

kt.

The Drawer Wouldn't Close

[David Holwick - I don't like how this illustration makes a cheating husband into a good guy at the end but you may find use for it in the "make lemonade out of lemons" category]

"I'm sorry, Ma'am. There must be a mistake. We have your husband scheduled as being on vacation."

The voice on the other end of the line spoke in carefully arranged words.

"Vacation! No, no. He's supposed to be on a business trip."

"I'm sorry." Pause. The voice began to falter a little as we both realized what was happening. "We have no information about a business trip."

And so it was that a life that began in bliss ended in betrayal.

It's not a cliche when it's your life.

My husband had kissed me tenderly before he left for the airport that day. "You've never looked more beautiful," he said. "Don't forget Wednesday is our date night. I love you."

I had noted how handsome he was, as always, with his tall frame, salt-and-pepper hair, and a sharp business suit. After 32 years of marriage, three children and three grandchildren, I could honestly say my heart still flip-flopped every time he walked in the door.

After he left, though, I spent the day fighting off an unusual feeling of loneliness. Blaming it on the dreary weather, I spent the day by the fire with a book until I finally retired, still uneasy. At 6 a.m. I awoke feeling that something was very wrong. Thinking I'd had a bad dream, I waited for the panic to pass, but it didn't. Finally I decided to do something I almost never did: phone my husband at his hotel. Every night when he was away on business he would phone me. I had never felt the need to call myself. This time I did.

It was after the hotel call, the one where a desk clerk finds "no one registered under that name," that I called the office hoping for a hotel mix-up.

A few months later, my husband filed for divorce.

A few years later, still working through the pain, I began leading divorce recovery workshop groups at my local church. I had endured personal loss, defeat and rejection. I had dealt with the pain my family had to bear on my behalf. My deepest wounds, though, had been self-inflicted, brought on by my anger at being an unwilling participant in a divorce.

While doing housework one day, I was thinking about how much pain I could have avoided - and others could, too - when I suddenly turned off the vacuum and sat down with a notepad and pen. I began writing. Page after page. Spilling out words of healing, a few lines at a time.

When I ran out of thoughts, I looked at the pages and shrugged, wondering what it was all about. Then I stuck them in a desk drawer.

Yet I kept feeling the urge to get those notes out and read them again.

After a while, I did, and was surprised to find that they read like greeting card verses. Where was I going with this? I had no funds to hire an artist or pay a printer. I put the notes back in the drawer.

The nudgings continued. Then it occurred to me that I did know one artist.

Without giving myself a chance to back out, I called my former husband and in a rush of words, starting with "This is strictly business," I told him my idea.

He asked me to read some of the verses, then after hearing a few said he'd love to design original watercolor art for them. He would provide funds for printing costs, as well.

A week later, my former husband delivered to my door a bouquet of eight beautiful watercolors, all perfectly matching the emotion of my verses.

I named the cards "Ex's & Oh's."

A front-page article about my venture and my unique partnership with my ex-husband appeared in the business section of the Colorado Springs newspaper. The story was picked up by the Associated Press, generating phone calls from across the country. I did radio, television and newspaper interviews, and even got a call inviting me to be a guest on the "Today Show."

Thanks to all this publicity, "Ex's & Oh's" have been sent to spouses, children, parents, in-laws and friends going through divorce. And the calls that have meant the most to me by far haven't been from media. They've been from individuals who have told me how they've used the greeting cards to work through the "I'll-get-you-back" kind of pain that can be the most debilitating in a divorce.

One woman who ordered the greeting cards wrote me saying, "Thank you for being a light in the darkness."

That's what astonishes me the most about all this. God had plans for me.

He somehow squeezed light from the darkest moments of my life.

I had a drawer that wouldn't close. So I looked inside it. And I found the plans for a new life.

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

*

The Anvil

"THE ANVIL"

Last eve I passed beside a blacksmith's door

And heard the anvil ring the vesper chime;

Then looking in, I saw upon the floor

Old hammers, worn with beating years of time.

"How many anvils have you had," said I,

"To wear and batter all these hammers so?"

"Just one," said he, and then with twinkling eye,

"The anvil wears the hammers out, you know."

And so, thought I, the anvil of God's word,

For ages skeptics blows have beat upon;

Yet though the noise of falling blows was heard,

The anvil is unharmed . . . the hammers gone.

-- Author unknown

Weight loss poem

HOLIDAY FUN

'Twas the night before Christmas and all round my hips

Were Fannie May candies that sneaked past my lips.

Fudge brownies were stored in the freezer with care

In hopes that my thighs would forget they were there.

While Mama in her girdle and I in chin straps

Had just settled down to sugar-borne naps.

When out in the pantry there arose such a clatter

I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the kitchen I flew like a flash,

Tore open the icebox, then threw up the sash.

The marshmallow look of the new-fallen snow

Sent thoughts of a binge to my body below.

When what to my wandering eyes should appear:

A marzipan Santa with eight chocolate reindeer!

That huge chunk of candy so luscious and slick,

I knew in a second that I'd wind up sick.

The sweet-coated Santa, those sugared reindeer

I closed my eyes tightly but still I could hear;

On Pritzker, on Stillman, on weak one, on TOPS

A Weight Watcher dropout from sugar detox.

From the top of the scales to the top of the hall,

Now dash away pounds now dash away all.

Dressed up in Lane Bryant from my head to nightdress,

My clothes were all bulging from too much excess.

My droll little mouth and my round little belly

They shook when I laughed like a bowl full of jelly.

I spoke not a word but went straight to my work

Ate all of the candy then turned with a jerk.

And laying a finger beside my heartburn

I gave a quick nod toward the bedroom I turned.

I eased into bed, to the heavens I cry

If temptation's removed I'll get thin by and by.

And I mumbled again as I turned for the night

In the morning I'll starve... 'til I take that first bite!

The Wasted Years

I looked upon a farm one day,

That once I used to own;

The barn had fallen to the ground,

The fields were overgrown.

The house in which my children grew

Where we had lived for years--

I turned to see it broken down,

And brushed aside the tears.

I looked upon my soul one day,

To find it, too, had grown

With thorns and thistles everywhere

The seeds neglect had sown.

The years had passed while I had cared

For things of lesser worth;

The things of heaven I let go

While minding things of earth.

To Christ I turned with bitter tears,

And cried, "O Lord, forgive!

I haven't much time left for thee,

Not many years to live."

The wasted years forever gone,

The days I can't recall;

If I could live those days again,

I'd make Him Lord of all.

Author Unknown

Builder or destroyer?

I watched them tear a building down,

A band of men in a busy town.

With a `HO-HEAVE-HO' and a lusty yell,

They swung a beam and the sidewalk fell.

I asked the foreman, Are these men skilled?

And the men you'd hire if you had to build?

He gave a laugh and said, No indeed!

Common labor is all I need.

I can easily wreck in a day or two,

What builders have taken a year to do.

And I thought to myself as I went on my way,

Which of these roles have I tried to play?

Am I a builder who works with care?

Measuring life by the rule and square?

Am I shaping my deeds to a well-made plan,

Patiently doing the best I can?

Or am I a wrecker who walks the town,

Content with the labor of tearing down?

Pattern Theology

There once was a fellow named Luther

Clearly a Pattern theology "abuser"

The Pope he defied

"Sola Scriptura" he cried

As he championed a faith that was purer.

Then Zwingli took up the refrain

For the swiss patterns were not a strain

That ol' organ they hid

of Icons they were rid

For freedom in Christ they were slain.

On patterns did the Anabaptists think

From Infant Baptism they started to shrink

It cost them their life,

persecution and strife

and the authorites left their bodies to stink

Calvin jumped on the pattern bandwagon

A bold fellow, his zeal was unflaggin'

Saw the Instrument with all

other shadows of the law

with Infant Baptism as burdens down draggin'

So John Wesley caught on to the Method

of patterning life after the scriptures so blessed

so in baptism he immersed

and with the instrument dispersed

To keep his society from the world unmolested.

Notice how the prophets of old

had proclaimed God's judgments so bold

on those of the "Haves"

who'd left the old paths

rejecting God's patterns to hold.

Now in the eyes of some, so it seems

Pattern theology is but smoke, stuff, and dreams

Yet some themes are consistent

(or at least they're persistent)

Among the contributors to theology's stream

Pattern Theology is just going back

to the Bible for things that we lack

If we seek to restore,

nothing less, nothing more,

It'll bring us back on to Christ's track.

Scott P. Wiley

(untitled)

A PSALM OF LIFE

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,

Life is but an empty dream! -

For the soul is dead that slumbers,

And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!

And the grave is not its goal;

Dust thou art, to dust returnest,

Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

Is our destined end or way;

But to act, that each to-morrow

Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and time is fleeting,

And our heart, though stout and brave,

Still, like muffled drums, are beating

Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,

In the bivouac of life,

Be not like dumb, driven cattle!

Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no future, howe'er pleasant!

Let the dead Past bury its dead!

Act, -act in the living Present!

Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us

We can make our lives sublime,

And, departing, leave behind us

Footprints on the sands of time.

Footprints, that, perhaps another,

Sailing o'er life's solemn main,

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,

Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,

With a heart for any fate;

Still achieving, still pursuing,

Learn to labor and to wait.

Dwelling on the good

Wouldn't this old world be better

If folks we meet would say,

"I know something good about you."

And then treat you that way?

Wouldn't it be fine and dandy,

If each handclasp warm and true

Carried with it this assurance,

I know something good about you!"

Wouldn't life be lots more happy

If the good that's in us all,

Were the only thing about us,

That folks bothered to recall?

Wouldn't life be lots more happy,

If we praised the good we see?

For there's a lot of goodness

In the worst of you and me.

Wouldn't it be nice to practice

That fine way of thinking too?

You know something good about me!

I know something good about you!"

Universal Rx--the Hug

Universal Rx

No moving parts, no batteries,

No monthly payments and no fees;

Inflation proof, non-taxable,

In fact, it's quite relaxable;

It can't be stolen, won't pollute,

One size fits all, do not dilute.

It uses little energy,

But yields results enormously.

Relieves your tension and your stress

Invigorates your happiness;

Combats depression, makes you beam,

And elevates your self-esteem!

Your circulation it corrects

Without unpleasant side effects.

It is, I think, the perfect drug:

May I prescribe, my friends . . . the hug!

(And, of course, fully returnable!)

By Henry Matthew Ward

from A Cup of Chicken Soup

by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor

Life-long companions

A poem by Peggy Cameron King about an old couple who have been life-long companions expresses this idea well:

Let me hold your hand as we go downhill,

We've shared our strength and we share it still.

It hasn't been easy to make the climb,

But the way was eased by your hand in mine.

Like the lake, our life has had ripples too,

Ill-health, and worries, and payments due,

With happy pauses along the way,

A birth, a graduation, a raise in pay.

At the foot of the slope, we will stop and rest,

Look back if you wish; we've been truly blessed.

We've been spared the grief of being torn apart

By death, or divorce, or a broken heart.

The view ahead is one of the best,

Just a little bit farther, and then we can rest.

We move more slowly, but together still,

Let me hold your hand as ... we go ... downhill.

Really seeing an old person

Copied from Focus On The Family magazine, Sep. 1985.

What do you see, nurse, what do you see?

Are you thinking when you look at me--

A crabbed old woman, not very wise,

Uncertain of habit with far away eyes,

Who dribbles her food and makes no reply

When you say in a loud voice--"I do wish you'd try."

Who seems not to notice the things that you do

And forever is losing a stocking or shoe,

Who resisting or not, lets you do as you will

With bathing and feeding, the long day to fill.

Is that what you're thinking, is that what you see?

Then open your eyes, nurse. You're not looking at me.

I'll tell you who I am as I sit here so still.

As I move at your bidding, eat at your will.

I'm a small child of ten with a father and mother,

Brothers and sisters who love one another;

A young girl of sixteen with wings on her feet.

Dreaming that soon a love she'll meet;

A bride at twenty, my heart gives a leap,

Remembering the vows that I promised to keep;

At twenty-five now I have young of my own

Who need me to build a secure, happy home.

A woman of thirty, my young now grow fast,

Bound together with ties that should last.

At forty, my young sons have grown up and gone,

But my man's beside me to see I don't mourn.

At fifty once more babies play round my knee

Again we know children, my loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead.

I look at the future, I shudder with dread.

For my young are all rearing young of their own,

And I think of the years and the love that I've known.

I'm an old woman now and nature is cruel,

Tis her jest to make old age look like a fool.

The body it crumbles, grace and vigor depart.

There is a stone where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells,

And now again my bittered heart swells.

I remember the joys, I remember the pain

And I'm loving and living life over again.

I think of the years, all too few, gone too fast,

And accept the stark fact that nothing can last.

So open your eyes, nurse, open and see

Not a crabbed old woman,

Look closer--see me!

How fast they grow up

You were six months old and full of love

with a blink of my eye, you were suddenly one

there were so many thing we were going to do

but I turned my head and you turned two

at two you were very dependent on me

but independence took over when you turned three

you third birthday, another year I tried to ignore

but when I lit the candles, there weren't three, but four

four was the year that you really strived

why, look at you now, you're already five

now you are ready for books and for rules

this is the year that you go to school

the big day came, you were anxious to go

we walked to the bus, going oh, so slow

as you climbed aboard and waved goodbye

I felt a lump in my throat and tears stung my eyes

time goes so fast, it's hard to believe

that just yesterday you were home here with me

and tomorrow when the bus brings you home

and you jump to the ground

you'll be wearing your cap and graduation gown

so I'm holding on to these moments as hard as I can

because the next time I look, I'll be seeing a man

Blessing in "No."

THE BLESSING IN "NO"

I asked God to take away my pride.

God said "No".

It is not for me to take away,

but for you to give it up.

I asked God to make my handicapped child

whole. God said "No".

Her spirit was whole,

her body was only temporary.

I asked God to grant me patience.

God said "No".

Patience is a by-product of tribulations;

it isn't granted, it is earned.

I asked God to give me happiness.

God said "No".

I give you blessings,

happiness is up to you.

I asked God to spare me pain.

God said "No".

Suffering draws you apart from worldly

cares and brings you closer to me.

I asked God to make my spirit grow.

God said "No".

You must grow on your own, but I will

prune you to make you fruitful.

I asked for all things

that I might enjoy life.

God said "No".

I will give you life so that you

may enjoy all things.

I ask God to help me LOVE others,

as much as he loves me.

God said... Ahhhh,

finally you have the idea!

- Anonymous

Daily Bits (4/3/99)

Lend Me a Pup

I will lend to you for awhile,

a pup, God said,

For you to love him while he lives

and mourn for him when he's dead.

Maybe for twelve or fourteen years,

or maybe two or three

But will you, 'till I call him back,

take care of him for me.

He'll bring his charms to gladden you

and (should his stay be brief)

you'll always have his memories

as solace for your grief.

I cannot promise he will stay,

since all from earth return

But there are lessons taught below

I want this pup to learn.

I've looked the whole world over

in search of teachers true

And from the folk that crowd's life's land

I have chosen you.

Now will you give him all your love

Nor think the labour vain,

Nor hate me when I come to take my Pup back again.

I fancied that I heard them say

"Dear Lord Thy Will be Done,"

For all the joys this Pup will bring,

the risk of grief we'll run.

We'll shelter him with tenderness

we'll love him while we may

And for the happiness we've known forever grateful stay

But should you call him back

much sooner than we've planned,

We'll brave the bitter grief that comes,

and try to understand.

If, by our love, we've managed,

your wishes to achieve

In memory of him we loved,

to help us while we grieve,

When our faithful bundle departs this world of strife,

We'll have yet another Pup and love him all his life.

The True Church

"THE TRUE CHURCH'

ONE Sabbath morn I roamed astray,

And asked a Pilgrim for the way:

"O tell me, whither shall I search,

That I may find the one true Church

He answered, "Search the world around;

The one true Church is never found.

Yon ivy on the abbey wall,

Makes fair the falsest Church of all."

But, fearing he had told me wrong,

I cried, "Behold the entering throng!"

He answered, "If a Church be true,

It hath not many, but a few.

Still following where the highway led,

Till elms made arches overhead,

We saw a spire and weathercock,

And snow-white church upon a rock-

A rock, where centuries before,

Came sea-tossed pilgrims to the shore.

My sandals straightway I unbound,

Because the place was holy ground.

I cried, "One church at last I find,

That fetters not the human mind."

"This church," said he, "is like the rest;

For all are good, but none is best."

Then far from every church we strayed-

Save Nature's pillared aisles of shade.

The squirrels ran to see us pass,

And God's sweet breath was on the grass.

I challenged all the creeds, and sought

What truth, or lie, or both, they taught.

I asked, "Had Augustine a fault?"

The Pilgrim gazed at heaven's high vault,

And answered, "Can a mortal eye

Contain the sphere of all the sky?"

I said, "The circle is too wide."

"God's truth is wider!" he replied.

"Though Augustine was on his knee,

He saw, how, little he could see;

Though Luther sought with burning heart,

He caught the glory but in part;

Though Calvin opened wide his soul,

He comprehended not the whole.

Not Luther, Calvin, Augustine,

Saw visions such as I have seen."

While yet he spake, a rapture stole

Through all my still inquiring soul.

I looked upon His holy brow,

Entreating, "Tell me, who art THOU?"

But such a splendor filled the place,

I knew it was the Lord's own face!

I was a sinner. and afraid!

I knelt in dust, and thus I prayed:

"O Christ, the Lord! end Thou my search,

And lead me to the one true Church"

He spake as never man may speak-

"The one true Church thou shalt not seek,

Seek thou, forevermore, instead,

To find the one true Christ, its Head!"

The Lord then vanished from my sight,

And left me standing in the light.

Basketball mom's prayer

Playing In Jesus' Name

By Jan Edmonson

We've seen a lot of basketball

We've played in Jesus' name.

We're on our way to state, dear Lord,

Please help us with our game.

Some are tired, a little weary,

Still others hurt and weak.

We need the strength of God's right hand,

To have a winning streak.

Every time the ball goes up,

And departs from our own hand.

Will You please help it find the goal,

There in that foreign land.

From the tip time till the final blow,

We'll give it all we've got.

May our fouls be short and our strength be long.

May our game, Lord, be really HOT.

Thank You, Lord, for all these dear friends,

And this little bit of fame.

Help us each remember, Lord,

We're playing in Jesus' name.

The Christian Athlete's Prayer

It was right before the big one and the Christian athlete said,

"Excuse me for just a second while I go bow my head."

And in the quiet of that room the Christian athlete prayed,

"Oh, God, if nothing hear me now I know that fate is made."

"So help us Lord to win this game, for it's the big one, you see,

If we lose this game that's it for us, please do this, Lord, for me."

And as her body knelt in prayer, she looked up to the sky,

"And while I'm here, and have some time, I need to ask you why?"

"They say you never help teams win, just do it once I pray,

We will pay you back in kinder deeds or in some other way."

The Lord just then replied, "The reason I can't help you win,"

"Is as you're asking me to win, so are my daughters on the other side."

"I'm every Christian's father and I must not take one side,

So games are played all on your own or else they'd all be tied."

"But that doesn't mean you shouldn't pray," He answered her with care,

"You can pray that players don't get hurt and that all the calls are fair."

"And then I won't just watch the game, I'll bless it with my care,

Because, dear daughter, you need to learn that life's not always fair."

And while the player heard this voice, she bowed her head in prayer,

"I pray for fairness," said the girl, "and for your tender care."

"You shall be blessed," the Lord replied, "Your team and you the same,

And now you must excuse me daughter, for I cannot miss this game.

A Mother's Watch

[Fuller version Holwick ID 7074]

A Mother's Watch

She never closed her eyes in sleep, 'til we were all in bed,

On party nights 'til we came home she often sat and read.

We little tho't about it then, when we were young and gay,

How much our Mother worried when we children were away.

We only knew she never slept when we were out at night,

And that she waited just to know we'd all come home all right.

Why sometimes when we'd stay away 'til one or two or three,

It seemed to us that Mother heard the turning of the key.

For always when we'd step inside she'd call and we'd reply,

But we were all too young back then to understand just why.

Until the last one had returned she always kept on a light,

For Mother couldn't sleep until she kissed us all goodnight.

She had to fear the world might harm the ones she loved the best,

So she took the care to do what she had to for us to pass the test.

More than once we heard her say, "When you are grown to women and men,

Perhaps I'll sleep the whole night thru. Things will be different then."

And so it seemed that night and day we knew our Mother's care,

That always when we got back home, we'd find her waiting there.

Then came the night that we were called and gathered 'round her bed.

"The children all are with you now".... the kindly doctor said.

In her eyes there gleamed again that old time tender light,

That told she had been waiting just to know we were all right....

(Author Unknown)

Daily Bits (4/12/99)

A LONELY DOG

I wish someone would tell me what is it that I've done wrong.

Why do I have to stay chained up and be left alone so long?

They seemed so glad to have me when I came here as a pup.

There were so many things we'd do while I was growing up.

The Master said he'd train me as a companion and a friend.

The Mistress said she'd never fear to be left alone again.

The children said they'd feed me and brush me every day.

They'd play with me and walk me if I would only stay.

But now the Master hasn't time, the Mistress says I shed.

She doesn't want me in the house, not even to be fed.

The Children never walk me; they always say, "Not now"

I wish that I could please them. Won't someone tell me how?

All I had, you see, was love.

I wish they would explain

Why they said they wanted mine,

And then left it on a chain.

RM-Bible (4/6/99)

The Gentle Shepherd

The Shepherd loved His little lamb,

And gave it His tender care...

And followed it with His loving eyes

As it wandered here and there.

And as He sat by His grazing flock

Who so meekly His voice obeyed,

He pondered sadly His little lamb

As again and again it strayed.

The little lamb had a loving heart,

And adored His Shepherd, true,

But would turn aside and seek his own way

As lambs will so often do.

With His gentle voice the Shepherd called,

To His loved and straying lamb,

"Come back, little one, for you are not safe

Unless you are where I am."

But still the lamb would soon forget

And unthinkingly wander away,

And not really noticing what he did,

From the Shepherd's side would stray.

Until one day, the Shepherd kind

Took His rod in His gentle hand,

And what He then did seemed so cruel

That the lamb could not understand.

For with one sharp and well-aimed blow

Down the rod so swiftly came

That it broke the leg of the little lamb

And left it crippled, and lame.

Then the little lamb, with a cry of pain,

Fell down upon his knees...

And looked up at his Shepherd, as though to say,

"Won't you explain this, please?"

Then he saw the love in the Shepherd's eyes

As the tears ran down His face,

As He tenderly set the broken bone,

And bound it back in it's place.

Now he was utterly helpless,

He could not even stand!

He must trust himself completely

To his Shepherd's loving hand.

Then day by day, 'till the lamb was healed

From the flock he was kept apart...

And carried about in the Shepherd's arms,

And cradled near to His heart

And the Shepherd would whisper gentle words

Into his now listening ear...

Thus he heard sweet words of love

That the other sheep could not hear.

He felt the warmth of the Shepherd's arms

And the beat of His faithful heart...

Until it came a blessing to seem,

By his weakness to be set apart.

Every need of the little lamb

By his Shepherd so fully was met

That through his brokenness he learned

What he never again would forget.

And as the broken bone was healed,

And once more became whole and strong...

Wherever the Shepherd's path would lead,

The lamb would follow along.

Thus at the Shepherd's side he walked

So closely, day by day,

For once a lamb has a broken leg

It will never again go astray.

For the cords of love had bound it so

In its hour of weakness and need...

That it had no desire to wander away,

When once again it was freed.

Could it be you are broken today,

And you cannot understand

The painful blow of the Shepherd's rod

Nor believe it came from His hand?

He only seeks, by this painful thing,

For a time to call you apart...

To cradle you close in His loving arms,

And draw you near to His heart.

So look up into your Shepherd's eyes,

And earnestly seek His face...

And prove in the hour of your weakness and need

The sufficiency of His love and grace.

For as you are borne in His loving arms,

And carried there, day by day...

He will bind you so close with the cords of love

That never again will you stray!

- author unknown -

RM-Bible (4/7/99)

Eternal Ink

I dreamed I was in heaven

Where an angel kept God's book

He was writing so intently

I just had to take a look.

It was not, at first, his writing

That made me stop and think

But the fluid in the bottle

That was marked eternal ink.

This ink was most amazing,

Dark black upon his blotter

But as it touched the parchment

It became as clear as water

The angel kept on writing

But as quickly as a wink

The words were disappearing

With that strange eternal ink

The angel took no notice,

But kept writing on and on

He turned each page and filled it Till all its space was gone.

I thought he wrote to no avail,

His efforts were so vain

For he wrote a thousand pages

That he'd never read again.

And as I watched and wondered that

This awesome sight was mine,

I actually saw a word stay black

As it dried upon the line.

The angel wrote and I thought I saw A look of satisfaction.

At last he had some print to show For all his earnest action.

A line or two dried dark and stayed As black as black can be, But

strangely the next paragraph

Became invisible to see.

The book was getting fuller,

The angel's records true,

But most of it was blank, with

Just a few words coming through.

I knew there was some reason,

But as hard as I could think,

I couldn't grasp the significance

Of that eternal ink.

The mystery burned within me,

And I finally dared to ask

The angel to explain to me

Of his amazing task.

And what I heard was frightful

As the angel turned his head.

He looked directly at me,

And this is what he said...

I know you stand and wonder

At what my writing's worth

But God has told me to record

The lives of those on earth.

The book that I am filling

Is an accurate account

Of every word and action

And to what they do amount.

And since you have been watching

I must tell you what is true;

The details of my journal

Are the strict accounts of YOU

The Lord asked me to watch you As each day you worked and played. I saw

you as you went to

church, I saw you as you prayed.

But I was told to document

Your life through all the week.

I wrote when you were proud and bold, I wrote when you were meek.

I recorded all your attitudes Whether they were good or bad.

I was sorry that I had to write

The things that make God sad.

So now I'll tell the wonder

Of this eternal ink,

For the reason for its mystery

Should make you stop and think.

This ink that God created

To help me keep my journal

Will only keep a record of

Things that are eternal.

So much of life is wasted

On things that matter not

So instead of my erasing,

Smudging ink and ugly blot.

I just keep writing faithfully and

Let the ink do all the rest

For it is able to decide

What's useless and what's best.

And God ordained that as I write Of all you do and say Your deeds that

count for nothing Will just

disappear away.

When books are opened someday

As sure as heaven is true;

The Lord's eternal ink will tell

What mattered most to you.

If you just lived to please yourself

The pages will be bare,

And God will issue no reward

For you when you get there.

In fact, you'll be embarrassed, You will hang your head in shame Because

you did not give yourself

In love to Jesus' Name.

Yet maybe there will be a few

Recorded lines that stayed

That showed the times you truly cared, Sincerely loved and prayed.

But you will always wonder

As you enter heaven's door

How much more glad you would have been If only you'd done more.

For I record as God sees,

I don't stop to even think

Because the truth is written

With God's eternal ink.

When I heard the angel's story

I fell down and wept and cried

For as yet I still was dreaming

I hadn't really died.

And I said: O angel tell the Lord

That soon as I awake

I'll live my life for Jesus

I'll do all for His dear sake.

I'll give in full surrender;

I'll do all He wants me to;

I'll turn my back on self and sin

And whatever isn't true.

And though the way seems long and rough I promise to endure.

I'm determined to pursue the things That are holy, clean and pure.

With Jesus as my helper,

I will win lost souls to Thee,

For I know that they will live with Christ For all eternity.

And that's what really matters

When my life on earth is gone

That I will stand before the Lord

And hear Him say, well done.

For is it really worth it

As my life lies at the brink?

And I realize that God keeps books With His eternal ink.

Should all my life be focused

On things that turn to dust?

>From this point on I'll serve the Lord;

I can, I will, I must!

I will NOT send blank pages

Up to God's majestic throne

For where that record's going now Is my eternal home.

I'm giving all to Jesus

I now have seen the link

For I saw an angel write my life

With God's eternal ink.

Author Unknown

RM-Bible (4/10/99)

Red roses were her favorites, her name was also Rose.

And every year her husband sent them, tied with pretty bows.

The year he died, the roses were delivered to her door.

The card said, "Be my Valentine," like all the years before.

Each year he sent her roses, and the note would always say,

"I love you even more this year, than last year on this day."

"My love for you will always grow, with every passing year."

She knew this was the last time that the roses would appear.

She thought, he ordered roses in advance before this day.

Her loving husband did not know, that he would pass away.

He always liked to do things early, way before the time.

Then, if he got too busy, everything would work out fine.

She trimmed the stems, and placed them in a very special vase.

Then, sat the vase beside the portrait of his smiling face.

She would sit for hours, in her husband's favorite chair.

While staring at his picture, and the roses sitting there.

A year went by, and it was hard to live without her mate.

With loneliness and solitude, that had become her fate.

Then, the very hour, as on Valentines before,

The doorbell rang, and there were roses, sitting by her door.

She brought the roses in, and then just looked at them in shock.

Then, went to get the telephone, to call the florist shop.

The owner answered, and she asked him, if he would explain,

Why would someone do this to her, causing her such pain?

"I know your husband passed away, more than a year ago," The owner

said, "I knew you'd call, and you would want to know." "The

flowers you received today, were paid for in advance."

"Your husband always planned ahead, he left nothing to chance."

"There is a standing order, that I have on file down here,

And he has paid, well in advance, you'll get them every year.

There also is another thing, that I think you should know,

He wrote a special little card...he did this years ago."

"Then, should ever, I find out that he's no longer here,

That's the card...that should be sent, to you the following year."

She thanked him and hung up the phone, her tears now flowing hard.

Her fingers shaking, as she slowly reached to get the card.

Inside the card, she saw that he had written her a note.

Then, as she stared in total silence, this is what he wrote...

"Hello my love, I know it's been a year since I've been gone,

I hope it hasn't been too hard for you to overcome."

"I know it must be lonely, and the pain is very real.

For if it was the other way, I know how I would feel.

The love we shared made everything so beautiful in life.

I loved you more than words can say, you were the perfect wife."

"You were my friend and lover, you fulfilled my every need.

I know it's only been a year, but please try not to grieve.

I want you to be happy, even when you shed your tears.

That is why the roses will be sent to you for years."

"When you get these roses, think of all the happiness,

That we had together, and how both of us were blessed.

I have always loved you and I know I always will.

But, my love, you must go on, you have some living still."

"Please...try to find happiness, while living out your days.

I know it is not easy, but I hope you find some ways.

The roses will come every year, and they will only stop,

When your door's not answered, when the florist stops to knock."

"He will come five times that day, in case you have gone out.

But after his last visit, he will know without a doubt,

To take the roses to the place, where I've instructed him,

And place the roses where we are, together once again."

RM-Bible (4/21/99)

IT TAKES A VILLAGE

By: Glenn Conjurske

It takes a village (so we're told), to raise a child today.

It takes a village (we reply), to steal his heart away.

To purge old-fashioned do's and don't from his enlightened mind

to leave old fashioned Ma and Pa, a hundred years behind.

It takes a village, verily, to teach some mother's son

To steal and gamble, smoke and swear, and vandalize for fun.

His mother didn't teach him that!

His father? No, not he!

It takes a village to corrupt, a village verily.

It takes a village, this we know, to teach the maidens sweet,

To dress and act, to look and talk, like women of the street.

It takes a village, not a doubt, to teach a maiden mild,

To save the monkeys, owls, and whales, and kill her unborn child.

It takes a village public school, some subtle class room chats,

To teach the little boys and girls to act like alley cats.

To teach them of the birds and bees, without morality,

to teach them what to do, and how, and tell them they are free.

It takes a village, yes indeed, to brainwash all youth,

With notions and with fallacies, in place of sense and truth.

Abortion rights! The right to die! The rights of animals!

Creative spelling! Unisex! The rights of criminals!

It takes a village, well we know, to turn their minds away.

To stand for fancied "Children's rights," and parents rights deny.

To honor human nature less,and trees and rivers more.

To sacrifice to Mother Earth, and Father God ignore.

"It takes a village," so they say, but something more they mean.

United Nations, Washington, the liberal machine.

Society, the "Brave New World," the socialist scheme.

The global ideology, the New World Order dream!

It takes a village idiot to believe that a family needs instruction from the government to raise a child.

Originally printed in

The Old Paths and Ancient Landmarks

3540 Hwy 47 N.

Rhinelander, Wi. 54501

Daily Bread (4/24/99)

EXAMPLE

Author Unknown

It is all vain to preach of the truth

To the eager ears of a trusting youth,

If, when the lad is standing by,

He sees you cheat and hears you lie.

Fine words may grace the advice you give

But the youth will learn from the way you live.

Honor's a word that a thief may use,

High sounding language the base may choose.

Speech is empty and preaching vain,

Though the truth shines clear and the lesson is plain.

If you play false, he will turn away,

For your life must be square with the things you say.

The longer you live, you will find this true;

As you would teach, you must also do,

Rounded sentences, smooth and fair,

Were better not said if your deeds aren't square.

If you'd teach him to live his very best,

You must live your life to the self-same test.

--Faith & Thought, Pittsburg, TX

The Mother's Watch

She never closed her eyes in sleep

Till we were all in bed.

On party nights till we came home

She often sat and read.

We little thought about it then,

When we were young and gay,

How Mother worried much and prayed

When we children were away.

We only knew she never slept

When we were out at night

And that she waited just to know

That we’d come home all right.

Why — sometimes when we’d stay away

Till one or two or three,

It seemed to us that Mother heard

The turning of the key.

For always when we’d step inside

She’d call and we’d reply —

But we were all too young back then

To understand just why.

Until the last one had returned

She’d always keep a light,

For Mother couldn’t sleep until

She kissed us all goodnight.

She had to know that we were safe,

Before she went to rest.

She seemed to think the world might harm

The ones she loved the best.

And once she said: “When you are grown

To women and to men,

Perhaps I’ll sleep the whole night through —

It may be different then.”

And so it seemed that night and day

We knew a Mother’s care,

That always when we got back home,

We’d find her waiting there.

Then came the night that we were called

Together ‘round her bed —

“The children are all with you now,”

The kindly doctor said.

And in her eyes there gleamed again

That “old time’s” tender light,

That told she had been waiting

Just to know we were all right.

She smiled the old familiar smile,

And prayed God to keep us safe —

From any harm throughout the years,

And then she went to sleep.

Little Shoes

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

In the top drawer of her dresser is one pair of little shoes

And a pair of little booties from which her Mom can choose.

Although she cannot walk just yet, out with her mom she goes

For strolls in many shades of pink from her head down to her toes.

But soon the little newborn has moved to a toddler grown;

In patent-leather party shoes she's walking all alone.

But someone's watching closely as she takes each shaky stride,

And though she may not notice it, her mom is at her side.

The nursery's now a bedroom, the baby's crib is gone,

The little girl is off to school with brand-new sneakers on.

She skips onto the school yard with at step as light as air,

While mom, tho' smiling bravely, feels at loose ends standing there.

The little girl grows older, and with each passing year,

Her first high-heels and cowgirl boots eventually appear.

And then, as if by magic, the little girl is grown,

She wears the latest fashions bought with earnings of her own.

Then one fine day she's walking with her father at her side,

In shoes of fine white satin, for now she is a bride.

I wonder where the time has gone, and wistfully recall

My little girl, in little shoes, so innocent and small.

And now I am a Granny, and now Daughter, you're a Mom,

Your little newborn daughter is the sunshine of your home.

The top drawer of her dresser is filled with little shoes,

And many pairs of booties from which you now can choose.

Cherish each passing moment, the laughter and the tears,

For days go by so swiftly, and gather soon to years.

The little shoes she will outgrow before you realize,

She'll blossom like a summer's rose, before your very eyes.

Be always there to walk with her when up against the odds,

Make sure she knows that she can count on mother and on God.

And though she'll spread her wings and fly, as all our daughters do,

One day she'll wear a mother's shoes, and she'll come home to you.

- Anonymous -

If Tomorrow Never Comes

"""""""""""""""""""""""

If I knew it would be the last time

that I’d see you fall asleep,

I would tuck you in more tightly

and pray the Lord, your soul to keep.

If I knew it would be the last time

that I see you walk out the door,

I would give you a hug and kiss

call you back for one more.

If I knew it would be the last time

I’d hear your voice lifted up in praise,

I would video tape each action and word,

so I could play them back day after day.

If I knew it would be the last time,

I could spare an extra minute or two

To stop and say “I love you,” instead

of assuming you would KNOW I do.

If I knew it would be the last time

I would be there to share your day,

Well I’m sure you’ll have so many more,

so I can let just this one slip away.

For surely there’s always tomorrow

To make up for an oversight,

And we always get a second chance

To make everything right.

There will always be another day

To say our “I love yous”,

And certainly there’s another chance

To say our “Anything I can dos?”

But just in case I might be wrong,

And today is all I get,

I’d like to say how much I love you

And I hope we never forget,

Tomorrow is not promised to anyone,

Young or old alike,

And today may be the last chance

You get to hold your loved one tight..

So if you’re waiting for tomorrow,

Why not do it today?

For if tomorrow never comes,

You’ll surely regret the day,

That you didn’t take that extra time

For a smile, a hug, or a kiss

And you were too busy to grant someone,

What turned out to be their one last wish.

So hold your loved ones close today,

Whisper in their ear,

Tell them how much you love them

And that you’ll always hold them dear,

Take time to say “I’m sorry,” “please forgive me,”

“Thank you” or “it’s okay.”

And if tomorrow never comes,

You’ll have no regrets about today.

(untitled)

"A Computer Prayer"

Every evening

As I'm laying here in bed

This tiny little prayer

Keeps running thru my head

God bless my mom and dad

And bless my little pup

And look out for my brother

When things aren't looking up

And God, there's one more thing

I wish that you could do

Hope ya don't mind me asking

But please bless my 'puter too??

Now I know that's not normal

To bless a mother board

But just listen a second

While I explain to you, my Lord

You see, that little metal box

Holds more than odds & ends

Inside those small compartments

Rest hundreds of my 'BEST FRIENDS'

Some it's true I've never seen

And most I've never met

We've never exchanged hugs

Or shared a meal as yet....

I know for sure they like me

By the kindness that they give

And this little scrap of metal

Is how I travel to where they live

By faith is how I know them

Much the same as you

I share in what life brings them

From that our friendship grew

"PLEASE" take an extra minute

From your duties up above

To bless this scrap of metal

That's filled with so much love!

(untitled)

"It Shows In Your Face"

You don't have to tell how you live each day;

You don't have to say if you work or play;

A tried true barometer serves in its place.

However you live, it will show in your face.

If your life is unselfish, if for others you live,

For not what you get, but how much you can give,

If you live close to God, in His infinite grace,

You don't have to tell it-- it shows in your face.

--Church of Christ, Lee's Summit, MO

(untitled)

This, Too, Shall Pass Away

When some great sorrow, like a mighty river,

Flows through your life with peace-destroying power

And dearest things are swept from sight forever,

Say to your heart each trying hour:

"This, too, shall pass away."

When ceaseless toil has hushed your song of gladness,

And you have grown almost too tired to pray,

Let this truth banish from your heart its sadness,

And ease the burdens of each tryng day:

"This, too, shall pass away."

When fortune smiles, and, full of mirth and pleasure,

The days are flitting by without a care,

Lest you should rest with only earthly treasure,

Let these few words their fullest import bear:

"This, too, shall pass away."

When earnest labor brings you fame and glory,

And all earth's noblest ones upon you smile,

Remember that life's longest, grandest story

Fills but a moment in earth's little while:

"This, too, shall pass away."

Lanta Wilson Smith

(untitled)

When Tomorrow Starts Without Me

When tomorrow starts without me,

and I'm not there to see;

If the sun should rise and find your eyes,

all filled with tears for me;

I wish so much you wouldn't cry,

the way you did today,

while thinking of the many things,

we didn't get to say.

I know how much you love me,

as much as I love you,

and each time that you think of me,

I know you'll miss me too;

But when tomorrow starts without me,

please try to understand,

that an angel came and called my name,

and took me by the hand,

and said my place was ready,

in heaven far above,

and that I'd have to leave behind,

all those I dearly love.

But as I turned to walk away,

a tear fell from my eye,

for all life, I'd always thought,

I didn't want to die.

I had so much to live for,

so much yet to do,

it seemed almost impossible,

that I was leaving you.

I thought of all the yesterdays,

the good ones and the bad,

I thought of all the love we shared,

and all the fun we had.

If I could relive yesterday,

just even for awhile,

I'd say goodbye and kiss you

and maybe see you smile.

But then I fully realized,

that this could never be,

for emptiness and memories,

would take the place of me.

And when I thought of worldly things,

I might miss come tomorrow,

I thought of you, and when I did,

my heart was filled with sorrow.

But when I walked through heaven's gates,

I felt so much at home.

When God looked down and smiled at me,

from His great golden throne,

He said, "This is eternity,

and all I've promised you".

Today for life on earth is past,

but here it starts anew.

I promise no tomorrow,

but today will always last,

and since each day's the same day,

there's no longing for the past.

But you have been so faithful,

so trusting and so true.

Though there were times you did some things,

you knew you shouldn't do.

But you have been forgiven

and now at last you're free.

So won't you take my hand

and share my life with me?

So when tomorrow starts without me,

don't think we're far apart,

for every time you think of me,

I'm right here, in your heart.

David M. Romano

The Junk Box (poem)

THE JUNK BOX

""""""""""""

My father used to say,

"My boy, don't throw a thing away;

You'll find a use for it someday."

So in a box he stored up things,

Bent nails, old washers, pipes and rings

And bolts and nuts and rusty springs.

Despite each blemish and each flaw,

Some use for everything he saw;

With things material, this was law.

And often when he'd work to do

He searched the junk box thru and thru

And found old stuff as good as new.

And I have often thought since then

That Our Father did the same with men;

He knew he'd need their help again.

It seems to me he understood

That men, as well as iron and wood,

May broken be and still be good.

Despite the vices he'd display,

He never threw a man away,

But kept him for another day.

A human junk box is this earth,

And into it we're tossed at birth

To wait the day we'll be of worth.

Though bent and twisted, weak of will,

And full of flaws, and lacking skill,

Some service each can render still.

by Edgar A. Guest

Joke

I once read the following evolutionary poem:

I once was an ameba in for a swim,

And then I was a tadpole with my tail tucked in.

Then I was a monkey in a banyan tree,

And now I am a professor with a Ph.D.

Poem For Christian Friends

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

I've never done this type thing before

But I feel the need is here.

I'm not real good at saying words

But I hold you all so dear.

You've helped me through the hard times

You've shared when things went well

You've been there just to talk to

But most of all you've just been there.

I thank the Lord everyday

For giving me friends like you.

I can talk to you about anything

And you help me think it through.

Solomon said that a friend

Is one who loves at all times.

I thank you all for showing me

The truth within those lines.

We know not what the future holds

Our lives may someday part

But we'll never have to say good-bye

For we know within our hearts

For a time is coming when we'll all be there

To thank the Lord who cared.

He's the link that made this possible

No other one than He

Because of Him we'll all be friends

Throughout eternity.

-- Kevin Leusing, 1984

Update: in March 2005 Kevin was searching on the internet and came across his poem at http://elbourne.org, which has converted some of the Kerux database to an internet version. Kevin says he distributed the poem to a small group of people while he was at college in Texas. He has lost touch with most of those people and is flattered that someone thought enough of the poem to submit it. He would love to get back in touch with that group and notes it was a wonderful time in his life. He now lives in Danville, California (about 35 miles east of San Francisco) with his wife and two sons.

Poem

The Lamb

Little lamb, who made thee?

Dost thou know who made thee?

Gave thee life and bade thee feed

by the stream and ov'r the mead?

Gave thee clothing of Delight

Softest clothing, woolly, bright;

Gave thee such a tender voice

making all the vales rejoice?

Little lamb, who made thee?

Dost thou know who made thee?

Little lamb, I'll tell thee

He is called by thy name

for He calls Himself a Lamb;

He is meek and He is mild,

He became a little child.

I a chiled, and thou a lamb,

We are called by his name.

Little Lamb, God bless thee.

Little lamb, God bless thee.

-- William Blake

PAYING the RENT

He dropped his tithe in the plate,

Then meekly raised his eyes;

Glad that his weekly rent was paid

To mansions in the skies!

Does It Mean Nothing To You?

DOES IT MEAN NOTHING TO YOU?

My children, I came to live with you.

I gave up my crown and throne to come be with you.

For 33 years I spoke truth and taught my ways.

Though I spoke the truth with love ...

Still you hear what you wanted.

I spoke of love and grace,

You hear works and striving.

Does it mean nothing to you?

My children, I died for you.

For a long way I carried your sin.

I wore the crown of suffering.

You nailed Me to your cross.

For six hours I hung there praying for you.

I prayed for God to take My life.

To take it as payment for your debts.

I breathed My last in love.

Does it mean nothing?

My children, I stand before you.

My hands outstretched in love.

Look, see My hands and My feet.

The wounds that speak of sacrifice.

These wounds shed blood mixed with tears.

My children I love you!

Does it mean nothing?

My children, you say it means everything.

You stand and sing My praises.

You claim My cross for your cause.

Yet your actions glorify Me not.

Your lips speak My Words.

Yet your heart plays different chords.

Does it mean nothing?

Does it mean nothing to you?

DOES IT MEAN NOTHING?

DOES IT MEAN NOTHING TO YOU?

By Michel J. Willard

Beatitudes for Married Couples

1 Samuel 15:10

"Beatitudes for Married Couples"

Blessed are the husband and wife who continue to be affectionate,

considerate and loving after the wedding bells have stopped ringing.

Blessed are the husband and wife who are as polite and courteous

to one another as they are to their friends.

Blessed are they who have a sense of humor, their marriage shall

be much brighter.

Blessed are the parents who abstain from alcohol (I would add ",

tobacco, and drugs"), their children will surely follow their example.

Blessed are they who are faithful to each other and mutually

helpful. God will surely guide them.

Blessed are the husband and wife who thank God for good things which come to them. They shall receive both good things and thankful

children.

Blessed are the parents who recognize their children as gifts

from God, their home shall be filled with love.

Blessed are those mates who make their home a place "where seldom

is heard a discouraging word". They shall inspire others to do

likewise.

Blessed are the parents who attend and support their church.

Their children shall develop a strong fauth.

Blessed is the couple who are good stewards of all God's gifts,

their children will bless them and follow their example.

Blessed are all those whose lives are a testimony of faith in

God, they shall be the channels through which God's kingdom will come

on earth.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow them all the days of their

lives and they shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

From "The Christian Builder," May 24, 1985.

Topics: Saul; David; Judas; Pulpit

Committees;

See Also:\reference{1 Samuel 15:10}{1 Samuel 15:10};

\reference{16:7}{1 Samuel 16:7}

a poem by Longfellow

Though the mills of God grind slowly, Yet they grind exceeding small;

though with patience He stands waiting, with exactness grinds them

all.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Just for Today

Lord, for tomorrow and its needs

I do not pray:

Keep me, My God, from Stain of sin

Just for today.

Let me both diligently work

and duly pray,

Let me be kind in word and deed

Just for today.

Let me be slow to do my will,

prompt to obey,

Help me to mortify my flesh

just for today.

Let me no wrong or idle word

Unthinking say:

Set Thou a seal upon my lips

just for today.

Let me in season, Lord, be grave

in season gay,

Let me be faithful to Thy Grace,

Just for today.

And if today my tide of life

should ebb away,

give me Thy sacrements divine,

Sweet Lord, today

So, for tommorow and its needs

I do not pray:

but keep me, guide me, love me, Lord,

Just for today.

Samuel Wilberforce

The Call of Death

THE CALL OF DEATH

What is this that I can't see?

With icy hands taking hold of me?

"I am Death; none can excel,

I open the doors to heaven and hell.

"I'll fix your feet so you can't walk,

I'll lock your jaws so you can't talk,

I'll shut your eyes so you can't see;

This VERY HOUR come go with me."

"O Mother, come to my bed,"

She placed a cold towel on his head,

"My head is hot, my feet are cold,

Death is putting shackles on my soul."

"You heard God's people sing and pray,

You would give no heed, but you walked away,

You would not give your hand and bow your knee,

But now you MUST come and go with me."

"Oh, Death, consider my age,

Please do not take me in this stage,

My wealth is all at your command,

If you'll just lift your icy hand."

"The old, the young, the rich, the poor,

They all alike with me must go;

No land, no silver, no wealth, no gold,

Nothing satisfies me but your soul."

"Oh, Death, how you are treating me,

You are shutting my eyes so I can't see,

You are stretching my limbs, you're making me cold,

You are robbing my body of my soul."

"Oh, yes, I come to get your soul,

To rob the body, and leave it cold,

To drop the flesh from off your frame,

The earth and worms both have a claim."

"Too late! too late! to all farewell;

My doom is fixed, I'm forced to tell,

As long as God in heaven shall dwell,

My soul, my soul shall burn in hell."

By William Moses Tidwell, "Effective Illustrations."

To Teachers

John 15:5

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

| My Source:

| THE LORD'S CHURCH, by Nelson Smith, pp. 134-36

|------------------------------

| Author of Poem: Unknown

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

What greeting shall I send you

As I think of you today?

For the wish that I would wish you

Goes beyond what I can say.

Yet unspoken thoughts rise heavenward

In the silence when I pray

I will breathe my intercessions

Before God's Altar Throne,

And the best wish I could wish you

Shall be told to Him alone,

And the best thought I can send you

Is from Him, and not my own.

And your name shall be remembered

In the Blessed Presence there,

Where remembrances are sacred

And each mem'ry holds a prayer,

And where loving thoughts shall leave you

In a loving Father's care.

DRL NOTE: The poem above is used in a context of encouraging teachers in the Lord's church to give all that we have to teaching. He writes...

As a teacher who would give my all to teaching I must

depend upon God! I must believe that I CAN do all things

through Christ who strengthens His own. I must ever

remember the words of my Savior, "Without me ye can do

nothing" (John 15:5). Prayer enters into this dependence as

an imperative! "Men ought always to pray and not to faint"

(Luke 18:1). Teachers should pray much! "Pray without

ceasing" (1 Thessalonians 5:17)! We should pray persistently! A

casual petition presented as though it mattered little avails

little, if anything, if it is even acceptable. Pray pleadingly!

We must learn to "pray!" rather than just to "say our

prayers." Pray purposefully! Specify that problem! that

objective! name that student! "Bear them upon your heart

before the Lord" as did the high priests of old (Exodus 28:29)!

In this Scripture and context is found a beautiful picture of

the ultimate concern of one human for another. Some

years ago I found a poem I thought so beautiful and

appropriate that I began to use it as a holiday greeting.

In fact, this is the name of it, but I have never been able

to find the name of the author. To me it expresses pretty

much the feeling of the high priest. >>>

DRL NOTE: Also in this same chapter were two other helpful and instructive poems...

THE UNDISCOURAGED GOD

by Unknown

The grass grows slowly up the hill

With faith the torrent cannot kill,

And rocks are rough, and still the clover

The stony fields will yet run over--

I know nothing that the true,

The good, the gentle cannot do.

The woodlands that the winters sadden

The leaves of Spring again will gladden,

And so must life ever be--

The gentle hands work patiently

And yet accomplish more forever

Than these too strong or those too clever.

So toils an undiscouraged God

And covers barren fields with sod.

And so will hate and sin surrender

To faith still strong and love still tender--

I know nothing that the true,

The good, the gentle cannot do.

THE TEMPLE BUILDERS

by Unknown

A builder builded a temple, he wrought it with care and skill.

Pillars and groins and arches were fashioned to meet his will.

Men said when they saw its beauty, "It shall never know

decay;

Great is thy skill, O builder; thy fame shall endure for aye."

A teacher builded a temple, she wrought it with skill and care;

Fashioning each pillar with patience, laying each stone

with care.

None saw the unceasing effort; none knew of the marvellous

plan,

For the temple the teacher builded was unseen by the eyes

of man.

Gone is the builder's temple; crumbled into dust;

Pillars and groins and arches, food for consuming rust!

But the temple the teacher builded shall stand while the

ages roll:

For the temple the teacher builded was a child's immortal

soul!

Sad Christmas

Christmas is a bitter day For mothers who are poor, The wistful eyes of children Are daggers to endure.

Though shops are crammed with playthings Enough for everyone. If a mother's purse is empty There might as well be none.

My purse is full of money But I cannot buy a toy; Only a wreath of holly For the grave of my little boy.

—Earl C. Willer

The Unknown Workman

He was a humble workman

With the tools with which he wrought

And he built a common stable,

Or so it was, he thought!

And he fashioned there a manger

Where the cattle could be fed,

Never thinking that the Savior

Would pillow there His head.

He had only built a stable

With a manger in the stall,

Yet it cradled there the Christ-child,

Who is King and Lord of all!

So although our task be humble,

Let us work each day with care;

For we may not know God’s purpose,

Or why He placed us there.

For the manger that formed the cradle

Of our Lord and Savior here,

Was built by a humble workman

In Bethlehem of Judea.

—Henry B. Knox

The Christ-child

The Christ-child lay on Mary's lap, His hair was like a light. (O weary, weary is the world, But here is all aright.)

The Christ-child lay on Mary's breast, His hair was like a star. (O stern and cunning are the kings, But here the true hearts are.)

The Christ-child lay on Mary's heart, His hair was like a fire. (O weary, weary is the world, But here the world's desire.)

The Christ-child stood at Mary's knee, His hair was like a crown. And all the flowers looked up at Him, And all the stars looked down.

G.K. Chesterton in The Wild Knight

96 Sermon Illustrations on Poem